


The Casebook of Sloane Larson--The Whole Grimm Tale

by Dracophile



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: mirror of a series, suitable for e-readers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:40:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 1,004,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26576161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracophile/pseuds/Dracophile
Summary: THIS IS BASICALLY A MIRROR OF MY SERIES, WITH ALL THE STORIES AS CHAPTERS UNDER ONE. It was brought to my attention that might be easier for some to catch up on. I will still be updating the series The Casebook of Sloane Larson with individual fics but this will be a back up/alternate if you want to just read it in one huge work!What if another Grimm had come to Portland earlier in the series? Starting Late in season 2, these fics will tell the story about how Sloane Larson, a born and bred Grimm, comes to Portland and how her presence will eventually change a lot of events of the story.
Relationships: Nick Burkhardt/Juliette Silverton, Nick Burkhardt/Original Female Character(s), Rosalee Calvert/Monroe
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	1. The New Grimm in Town

**_"Good day, comrade! So thou art sitting there overlooking the wide-spread world! I am just on my way thither, and want to try my luck. Hast thou any inclination to go with me?"_ **

\----------------------

**The New Grimm in Town**

**\-----------------------**

“I cannot believe you convinced me to do this,” Antonia sighed loudly, picking at her jeans. “You know I’m not the outdoorsy type…And this isn’t exactly how I planned the last weekend of spring break.”

“Oh, but little Toni,” Macie said with a smirk, “Outdoorsy no, but I thought you were the Grant type. “ She wiggled her eyebrows over at one handsome young man dressed in flannel helping to pitch a tent.

“Nnng, yes, but why does he have to be the outdoorsy type? Also, in case you haven’t noticed, there are four girls here and three guys.”

“Psh, Candace isn’t going to do anything. Her _girlfriend_ is visiting family in California.”

She perked up a little. “Oh…? Well then, I like my odds a little better.”

“Great, then you can go help him gather firewood here in a second for dinner.”

“I-what? But we have firewood; we got it at the store!”

“We need kindling and other little bits, and I volunteered you to help, because you love walking around the woods and safety in numbers. You can thank me later.”

“Macie! I don’t even know what to talk to him about!” she hissed, her face heating up in embarrassment.

“Hey, Antonia! You ready to go?” Grant called. “We need to get the firewood before it’s dark.”

“Well you better think of something,” she grinned, hauling the blushing girl to her feet. “She’s coming!” Giving her a shove, Macie just smiled when Antonia looked back at her like she wanted to kill her.

Grant just smiled as she walked up to him. “Hey. Follow me.”

“Right…” Antonia headed into the trees after him and started picking up sticks for kindling. “Um, so…you’re a big camper?”

“Yeah, used to always camp with my dad when I was a kid. You?”

“Oh yeah, totally. Love the outdoors. Can’t get enough fresh air and trees and…sky.”

“Really?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“…No,” she grimaced, unable to keep up the charade. “The woods are creepy, sorry. I’ve seen horror movies like this too much. I like having central air and ordering pizza and watching trashy TV and Netflix when I don’t have classes.”

Grant laughed, picking up a thicker tree branch. “Well, nothing wrong with that. I like Storage Wars myself.”

“Really?” she asked, perking up. “Um, what about-” she paused when she heard something, turning to look. “Did…did you hear something?”

Grant smiled. “It’s not a horror movie, don’t worry. Probably just a small animal. A raccoon. Nothing to be scared of.”

“Raccoons can be bad…and yeah, that doesn’t sound like something someone would say in a horror movie…”

He laughed again. “Don’t worry, really. It’s nice to talk to you though, I always see you in science and want to chat but you’re always busy.”

Antonia blushed a little but smiled. “You can always talk to me…” She heard another sound and flinched, looking back to the darkening woods. She thought she saw a man walking between the trees but the figure was gone before she could be sure. Swallowing, she decided she wanted to get back to camp sooner rather than spend too long away. Grant kept chatting as they gathered the firewood, making it more tolerable, and then they headed back.

“Okay, we have fire wood!” Grant yelled triumphantly, raising large stick above his head.

“Great, we can start…cooking…” one boy said, straightening slowly. “Hey, who are you?”

Antonia blinked at the question before turning her head, gasping when she saw a man standing just a couple of feet behind them. He was gangly, covered in course dirty hair that obscured his eyes and a thick beard over his face. His clothes were tattered and an acrid stench seemed to cling to him. It was the same smell she remembered as when a possum died under their porch: rotting meat. “Oh my god!” she gasped, nearly tripping over her feet as she tried to get away.

Grant was backing up as well, not having seen him come up behind them despite his size. He swallowed but tried to look friendly. “Hey, uh…buddy, you scared us. Uh…do you need help? Are you lost, man?”

A low rumble came from the scraggly man before he lunged for Grant, faster than they expected, pinning him to the ground. Everyone yelled in shock, Antonia dropping the firewood. Opening his mouth wider than a normal man should be able to, he brought it down and sank his sharpened teeth into his shoulder. Grant screamed and so did everyone else, scrambling to their feet. “Get him off me!”

“Charlie, get the flare gun!” someone yelled. “Do something!”

Antonia was frozen for a moment before she quickly grabbed a thick branch they’d taken for firewood and brought down as hard as she could on the man’s head, snapping it in half. He didn’t seem to feel it but he brought his head up, his beard and lips dripping with blood and Grant screaming in pain still. She was shaking as he stood, his eyes digging into her. Then he began to grow taller before her eyes, his body transforming, clothes filling out and ripping, his shadow in the setting sun enveloping them all in darkness as everyone began screaming.

In the morning there was a couple in a green sedan driving along the curving roads of the Portland forests.

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” the man in the passenger seat asked.

“I told you, this is the only road that goes through the forest for miles. It’s long and windy, but it’s the nicest route to Bethany.”

“It’s not too late to use my phone’s GPS.”

“I’ve made this trip a bunch of times, I know what I’m doing,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You sound like my mother whenever she and my dad drive together.”

“Oh, gee, thanks,” he laughed. Turning back to the road, he gasped. “STOP THE CAR!”

The woman turned to look back near the side of the road as well and slammed on the brakes. On the side of the road, walking like a zombie was a young girl covered in blood and holding her arm. “Oh my god…” The driver quickly got out, walking towards her. Her husband got out as well, looking on worriedly. “Miss? Miss, are you okay? Miss?” She reached out to try and stop her with a hand to her shoulder. She started at the light touch and screamed, backing away.

“No! No, don’t! Don’t eat me!”

The woman stared in shock as the girl cowered at her. “What…? I…Eric, call an ambulance!”

Outside Portland on the other side of town, someone in a black SUV was drawing a red line from Wyoming to the city. They sighed, tapping the wheel with gloved fingers before putting the map back on the passenger seat. An open file showed several news clippings from Wyoming papers about a huge pile of bones found in the mountains, with photos of them including a human skull. There was also news about missing people that would follow the route there to Portland, and more remains found on the way.

Taking out a phone, they typed “Spice Shops, Portland, Oregon into the search bar. A couple of seconds later, the top searches came up and they copied the addresses down in a small notebook, including “Exotic Spice and Tea”. Putting the notebook back into an inside jacket pocket, their hand brushed over the handle to a knife, a filigree embossed _G_ stamped on the gold pommel of the handle. They started the car and drove into the city in the early morning light.

\-----------------------

"How many boxes of dried green-gill toadstools do you have?" Monroe called, shoving the box back onto the pile. He had agreed to help the Rosalee take inventory of the shop, and the amount of odd things even he wasn't familiar with was growing.

Rosalee smiled and shook her head. "As many as I need. You don't know how hard some of this stuff is to get. I've been trying to get in contact with Freddy and my father’s old suppliers, but some still don't exactly trust me yet. Kind of an old boy’s club."

"They just need to get to know you," he smiled.

She smiled back, stacking several smaller and newly packed boxes. "I'll go put these down below." She hefted the boxes, now labeled thanks to the Blutbad's organizational skills, and headed down into the storeroom. "Finish entering those boxes for me in the ledger?" she called up.

"Right," the Blutbad said. He started tallying several of the counted items in a new ledger Rosalee bought; a large brandy-brown leather bound book that blended in well with the other books and mystic looking things in the shop.

Monroe looked up as the door opened with a slight tinkling of the bell. Rosalee had left the shop open during inventory since most days were slow this time of year and they hadn't really expected anyone to interrupt the inventory taking. Monroe's first thought was that Nick had arrived, having said he'd drop by to help a little, and he was in the middle of a greeting him when he stalled. It wasn't Nick that walked in, but a woman. She had slightly yellowed platinum blond hair cut to just above her shoulders, bangs parted to the side over her forehead. Her nose and lips were both robust, but fit attractively in her face. Wide, dark green-gray eyes scanned the shop, her gaze both sharp and distant as if she were cataloguing what she saw with clinical but detached mind but ready to focus.

"Oh, uh, Hey. Welcome to Exotic Spice and Tea," Monroe said lightly.

The woman turned those assessing eyes to him, blinking once before walking over. She wore simple black boots over skinny but well-worn jeans, a dark green top and thick gray jacket despite the warming spring weather. "Hey. I was hoping you could help me with something; I'm looking for a rare spice in addition to a few others. I don’t really have time to order it though." Her voice was neutral and steady, but held an undercurrent of authority that somewhat surprised the clockmaker. “You’re the third shop I’ve tried.”

Monroe smiled, hoping to maybe get her to relax. "Well, I'm just helping out a friend today but I do know spices pretty well. And rare is sort of the shop's specialty. What in particular?"

The woman didn't rise to the social tone and reached a hand—encased in a black leather glove strangely enough—into her pocket and pulled out a notepad. Flipping through, she found the page she was looking for. "White Horehound, Mistletoe, Yarrow, fresh Witch Hazel, and Juniper Berries, if you have them," she listed out. "I've yet to find them elsewhere."

Monroe was surprised as he took in the list, and then frowned. "I pretty sure we have all those, but...you do know Mistletoe is very poisonous? That whole kissing under it is just for Christmas, and the berries--"

The girl just gave him a flat gaze as she raised a hand to halt him, not seeming annoyed or worried. Just neutral as always. "I have experience with it and all these herbs, you don’t have to worry. I’m in kind of a rush please."

"Okay...Just give me a moment, we're doing inventory."

“I figured,” she said, glancing around. Monroe took down several jars and boxes they'd already labeled to measure out for the customer on the scales. However, when he reached for the jar of yarrow that somehow was put just above his head, it slipped from his grasp and crashed to the floor. Shattered glass broke the silence and sent dried white flowers on spindly stems exploding across the floor. "Dammit!" he cursed. He’d yet to break anything before then, and to do so in front of a customer was worse.

“You okay?” the customer asked, looking up from examining a few boxes of tea to walk over.

“Yeah, just let me clean this up and get you a clean jar. I don’t think you want glass in your yarrow,” he said, quickly grabbing the dustpan and hand broom hidden in the corner. “Sorry about this, I promise we’re usually much more organized and professional but everything’s just so jumbled-ow! Son of a—” he bit out, dropping the dustpan when he felt a sharp pain in his finger. Lifting it up, he saw red oozing over one of his knuckles where it had grazed a piece of broken glass. His features shifted a moment in frustration and instinct at the sight of even his own blood.

"Blutbad," a growl came. Monroe's eyes widened and his head whipped up. A cold, predatory gleam flared the girl's eyes as they literally darkened to a deep black. Like two pits of pitch in her face, reflecting his animal features. The deep, ozone scent hit him hard, like a wind carrying in a vicious storm that promised violence. He'd smelled that scent faintly on Nick a couple of times, but this girl was radiating it now in the intent to kill.

"Grimm," he breathed.

What happened next seemed both infinitely slow and incredibly fast. The Girl Grimm practically ripped off her jacket, revealing well-muscled arms and broad shoulders. She had a holster strapped to her back, but it wasn't holding guns. She grabbed an ebony handle pinned to her side, snapping a restraint so that a large—it looked like it was almost the size of her forearm!—hunting knife slipped from the holster at her side under her arm. She lunged over the counter for Monroe, who quickly backpedaled around the side, woging back. This was the charge in head first sort of Grimm apparently.

"Whoa, calm down lady! I'm not that kind of Blutbad!” He swung around the side back to his feet. “I'm a wieder! I'm vegan!” He yelped when she tried to bring the heel of her boot—steel toe he realized—down onto his knee, but he luckily got dodged them. “I do Pilates!"

The Grimm's expression didn't even shift as she came towards him, the blade at the ready. Monroe flailed a bit, his eyes reddening and his fangs rippling in his gums but trying to keep control of himself. He grabbed a jar nearby and threw it at her, but she knocked it away with the back of the blade using precision aim. It smashed against the shelf nearby, and she continued forward. Monroe shifted again, baring his teeth on instinct, but that was obviously not endearing him towards the intent Grimm.

"What the hell's going on?!" The yell had them both pause. Monroe’s blood ran cold when he looked up and saw Rosalee at the top of the stairs nearby, gaping at them.

"It's a Grimm!" Monroe shouted in warning. Rosalee's eyes widened and she cursed, her features shifting as well.

The blonde woman simply sighed in annoyance rather than go for her right away. "A Fuchsbau and a Blutbad? Wonderful..." She lifted one hand blandly, gesturing between Monroe and Rosalee. "Come on then, I'd prefer to end this quickly. You're not the ones I'm hunting."

Monroe growled but breathed deep, trying to stay calm though his whole body was tense in the desire to attack. "Like I said, I'm a wieder."

She arched one eyebrow slightly. "Is that meant to mean something to me? A wesen is a wesen."

Monroe shifted, uneasy now. He knew he shouldn't have expected another Grimm to be anything like Nick, but he could dream. "I'm reformed. I don't like to fight, and I don't eat meat or anything. Ve-gan," he said again, pronouncing the word slowly.

She blinked, tilting her head just slight as if turning the idea in her head. "Well. I suppose if you don't fight, this will be easy enough. You first, then the Fuchsbau." She rushed him before he could reply, sweeping the blade towards his neck. It was only Monroe's own reflexes that had him ducking back quickly and tumbling out of the way.

"What the hell?!” He stood, making sure he was between the blonde and and his girlfriend. Fangs and claws grew, eyes turned red and fur sprouted in small leads across his face as he shifted fully, snarling at her.

The woman didn't flourish her weapon or prostrate herself. She only turned to face him, defensive but ready to attack. "I will make it fast if you hold still, I do not relish inflicting pain before death."

"Actually, it's not my first encounter with a Grimm—”

She didn't let him finish as she rushed him again, slashing towards his chest. He hissed as his shirt was cut open and he felt a sting run across it. It wasn't deep though since he'd managed to move back enough it only grazed him. But he couldn’t look at it to make sure because the blade was coming back up. But stepping in, he caught her arm in his grip before it struck and snarled. The Grimm Girl wasn't fazed as she brought her other hand up, punching him hard in the cheek. He let go to stagger back, blinking away stars. If he was human his cheek bone would be fractured at the least. Possibly his jaw. This Grimm was strong, an apparently well aware of her Grimmly abilities. She kept moving with the motion of the blow, bringing her leg up to kick him squarely in the chest and send him stumbling back further. He was really out of practice with fighting that wasn’t a knockdown, drag out brawl. The girl was not as she made to strike at him again.

Rosalee threw a jar of yellow powder however and she was forced to back away as her weapon’s course was thrown off by the blow. The powder erupted, making Monroe's nose tickle and eliciting some coughs as he breathed in. The blonde brought her arm up to block her nose and mouth and glared at the other woman before grabbing a nearby box and hurling it at the Fuchsbau, forcing her to duck behind a column as the wood shattered on the wall. "Stay out of this, I’ll deal with you soon enough!" the Grimm snapped, patience lost. Turning back to Monroe, she leapt at him, using her weight to force him down flat on his back with a coughing yelp from his throat. She raised the blade above her head, the intent to kill in her eyes.

"Freeze, Portland PD!" The all froze, the blonde with her blade poised just above Monroe's jugular. The Blutbad gulped, the point making contact just by the motion. Dark green eyes flicked to the doorway, where Nick stood with his gun raised.

"Nick, thank God," Rosalee breathed.

"Who are you?" the blonde asked, eyes narrowed.

"I'm a Detective with the Portland PD, now drop the weapon!" The woman didn't, still staring at him. "I said drop it!"

"Nick, she's a Grimm," Monroe rasped, trying not to move too much.

The detective's own eyes widened, his grip relaxing in shock a moment. "A Grimm?"

"Yes. What are you? Another Blutbad?" she asked breezily.

He shook his head, keeping his gun on her but trying to relax enough she wouldn't attempt to take them all out. "No. I'm a Grimm too."

That got her attention. She blinked in surprise several times, that cold expression melted in shock. "What?"

"He's a Grimm and he's also my friend, so kindly get off of me!" Monroe snarled, eyes still red. She looked back down at him coolly, not moving the blade. She had a lot of control to hold it that way so long. "Please," he added quickly, trying to get controlled again.

"I don't appreciate being lied to," she growled back.

"He's not lying," Nick countered. "If you hurt him, I will shoot. Bullets will hurt you."

She stared a moment before rising and taking the blade with her calmly. She stepped away, though didn't sheathe the blade. Monroe scrambled up, moved back and breathing deep as he tried to calm down, though it was obvious he wanted to attack with his claws and red eye still on the surface. Rosalee ran over to look him over and keep him calm, holding him close and stroking through his hair.

The blonde's attention was captured by Nick, looking him over. “You want me to believe you’re a Grimm? Can you prove it?”

“I…don’t know how to do that.” He said honestly. “Um…My mother is Kelly Burkhardt and my aunt was Marie Kessler.”

"Kelly and…Wait, Kelly and Marie Kessler?” The woman’s jaw dropped with her eyes wide in shock, the first truly noticeable emotion she’d shown. “ _You’re_ Nicky?!” she asked, her voice cracking.

Nick was just as thrown off. “What? I…Only my mother calls me that…”

She groaned, running a hand through her hair as she took in a deep breath, looking close to a minor breakdown. “Nicholas Burkhardt…Ugh, her husband’s name was Burkhardt. You’re Kelly Kessler’s son, oh my God…”

“How do you know all that?” Nick asked in surprise.

She looked at him with a wilted expression. "Because I know your mother. Hell, I’ve worked with her! I spoke to her two months ago, and she mentioned her son. But obviously neglected a few details when she described you…”

“You talked to her?” he asked quickly. “Is she okay?”

She huffed a little but eyed him more appraisingly. “Like I said, we crossed paths not too long ago on her way to Greece. I told her I was heading to the Northwest and she asked me to come check on you if I passed near Portland. I should’ve realized there wouldn’t be any other Grimm here but…” she snorted. “She neglected to mention you were a cop, and more importantly, that you’ve lost your mind and befriended a bunch of wesen! If my own mentor were here she would say to kill you before you cause things to get worse.”

"You try it, I'll put aside my reformation to rip you apart," Monroe growled. She cast her eyes to him, looking surprised again. Rosalee was also glaring at her. Apparently she hadn't expected their defense of a Grimm by wesen so readily.

Nick held a hand to Monroe to get him to calm down, though he smiled in appreciation. "I'm a cop, so technically I work for the city," he said, letting the gun drop but not putting it away. "And those are my friends."

The disgust was more evident now. "You are friends with a Blutbad and a Fuchsbau? Do you have any pride as a Grimm?"

He glared. "I'm a cop first. And I only go after the bad ones."

She snorted softly. "In the time it takes you to determine 'good' from 'bad', how many innocent people could end up dead? How many times could they kill you? How irresponsible was your mentor?"

"I didn't exactly have one," Nick ground out. "Unless you count Monroe I suppose,” he added. Monroe smiled a bit, pleased despite the danger he was in. “I kind of just started learning all this a couple of years ago."

She sighed. “She did say you were a late bloomer,” she said. “When did you inherit exactly?”

"Huh?"

"When did you get your abilities?" she slowly, drawing the words out as if speaking to a slow child despite being around Nick's age.

"Like I said, not long ago. Maybe about two years ago now that I think about it..."

"Has it really been that long?" Monroe asked in surprise. He jumped as the blade in the female Grimm's hand swung to point at him.

"No one is talking to you, Blutbad. Shut up or I’ll shut you up for good," she ordered.

Monroe bristled, tempted to growl but also tempted to keep that blade far away.

"Don't threaten him," Nick said again.

She glared, her grip tightening on the knife. "You have actually befriended a wesen? A Blutbad at that?”

"Yeah. And a Fuchsbau," he nodded to Rosalee, "And some Eisbiebers, Jagerbars, Reinegans—granted I had to arrest them or their family a lot of the time…But I try to at least stay on good terms with who I can."

The woman actually rubbed over her forehead as if mortified by the very idea. "I cannot believe this...”

Nick glared, annoyed with her reaction. "Look no one prepared me for this,” he said honestly. “In fact, the whole Grimm thing only came out in the week before Aunt Marie died. And I thought mom had died a while before that. Neither of them ever brought this up while I was growing up, and Marie wasn’t able to tell me much of anything before she passed. Since then I haven’t really met any other Grimms. I'm teaching myself with what she left behind, with help from my friends."

She looked more confused, processing all of that. But she still shook her head in disbelief. “Making friends with wesen? That’s dangerous for everyone involved!”

"I'm just trying to keep things fair," Nick said calmly, not wanting her to start brandishing the knife again. "Wesen deserve justice just as much as humans."

She glared at him again, outraged. "Most humans have no defenders other than us, you bleeding heart. If what you said was true, we'd all be dead for the kills of our ancestors, and so would they." She looked between all of them though before sighing and sheathing her knife, stooping to pick up her jacket. “I don’t have time for this. You are the least of my worries so as long as you and your “friends” stay out of the way I’ll let you go. For now. I have a Wolkenkratzer to hunt."

"A Wolkenkratzer?!" Monroe and Rosalee asked in shock.

"In Portland?" Monroe finished. The woman ignored them as she zipped her jacket up and turned to walk to the door. Nick stood resolutely in her way.

"Move."

"I plan on arresting you. For assault at the least." He holstered his gun, reaching for his handcuffs now that her weapon was gone.

She arched an eyebrow. "Do you now?"

"Yes, I do." He reached for her shoulder, but before he got it she grabbed his hand, turned it and got behind him in a flash of movement to press it into his back, her other arm going around his neck. Nick grunted, trying to dislodge her but she was strong and he couldn’t do more than struggle a little. Monroe and Rosalee jumped to their feet as if to save him, but she kept Nick between her and them as a shield.

"Being a Grimm is not some sort of hobby," she said, low and serious. "You may play this as a game, _detective_ , but lives are at risk. We are meant to hunt them, we are meant to kill them. They are not our pets, never our friends,” she recited as if this had been drilled into her head many times. The rehearsed tone made Nick curious despite the pain in his shoulder. Then her grip tightened and a bit more conviction came into her voice, as if reminding herself of something. "See how long it takes for them to turn on you. You will have only yourself to thank." She pushed him away, getting out the door before he could recover.

Nick stumbled but whirled around quickly and rushed out the door. As he looked around to try and find her though there was no sign of her. “Damn…” He went back in, noting the troubled looks on his friends. “You guys okay? Shit, Monroe, your chest…”

“I’m alright, it’s just a scratch.”

“I can patch him up,” Rosalee agreed distractedly.

“I’ll track her down, get her to leave—” he began.

“Not before she takes care of the Wolkenkratzer you won’t,” Monroe said as he took off what remained of his shirt.

“…Okay, what is that exactly?” Nick asked, realizing he had no clue. “I’ve been studying the books as often as I can but considering my German is still less than beginner level…”

“Trouble. Big trouble, not to put a pun in there,” Monroe said as he sat on a stool and dabbed at his chest with what was left of his shirt. Rosalee went to the back room to retrieve the medical kit. “Fe, fi, fo, fum kind of trouble…”

Nick’s mind balked a moment even though he thought he couldn’t be surprised anymore. “…You’re kidding me…A giant?”

“Sort of. Wolkenkratzer are like giants but thankfully they are not several stories tall. Just...well, they still put most NBA players to shame.” Rosalee came back, taking out some gauze and antiseptic to start going over the wound. He winced but didn’t complain.

“So they’re really tall?”

“And strong,” Rosalee added. “Vicious too. They’ll eat anything that moves. _Anything._ Animals, humans, other wesen. Even Siegbarste would have trouble against them if they really got going. They usually live near mountains and if anything gets into their territory they go into a rage.”

“…The Mountains aren’t far from here…” Nick said. “Maybe that’s where she was heading to look for this thing?”

“I haven’t heard of a Wolkenkratzer anywhere nearby,” Monroe said. “Granted they aren’t social creatures outside of their own kind, especially if they’re the wild sort, but the old rumor mill would at least alert us I would hope. There’s a lot of area around there to just try and search.” Nick frowned, looking at the broken bits and pieces around the shop. “Renard might want to know,” the Blutbad said suddenly as Rosalee bandaged him up. “At least about a strange Grimm in the neighborhood. If she does anything illegal—like threatening more wesen townspeople— he might appreciate the warning.”

Nick nodded slightly and grabbed his phone, dialing the police captain. It rang for a few moments before it was picked up. “Detective Burkhardt, rare for you to call me like this. Can I help you?”

“Maybe…There’s a slight problem that falls more inside my…part-time job,” he said meaningfully. They needed some sort of code for this.

“Oh?” he asked, his interest immediately piqued.

“There’s another Grimm in Portland.”

It was silent a moment before he heard him take a deep breath. “A real one? Or one like our disturbed intern last year?”

“A real one. She came into the spice shop, started a fight with Monroe and Rosalee.”

“Are they alright?”

Nick had to admit he appreciated the slight worried tone in the Captain’s voice. Sometimes he wondered where Renard’s loyalties lay or if they were all game pieces to him. “They’re fine, I managed to interrupt, we had a little verbal argument and she got away when she ran for it. Apparently she knows my mother. And she didn’t leave before giving me grief for being friendly with my “enemies”…”

“You think that’s bad, if another Grimm found out you were working with me we’d both be in trouble…” he said honestly.

Nick wanted to ask why but figured that might be more of a private discussion. “There’s one other thing.”

“Dare I ask?” he sighed.

“She said she was hunting a Wolkenkratzer.”

It was silent again for a few moments before he heard a muttered curse in what he thought was French. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, Monroe and Rosalee heard it too.”

“This is not good…Then again if they kill each other, two birds with one stone.”

“Renard…” he said warningly.

“I’m joking, Nick. Mostly. The truth is that makes too much sense with a call we just got in.”

“Sir?”

“A girl was found wandering the woods by Germantown road by a couple of drivers. She was covered in blood, but her worst injury was a broken arm that didn’t break the skin. She started screaming “Don’t let him eat me” when they got close and broke down before passing out. The ambulance took her to the hospital for treatment and I was just thinking it might be your sort of case, so I already had Hank start on it. He’ll probably call you in a few minutes since technically there is no scene just yet.”

“Seriously…? Great.”

There was a slight pause and he sighed. “You want to go after this other Grimm, don’t you?”

“…Yes. Another Grimm, it’s just…I’d like to talk to her a bit more. Even if we end up at each other’s throats. She did threaten to kill me, but I don’t think her heart was in it.”

“If it was I’m fairly sure one of you would be dead by now. I know I can’t stop you once your mind is made up, so just be careful. Truthfully the Wolkenkratzer would be more trouble than a Grimm in some ways, so if you can get it under control somehow we’d all be better off. Dead might be the only way to do that so you know. Keep me posted if you don’t mind.”

“Right, will do.” He hanged up and sighed as went over the counter, thinking. “Now I just have to find her…” He blinked when he noticed a note pad on the counter and picked it up. It had a list of plants on it. “This isn’t yours, is it?”

“No, that’s the uber-Grimm’s,” Monroe said. “She was looking for that stuff. But I’m not tracking her; I don’t want to end up with any more knife wounds.”

Nick frowned but started to flip through it a bit and paused at one page, smiling a bit. “Can you get me all this stuff real quick?”

“Why?” the Blutbad asked suspiciously.

“I’d like to bring a peace offering.”

\-----------------------------

Renard glowered as he hanged the phone up, sitting back in his office chair. Another Grimm, especially one outside his sphere of influence, was definitely a problem. He knew Nick would do his best to make ties with this Grimm somehow, but if they were too hostile then it could only end up getting him killed and then making havoc for everything he was working for. Then again, if he could turn another Grimm and Renard could convince that one to work towards his cause as well…

Pulling his phone out, he selected an unnamed number from his contacts and typed a message.

 _New hunting dog passing through. Possibly rabid, but on the trail of some big game. The other is trying to make friends I think._ _If it bares its teeth at the wrong time or target, it might have to be put down._

There was a moment before a reply came.

_Understood, we’ll be ready._

\---------------------------

Macie opened her eyes slowly. She was lying on the ground, her whole body aching. It felt like she’d been wrung out like a wet rag and tossed on a concrete floor. But she was still whole, untwisted, and the floor was made of dirt and leaves.

And alive.

What had happened last night was still in her mind and she started shaking. That _thing_ had come into their camp and decimated them—taking bites out of her friends like a try me platter at a supermarket.

She’d seen her sister try to hit him to save Grant and her blood ran cold when he grew taller with sickening cracks like bones snapping. He backhanded Tonia, sending her flying into a tree with a yell. She crumpled down, still conscious but now cradling her arm with a sob.

Faster than he had a right to be, he pushed down Candace and then threw her against a tree. Then he reached out with his terrifying limbs and grabbed Sean and Adrian, smashing them together. He was knocking them all out Macie realized. Incapacitating them. Drake and Ruth tried to run, but with his long legs and long arms he caught them and smashed them against the ground hard enough even Macie stopped breathing.

Then he started taking bites from them. Drake he must not have liked because he tossed him up, not caring when he landed among the branches. He wasn’t moving anymore, no sound could be heard.

Macie had avoided attention because she was frozen in place, but she knew this thing wasn’t going to ignore her for much longer. And not her sister either. Mustering her strength, Macie had gone for Tonia and gotten her to her feet, pushing her to move. “Go! I’ll distract him!”

“What? Macie-“

“Run!” She shouted, pushing her. The creature lifted his head, his beard dripping red. With a gurgling growl he turned to move for them, just as Tonia managed to start running into the darkening forest.

And by luck, that was when Sean shot him with the flare gun right in the side.

The creature howled, a sound like nails running down a chalkboard pitched down to a base tone. The flair burned his skin and left a nice wound. In return, he stomped down on Sean and Macie shuddered. She turned to run as well, follow Tonia, but then something hit her in the back and she went sprawling. It was Sean’s body, and though she screamed she couldn’t get out from under it. The thudding footsteps came closer and she looked up with horror at the misshapen visage of the creature. His eyes were like coal, with two dimly burning embers inside. No remorse, no care. Just a smoldering desire to cause pain.

Macie had fainted. Somehow though, she’d still woken up. She was alive. And in one piece.

But she was not at the camp. She was somewhere out in the woods. How had she gotten there?

Then she saw the bag. Well, it had once been one of their tents. But it was a bag now, and inside she saw someone’s arm sticking out of it. Pale, stiff, unmoving with a bit of bone sticking out.

Breathing a little faster, she looked around. She didn’t see that creature anywhere nearby. Slowly she sat up, trying to stay quiet. Scanning the trees, she finally spotted it to her right, looking around and sniffing the air like an animal. It wore clothes like a man, it even looked like a man again, but it acted like something wild and it was ready to kill at a moment’s notice. Knowing that, Macie was as quiet as she could be as she pushed herself up and tried to crawl in the opposite direction. Getting to her feet was hard because her legs wouldn’t stop shaking. Up ahead though she saw their camp through the trees. So he hadn’t left yet. She knew where she was, she knew where the trail was. She just had to get to the other side of the camp.

Getting to the edge though she almost collapsed. Everything was destroyed, the tents shredded, their equipment wrecked. But more than that, there was blood everywhere. Enough she could smell it, the coppery tang making her gag. Her friends bodies were strewn about, missing pieces that she realized now where in that tent like a doggy-bag. “Oh God…” she sobbed quietly, covering her mouth.

Then she heard a loud growl and steps rushing towards her. _How could he hear me?!_ Sobbing, she pushed up and tried to run on both legs across the camp. The man-creature was faster though and soon had tackled her before she could make it to the path. Screaming, she tried to beat him off of her with flailing fists and kicks. He struck her hard enough across the face she saw stars. Then she felt his hand at her foot.

When he twisted, his strength was so hard he turned her foot in a direction it should not go with a sickening _snap_.

Macie screamed again and she felt like someone should be able to hear that all the way to the city. Her vision swam and then went black as she passed out from the pain once more. She didn’t feel him put her over his shoulder, grab his sack of leftovers and walk off again deeper into the woods.

\-------------------

Juliette petted over the golden retriever she’d just finished vaccinating, smiling. “Okay, Jackson, just a blood test and your all good.”

She paused as her cell phone rang, with the ring tone she set for Nick, and frowned just slightly.

“That’s Nick isn’t it?” the dog’s owner, her old friend Megan, asked.

“Uh, yeah…”

“Go ahead, I don’t mind,” she smiled understandingly.

Juliette tried to smile back as she grabbed the phone and hit the call button. “Nick? Everything okay?” she asked, trying to sound lighthearted despite still not being comfortable. Her memories of the man she supposedly loved were still practically non-existent, even the ones where she knew he must fit in.

“Yeah, I just…I’m, uh, kind of working a case and I thought I should let you know about this one.”

“Okay…why?”

“This person threatened Monroe and Rosalee. Started a brawl with Monroe.”

“Are they okay?” she asked quickly.

Nick sighed a little, bitter maybe that she cared so openly about them and was still getting used to him. She felt a little guilty. “They’re shaken up and Monroe has some scratches, but they’ll be okay. I was coming to help them out with their inventory and came at the right time. I think there’s more to this attack though, so I want to track this perp down. I just thought I should kind of warn you, if you should happen to see Monroe and Rosalee later. I know you talked about going over to help them with inventory too...”

“Okay…Thanks for the warning.”

“Of course. I’ll…talk to you later?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah…later.” She hanged up before he could say anything more.

“Must be hard having a man that works such long hours,” Megan said as tactfully as she could, petting over her dog. “Everything okay? Sounded a little…tense.”

“We’re…working through some stuff,” Juliette replied, getting her syringe ready. She couldn’t exactly explain she’d forgotten everything about her boyfriend somehow, not with someone that apparently knew him and how long they were together. It was strange to think this woman knew more about her boyfriend of seven years than she did.

“I hope you can work it out then, you two are good for each other. But I know how hard it can be, especially with a stressful job like his. I had a boyfriend in the army once, drove me nuts he was always gone. Must be easier when they’re at least in the same country. Though I guess his job is just as dangerous, if not more some days, huh?”

“Yeah…” Juliette said. There was still the feeling there was something even more dangerous lurking around Nick though, the shadowy visions she was seeing and nightmares she was having doing nothing to help her anxiety. It did nothing to quell her questions either.

\---------------------------------------

Nick used speaker phone to call Hank in the car as he drove. “Hey, Hank.”

“Hey man. We have a case.”

“I heard…Renard thinks it might be wesen related.”

“Yeah. The girl was found talking about a monster trying to eat her and her friends. Kind of sounds up our alley.”

“No kidding.”

“It gets worse I’m afraid. I contacted the girl’s parents already. They’re rushing up over from Salt Lake City but I was able to get information. Her name is Antonia Swindon, a freshman at Lewis and Clark College while her sister, Marcia, is a sophomore. Both of them were going on a camping trip with friends for the last weekend in Spring Break. Out on Thursday, back on Sunday was their plan. Cheap way to spend summer break for some poor college kids. No one knows exactly where they are in the woods though; they were just going to hike and camp. So according to them because they wanted a list of everyone who was coming, we have roughly seven people missing.”

“Damn, seven?” he sighed.

“Yeah. I’m hoping we can narrow down the search when she wakes up, otherwise we’re going to need a lot of manpower to search for them.”

“Well…I might have one ace up my sleeve.”

“Monroe? You think he can track them?”

“Oh…well, two aces then.”

“What’s the other ace, card shark?”

“There’s…another Grimm in Portland.”

“Another Grimm?!” Hank barked over the phone. He immediately looked sheepishly around the hospital parking lot, glad no one had heard him apparently. “You met another Grimm? A real one? Who’s not related to you?” he asked more calmly.

“Yeah. It’s another woman. She’s pretty tough too, or acts tough at least,” Nick said over speaker phone, driving out towards the woods.

“Is she cute?”

“Hank…”

“It’s a legitimate question. But I guess the better one is what’s she doing here?”

“Besides threatening Monroe and Rosalee, and me too, apparently paralleling our case with her own hunt.”

“Come again?”

“The girl that was found, talking about someone trying to eat her? Renard says it sounds like it could be related to the wesen she’s hunting, called a Wolkenkratzer.”

“Great, something else that eats people…” Hank said with a sigh. “I’m at the hospital with the girl, but she’s still unconscious. Do you want me to meet you?”

“I…don’t think so,” he said honestly. “I mean, I’d like to have you here, but I get the feeling she might not like that you know about all this. She seems…traditional.”

“So trying to keep her out of the loop here, huh?” he asked, not taking it personally thankfully.

“Yeah. It might be best if she goes after this, I don’t want her trying to kill ever wesen in town.”

“I’d prefer that too. I’m starting to think there’s more wesen than people,” he chuckled. “I’ll wait here then for our witness to wake up, but try to keep _me_ in the loop at least. Check in regularly actually, just so I know she’s not trying to kill you for real.”

“I promise I will,” Nick said, smiling despite himself. “Let me know if the witness wakes up, it might be good to question her about this before we go wandering the woods.”

“Roger that.” They ended the call and Nick glanced at the notebook again, noting the quickly sketched map. It wasn’t exactly encrypted with its simple picture of a road, trees on either side, a street name hastily scrawled and a building with a cross on it. He’d lived in Portland long enough to know where the buildings thinned out at the edges, and where there was an abandoned church on one of them near an old road. He was sometimes called there to break up illegal parties and the like.

Sure enough just a little down from the building he found a large dark blue SUV parked by the side of the road. It had California plates and looked fairly old but kept in good shape. Nick parked his car and got out to approach the large SUV slowly. There was no trailer like his aunt's, but he could see quite a few boxes in back that were under lock and key. He figured that must be where the majority of her things were as he peered at them curiously.

A line of cold metal pressed against his cheek and he gasped. It was the blunt wide back of the blade, but he had a feeling if he wasn't careful it would turn over and bite him with the sharp edge easily enough.

"I will give you credit, you are apparently a decent detective," the cool voice said.

Nick held up his hands to show he didn't have a weapon in his hand, straightening. The blade followed his movements. He wiggled the notebook to get her attention to it. “Easy when you have a map.” She gave an annoyed click of her tongue and reached forward and to pluck it from his hands, which gave it willingly. "I just want to talk," he said.

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Ouch. That honestly hurt,” he said blandly. She was silent to the attempt at humor. "Look, I know we didn't get off on the right foot-I don't exactly like people attacking my friends. But I've never met another Grimm. Unless you count my aunt, but I didn't know she was one till...well, she had cancer. And then my mom, but I thought she’d been dead for years before she showed up again and…it’s complicated. We didn’t have much time to catch up.” He rolled his eyes at himself. “My point is, you’re the first one I’ve met who isn’t my relative…right?” he finished, unsure now.

There was a pause before the blade finally moved away. She breathed out silently in an impatient sigh. "No, we are not related. Different family line all the way as far as I know. I’m not entirely convinced you’re related to Kelly or Marie either.”

“Well considering I do still have baby pictures, I think I can prove that…” Nick said snidely.

“Why are you here?” Sloane asked.

"Can I turn around?"

"Yes, but don't try anything foolish. You’re no match for me."

"You're confidence is certainly lethal..." Nick turned around, keeping his hands up. "I just came to talk. This...Wolkenkratzer? Do you need help?" She hardly looked impressed by his offer. "Hey, I've been doing okay on my own you know. I even went up against a Siegbarste."

She seemed a bit more interested at that, looking at him considerately. "Oh? That’s impressive. How did you defeat him?”

He opened his mouth then felt himself blush when he realized how this would sound. "...I ended up in the hospital after he attacked me at my house, my human girlfriend blinded him with boiling water to keep him from killing me..." he admitted.

She rolled her eyes. "I should've known. Did you befriend him too?"

"No. He's dead. Monroe shot him with an old elephant gun that had the gift in it."

"Who's Monroe?" she asked curiously.

"The Blutbad you tried to kill."

She stared long and hard at him. "...You're serious?" she finally asked, brow arched as if expecting a punchline.

"Yep. I told you, he's my friend. I trust him with my life, and he hasn't let me down."

"Yet,” she snorted.

"He won't let me down," Nick said with conviction. "He didn't want to kill anyone, but he did to save my partner, Hank, when the siegbarste tried to kill him. He's loyal as they come."

"So he's your dog?" she smirked.

" _Friend,_ ” Nick stressed.

She sighed and rubbed her temple. "I don't care. Look, I have real work to do. I need to—" She tensed when Nick reached into his pocket, moving to bring the blade up, but he quickly brought out a large brown bag instead.

"The spice shop doesn’t usually deliver, but I figured you still needed this." He offered the bag to her. Eyeing him suspiciously, she snatched it out of his hand roughly and managed to open it one handed she peaked inside. Her expression shifted only minutely back to her poker face when she saw the herbs and spices she had asked for inside. “Everything you wrote down is in there."

"...Thanks."

"Thank Rosalee." She arched her eyebrows. "The Fuchsbau. And Monroe."

She narrowed her eyes, as if to say dream on. Moving around the back of the SUV she clicked her key ring and pulled open the trunk. Nick followed, looking curiously over her shoulder. She brought over a large wooden cabinet and unlocked the doors in front, revealing many drawers inside. It was about the size of his chest, so it didn't hold as much as the one in the trailer. Opening drawers she began putting the spices away. "What do I owe you?"

"An explanation would be nice."

"I meant money for the herbs. I don't want to be indebted to you,” she said dryly.

"I'll forget about the money for the explanation. So you're tracking this Wolkenkratzer?"

She sighed quietly but kept organizing the spices. "Do you know anything about them to start with?"

"Monroe and Rosalee told me about them. They're tall in disguise, but grow even taller when they transform, like about nine feet or more. And are known for eating anything or anyone that gets in their territory. They leave large pits of bones of their victims, called…um…”

“Knochengrube. Literally ‘bone pit’,” she supplied.

“Right, that,” he said with a slightly embarrassed smile. “They usually live in the mountains because they like high altitudes-"

“Wait,” she held up a hand. “Let me see if I understand this, you are being tutored in wesen by a Blutbad and a Fuchsbau?"

He nodded. "They're often more valuable than my aunt's books. They know things some of them don't."

She blinked, looking considerate a moment, which made him smile hopefully, before shaking her head and turning to finish putting the herbs away. "That’s stupid. They could feed you false information."

He shook his head. "They wouldn't. Did they tell me anything wrong about the Wolkenkratzer?"

"...No, that is their M.O. and appearance in a nutshell.” She folded her arms and rested the backs of her thighs against the car’s back door with a huff of annoyance. “I've been tracking this one from Wyoming."

"That far?" Nick asked in shock.

"Yes. Wolkenkratzer are rarely domestic, they’re often wild born and prone to—”

“Bouts of destructive rampages, I know, they told me.”

“I’m so happy for you,” she sneered. “So I guess I don’t have to tell you anything else, hotshot?” Nick was quiet a moment, unsure how best to answer that. On one hand he didn’t want to be condescended to, on the other he really didn’t know much. She nodded as if reading his mind. “I thought so. As I was saying, it’s common in their kind for some reason to give into the wild side and just go feral. Like a wildeman, but ten times worse. The one I’m tracking had been hanging out around the Rocky Mountains for several years near as I can tell. Usually he got deer and bears or stray livestock, but when he could he picked off hikers around the mountains, usually from campgrounds or cabins when they got too close. A knochengrube was found down the side of the mountain a few months ago, about thirty human victims over the course of maybe a decade intermixed with hundreds, maybe thousands of animals. I knew that was a good sign some sort of wesen in the area. A Wolkenkratzer was…not what I hoped for, though it made sense.” She shifted a bit, her mouth in a sour frown. “I found him and almost had him but he managed to escape and ran before I was able to finish him off.” She looked at him snidely. "Are you going to try and befriend him too? Become BFFs?"

"...I can arrest him, he--"

She held up a hand, shaking her head. "This thing has probably been off the grid for years, assuming he was even on it to have any records. He’s more beast than man, I’m not sure he still understands human speech anymore. He’s also strong enough to raise a boulder almost twice my weight above his head and hurl it at me. I speak from first-hand experience. If you have a prison strong enough to hold a nine foot tall man with the strength of ten men, and don't mind loosing quite a few guards to his craving for flesh, as well as handcuffs that could fit around something as thick as a small tree trunk, be my guest,” she finished with a sarcastic flourish.

Nick was quiet a while, looking away as he absorbed all that. Truthfully he felt killing this thing was the better option, but he didn’t want to admit that in the face of her ease in saying so. He floundered for a response before closing his mouth.

"I thought as much. I can handle him if your delicate sensibilities don't want to kill him," she said coldly.

He bristled at the challenge, glaring. “It’s not that I can’t kill. I just don't like it. I’ve taken down several of those that tried to kill me and others, and I killed several reapers.”

"Reapers?" she asked in surprise. “Here? After you?”

"Yeah. Someone wanted Aunt Marie dead, even though she was dying from cancer already...But then others came. Two came at once and I managed to get both of them. Monroe even suggested boxing up their heads and sending them to an address we found on them as an intimidation tactic.”

She wrinkled her nose a bit at that, though she also looked a bit admiring as she considered it. She looked at him more curiously, and then her expression turned surprisingly soft. “…I am sorry about Marie. I’d heard about her passing from others, but I had not realized she was that sick. She seemed too strong.”

“Did you know my aunt well?” he asked, turning to lean against the car as well. She moved slightly over, still eyeing him, but nodded.

"Of course. Marie was an amazingly talented Grimm, as well as your aunt. Your mother is well known too. And they were both good friends of my mentor." She actually looked a bit sad. "Like I said, I’d heard Marie passed on, but rumors can’t always be trusted…I guess I’d hoped she’d just gone into hiding.” She sighed, folding her arms as she looked up towards the sky. “She actually saved me once when I was still in training. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for her rescuing me, and I was quite awed by her. She was so strong and determined and…she left an impression. It was hard to imagine her dying of anything. Especially an illness…though I guess that’s a testament that it was something she couldn’t just kill that got her. Kelly is strong and amazing too, I’ve gotten to work with her a couple of times over the years."

Nick looked a bit uneasy. He knew his aunt and mother had likely killed many wesen, but he didn't like thinking about it. The girl was looking at him now more considering, maybe like a puzzle.

"You’re Kelly’s son, Marie Kessler’s nephew, but you are so…weak. You haven’t killed that Blutbad or Fuchsbau. Why?” She sounded honestly curious now, less judging and more confused.

Nick breathed through his nose and leveled his gaze at her. “I got to know them. Monroe is reformed, he doesn’t eat meat at all, doesn’t hunt. Not to eat things. He’s helped me track murderous wesen and victims and saved people too. And Rosalee…I wouldn’t recommend making her angry, but she’s usually so calm and caring I don’t see it often. She’s has an amazing sense of justice, she helps keep us all on the right path I think, and she’s so good with herbs that she’s helped us cure people afflicted by different wesen ailments. We suppressed a Ziegvolk lawyer’s hormone power a couple of days ago to make sure a wesen that committed murder didn’t get off easy. They’ve had my back more than once, and I try to make sure to have theirs.”

“…So you’re soft,” she summarized with a deadpanned look.

Nick glared. “I’m not soft!”

“What I’ve seen says otherwise.” She closed the cabinet and then her car, making him get up. “You’d be a liability out there against something like a Wolkenkratzer; I can handle it on my own.”

Nick glared before risking setting a hand on her shoulder. She moved to grab it but he was faster this time and blocked her, then blocked the blow she tried to give with her arm. “I may be new to being a Grimm, but I’ve been an officer of the law for a while. I know how to take care of myself.”

She arched her eyebrows. “Debatable. If I were really trying you’d be down by now.”

“You are really cocky, aren’t you?” he sneered.

“I’m confident. It’s what comes from experience,” she said, wrenching her arms free.

“Well I’ve been doing fine my own way, so I’m pretty confident too. I also have a lead on your Wolkenkratzer already.”

That got her attention. “What? How?”

Nick sighed. “A girl was found this morning, injured and wandering the side of the road through the woods more north of here. She said something tried to eat her, and apparently she was on a camping trip with a bunch of other people who are now missing.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?! If he’s already hunting large parties here, it’s a matter of time before he sets up a new territory! He might not even wait to get to the mountains!”

“I’ve been trying to be civil with you!”

“Screw civility, we need to get that monster before anyone else dies!”

Nick’s phone buzzed before he could say anything back and he looked at it. “…Our witness is awake at the hospital.”

“Great, let’s go. You drive; I don’t have room in my car for a passenger.”

“Wait, what?”

“I want to see what this witness has to say, she might give me some insight where the Wolkenkratzer is. And my car is full of my stuff, so if you want to come along we’ll have to take yours.”

“If _I_ want to come along?” he asked incredulously. “I’m the police officer here! You’re not getting anywhere near the witness.”

She glared at him. “Fine. I’ll go searching the woods on my own then, which was already my plan. If I find him first, I take the kill alone.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he said seriously.

“I’m prepared for that,” she replied back, and the equal seriousness actually worried Nick a moment. She really was ready to rush headline into the possibility of death.

Nick sighed. “Okay. You can come with me to the hospital. But, I’m asking the questions.”

She still frowned but rolled her eyes. “Fine. Lead on then, Detective.”

Nick gave her a somewhat sour look but headed to his car, letting her climb in the passenger seat. Before they took off, Nick texted back on his phone to Hank. _I’m on my way. The other Grimm is coming with me. I think it’s best to play dumb, she’s not exactly friendly._

He hit send and moved to start the car but paused a moment. "What's your name?"

She looked up, blinking. "What?"

"Your name. You know mine. I'd like to know yours."

She slowed buckling her seatbelt. She seemed to be thinking something over before she spoke again. "Sloane. Sloane Larson."

"Sloane...I'd say it's nice to meet you, but truthfully you didn't make the best first impression."

She just arched her eyebrow at him. "The feeling is mutual, Detective Burkhardt.” She seemed to be shutting back down, putting up walls again. "Can we go now?”

Nick sighed and started the car, driving back to the city in silence and towards the hospital.

Nick got another text along the way but didn’t look at it until they got to the hospital. Hank had texted back, _I’m getting ahold of the girl’s parents, they were visiting relatives in Salt Lake and just got back to us. I’ll handle talking to them, you handle the girl and your new BFF._

Nick huffed a little at the joke.

“What? Are we going?” Sloane asked impatiently.

“Yes. My partner is heading on another part of the case, so I guess that eliminates the problem of trying to explain you to him,” he bluffed.

“Ah. I was figuring on posing as your partner, so this does work out.”

“Excuse me?” Nick asked in surprise.

“What? Not the first time I’ve posed as law enforcement. “Is that a problem?”

“I…yes, do not impersonate a police officer,” he said with a hint of desperation.

Sloane looked like she wanted to argue, but then shrugged. “Fine. My badge box is back at the car anyway.”

“Your…okay, I’m not going to ask more” he sighed, getting out of the car.

Sloane followed him in. He took out his badge and showed it to the nurse. “I’m Detective Burkhardt with the Portland PD. I'm here to speak with Antonia Swindon.”

“Yes, Detective Griffin said you’d be by in his place. She’s conscious but…very traumatized,” the nurse said, looking anxious for her patient.

“I promise I’m going to try to make this as short and painless as possible, but if those other campers are still out there we need some help trying to locate them.”

“Of course, she’s in room 205…” the nurse nodded. She looked at Sloane curiously.

“Sarah Jones,” Sloane said with an affable smile and holding her hand out. “I’m a counselor who offered to accompany Detective Burkhardt while his partner is busy. I hope to be able to make sure Miss Swindon is as comfortable as possible while we question her.”

The nurse smiled and shook her hand. “I see, that’s a nice precaution.”

Sloane smiled and nodded to Nick, who was looking at her in utter confusion. He turned and headed with her towards the room. “Sarah Jones? Counselor?” he said when they were out of earshot of the nurse.

“Keep it simple, it’s easy for you but harder for them to remember when it’s simple. She’ll run through “Smith” and “Johnson” and never be quite sure. Also, probably a lot of Sarah Jones in the world,” she replied. “She wasn’t going to let me go through without an explanation, and she already met your partner.”

“You seem comfortable lying…”

“I’m comfortable with a lot of things you probably aren’t,” she replied snidely.

Nick rolled his eyes but they got in the elevator and headed up to the room. It was empty except for a girl sitting up in bed. She had a few nasty looking bruises and cuts, her arm in a stark white cast, but was otherwise whole bodily. She jumped however when the door opened and looked at them with wide frightened eyes. “Miss Swindon? I’m Detective Burkhardt. Are you okay to talk?” She nodded slowly, not quite relaxing but easing back against the pillows. Nick came in and Sloane followed. “This is Sarah. She’s here to help as well. We just want to ask you some questions about what’s happened.”

“I figured…” she said quietly. “I knew someone probably would.”

Nick nodded slowly. “So…we heard you were out camping with your friends?”

“And my sister…”

“Right, your sister Marcia.”

“Macie…we don’t call her Marcia…” she said, hand tightening in the sheets. “It was supposed to be just something to do for the long weekend, since we didn’t have much else going on for spring break…We parked and we hiked to a spot to camp at…everything was fine…it was fine…”

“But what happened then?”

“You won’t believe me,” she said immediately. “No one does. No one will. No one can stop that-that thing…” she whispered, drawing her legs up to her chest. “They didn’t believe me, they think I’ve just lost it…But I didn’t! I didn’t imagine it!”

Nick was going to try and calm her down when Sloane stepped forward. “He was tall wasn’t he?” She asked. The gentle tone of her voice surprised Nick enough he didn’t immediately stop her. He didn’t think she could do gentle. “Not like a normal person, like a tree. Smelled awful, like rotting meat. Lots of hair and nasty teeth.” She kept the gentle, almost sad tone despite talking about something so gruesome.

Antonia looked at her in surprise before nodding desperately. “Yes! Yes…he was real? He had to be…”

“He’s real. I’ve been hunting for him.” Nick looked at her in surprise again, not expecting her to validate Antonia that quickly.

“Is h-he a monster?”

“Yes,” she said equally matter-of-factly.

“He killed them…he killed all of them…my s-sister got me to run but sh-she…” she started choking up and crying.

“Miss Swindon, you don’t have to talk about this if you’re—” Nick started.

“No, she does,” Sloane said, casting him a reproachful look. She looked back at Antonia. “I know it must be hell thinking about it again, especially while it’s still fresh in your memories. But fresh is good.” She pulled out a map and set it down showing the forest near the road she was found. “If you can remember the vicinity where you all were, we can get…get your friend’s remains back for their families. Get your sister back. And I can go hunting for this thing so it won’t do this again and you’ll be safe.”

Antonia was still crying and rocking a little but she looked at the map. Nick wanted to drag Sloane out of there and berate her for pushing her, even though he had done it plenty of times, but he had to pause when Antonia reached for the map. Slowly she moved her finger around before tapping one area. “H-here…we parked at the car park a couple miles away and hiked. I think we were around here…”

Sloane marked the spot with a red pen, circling the car park as well. “Okay. I’m going to let him ask the rest of the questions. Police procedure and all that.”

“But you’re going to kill that thing?” she asked, her voice shaking with anger and hope.

“You have my word that he’s not going to get away from me,” she said. “For you, your friends and your sister.”

“Thank you…” she sobbed, shaking putting a hand on Sloane’s hand. Sloane patted her hand gently, looking quite sympathetic.

Nick asked her the more routine questions as gently and quickly as he could before they headed back out and into his car again. He started back where they’d left her car. “You were better with her than I thought you’d be…”

She arched her eyebrow at him as she was looking over the map again. “You expected me to muscle her into telling me what I wanted?”

“A bit, yeah…More I’m surprised you didn’t skirt around the whole monster thing. I mean, I always figured we had to keep it tightly under wraps.”

“If possible, yeah. But then, she already saw what she saw and I needed to know where she saw it. No use trying to lead her down another path. She’ll probably go to therapy and eventually rationalize it as something else, but for now what’s the use in trying to tell her she’s wrong and making her more upset?”

“I guess that’s one way to look at it…” He thought back to how Hank handled finding out about wesen and wondered if maybe there had been a better way to handle it like that. “I’ve been kind of figuring this all out as I go and Monroe said it’s pretty traumatic for most humans to find out…”

She paused and looked at him curiously. “Kelly said Marie raised you…Did she really not prepare you for any of this before she got ill? No ground rules or advice? I had thought she would at least try.”

He shook his head slowly. "No. We moved around a lot, but I think she wanted me to have a normal life, at least for a while. Thinking maybe I wouldn’t become a Grimm." The girl didn't dismiss it like other sentiments he'd mention, but she looked a bit troubled and confused as she mulled that over.

“Well, I have a place to start at least,” she finally said, tapping the map.

"You mean we,” he said stubbornly.

She gave him a flat look. "You--"

"I'm still a Grimm. Two Grimms have to be better than one. And I'm a cop, so protecting people is important to me. I will do what I have to do to keep Portland safe. At least save the 'You're so stupid and inexperienced' talk till after you see what I can do first hand, okay? After all, you could be all talk."

She stared for a moment, bristling and looking about ready to sock him before taking a deep breath and just glaring at him. "Fine. But only because I'm sick of tracking this thing and want to get it over with. Also, I promised Kelly to check on you, so at least I’ll be able to see if you can actually defend yourself."

Nick just smiled, feeling it was somewhat of a win. "Okay. Do you think he's in the woods still at this point?"

She nodded, back to business. "But heading towards the mountains. If he got these campers he’s had a meal unfortunately. But that could also slow him down. They tend to take…left overs with them.”

“Ugh…” he grimaced, pulling up to where her car was still parked.

“I know. But again, it’ll slow him down. It’s possible he has someone alive too…”

“Seriously?”

“They’ve been known to hunt and keep future meals penned up. Like cattle. But we can’t count on that if he’s still on the move.” She looked at the map. “The trick will be tracking him down quickly. He’s been moving near constantly for the two weeks I’ve been hunting him down, picking off random people on the way for food but not enough to weigh him down. So he’s not going too fast to conserve his energy. But he can still get farther than us in the trees. But if he gave in and attacked a group last night, we might be lucky and he took a rest after a full meal. So that at least lets us make up some distance.” She climbed out and started for her car.

"Alright…I know a good tracker." He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"What are you doing?" she asked, opening her car to pull out a large chest.

"Calling Monroe for backup."

She glared, defenses rising full tilt and he backed up before she could grab his phone and probably crush it. "The Blutbad? Why?"

"He can track him and he knows the woods really well."

"I refuse to work with a Blutbad!" she snapped, looking ready for a fight. “I hate Blutbader!”

He glared back. "Can you track him by smell? Or do you want to waste time fumbling for footprints through miles of woods with no leads other than mountains, which by the way are in several directions given that this is the Willamette Valley."

She was silent a moment, her entire body tense as if she physically wanted to reject the idea. She was shaking with suppressed emotion that she was trying to keep a cap on it seemed.

"The sooner we find the Wolkenkratzer, the sooner you don't have to worry about me or my methods, no matter how much you disagree. But Monroe and Rosalee are big assets to me along with being friends. They've saved a lot of people. And like I said, they've been tutoring me and helping me at every turn. So I'm asking for help and either you come along, or I'll track down this giant myself and take care of him."

The woman's pride had her straightening her back and glaring further at the challenge. "Fine," she ground out. "But only to hunt the Wolkenkratzer. One false move and I’ll add them to my list. You too maybe."

“Then you’ll be on mine,” he said warningly. Sloane just turned her head away. “I need to go to my trailer. I want to look up some things.”

Wordlessly she opened her car again, grabbing an old style rolodex. Going through, she stopped on the Ws and then went to a large chest. Pulling out a book, she pressed it against his chest. “Use mine, it’s just as good I’d wager. Even with your little animal friends. And I’ll loan you a weapon.”

He glared at the crack about his friends but sat on the edge of the trunk door to start flipping through the book. Indeed it was nearly identical to most of the books in the trailer and he turned the pages till he came to one about the Wolkenkratzer. Thankfully there was a notebook page in with it translating the highlighted points from the German text. _Maybe I should get a rolodex…or better yet, use my computer…_ he thought as he hit the call button.

\-------------------

Juliette opened the door to the spice shop, balancing a tray of coffees in her hand. “Hello? Rosalee, Mon-whoa....”

“Hey,” Rosalee said, sighing as she straightened from trying to sweep up the mess of yellow powder on the ground. The shop was in better shape than it had been just a few hours earlier, but the mess of the spilled spices was still floating about. Rosalee had closed the shop and the two of them had taken a while to calm down and have lunch before really getting to cleaning. Several jars were broken and the spicy, earthy scents were thick in the air.

“I came to see if you needed any help still…And brought you some coffee for a pick me up. Nick said you had an irate customer.”

“Not exactly…well, sort of. She was fine until she saw me woge. She was another Grimm,” Monroe said, brushing the powder into a bin. “Had a mean knife on her.”

“Oh My God, are you alright?” Juliette asked quickly.

“Fine. A bit scratched up but Nick came in time and got her to back off.”

“Her?”

“Yeah, it was a woman Grimm. Female of the species are often more dangerous than the male,” he joked.

“Yeesh…what happened to her?” She asked, grabbing a rag from the counter and helping to dust one of the shelves off.

“Nick came in and got her to leave. But she said she was hunting a Wolkenkratzer, something really dangerous. So he’s gone off to help her.”

“So that’s what that call was about,” Juliette said thoughtfully. “He didn’t mention another Grimm.”

“He probably was in a rush,” Rosalee said, clapping her hands to get rid of some of the dusty yellow powder. “He went to go catch up with her, see if she needed help. You know Nick, no one is beyond hope.”

Juliette smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I’ve noticed that about him... But she attacked you and Monroe?” she asked worriedly.

“Yes. Not all Grimms are like Nick. Most are behead first, ask questions later. We’re lucky Nick came by, but also that she gave up and left.”

“That’s good…”

“Everything okay?” Rosalee asked.

“Yeah, just…It’s weird, sometimes just all this Grimm stuff hits me again and I’m like ‘Wow…this is my life now’. It’s not a bad thing. It’s just really jarring now and then.”

Rosalee nodded with a sympathetic smile. “I can understand that.”

“Really? I mean…you grew up with this.”

“True, but growing up I didn’t expect to one day run my family’s spice shop. That was always more what was expected of my brother. I definitely didn’t expect to be friends with a Grimm. Or to be honest, dating a Blutbad.” She smiled at Monroe, who smiled back. “Sometimes that all hits me and kind of makes me wonder if I’m having a long, elaborate dream.”

Juliette smiled a bit and nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good way to put it...Is Nick safe with that woman though?”

“He’s probably fine. I mean, it has been a couple of hours…” Monroe said, trying not to look worried. He jumped when his phone rang and quickly grabbed it. “Ah, speak of the devil. Looks like he’s alive.” He answered the call and put it up to his ear. “Hey Nick. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Nick said. “We’ve got some shaky ground rules I think…it ends up her Wolkenkratzer and a new case of mine more than likely intersect. Girl found wandering along Germantown in the woods, says something attacked her and her friends while they were camping.”

“Oh geeze,” Monroe said. “It’s hunting? That’s not good…”

“I’m starting to think any kind of hunting isn’t good. Except us hunting this thing…which brings me to part of my call.”

Monroe gave Rosalee a wry look. “Let me guess. You need me to help track this monster?”

“Yeah. Just tracking, we’ll take care of the rest, but there’s a lot of woods to try and track him through so you’d really be an asset out here.”

“And the scary Grimm lady is okay with this?”

“She’s…resistant to the idea,” he admitted, and Monroe could almost imagine the dry look on the woman’s face. “But I’ve told her you and Rosalee are off limits. Again, shaky ground rules, but I’ll make sure she follows them.”

Monroe sighed a bit but nodded. “Okay. If this guy is picking off campers, I’ll do what I can to help.”

“Thanks Monroe, I can always count on you,” he said meaningfully and a little louder. Now he imagined the woman rolling her eyes. “I’ll text you where we are.”

“Alright. See you there.” He hanged up and looked apologetically at Rosalee. “Duty calls.”

“Uh huh. Duty had better not lead you into the path of the Wolkenkratzer,” she said, walking over to kiss him.

“Nick promises to protect me from any monsters. And that includes the Grimm lady.”

“Good.” She kissed him again as he grabbed his keys.

“Sorry to cut this short, Juliette.”

“It’s fine. I’ll take over helping Rosalee. Be safe. Oh, and I brought coffee for you guys. Yours has the M, soy latte.”

“Thanks!” he grabbed the cup, giving a toast to them as he headed out the door.

Rosalee sighed and Juliette grabbed a rag to start wiping down the counter. “I also never saw me being in love with a Blutbad and wringing my hands over him helping a Grimm…”

Juliette smiled, though a little sadly. “Wish I could relate…”

\------------------

Hank was going through files on their missing teens by protocol when his phone rang with Nick’s number. “Hey man. How’d questioning go?”

“Okay…Surprisingly so.” He glanced at Sloane, reading through the book again. He was in his car, not wanting her to listen in. “She at least knows how to act around people to not piss them off and get what she wants…”

“Eh, that can be an asset. Did we get some good info?”

“Yeah, she got a location of the camp, and a description of what happened. Definitely wesen.”

“Should I head out there?”

“No,” Nick said. “Again, I’d like you to, but I’m not sure it’s the best idea with this Grimm. I want to limit all the things she can get angry at me about…”

“Real ball-buster, huh?” Hank asked, smiling.

“A bit, yeah. But she knows what she’s doing. Or is at least confident enough to make be believe she does.”

“Well, no problem. I’ll keep running files up here, buy you some time. You got your laptop, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll send you want I got, then you’ll know who to look for.” He started setting up the email as he talked. “Sad thing, these guys are all 20 or younger…You think they’re…”

“Sloane thinks they’re likely dead, yeah,” he sighed.

“Sloane being the Grimm with all the high expectations of you? The Grimm expectations?”

“Yeah,” Nick said with a smile. “She’s…intense.”

“But she hasn’t tried to kill you yet.”

“Not out right. I called Monroe to come help us though, and that is causing a lot of friction before he even arrives. I think I’m setting myself up to play mediator a lot,” he groaned.

“Glad it’s not me.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said blandly.

“Hey, you said its best I stick this one out, I’m listening. I’m the guy in the chair now, getting information out to in the field. Like Q to your Bond.”

Nick chuckled. “Thanks. Sorry about kind of pushing you out though…”

“Hey, a day where I don’t gotta run through the woods hunting a man eating monster? Sounds like a good day to me.”

Nick laughed. “Yeah, I feel that…”

“You gonna be okay?” Hank asked, worried by the wistful tone.

“I think so…just…Seeing another Grimm like this, I guess it hits home things aren’t going to be “normal” ever again,” he said.

“Yeah…Well, never boring at least,” he said, trying to find the light side.

“Boring might be nice sometimes.”

“Then I know who to call next time my mom invites me to her puzzle nights. I'll send you instead.”

Nick did laugh now and Hank smiled. “Thanks. I’ll let you know what comes up.”

“Sure. Be safe man, I don’t want another partner.”

“Same here. Bye.”

They hanged up and Hank sighed, honestly hoping he’d be okay.

\------------------

It was a little less than an hour after Nick had called him when Monroe showed up. Sloane was going through her weapons, pulling out a few to decide what to use. She glared at him, one hand tightening on the handle of her club, and he took a wide path around her to Nick. Nick was on a small notebook computer with the Portland PD logo stamped on it by his own car. “Sooo…still not a little ray of sunshine, huh?” he asked, nodding to the woman.

“Don’t start,” Nick pleaded.

“Hey, she started it.”

“And I’ll finish it if she tries again. Just relax.”

“Easy for you to say, she won’t kill you. Maybe just knock you out then drag you to her cave to father little Grimmlings…”

“He realizes I can hear him, right?” she called, holding up a sword as if inspecting it. “Blutbad hearing is better than humans, but Grimm hearing is damn good too. I know several ways to incapacitate various senses long enough for a killing blow.”

“Shutting up,” Monroe said, looking away.

Nick sighed kept scrolling on the computer. “Hank’s been doing some research for the case while we hunt, sent over vehicle records and profiles on the missing students.”

“Is he not joining us?” Monroe asked quietly, eyeing Sloane. She appeared to be focused on sharpening one of the blades.

“I’m not sure she’d be happy with him being in the know, so I convinced him to stay behind the scenes on this one,” Nick replied in a hushed whisper.

“Probably smart.”

Nick nodded and finished up, putting the computer back in his car. “Monroe, you’re the best tracker I know. I figured if anyone can find this thing fast it’s you.”

The Blutbad smiled at the vote of confidence and nodded. “No problem. These guys aren’t known for their cleanliness so I should be able to smell him real quick.”

“We got a place to start too; it’s a trail near a car park up this way. I’ll have to call it in after we get this thing for the investigation, but Renard is letting us take care of this first.”

“Who?” Sloane asked. Both of them jumped, not realizing she’d come up behind them with her bag of weapons. She was frighteningly silent moving around, like his mother could be, and Nick wondered if she trained for that.

“Uh, my captain. He’s…in the know about Grimm things.”

“Oh…?” she asked, looking slightly suspicious. She then shrugged. “Convenient, no having to make up a story for him then.”

“Yeah…” _He’s also a part-Royal Zauberbeast, but you probably don’t want to know that._

“I’d drive us over, but I definitely don’t have room for two passengers. Unless the Blutbad wants to ride on the roof…” she said, smirking a little.

“Yeah, no. Thank you” Monroe said with a glare.

“I’d strap you down,” she said. “Like a deer. I have some rope-”

“I’ll drive there, and then we’ll be walking,” Nick said. “It’s not too far away.”

Sloane pouted at her fun being cut short but nodded and tossed the bag in the backseat, climbing in next to it.

“Don’t want shotgun?” Monroe asked.

“Don’t want you behind me,” she clarified. “I’d rather keep you in my line of sight.”

“Okay, if that makes you more comfortable…” he said, giving Nick a look that spoke need for infinite patience. They drove in silence half an hour up the road to the car park there. There were a few cars already parked and Nick gave them a cursory look over. “These look like the cars that belonged to the college kids according to the records Hank pulled…”

“Guess that means we’re on the right track…I’ll find their camp first I guess?” Monroe asked.

“Yeah, we’ll definitely be able to track him from there-Sloane, hold up!”

“You two just hurry up, I’m not standing around talking about this!” she called back, already heading down the trail.

“So, great day for a nice little hike,” Monroe smiled, walking next to him as they started off in the direction on the map. “Anyone want to sing a song maybe?” he asked hopefully, trying to lighten the mood.

“Sing one note and I’ll cut your tongue out.”

“You will not,” Nick said.

“I don’t remember electing you leader of this hunting trip,” she snapped back.

“Kids, kids, calm down,” Monroe joked. “I will turn this trip around.”

The joke was lost as they kept walking through the woods.

It was an over an hour after that when Sloane was looking impatient. The afternoon was going by and none of them wanted to hunt by night.

“I promise you, Monroe knows what he’s doing,” Nick sighed.

Sloane snorted. “I’m not convinced he isn’t leading us into a trap.”

“He’s not. He’s helped me with a lot of cases, including against other Blutbader.”

“Did you give him a nice steak afterwards?”

“Hey, I am vegan,” Monroe snapped. “No meat, thank you.”

“You want a gold star?” she sneered.

Monroe glared and she glared back. He paused suddenly though and held up a hand to stop them all, sniffing deeply in the air. “Shit…”

“What?” Nick asked, tensing.

“I smell something…”

“It’s not another raccoon, is it?” Sloane asked dryly.

“No…human. Nylon, leather, jeans…and blood. Lots of it. That way,” he pointed.

Her eyes widened. “It must be the campsite,” Sloane agreed, going ahead of him. Her arm reached under and grasped her large hunting knife, pulling it out to have it ready.

“Sloane, wait,” Nick hissed, following and grabbing her arm. She spun out of the grip before he could do more than slow her down.

“Someone might still be alive, we have to get to them,” she called back urgently. Nick was surprised at the earnestness. He hadn’t been sure she would care about survivors given her eagerness to hunt and kill wesen. He followed her quickly through the trees, Monroe hanging further back to avoid the blood breaking his control.

Finally they could smell it too—the blood. Not the minute smells Monroe could smell, but the stench was almost overpowering the closer they got. Nick swallowed a bit of bile but Sloane pressed on. She paused near a tree with her blade at the ready, but after a moment sighed and dropped the stance. “Damn…” she muttered, her body looking defeated and disappointed. Nick came forward and grimaced, seeing the many bodies there. All were mangled and some looked as though they’d been eaten. The scene looked old, maybe a day or a little more from the look of the blood.

“God…the Wolkenkratzer did all this?” he breathed.

“Definitely.” She pointed up and Nick followed the finger, grunting in disgust and sympathy to see one body had been tossed up in the trees pretty high. He wasn’t sure how they would explain that. She stepped forward carefully, not touching anything and stepping where her footprints wouldn’t be noticed. She looked at every victim she could find, but most all were missing parts and were cold and stiff. The blood was dry enough that it was only slightly tacky or else just stains on what it had splattered across. Nick saw her expression range from sad to angry to pained as she walked around and he felt for her. He didn’t like people being the killed in his work, police or Grimm, either. Being a large part of his work he learned to deal with it, but it was always sad. It was something they could agree on. “No one’s alive…he took bites out of most of them, some limbs too, but left them since he doesn’t know where to set up a new bone pit. A lot of closed caskets are going to be needed…” She rubbed over her face before pounding the back of her fist against a tree in frustration. “Dammit…I should’ve kept looking last night…”

He frowned and walked over as well, careful where he stepped. “Hey, this isn’t your fault.” She looked up at him, eyes cold but more like she was trying to keep them from emoting too much of what she felt. It was a look he’d seen on plenty of cops and detectives, and he’s sure he’s had it before too. “This isn’t because of you. There’s nothing you could’ve done last night.”

Her face hardened a bit and she turned away. “I didn’t take him down the first time…I let him get the upper hand, fell down an incline, and he got away. He shouldn’t have gotten this far.”

Nick sighed but knew they didn’t have time to really hash this out. “I should really go ahead and call this in…” he said.

“Getting a bunch of police out here where there’s a giant monster? Do you hate your coworkers that much?” she asked blandly, turning a skeptical look to him. Apparently it was back to business.

Nick rolled his eyes but sighed. “Point taken, but I at least need to make a note of where these people are. They deserve a proper burial and for their family to know, like you promised Antonia.”

She was quiet a moment before nodding slowly. “You’re right in that case. You need the map?”

“My phone has GPS. I’ll make a note of where we are.”

“Good, then we can move on. The sooner we get this thing, the more people we save from this same fate.” She looked around again. “…The girl, Antonia…she said there were seven of them, camping here, right?”

“Yes…I’ve got a list of names too.”

“He took on seven people at once?!” Monroe called from near the tree line.

“Apparently. But there’s only five sets of remains here. Including her…someone isn’t here. He actually might’ve taken one of them as a snack for later…Blutbad! Can you find a scent to follow?”

“Working on it,” he said, going in a wide berth of the massacre. “I got a good whiff of something pretty rank heading this way.”

Sloane looked up, tracing the sun’s angle with the tip of her blade before nodding. “That’s towards the mountains alright. It’s possible whoever he’s taken is still alive.”

“Really?” Nick asked.

“They prefer a fresh meal when possible,” she grimaced. “If they are alive, we need to hurry.” Nick nodded in agreement, finishing with his phone. Sloan suddenly looked surprised and rushed over to a tree. “It’s hurt!”

“How can you tell?” Nick asked. She pointed to the tree, showing a large bloody hand print hidden among the bark, smeared as if someone had used it for support before pushing off of it. The print was large, the palm as big as Nick’s head.

“His steps are uneven and he’s using trees for support.” She looked back at the campers and then pointed at a flare gun one of them was clutching. Kneeling down, she gently lifted it with the tip of her knife and looked it over. “Fired recently. He got him I think. They fought with what they could…” She looked at them sadly once more before turning away. Glancing at Nick she hesitated before saying, “You’ll make sure they get found?”

He nodded solemnly. She sighed but then shrugged her long backpack over her shoulder off, opening it up. She took out a small crossbow not unlike the one Nick sometimes used and fitted it to her belt along with a small pouch that held arrows. A sword was strapped to her belt as well, an old saber style one. She also pulled out a club and offered it to Nick. “You don’t seem the melee type to me, but take that. If that gun of yours runs out of ammo before he goes down you might need this.”

“I know how to use the club. And I’m a good shot,” he defended, but took the club.

“That remains to be seen, but you don’t have to reload a club or a blade.”

“Do I get anything?” Monroe asked, glancing in.

She zipped the bag up with a glare. “Like I would arm you.”

“Hey-”

She pulled a vial out of the bag’s side pocket and then the juniper berries from her jacket. Opening it, she pushed one berry into the vial and shook it vigorously.

“What’s that?”

“Poison. Wolkenkratzer are strong and don’t feel much pain, but this will weaken him a bit of we can get it in to him and make his nerves more sensitive.”

“Like a siegbarste?” Nick asked.

“Almost exactly.” She started coating some of the arrows in the small quiver. “I’ve heard they’re closely related, but this isn’t fatal to a Wolkenkratzer. It doesn’t last long either so we’ll only have a short window to kill it any time we hit him with it.”

“Oh good,” Monroe said. “Nothing like a high stakes game of beat the clock.”

“Would you prefer to fight him full strength the whole time?”

“Point taken…”

Pulling the pack back on she pointed. “He’s wounded and possibly has a hostage, so he’ll be moving extra slow. Try to find him now and we might actually have a chance at saving whoever he took.”

The Blutbad nodded and sniffed the air before quickly heading back out into the woods.

\-------------------------------

Its late afternoon when Monroe froze, leading them for a couple of hours through the woods. “I…I think I got him. He’s close.”

“How close?”

“Close enough I’m glad we’re down wind because otherwise, we’d be in a lot more trouble. Maybe a few yards ahead.”

Sloane shrugged off the backpack on her back and set it against the tree before cocking an arrow into the cross bow. “I’ll hit him first. Then we can rush him.”

Nick nodded, fine with that plan, and followed as she started crouching low among the trees. When they got closer, Nick had to suck in a breath when he saw their target.

The Wolkenkratzer-because that’s what it had to be- looked to be nearly seven feet tall. And that was while he was still human looking. He had a messy beard, big eyes and a large nose, and jagged sharp teeth. He could see those teeth as he bit into the flesh of what appeared to be a human arm. Nick hopes morbidly that the limb is from one of the poor souls at the campsite and not a new victim. Draped around him were clothes covered in blood and ripped and torn, salvaged maybe from past victims. He could make out one large burn mark along his side, covered in dried blood. And there next to him was a girl in hiking gear, battered and bruised, one ankle badly twisted to hobble her and unconscious at his feet but breathing.

Monroe’s face morphed a second, looking scared, before going back. Sloane looked even more on edge by the display and once again tempted to perhaps attack him. Nick just shot her a look. “And you’re sure he can’t be reasoned with?”

“He ate a campsite and took a girl he planned to eat later for leftovers,” she bit out. “Plus, he’s feral remember? Can’t talk or comprehend human speech. He just knows to search for territory and food and maybe mate if the urge strikes him. He can’t be reasoned with, but be my guest if you want to try.” She looked pointedly at Nick. He didn’t rise to the challenge, just readjusted his grip on the club and nodded. “Okay. One of you needs to get the girl out of there too. She’ll get trampled or worse in the fight.”

“I can do that,” Monroe said. Sloane eyed him, obviously not sure about that. “I’m not going to hurt her! She’s been through enough.”

She hesitated but sighed. “We don’t have much choice. You get the girl. Nick, you’re with me.”

“Right,” he nodded. Sloane breathed in and lifted the cross bow. She took aim, breathing out slowly with her finger on the trigger. When she pulled, the bolt flew forward with a whistle and struck the Wolkenkratzer square in the same side the burn mark was. A roar that shook Nick’s fillings erupted from him as he stood and woged. Both Nick and Monroe gaped as he grew at least two more feet, his arms and legs lengthening. His face got larger and he began looking around wildly for who fired the arrow. Moments later he was staggering, looking surprised. Sloane grabbed the sword at her side and rushed forward without a glance to the other two.

The Wolkenkratzer was not quite down for the count though. Seeing her coming, he roared again and stood, swiping her away. Sloane was pushed back but rolled back to her feet in one fluid motion. Nick rushed forward now, gun in hand, and shot at his arm as he reached for her. The bullets went through his arms and he backed away with a shout. The shots were more like fly bites to him though as he shook his hand and glared at him. Swinging back, he made a move to swipe Nick away as well. A hunting knife was suddenly in the back of his hand though and he howled in pain. He turned back towards Sloane crouched on the ground, vial of poison in hand after dousing her knife, and growled low.

“Yeah, that’s right, it’s me again big guy,” she said with a sneer. “What are you going to do? Run again? Come get me.”

Even if he didn’t understand the words as Sloane claimed he apparently understood that tone. Roaring, he moved towards her again and Sloane raised the sword to be at the ready. Nick took the opportunity to swing the club as hard as he can into the giant’s side with the wound. The impact sent tremors through his own body, and the giant yelled, turning back to him. He backhanded Nick, sending him flying back but thankfully not into any trees.

“Nick!” Monroe yelled. He had the girl’s unconscious body in his arms, ready to get her away before he was distracted by his friend getting slapped like a bug.

“You idiot,” Sloane called. “I didn’t have his full attention and the poison will start wearing off soon!” She loaded the cross bow again quickly and tried to fire at the creature again, only to have him pick up a rather large rock to block it. He then threw the rock at them, making them scatter.

Monroe managed to jump and pull the girl with him out of the way, but she groaned and started waking up as he kept pulling. Looking around she started screaming, grabbing on to him. He winced at the sound and kept trying to pull her away as the Wolkenkratzer turned his focus on them and moved to go and get his snack back.

Sloane was between them in seconds. “Keep going, I’ll hold him!” She yelled and raised the sword. “C’mon! It’s you and me, ugly!” The Wolkenkratzer growled reached out and grabbed her, lifting her up with his mouth open to take a bite.

“Sloane!” Nick yelled in horror. Sloane grunted, freeing one arm quickly and plunged another arrow she had in her hand right into the monster’s eye. He howled and let her go, Sloane dropping to the ground with a shout. She pushed a hand to her arm which had a cut in it now, but shrugged it off. The Wolkenkratzer was flailing about in pain, blood pouring down his face, his big feet coming within inches of stamping the Grimm woman to death. Sloane didn’t move though, instead loading the bow again and firing another shot into the creature’s sternum. Another howl, but now he was focused. He backed away enough Sloane could get to her feet, but also so he could grab a tree about as thick as both of Nick’s forearms together, pulling it out roots and all. This gave him an even greater reach and he moved to swipe at Sloane. She dodged the first one, and Nick took the opportunity to try and shoot again, but that only succeeded and getting Sloane’s attention.

“Be patient!” With her attention split though, she missed a crucial second she needed to react as the tree came swinging towards her again. “Sloane!” Nick yelled, because he wouldn’t get there in time. Luckily, Monroe was closer. Tackling her to the ground as well as a linebacker could, they both went sprawling safely away from the dirt and leaves as the tree hit the ground where she was hard enough to splinter.

Sloane sat up enough to give him a shocked expression. “You just…saved me?”

“Yeah. You owe me!” he said. Sloane looked as though she was having a short meltdown for a moment at the thought of a wesen rescuing her.

“Wait, the girl-” Sloane started, looking for a reason to yell at him.

“She’s fine, several trees down and trying to calm herself. She can’t walk though,” he said quickly, pulling her to her feet. “We got problems of our own!”

The Wolkenkratzer pulled the tree back, barely still together as it swung on strings of bark and wood, gearing up for another attempt at both of them. Before he could, Nick aimed with his gun again, getting him right in the knee. The creature buckled down on one knee, looking back at him angrily.

Sloane, brought back to herself by the sound of gunfire, spotted her sword on the ground where it had been flung. Standing, she rushed forward and picked the weapon up on the go, continuing to the Wolkenkratzer’s turned back. Digging her feet into the muscular back of the wesen like an incline at an obstacle course, she raised the blade high above her head in a stabbing hold. The creature felt her and moved to try and buck her off, but she was too fast for him. Bring the sword down with both hands, she plunged the blade through the back of his neck and through to the other side, right through his brainstem and into his mouth. The creature jolting as if surprised, and then there was a choking, gurgling sound from his throat. Sloane growled and wrenched the blade hard as she swung over the creature’s shoulder to land back on the ground, pulling the sword with her and effectively wrenching his jaw and half his neck open. He began to fall forward, his eyes rolling back, and she turned as he did and brought the blade through to finish severing it. He changed as his body finally hit the ground, the head rolling way. Sloane huffed as she took out a rag from her pocket to wipe off the blood from her sword, despite it covering most of her right arm, looking satisfied over the body.

“Damn…” Monroe said. “She’s good…”

“Yeah…” Nick said, having to admit he’d never seen anything quite like that.

“You’re not so bad either,” Sloane says suddenly. She turned her head to eye to Nick. “Green, but that was a nice move with shooting his kneecap off. Made that last bit much easier.”

Nick blinked but then actually finds himself smiling with a little laugh. He figures that’s as good a compliment as he’s going to get.

“Um, so…what are we going to do with him?” Monroe asks.

“We leave him for the animals to scavenge and get the hell out of dodge,” Sloane said immediately. “Anyone sees this they’ll probably think it’s because of whatever attacked the campers.” She walked over to grab her knife where it fell to the ground, also wiping it off, and hissed softly at the cut still on her arm flexed. It was still bleeding and she frowned at it like it was more of an insult than an injury.

“You’re hurt,” Nick says, going over to look at it.

“It’s nothing. I can mix some stuff for it later,” she says absently. “Won’t even need stitches.”

Nick doesn’t want to ask what she do if it did, instead gently putting a hand on her shoulder. The woman tensed, looking about ready to leap out of his touch and eyeing him. “Come with us, we have someone that can patch you up better.” She arched her eyebrows at him dubiously and he smiles. “One less thing you have to worry about.”

She hesitated before sighing and shaking her head. “Fine. But make the call about the campers. Oh, and the girl…Blutbad! Make yourself useful, grab her and start figuring the way back to the car.”

“Hey, I made myself pretty damn useful when I saved you! You could learn my name.”

Sloane had a pinched look on her face, not wanting to admit that perhaps, before grabbing her jacket and backpack back up. “I had it covered.”

“Oh you so did not!” Monroe argued. “Also, she passed out again. I’m not sure how we’re going to get her out of here…”

Nick sighed, already pulling out his phone while those two distracted each other.

Renard picked up the phone when he saw whose number it was. “You’re alive then?”

“Afraid so,” he said.

“And the Wolkenkratzer?”

“Dead. Sloane made sure of that.”

“I take it that’s this new Grimm?”

“Yeah. She’s…she can fight,” he says, not sure how else to describe her. Sloane frowned at him, rather put out by the simple explanation of what she’d just done.

“Most Grimms can,” Renard reminded him.

“Yeah. We found the campsite though…”

Renard sighed. “No survivors I take it?”

“Actually, one. He took a girl with her. She’s injured and passed out, but alive,” he said. It wasn’t the best outcome, but it was better than everyone being dead.

Renard perked up. “Really? Hmm…put her near the camp. I’ll have EMS come with you to the campsite and we’ll “find” her.”

“She saw us fighting the Wolkenkratzer…” Nick pointed out.

“She’s seen a lot of things. In time she’ll learn how to process it. But given what’s happened, it might be best she and Miss Swindon forget what they saw. I know someone that can help with that, and they happen to work at the hospital. Likely they’ll believe they were the victims of some sort of animal attack soon enough.”

Nick blinked and then walked off, hissing into the phone. “We couldn’t have done that with Hank?!”

“Detective Griffin’s encounters were different. This isn’t something that can just be done with a snap of the fingers, and it also isn’t easy. Truthfully, the fact both of them suffered such huge traumas makes it easier for this spell to work because it will confuse them more until they take the simplest answer. Detectives like Hank are too analytical and smart, it likely would’ve driven him even madder because he saw and had time to truly process what he saw. There’s a time limit as well on how fresh the memories have to be, and the girls are just coming up on the deadline so we’ll have it ready. Hank didn’t let us know what he was thinking till the last moment. Besides, can you honestly say you dislike being able to openly talk about this with your partner about everything now?”

Nick sighed, rubbing over his eyes. “No…you’re right, it is good he knows now…”

“Glad you agree,” Renard said. “Text the coordinates to me and I’ll write that you and Hank were able to question her and figure it out. Hopefully we can figure out how to treat this to not freak the whole city out as well…”

“Better say it was a whole squad of mountain lions…Good luck with that,” Nick said honestly and maybe a little morbidly amused.

“Thanks,” Renard replied blandly. “Oh, and Nick? What about your new friend?”

Nick paused, looking at Sloane as she and Monroe walked ahead of him. Her hand was still on her sword and she looked tempted to cut into the Blutbad in front of her. “I wouldn’t call her a friend. But she should be leaving soon I guess.”

“Good. We don’t need more than one Grimm here, and not one that’s more…traditional.”

“I agree with you there,” he said. “I’ll see you later, sir.”

“Right. Good job.” He clicked the phone shut and sighed. He looked at a list of names also on his desk, a crude drawing of a scythe next to them that would just make others perhaps scratch their head but helped to keep Renard focused on what he was thinking about. Tapping the page slightly, he finally shook his head and putting it away.

\-----------------------------

"A Blutbad saved me and I'm being treated for injuries by a Fuchsbau..." Sloane muttered. She was sitting on a stool in the back of the spice shop, her arm out to Rosalee as she cleaned and bandaged the cut. It was deep, but not deep enough she needed stitches, just as she’d predicted. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. If my mentor found out, we would both be dead. I could’ve done this just as easily on my own as this fox.” Rosalee gave her a pinched look and tugged a little harder on the bandage, making the other girl grunt and glare at her.

"You're welcome," Monroe snapped. "I still saved you even after you tried to take my damn head off..."

She looked ready to lay into him again but Nick, sitting next to him near her, gave her a pointed look. She was silent a moment before looking away from all of them. "You're reflexes were impressive and you did well tracking the Wolkenkratzer. Who’s a good boy?" she sneered as if praising a dog.

Monroe glared, itching to take a swipe at her, but just huffed and sat back more when Nick put an arm on his shoulder. Nick sighed a little but looked at his phone when it beeped with a message. He smiled a little. “Looks like Antonia is starting to do better. And amazingly, the girl we rescued was her sister Marcia Swindon! They’re both going to recover…though apparently Marcia’s foot is pretty badly mangled. A lot of surgery is in her future.”

Sloane smiled a little. “Well…some good news that they’re both alive at least. That still leaves five people dead though…Glad I don’t have to deal with their families like you.”

“Yeah…” He sighed, knowing that was going to be rough. “I have to admit, it was…interesting working with another Grimm.”

“It was interesting working with your sort of bleeding heart Grimm as well,” she said with a slight scoff. “Wait, no…infuriating, that’s the word.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

"Not quite, I'm afraid," the blonde sighed.

Rosalee looked up at the resigned sigh, finishing tying the bandage. "What do you mean? You finished your hunt."

Sloane pointed at Nick with a hard look to her eye. "This idiot will get himself killed soon enough if left as he is."

Nick bristled a bit, glaring. "Excuse me?! I think I did pretty well today all things considered."

She didn't appear moved by his defenses, shrugging her jacket back on. "'Pretty well' will only get you so far. Shooting the Wolkenkratzer in leg might have slowed it down and provided me the opportunity to deliver the killing blow, but if you were alone you wouldn't last long. As a relation to the Siegbarste, they feel little pain, even with the poison in their system to weaken them. It was only because you hit his kneecap he was brought down for those few moments. He still would've recovered quickly and likely deliver another blow. You need to learn more hand to hand combat and strategy skills rather than relying on a gun and luck. You also need to learn actual Grimm skills that you've yet to tap into.”

“I’m pretty good with a crossbow and other weapons Aunt Marie left me,” he said defensively.

“Again, ‘pretty good’ is not good enough,” she snapped.

Nick glared before looking curious. "You said ‘Other skills’? What other skills?" he asked.

"Did you think seeing wesen was our only ability?" she asked snidely. "That would hardly be an advantage in a fight once you’ve identified the enemy. There are other abilities available to us."

“Like heightened senses?” She looked at him. “I’ve had experience with that. A couple of times actually, and lately they…they’ve been getting stronger.”

She nodded slowly. “Heightened senses are certainly a decent start, but it is nowhere close to the end of your potential.”

"I knew it!" Monroe said. "I knew Grimms must've had something besides the whole sight thing!"

Sloane ignored him. "It's possible you have latent abilities as well, though I don't know what strengths your family might have or if one of your parents was a normal human. That could also effect what you can do. But whatever it is, you will need someone with more experience around."

"I see..." Nick muttered. "And you're volunteering?"

“Your mother did ask me to help you,” she smiled wryly. She glanced at the two wesen again. “And you certainly need it.” They both glared back at her.

“So what makes you qualified to teach me?” he asked blandly.

She gave him a steady, hard look that actually sent a shiver up Nick's spine. "I came into my inheritance when I was nine. I have since been trained in fighting and honing my skills all over the world. That would be roughly seventeen to eighteen years. Compared to you, I'm a grand master." Everyone's eyes widened.

"Nine?" Nick asked. Monroe and Rosalee looked shocked as well, glancing at each other, then the female Grimm again. "I...you've been doing this since you were nine?"

She just nodded, no shame or trepidation in her face. “Girls usually get the ability sooner than boys for some reason. My time…came rather suddenly.”

Nick was still staring at her. Nine was so young, she hadn't even been a teenager. He suddenly felt sympathy for her and understanding. Growing up learning to kill wesen with no childhood or even teenage years to speak of? How could she not be distrustful and ready for violence? Nick wondered if he would be the same way if his Aunt had raised him knowing what would come...

Sloane leaned back in the chair, looking tired. "To my knowledge, there are very few Grimms in the US. Perhaps about two dozen or so that I’ve met face to face. That included your Aunt, so you've taken her place now. Of these, three are still in training and five are in unknown condition. Likely meaning dead. You and I are the only ones I know of on the east coast.” She frowned as a troubled thought came to her. "There is something strange happening as well...an unrest we can't explain." She looked at him. "We are an endangered species, so to speak. I may not agree with the company you keep or your methods, but apparently you do get things done. I can’t begrudge you that. As it stands though, you’re still greener than grass. I'm offering my experience in all areas of Grimm Lore to keep you from getting killed. We need as many Grimms as we can get, even if they are bleeding hearts. And I don’t want to hear through the grapevine we’ve lost one because he somehow never got any training.”

Nick sat back to think for a few moments before sighing, rubbing over his hair. "When you put it like that, it's hard to say no..."

Sloane actually smiled a bit, though it was hard to really see. "Good. When can we begin?"


	2. Adjustments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PART 2 OF CASEBOOK OF SLOANE LARSON  
> Sloane refuses to leave unless Nick lets her train him in being a more proper Grimm. Nick is understandably hesitant, since to her that means killing most of them. But leaving her alone could end up in wesen being killed around the city and Nick having to fight her. They need to come to an understanding, but it's hard when they both have such different ideas of how to hunt. And Sloane is about to learn just how different Portland is as far as wesen activity, and that she hasn't seen everything the wesen world has to offer.
> 
> Summarizes episodes 40-42. Not too much change yet, but Sloane poses her own problems on the group and the wesen around her.

Nick wasn’t really keen on learning anything from the Grimm, Sloane Larson. After all, her first impression left him cold as she tried to kill Rosalee and Monroe. She was strong as hell and a great fighter of course; he could tell that even without her alluding to her experience so (un)subtly. But something else he learned, that he really should’ve guessed given she tracked a giant man-eating wesen halfway across the country…

Sloane Larson did not give up.

Five days after her declaration of becoming his mentor, she was waiting outside the police station for him at the end of the day. Hank was still doing some paperwork before meeting him, so seeing her resting against his car in the parking lot, tapping her finger against her folded arms impatiently, was a lone confrontation.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

She arched her brow as if asking ‘ _Isn’t it obvious?_ ’ “You know, I never give out my number. Ever. You’re really hurting my feelings not at least giving a courtesy call, Detective.”

“Somehow I think you have thicker skin than that,” he said blandly.

“True. But really, we need to work out when we’re going to train.”

“I was thinking this side of never,” Nick said seriously.

Sloane frowned. “Look, I’m offering to help you. Take you from acceptable to great.”

“I’m fine being “acceptable”, and I think that’s a little unfair still.”

“I call it like I see it,” she shrugged. “And I see you getting into a lot of trouble if you don’t train more.”

“I don’t really want to train with you,” he ground out.

Now she looked honestly confused and a little insulted, as though they were kids and he said he didn’t want to play with her. “Why?”

Nick tried to think how to phrase things for her to understand. “Because I don’t really like your attitude?”

“My attitude? What’s wrong with it?”

“You tried to kill two of my best friends and then kept threatening them even when they helped you!”

“…You mean the wesen? You’re still on that?” she asked, annoyed.

“ _Yes_.”

She looked close to having an aneurism. “You are blowing me off because you don’t like that I have a problem with you befriending monsters?! Who kill people?!”

“Neither of them do that!”

“Oh, the Blutbad doesn’t? Really?”

“He’s reformed. He’s one of the nicest people I know.”

“Reformed. Reformed means that he wasn’t always so nice, doesn’t it?” She zeroed in on his words to throw at him.

Nick faltered. “I…”

“Meaning he’s killed in the past?” she pressed, getting closer to him.

“…Yes. I do know that for sure because he’s helped me kill other wesen.”

“Before that?” she prompted, not letting him get an inch.

“Maybe…” he allowed. “I don’t know all the details. But he’s done so helping me hunt-”

“So you want me to take it on the monster’s word that he’s _good_ now,” she steamrolled over him. “That he’s not going to change his mind again someday and decide someone walking down the street looks tasty? Or me? Or you?”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Nick grit out. “You know what, if you aren’t going to respect my friends, you can just leave.”

Sloane glared more. “I told you, I owe it to your mother and your aunt to make sure you aren’t going to get yourself killed. I’m sticking around until I’m sure.”

“Yeah, well, not around here. I’m heading home. Do not follow me.”

Sloane glared but pushed away from the car, walking for the exit. She passed by Hank, who glanced at her curiously, but neither paused.

“Hey man. Sorry it took so long.”

“No problem,” Nick said rather curtly.

Hank arched his eyebrows. “You sure? Because it sounds like it is…”

Nick sighed and shook his head. “No, sorry…it’s not about you. That Grimm from before, she’s still around and…getting under my skin. She was here just a second ago…”

“Wait, that was her?” He looked back, but Sloane was already gone from sight. “Why’s she still around?” He asked, climbing into the car.

“She wants to train me in some Grimm fighting techniques or something…” Nick climbed in behind the driver’s seat.

“Huh…well, that could come in handy.”

“I’m not learning from someone who keeps saying Monroe and Rosalee are going to betray me or threaten them. That’s her real motive I think, getting me to think like her,” Nick groused.

“Fair enough, but I’m just saying you could learn what she has to teach you and not be like her. My law professor in college was the laziest old bastard ever, and I mean he would rather stay seated in his chair and wheel it around the room than stand and walk two feet to talk to a student. No medical problems, just lazy. But he was smart as hell. I didn’t catch his laziness, I have trouble standing still, but I did make good enough grades I could’ve gone to law school and be a high powered attorney if I wanted.”

Nick was quiet as he thought about that. “Why didn’t you? Go to law school I mean?”

“I wouldn’t get to chase the perps as a lawyer. Not lazy, remember,” Hank grinned. “Plus after the second divorce, I’m not too keen on lawyers.”

Nick snorted and shook his head. He knew there was probably a better reason, but had to admit it was more cathartic to be able to chase criminals than risk seeing them walk day in and day out. “I’ll consider it…”

\------------

Sloane walked into the bar with her hood up. Most would think it’s too warm for a hoodie, but she preferred to keep covered and could deal with the heat. This was a seedier bar on a rougher side of town. A rough biker bar called _The T-Bar Tavern_. She was still simmering from talking to Burkhardt and wanted a way to shed the anger; and this was a good place to do so she was sure. Going to the bar she sat down on the rather worn stool. The bar tender noticed her and came over.

“What can I get you?”

“Just a coke please.”

He arched his eyebrow. “Just a coke? Don’t want a little rum in there?”

“Just came in for a little refreshment and a rest after being on the road, not looking to get buzzed or drunk I’m afraid.”

“Yeah? Okay, but you know this isn’t the safest part of town for a girl alone.”

 _Counting on that._ “Like I said, just passing through. I think I’ll be okay.”

He shrugged but poured her a coke from the soda-gun with some ice and a straw. “Here you go.”

She nodded thanks and sipped it as she looked around. Most present were more interested in games of pool or whatever sport was on the TV—Basketball it seemed—than people watching like her. Others were gathered together in small groups of their own to talk and have drinks. Nearly everyone was dressed in threadbare jeans, tops with sports logos or questionable sayings or too much cleavage (men included) and bits of leather. She could’ve worn her own leather jacket, but opted for just a hooded sweatshirt and padded vest to hide the bulge of her knife and holster. She rotated her ankle, also feeling the slender knife there. She was itching for a fight. She got a refill about half an hour later with nothing else to distract her.

_C’mon, someone do something…_

“You little shark! You think you can hustle me?!” a loud booming voice rose over the dull murmurs.

 _That sounds promising._ She turned in the stool enough to look at the pool tables. One big, biker looking man with a beard and what might be muscles around his fat was looming over a slighter, more awkward man in a grimy tank top with a rather risqué picture of a cartoon rabbit and pair of jeans.

“I didn’t hustle you, buddy,” the slighter man said. “Really, it’s just luck! A little good for me, a little bad for you.”

“Oh, it’s going to be a lot of bad luck for you, _buddy_ ,” he spat, grabbing the front of his shirt.

The bartender slammed his hand on the counter. “Hey! No fighting in here. You want to fight, take it outside, or better yet, go your separate ways!”

The biker sneered but pushed the smaller man away. “Well, I’ll be waiting for you to leave then.” He turned and stormed out the door, and a couple of others joined him.

The smaller man tried to smile and looked at the bartender. “You mind me moving in here?”

“I do. You need to be careful who you make bets with. I’m not putting up with another brawl in here.”

“True, true. At the very least I’ll drink for a bit, maybe they’ll leave by then,” he said, sidling up to the bar. He glanced at Sloane and smiled. It was his attempt to look affably charming, but Sloane knew an oily way to try and make her drop her guard. “Hey, can I buy you a drink?”

“I’ve already got one and I don’t drink liquor,” she said simply, continuing to sip her drink.

He frowned. “Bit boring…”

“I’m a boring girl. Also, just passing through.” She finished her soda and set down a ten on the bar. “Keep the change.” Getting up, she headed back out the door and too her car. She had a clear view of the bikers from there, lounging around their motorcycles. She waited in her car, pulling out a sketch pad to draw a little while she waited. She started with a little cartoon of a Blutbad with arrows sticking out of him like a pin cushion, and then just doodling. About an hour later, the thin man lurched out and headed around the side of the bar. She saw a large shadow moving after him from the parking lot.

Sloane exited the car to follow, keeping to the shadows and keeping quiet as she went around the long way to circle around the bar. Glancing around, she noted there were no cameras here. One of the men was counting on that she was sure, and she had a feeling which one. She could hear the big man confronting the smaller, trying to intimidate him when she came to the other corner of the building.

“I told you to give me back my money, you little shit.”

“I won our bet, it’s my money!”

“You cheated.”

“And if I did? You can’t prove it.”

The big man gripped his fists tighter. “No, but I can beat it out of you. Or maybe I’ll just string you up like a deer and gut you for it.” There was a flick as he pulled out a pocket knife. He tried to rush the smaller man with the knife drawn, not waiting to see if he was just intimidated.

The smaller man however dodged before it even came close and fitted his hand around the man’s thick neck, surprising him. “You don’t know what your messing with, big man. But maybe I’ll let you know not to underestimate the little guy.” He woged into drang-zorn, baring his badger like teeth at the man before using his claws to swipe across his chest. The man yelled, but was cut off as the wesen head-butted him into unconsciousness, letting him drop to the ground. He woged back to his human form and smirked, turning to head off again, but stopped still when he saw Sloane standing their facing him. “Oh! Uh, hey there. I was just, um…”

“I saw everything,” Sloane said.

His face fell and he huffed. “Damn...was hoping I wouldn’t have to actually kill anyone, I like playing pool here…A drunk would just forget or think he was hallucinating.”

“Don’t worry…you won’t be playing anymore games, drang-zorn.”

He paused and frowned. “How did you know…?”

Sloane reached under her vest and unsheathed her knife, bringing it out. The wesen took a step back and looked at her face again as he woged once more. He paled. “Gri-!”

Before he could finish she rushed him, grabbing him around his throat. He gave a gasping, whining shout through his constricted windpipe. Bringing the blade up, she ignored the fear in his eyes to bring it back down again into his chest. He de-woged and his eyes rolled up into his head as he died in seconds. She kept holding him a little longer to make sure the blood didn’t spurt out all over her. A few drops on her clothes she could hide and take care of, but she didn’t want to have to burn her shirt and pants if she could help it. Letting go of him so he fell to the ground, Sloane wiped her knife down using his shirt and re-sheathed it. With a huff, she grabbed him up and fitted his clean side over her shoulders, walking out towards the empty field behind the bar and towards a copse of trees. Letting him fall she sighed and patted him down. She found his wallet in his pocket and pulled out most of his cash, counting it out.

 _Oh, you were a shark. Seven hundred bucks._ She put the cash in her pocket. She considered a credit card but decided against it, she didn’t think she’d have time to get money off of that safely before he was found. Putting the wallet back, she walked calmly towards the bar again, scraping earth over the trail of blood as she walked. She paused next to the clawed up biker and knelt down to check his pulse. _Still alive. The scratches are deep but I don’t think he’s in any danger._ Patting him down, she pulled out his wallet too and wrinkled her nose when she also found what appeared to be individual bags of meth in a hidden pocket of his vest.

 _Ugh…drug dealer who likes to gamble and carry knives. I saved a paragon of the community tonight…_ Looking thoughtful, she flipped to the man’s driver’s license and through his things before copying his address. Putting things back where she found them, she returned to her car and drove off.

\--------------

Nick walked into Renard’s office with a reserved feeling of caution. Their chief had asked to see him the moment he arrived. “You wanted to see me?”

Renard nodded, sitting at his desk. “Yes. I have a file from another precinct here; I try to keep tabs on the stranger cases that crop up across the city even if they aren’t in our jurisdiction.”

“By strange you mean…” Nick didn’t finish the sentence but they shared a knowing look with one another. “Okay. What is it?”

“A few days ago, the body of Timmy Shute was found in the trees behind _The T-bar_ _Tavern_ ,” Renard said, looking over the notes again. “Death resulted from a stab wound to the chest right into his heart. “Huge” Hugo Marchek was brought in after it was shown he and Shute had had an argument over betting in the bar on surveillance, and he’s well known to carry a knife.”

“Is Marchek wesen?”

“No. But he said that Shute “turned into a hairy monster with lots of teeth” and then clawed him. Had the claw marks to prove it. Nasty looking too.”

“Oh. So the victim was wesen…sounds like self-defense,” Nick said.

“Perhaps. But he swears up and down he didn’t kill him, despite always having a knife on him according to locals. He figured he had some kind of hallucination, that something else gave him the scratches, but that Shute knocked him out. We haven’t found a weapon on Marchek or in his apartment that matches the wounds on Shute. Could be he tossed it…could be there was a third party. If there was, it was someone with a knife. A very big, very sharp knife. Who went up against a wesen and won.”

Nick felt his stomach drop. “You’re…wondering if it was a Grimm.”

“Yes. I figured it wasn’t you, but that you might know something.”

“It wasn’t me,” Nick said quickly. “I…That Grimm that took care of the Wolkenkratzer is still here.”

“She is? Why?” Renard asked in confusion.

Nick sighed. “She wants to train me. In fighting wesen. All wesen, she’s not picky I think. I guess…she’s doing some hunting herself.”

Renard frowned but reclined in his chair a little as he thought his words over. “I would have liked to have known that sooner.”

“Sorry, I hoped she’d get bored and leave…” Nick said honestly. “I didn’t think she’d amuse herself like this…”

Renard hummed, looking thoughtful. “To be honest…Timmy Shute has been linked to several deaths, but evidence made it hard to prosecute. Mostly people wanting money from him. Marchek as well has a violent past, and we’ve linked him to at least one homicide with his gang. We know he’s into drug trafficking, we found evidence of it when we searched his apartment, so he’s definitely going away for that. Putting him away even longer would actually be good I think and a major hit for his gang.”

Nick blinked, nonplussed. “I…are you saying you want to pin this on him?”

“I’m saying…” he started slowly, choosing his words carefully. “A Grimm would be hard to prosecute. No obvious motive, we have no witnesses or footage of what happened outside of Marchek and Shute’s argument. Rather than try to prosecute her, we could get a dangerous criminal off the streets that we’ve been after for a long time. I don’t doubt he was planning on killing Shute himself until Shute ended up being more than he could handle.”

Nick frowned a little. “I’m not sure I want to lie…”

“You lie when it comes to wesen cases all the time,” Renard pointed out. “And sometimes you take justice into your own hands as well, don’t you?”

Nick was going to argue but had to pause when he thought that over. _We had a whole plan to stop the Ziegvolk lawyer getting a man off on murder charges, I only arrested him when he tried to assault Monroe and the others…The Demonfeur…The incident with the seltenvogel…I can arrest some but not all the perpetrators because I can’t always prove what they’ve done._ “I try not to,” he said hesitantly.

“I know, but sometimes you have to, for the greater good. While we may frown on this method, this is how most Grimms operate and have for hundreds of years. They take someone out, and either it’s an unsolved or someone else may take the fall—and often it’s someone who isn’t innocent. If she’s good, we’re not going to find any evidence linking her to this. So, why not put away a criminal who would probably go on to do worst things?” He picked up a file and handed it to Nick. “This is Marchek’s file. Suspect deaths, drugs, a lot of battery charges. A career criminal from the age of 15 when he stole a truck after severely beating his elderly neighbor.”

Nick took the file and looked it over, frowning at the list. “We can’t put him away with something he actually did?”

“He’s a career criminal who knows how to squeeze through the cracks in the system. He’ll be in prison for a few months, a few years, but he keeps getting back on the street. He’s one I’d like to put away, and this is an opportunity. Besides, he admitted he was intending to kill Schute in the heat of the moment. They got Al Capone on tax evasion after all.”

“He actually did that though…” He sighed again but nodded as he thought that over. “I don’t like it…but fine.”

“Good. That said, I agree she can’t go running around doing this, at least not in Portland. The wesen community is already tense knowing about one Grimm being here, but some know you are…progressive, let’s say. A more traditional Grimm is going to cause a lot of panic.”

Nick frowned more. “What should we do?”

“ _You_ need to either get her to leave, or get her in line.”

“Me?”

“You’re the one she’s here for and might listen to. I doubt I can do anything that will convince her peacefully. I’d hope you wouldn’t want me dead, and despite your differences I doubt you want her dead. The only other option is to get her to leave or step in line. Otherwise we might have more incidents like this, or worse, someone innocent will get caught up in it.”

Nick sighed again but looked at the file. “…Alright. I’ll talk to her.”

“Good. That’s all I really had to ask you about then, you’re free to go.”

He nodded and turned to head back out. Hank must’ve noticed his dark mood when he came over. “What’s up?”

Nick glanced around before leaning in. “That other Grimm…she might’ve killed the victim in another precinct’s case.”

Hanks eyebrows shot up. “For real? Damn, what do we do?”

“Renard wants to leave it, let them stick with the prime suspect, Hugo Marchek.”

“Huge” Hugo? Ha!” Hank laughed slightly, recognizing the name. “That guy’s a piece of work. Had a guy die on the stuff he puts out into the streets because he cut it with even worse things that were already in it. I can’t say I disagree that getting him off the streets would be a blessing...”

“Yeah. But I gotta make sure she doesn’t do this again. The victim wasn’t a good person necessarily either, or wesen rather, but she can’t go around killing whoever she likes.”

“How are we going to do that?”

Nick smiled. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I think it’s mostly on me to do this.”

“Hey man, I told you I was going to help with this stuff when you needed it,” Hank said with a disapproving scowl.

Nick smiled more. “I know. But I want to try and get her to leave or…compromise with her before we have to try and solve this as a group. I’m the one she wants to deal with and train after all.”

Hank sighed but relented. “Alright…just be careful. I mean, don’t want her going nuts on you.”

“Relatively speaking it sometimes feels like she already is…How bad would it be if I put a BOLO out on her car?”

Hank smiled and they got back to work.

\-------------------------------

Nick managed to track Sloane down by the next day. He did end up putting a BOLO out for her car, with Renard’s agreement, and he got a call on the radio that it was spotted at a Chinese restaurant of all places. He made sure no officers confronted her, stating she was just a witness to a crime and not a perp, before he drove over. The parking lot was thick with the lunch crowd. Nick prepared himself for the worst and walked inside. Thankfully, there was no bloody showdown going on in the restaurant like a Quentin Tarantino movie. It was quiet and normal, customers picking up to-go orders or sitting down at tables chatting with their companions. He could spot one lone customer at a table in the corner, sitting so that her back was to the wall and she could survey the room while also apparently eating mushu pork and a whole plate of eggrolls. It was a weird thing to see her being so normal.

Walking over, she didn’t even look up. “Afternoon, detective. Here I thought you didn’t want to see me.”

Nick sighed and sat down. “Truthfully, I really don’t.”

“I’m wounded,” she said dryly, drinking from a cup of hot tea.

“Were you at the T-Bar last week?” he asked, cutting to the chase.

“T-Bar? Oh, a biker bar, right?” Sloane didn’t look surprised or guilty as she nodded, just momentarily confused. “Yes, wh…Oh, you must’ve found the man in the tree grove,” she said, nodding to herself when she remembered.

Nick took a breath and rubbed over his hair, speaking low. “Goddamit, you really did it?”

She rolled her eyes. “He was a drang-zorn and possibly about to kill a human over some stupid bet at the bar.”

“Yeah, and that human is about to be charged with the murder you committed!”

She shrugged. “He’s a notorious thug and drug dealer for his motorcycle gang, I rather sure he’s done something worth putting him away for.”

Nick blinked. “You know all that?”

“I figured it out. Admittedly I didn’t know that much at the time, but I looked him over to see if he was okay and found a bunch of…meth I think on him. Decided to raid his house, found a lot of stuff for cocaine and meth and what not. Personally I rather detest drugs so I just took—and subsequently cleaned—a good amount of cash he had lying around. Doubted he’d report a robbery all things considered. Also took a good amount of what the drang-zorn had on him.”

“You…robbed the guy you killed? And the guy you saved?” Nick asked with a bit of revulsion.

Sloane rolled her eyes. “He wasn’t going to need it. And not all of us have a 9 to 5, detective. I do what I can when I can to get by. Or would you prefer I starve?” She took a bite out of her eggroll.

He glared back. “No need to be dramatic.”

“No need to be judgmental,” she shot back. “This is how I’ve survived since I was in middle school. It’s also how your mother and Marie survived. I either take cash or glean enough from credit card accounts to survive and then leave the rest. Or contract work on occasion. And considering what I hunt, it’s not as though I’m taking from innocent people.”

Nick folded his arms. “Well, you’re not doing it here anymore.”

Sloane glared at him. “And what makes you say that? You think I’ve got anything else to do here?”

“You could leave,” he said.

“I could. But I won’t. As much as I don’t like you, I like Kelly. I don’t want you to end up dead and make her sad,” she said simply.

Nick frowned at mentioning his mother, feeling that was a bit low. “I think I can handle myself.”

“You can think that all you want, I’ve yet to see evidence.”

Nick glared and then took a deep breath. They needed to work something out. “Okay…if you promise me you won’t “hunt” without me, so I can judge the situation, then…I’ll train with you.”

Her eyebrow ticked up. “Really? You are seriously trying to bargain _that_ with me?”

“Yes. So long as you want to train me, you don’t hunt alone, and you don’t kill _unless absolutely necessary._ And by that I mean they try to kill you or someone else.”

“Fairly sure that’s what I was already doing, thanks.”

“That’s my offer. It’s the only way I’m going to agree to this.”

She looked at him for a moment before heaving a growling sigh. “Okay, fine.”

“Really?” he asked, surprised. He didn’t think it’d be that easy.

“If it will get this over with quicker, sure. Kid gloves are on,” she groused.

Nick nodded slowly. “Okay, good. But,” he added, making her scowl. “If I’m good enough by your standards, you leave. And if you come back through, you don’t do this sort of thing again. I don’t want any unnecessary deaths, and I don’t want to have to clean up after you.”

Sloane gave a frustrated huff. “You keep classifying things as “necessary” or not. You’re such a bleeding heart…”

“Do we still have a deal or not?” he said firmly.

She regarded him steadily for a few moments. “…I have a condition as well then.”

“What?” he asked warily.

“You want me to get your permission when hunting? Fine. But that goes two ways. I can’t freely hunt like that, so if you get one of your cases, you call me on it.”

“…You’ll still follow my lead?” he clarified.

She sighed. “Sure. But this way, I can see if your job meshes as well as you say. So, do we have a deal now?” she shot back.

Nick nodded slowly and held out his hand. Nick frowned but nodded. “Fine…I guess at least when we do have a wesen-related case come up, you would be useful. But, no killing unless it’s necessary.”

Sloane took it and shook it firmly. “You and I have a differing definition of ‘necessary’, I can already tell…” she said dryly. “Let’s hope you’re not as hopeless as I think.”

Nick frowned and took his hand back. “Hopefully. Then you can leave.”

“Looking forward to that as much as you, I promise.” Nick rolled his eyes. He moved to grab an eggroll, a rather petty move, but Sloane sharply tapped his hand with a spoon before he even saw her grab it up. He pulled it back with an indignant huff but she leveled the spoon at him with a look of warning. “Rule number one in training: No touching my eggrolls. Or my mushu pork, we are not family style dining. My food is mine unless I offer it.”

Nick almost wanted to laugh but nodded. “Alright, got it, food hoarder… I do still have your number, so I’ll call you to plan our meet-ups. My work is hard to plan around though, I tend to get called at random times as cases develop or crop up.”

“That’s fine. Just so long as you come ready to work hard in the time we have,” she said.

\---------------------

_Volcanalis_

\---------------------

Nick adjusted his grip on the club, looking around warily through the trees. There were a lot of places to hide, and a lot of places to be ambushed from. He heard something rustle behind him and turned, ready to strike, only to find nothing there. He then felt a light tap on his own head and sighed, dropping his fighting stance.

“Dead. That’s 5 out of 7,” Sloane said, putting her own club over her shoulder. Both clubs were padded to avoid any actual damage, but the object of the exercise was for Nick to hear her coming and defend himself. It was his day off and he hadn’t been able to escape Sloane this time, so they’d met out in the woods early that morning. She’d quickly tossed him a bat and explained the rules, and they’d been at this exercise or similar ones all day, breaking only for the lunch she’d insisted he bring with him. It was now early afternoon and he was starting to get a little tired.

“It’s not exactly fair…I’m pretty sure you’re a ninja,” Nick said.

Sloane smirked a little. “Being light on your feet and sneaking around is an asset when hunting. You’re used to walking carefully as a policeman. But you’re not trained to do so as silently and quickly as possible. Plus, this is how I’m judging what you already know. I thought it would be an easy first day exercise.”

Nick sighed and checked his watch. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t make this 6 out of 7 for you, it’s getting late. You know, we could’ve done this on the weekend.”

“That’s what you said last week,” she said blandly, arching her brow. “But then you worked through the weekend.”

Nick blushed a little, not wanting to admit he’d used that as an excuse. “I had to catch up on paperwork…being a detective isn’t all crime scenes and chasing down suspects. They never mention 80% of the job is filling out piles of paperwork about everything you did on a case down to meal breaks…”

“Don’t do a career fair then or you’ll never get anyone joining up being that honest,” Sloane said with a laugh. She took his club when he offered it. “I guess I’ll go figure out something to do while you’re busy still. Maybe find a hunt…”

“No,” Nick said automatically. “We talked about this. No hunting without me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a bleeding heart.”

“And you’re too eager to kill any wesen you meet.”

“Because that’s what I’m supposed to do! What _we_ are supposed to do!” she said in frustration. All their conversations seemed to devolve to this, even when they started off civil. In fact, without other people around, he’d almost thought she was fun. Of course she had to ruin it by wanting to kill things though.

“Well, I disagree, as I’ve said to you several times.”

Sloane glared before sighing. “Look, I’m not saying trying to preserve life isn’t commendable,” she finally said. Nick was surprised by the serious, almost sad look she had. “I’ve had to argue somethings with my mentor in the past, things I thought went too far. Despite what you think, I don’t kill _every_ wesen I meet. But I’ve seen all the things wesen can do—all the evil they can do—since I was 9. I’ve been training to hunt them since then. And I am being very nice doing your training this way when I could be breaking bones like my mentor did,” she finished darkly.

Nick was a bit shocked and took that all in. Knowing she was 9 when she started training, that her mentor trained her harshly, explained a lot. But he looked at her squarely. “Yeah, well, maybe I haven’t been at this that long, but I’ve got my own experiences. And they tell me you’re wrong.” He marched up the hill to his car and climbed in. He saw Sloane huff but head to her own car as he headed back to town. Nick tried not to admit he rather enjoyed the lesson. It was more like a game than what he’d expected. He was distracted enough he almost took the exit that would take him to the house he and Juliette shared. He managed to get back towards Monroe’s house with just a bit of chagrin at himself. He missed Juliette, and their home, dearly. But he was giving her the space she wanted.

As if to mess with that train of thought, was nearly back to Monroe’s house when he got a call from the hospital that Juliette that had been in a minor car accident. Apparently, he was still her emergency contact. He rushed over to see her, making a perhaps illegal U-turn. She wasn’t nearly as relieved to see him though. She talked about seeing him everywhere, like ghosts, and it was overwhelming her. She told him she didn’t want to see him anymore, and that hurt more than anything had before in their spiraling relationship. He headed to Monroe’s house in a daze. It was pretty obvious something was wrong, and though he tried to be cheery when Bud and Monroe greeted him, ready to watch the Portland Timber’s soccer game. He explained what happened and both men awkwardly tried to comfort him.

“Um…what about Sloane? How’d that go?” Monroe asked, hoping to distract him.

“Who’s Sloane?” Bud asked.

They both looked at Bud and grimaced. “She’s, um…” Monroe started.

“She’s teaching me some survival techniques,” Nick said quickly.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I just…thought it would be good to know, with how often I end up in the woods.”

Bud laughed. “Yeah, that’s wesen for you; we do like getting back to nature now and then.” He held his beer up to toast Monroe who toasted back with an amused smile. “So, how was it?”

“It was…aggravating,” he said honestly.

“That bad?” Monroe said knowingly.

Nick sighed a little. “Truthfully…the training was fun. She’s actually not a terrible teacher exactly. But she’s just so…Everything turns into an argument! And she just has to be better at everything!”

“Yeah, she does seem like a hothead,” Monroe agreed. “And this is coming from a Blutbad.”

“Yeah, you guys can be a bit intense…” Bud agreed. Monroe arched his eyebrows at him. “Well, you know, _some_ Blutbads are…intense. You, you’re great.”

“Uh huh…point is, this lady isn’t really…sociable, to anyone, and made an awful first impression. So I can’t say I’m shocked you butted heads.”

“True…” Nick laughed hollowly. “How does someone get like that?”

“What do you mean?” Bud asked.

“I mean…how did she end up how she is? This ultra-serious bloodthirsty…hunter…”

Bud looked worried at the description but Monroe shrugged. “It’s all in how you’re raised probably,” Monroe said.

“Maybe…she did say she’s been doing things like this, hunting and…all that, since she was 9. Her mentor even made her train through broken bones,” he said, feeling disgusted that someone would do that to a kid.

Bud and Monroe both paused in their drinks and gaped, not noticing the game. “Wow…that is messed up,” Bud said. “I mean wesen can have some messy traditions themselves, but 9 is pretty young…most won’t even have woged for the first time by then.”

“It kind of starts to explain some things about her personality,” Monroe nodded. “But I’m not going to excuse the whole trying to kill me and Rosalee thing.”

“Yeah-wait, what?” Bud asked in alarm.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Nick said, giving Monroe a look. He didn’t want everyone to know there was another Grimm in Portland, and quite frankly if Bud knew, everyone would know. “And you’re right, I mean you shouldn’t excuse that, and I don’t, but…it’s like kids that grow up with racists and no outside influence. It’s wrong, but they don’t necessarily know better. Like…brainwashing.”

“Yeah…I admit, I can understand that given how some wesen are raised…Even me. I mean, becoming wieder wasn’t an easy choice or easy for my family to accept…But before that I was like most Blutbader.”

“Really?” they both asked.

“Yeah man. I had a wild youth. Not like serial murder type, but my friends and I would go hunting and even scare livestock and stuff. I mean, you remember my ex Angelina, Nick. You think she’d have gone with a vegan back in the day? And she was all about trying to bring out my wild side again…”

“She…didn’t, right?” Bud asked.

Monroe shook his head, sighing as he remembered his fallen ex. “Not much. A little rabbit hunting…left a bad taste in my mouth, not doing that again.”

Bud looked relieved and Nick smiled. “Yeah…But I mean…If you can change, maybe she can.”

Monroe groaned and tipped his head back against the couch. “Oh God man, you want to try and fix her?”

“Honestly, I’m fine if she decided to leave tomorrow. But she’s my mom’s friend and thinking on it…I also don’t want to discount that maybe she can change. It’d be nice to have her help on things. And when she’s not calling me an idiot and just teaching me, she’s pretty mellow and cool,” he admitted.

“You’ve known her less than a month and most of that time she’s been arguing with you and then trying to train you for combat and killing things…” Monroe reminded him. Bud got a concerned look on his face again.

Nick sighed. “I know, you’re right…maybe I’m just looking for something I can feel like…I’m making a difference for someone and doing good by them.”

Monroe frowned and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey man, you’ve done good by me.”

“Me too,” Bud said. “I mean, you helped Arnie and the rest of us against those Hässlich mob guys!”

“But I’m constantly putting you in danger...you got beaten up because of me, Monroe.”

“I also met Rosalee because of you,” he said meaningfully. “I helped people. And you’re one of my best friends, dude. Actually probably the best friend I’ve had in years considering a lot of people dropped me when I converted and while I like everyone at the wieder church…I was more of a hermit before you. You got me to actually do more with other people. So…yeah, I do owe you a lot. Even if there’s some danger mixed in, I’m feeling better than I have in years.”

Nick was surprised but smiled for real for the first time. “Thanks…that makes me feel a lot better.”

“Me too. I mean, it’s a lot more interesting hanging with you guys when the Mrs. takes the kids to her parents for dinner than going along, to be honest. And you should feel good. You’re a good guy, and a good Grimm. You catch the bad ones, you help the good ones, that’s more than we could ever ask for. And you’re a cop, so you help humans either way.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Monroe said. “And if you could convert her, two…people like you would be awesome.” Bud looked confused at the wording but Monroe quickly moved on. “But…don’t go trying to change people on purpose. Or people that don’t want to be changed. Tried that with Angelina. It’s part of why I knew we weren’t good for each other. People gotta choose to change.”

Nick sighed and nodded. “Yeah…though sometimes the change isn’t their choice…”

Monroe frowned, not having to ask what he meant. The incident with Juliette was still too fresh on his mind. “Yeah…I guess sometimes…”

Nick’s phone going off broke the conversation at the awkward point. He was almost grateful for the murder call to really get his mind off things and headed out. It became rather obvious this was wesen related. After all, humans couldn’t burn someone alive without setting fire to the surrounding area. There were burning handprints all over her body, melted plastic on the table, but the house was still intact. They found the victim, Jill Pembrey’s, bag which revealed she was a geologist. The next day they tracked down her employer, and found out she’d had a strange run in that morning with a man who didn’t want her talking rocks from a “fumarole”, a volcanic vent, near Mt. Hood. Apparently she had pepper-sprayed her assailant and run off back to the city with her samples. When he offered to show where she had found them they followed him to the woods.

He considered calling Sloane to see what she thought but still had to admit he wasn’t sure he wanted her rather combative style out in the field again. But then, she may have knowledge about what could’ve done this… _I’ll call her this evening if we don’t figure this out._

It was a surprise when they returned to their car from examining the fumarole to find it vandalized. Even more so when they caught the vandal, and older man, that turned into a steer-like wesen. They managed to catch him, but he ranted at them about taking the rocks and “not showing respect”, claiming they would die.

They take him in and Nick spoke to Renard about what’s happening. The steer wesen was identified as Marcus Hemmings and he had quite the ties to what’s been happening. He was an archaeologist once, but hadn’t really been seen in fifteen years. Ever since his wife was found dead, with very similar wounds to Jill Pembrey’s. But he wasn’t sure what Hemming’s himself was, not having seen that wesen before. He didn’t seem to fit in to how these people died though.

“Do you want some help on this?” Renard asked, rousing Nick from his thoughts.

“…You’re offering?”

“Yes, if you want it.”

Nick took a breath. He couldn’t deny, he was still a bit tense about Renard and what happened with Juliette. But he also couldn’t deny Renard seemed to have at the very least good intentions. Or intentions that lined up with what Nick needed to do. “Yeah, okay. We also have Sloane though.”

“Who?” Renard asked in confusion.

Nick remembered he had not told Renard about Sloane still being in the city. “Ah…the, um, other Grimm. From the wolkenkratzer case.”

Renard frowned more. “She’s still here?”

He nodded, a little embarrassed. “Yeah. She’s been training me a little. Apparently, I’m not well trained enough for her taste. But she’s agreed to leave if I can prove I can take care of myself. And I got her to agree not to hunt anyone else until she leaves Portland.”

“And…dare I ask how that’s been going?” he said, though he looked honestly curious.

“We…don’t see eye to eye on some things,” he said, trying to find a diplomatic way to say it. “She’s a bit more traditional. Not like old school I think, I doubt she’d listen to me if she was. But…she’s not opposed to death.”

Renard looked a bit troubled. “I’m not sure I want a rogue Grimm in Portland…”

“I know what you mean, but like I said, she’s promised not to hunt. I told her I wouldn’t cooperate with her if she did. She’s not happy about it but…well, she and my mother and aunt were friendly so she wants to be sure I’ll be alright for their sakes.”

He still looked a little uncertain but nodded. “I suppose that’s alright for now. But you want to bring her in for this?”

Nick hesitated before sighing. “Not really, no.”

Renard arched his brow, unsure what to push him towards. “I trust your discretion then. We should go talk to Mr. Hemmings though. He appears to know more about whatever this is.”

\-----------

Whatever it was ended up being a living volcano. He and Renard questioned Hemmings who gave them some clues, pointing to a wesen called a Volcanalis. He summarized that his wife took some rocks from a fumarole like Pemberley did and the Volcanalis came for them. He regretted he couldn’t save her, and that was why he was trying to keep them away from taking more rocks. They remembered Thom Evans, Pembroke’s boss, took some as well and the three of them rushed to the scene. They managed to bust in just as the Volcanalis—a thing that looked like it was made out of pure lava with glowing eyes and horns of melting rock—was assaulting Thom and distracted it enough to put him down. When it came for Nick, his bullets did nothing to him. It was like shooting living magma. But it was enough to get it to leave rather than keep fighting. Nick followed, but he’d melted his way through a metal grate and disappeared.

He knew they needed to know more about what they were dealing with. He looked at his phone, Sloane’s number pulled up, and considered if he should go ahead and ask her. This was the sort of hunt they could do together, maybe that would prove to her he was fine. But, he was about to meet Monroe at the trailer. He wasn’t sure putting the two of them in an enclosed space was the smartest idea. Taking a deep breath, he pushed call and put it to his ear. She picked up after the third ring. “Hello?”

“Sloane? It’s me, Nick.”

“Yeah, that’s the name that came up,” she said bluntly. “I’m usually calling you, so what brought this on?”

“Yeah, um…I’ve got a case I’m working on.”

“So you’re going to be busy for a bit, I got it,” she sighed, used to him rearranging schedules.

“Um, no, actually…this one is kind of…Grimm related.”

There was a surprised pause. “Really?”

“Yeah. You know anything about a “Volcanalis”?”

There was a short pause. “Volcan…No, I don’t…” she said, sounding surprised.

Nick couldn’t help but smirk. “Really? I thought you knew everything.”

“I still know more than you, so watch it,” she ground out. “What the hell are you doing that involves what sounds like a volcano?”

“We’ve had one woman end up burned from the inside out because she took some rocks from a volcanic vent near the mountains. Her boss almost ended up dead too before my boss and I figured out and rescued him.”

“You should’ve called me sooner!” she accused.

Nick sighed. “I didn’t think it was necessary, and you said you didn’t know—”

“That’s what research is for. This isn’t about what I did or didn’t know off the top of my head, this is about you being a damn hypocrite!”

“What?”

“You made me promise not to hunt without you, and I agreed and I have kept my word despite my best judgement. I made you promise to bring me in on wesen-related cases. And you are just calling me now instead of when you first thought this would be wesen related?”

Nick frowned a bit, a tiny amount guilty but also annoyed. “You…you seem too trigger happy, so I-”

“Trigger-?!”

“You threaten my friends and want to kill any wesen in your path! We’ve been over that enough I would think you’d understand at the very least why I’m hesitant to call you.”

“Really? Well, I’ll be happy to hear how you get this homicidal pile of lava to play nice then, provided I don’t find your charred corpse!” She hanged up and Nick growled a little, tossing his phone to his passenger seat as he drove for the trailer to research with Monroe. His mood must’ve been obvious, but they didn’t talk about it this time, focusing on their research.

Looking it over, he hesitated before sighing and taking pictures of the text and sketches.

\--------------

Sloane was packing up her stuff. Whenever she was frustrated she looked for something physical to distract her, and hefting her boxes back into her car was a good start. She usually unpacked them when she was in a town more than two days, keeping them in whatever rented room she had instead of her car for a time. The back and forth gave her some time to cool her head and focus on lifting heavy, locked boxes to take her mind off of Nick. Hunting was always the temptation to destress, but she resisted. She wasn’t at that level of petty yet to just disregard their promise.

 _Gotta be the bigger person and actually keep mine,_ she thought. Okay, perhaps she was still a little petty. Petty enough she was just going to leave and let him deal with whatever this wesen was on his own.

Her phone dinged and she paused in lifting the last chest. Sighing, she put the chest down and went over to pick up the phone from the bedside table. It was a text from Nick. She hesitated but then opened it. Her glare softened into curiosity when she saw pages from one of Mary’s books. Zooming in, she saw what Nick had spoken of earlier-A Volcanalis. She sat down, reading over the pages on her phone carefully.

 _Having encountered the molten beast twice before, I enlisted the help of the high priest before I had the courage to return up the mountain. Many of the dwellers of Pompeii had removed rocks. When we discovered the bodies of these villagers burned and blistered, the priest uttered one word before he ran for his life: Volcanalis. Too frightened to face it on my own, I retreated just in time as Vesuvius sought revenge: erupting and burying Pompeii. I returned to Rome where I was to learn that Volcanalis had often been mistaken for the ancient serpent, Satana. But unlike Satana, Volcanalis lived within the mountains of fire, frequently appearing prior to violent eruptions as I had so recently learned._  
  
“Mother of…this thing really is made out of magma? That’s not normal, even for a wesen…” She hesitated, tapping the phone before closing it. Standing, she started packing her stuff again. Then she went back to the phone to look again. Another text came through.

**_Nick:_ ** _We’ve got a plan. We’re going to lure this thing to a ware house and douse it with liquid nitrogen._

Sloane arched her brow but then nodded slightly. _That could work…but what if it doesn’t?_

Another came through.

**_Nick:_ ** _I’ll text you if it works. If not, please tell my mom I love her. And I’m sorry._

Sloane frowned more, feeling an uncomfortable feeling she wasn’t familiar with settle in her chest and stomach.

**_Nick_ : ** _And I’m sorry to you too. For not following through. It’s not fair. I don’t like or agree with you, but you’re one of the few Grimms I’ve met. I wish we could’ve gotten along._

Sloane stared at the text before sighing. “Dammed bleeding heart…”

Opening her contacts, she flipped through before selecting a number, holding it to her ear.

“Sloane.” A voice on the other end stated by way of greeting. It was a man’s voice, low and with a faint French accent.

“Andre.”

“Need something?”

“Yeah. You got a shop set up in Portland?”

“Maine or Oregon?”

“Oregon.”

There was typing on the other end before he hummed. “You’re in luck; I’ve got a small outpost there. I’m not sure what all they might have on hand though. Is there something in particular you need?”

“This is going to sound weird, but I need stuff to fight a wesen pretty much made of fire…”

\--------------------

They managed to get together a plan. He thought it was pretty good all things considered. They lured the Volcanalis with more rocks from around the fumarole to a warehouse. It went for the rocks, as planned, but started for them before they had the canisters of liquid nitrogen ready. Nick was surprised when something hit it from behind, covering it what appeared to be fire extinguisher foam. It wasn’t strong enough to douse it but it did apparently distract it as it roared and rounded around.

Looking behind the Volcanalis, Nick saw Sloane holding another similar grenade to what hit the Volcanalis. She caught his gaze and shouted “Hurry up already, I’ve only got one more!”

They all quickly got the liquid nitrogen tanks working, holding them up and dousing the volcanalis down until he was solid rock. Sloane pulled out a nasty looking cross bow, starting forward for the rock statue whose eyes were still glowing, when Nick quickly intercepted her. “Wait…Markus should do this.”

She frowned at him, but lowered the crossbow. “Markus?”

He nodded at the man Monroe was handing a sledgehammer to. “It killed his wife…he deserves to have the last blow.”

Sloane looked surprised and slowly lowered the crossbow. “…Didn’t think revenge was your thing…”

“I think of it more as justice.” She nodded a bit and turned to go without another word. “Sloane?”

“You’ve got things covered, right? Don’t need me around, you’ve made that clear.”

“Hey, I-” She didn’t slow down and exited the warehouse. He frowned but turned to watch as Markus smashed apart the Volcanalis. When he was sure that was over he rushed back out. “Sloane, wait!”

Sloane stopped, her car just up ahead, and turned to look at him. “What? You’ve been trying to get me to leave since I got here, right? Quite frankly, I’m ready to go too, so I’d thought you’d be relieved. You want me to say good show? I was wrong about you? What?”

Nick sighed. “I don’t…Look, yes, I wanted you to leave before, but not…angry. Even if we’re not exactly friends and we didn’t start out well, and you’re stubborn and quick tempered—”

“If this is an apology, I can see why you’re living with the Blutbad and not your girlfriend,” she said snidely.

“And tactless,” he continued as patiently as he could. “But I don’t want you to leave angry. I have my philosophy and methods, you have yours, but our goal is the same on the important level: keeping people safe. To the point even upset at me, you came to make sure we’d be okay.”

Sloane frowned and huffed a bit, but calmed. “I came for you, that’s about it. I rather figured you were in over your head.”

Nick frowned. “And yet, I had things covered…”

She glared back. “Fine, you did. Gold star, you passed, not my problem anymore. I’ll get ready to go. I think that’s best for both of us because neither of us are happy with this arrangement, obviously.”

Turning, she headed back to her car and Nick sighed before turning to head back inside. Monroe and the others were putting the remains of the Volcanalis into a bunch of bags, keeping them separated just to be safe. Monroe looked up and stood. “Hey…everything okay?”

“…Maybe. At the very least, hopefully things will be less complicated now…”

“Okay…let’s finish up here and head home then. I think we deserve a little R&R.”

Nick smiled and nodded, helping to get things cleared up so they could head back home. How things were left with Sloane still nagged at him, but he didn’t exactly feel like trying to mend that bridge at the moment. So he let it go. What was the worst that could happen?

\------------------------------

_Endangered_

_\--------------------------_

Wu arched his eyebrows as he walked up to the black SUV parked on the side of the road. It was early morning and gotten the call earlier that someone spotted it, and they weren't sure if it was abandoned or not since it had been there for almost two weeks but tended to shift where it parked as if it was driven off and then re-parked. Had vagrant living in car written all over it in his opinion. He’d been in the area so he'd called in first saying he'd go check it out on his way to the station.

Getting closer, he could see several large boxes and chests piled up in the back. Some of the stuff looked expensive and old. He followed the windows to the front, where he discovered a fair skinned blonde woman asleep in the front passenger seat, the seat reclined back as far as it would go. That wasn't terribly far given several boxes were in the way. She was quite lovely and didn't seem in bad condition despite apparently living in her car.

He used his flashlight to tap the window. He jumped when her hand shot out and smacked against the glass, startling her awake with a curse as she bolted up. Blinking blearily at first, she turned to look at him and glared indignantly at being disturbed. Wu motioned for her to open the door which was locked. She gave him a rather dubious look. Smiling a little smugly, he held up his badge and the woman looked entirely put out rather than scared or worried, saying something he couldn't hear with the glass in the way but was probably foul.

\----------------------------

Nick walked in to the station, sipping his coffee and munching on a doughnut. The cops love doughnuts thing was a vicious stereotype, but not entirely wrong. Being fast, cheap and filled with sugar, they were a valuable fuel source that was yet inexhaustible and therefore precious to long hours mulling over cases and dealing with suspects. Didn’t help the famous Voodoo Doughnut Shop was on his way over from Monroe’s house. They’d been up the night before pondering over the key he’d found in Marie’s trailer and what appeared to be part of a map it created. He planned on asking Renard about them today. He almost choked on his chocolate glazed though as he passed the processing line on his way to the desk. He quickly back tracked to make sure he wasn't seeing things. But no, there was his "mentor", Sloane Larson, sitting with a simmering look to her normally serious face. She was handcuffed to a chair near the processing office. Looking around, he quickly set the coffee cup down on a random surface and walked briskly over.

Sloane looked up as he approached, blinking. Nick noted she had some sizable bags under her eyes. "Detective..." she said tiredly, but with a hint of relief.

"Sloane, what are you doing here?" he hissed. "Did you kill someone?"

The relief vanished and she glared at him. "I didn't kill anyone, but thanks for your concern," she whispered back.

"Then why are you here? You left weeks ago," he asked a little louder. Loud enough that it drew Wu’s attention from filling out the forms at the counter.

"Nick, do you know this lady?" Wu asked in surprise.

"Uh...kind of, yeah. What did she do?"

"None of your business," Sloane ground out.

"She was sleeping in her car off of Blackwood Road. Looks like she's been there for a while."

Sloane sighed slightly, lifting her free hand to rub at the bridge of her nose. Nick blinked in surprise and looked at her, now becoming worried. "Sloane...you were sleeping in your car?"

She looked up at him, the tiredness of her eyes coming out clearly now as if she had been holding it in. Glancing at Wu, she gestured for Nick to come closer and turned away so they could get some semblance of privacy. She spoke quietly so only he could hear. "I usually do when I travel.”

“Okay…but again, you left two weeks ago?”

“I tried. But getting those foam grenades for our flaming friend wiped out my cash reserves,” she said lowly. Nick remembered the things she threw at the Volcanalis and realized she must’ve found those someplace and bought them on the fly. “I was waiting for a money transfer in town before I left. I ran out of money to spend on a motel and my tent also got wrecked fighting the big guy that brought me here, so camping wasn’t an option. My usual source of extra cash has been kind of dry, since I actually upheld my end of the bargain with _someone_ who wouldn’t let me use my usual methods.”

Nick frowned. Her usual methods were looting bodies of her targets for ready cash, then pawning or selling things she could find around them. Nick had vetoed that, in part by forbidding her from hunting without him. “I’m not going to say sorry for making you not steal from dead people…” 

Sloane rolled her eyes. “Whatever. The point is, it took me a while to get a money transfer from my accounts. And I don’t have my own credit cards so I didn’t have other options So yeah, I was stuck in my car until I have my cash. Which actually should be in today or tomorrow. I’d like to get it back so I can get things rolling,” she said a little louder, looking back at Wu who was not trying to listen in of course.

"Sorry to hear that miss, but you can't go parking off the side of the road like that. It's hazardous,” Wu replied. Sloane looked like she wanted to say something to that but kept her mouth shut. "What is it you do anyway?"

"Law enforcement,” she said sarcastically. Nick smacked her shoulder and she glared at him again.

"I see..." He took a paper printed out and arched an eyebrow as it read out. "Well we've got a few problems here, Miss Larson. Your license is expired by a couple of months.”

It was Nick's turn to look at her incredulously and Sloane shrugged slightly. "I haven't had a permanent address in a while, made getting all that done kind of difficult."

"Be that as it may, I can't release the car to you under these circumstances. We'll have to impound it for now."

That got Sloane's attention and she rose. "You can't do that!" she said, glaring. “All of my things are in there!”

"I can and will, miss. You can get your stuff if you want and take it somewhere.”

Sloane huffed. “And go where exactly? My money is tied up and let’s just say my plans appear to have fallen through.”

“Well, you got a little time to figure that out here if you need to. If we could get some current information we could help take care of this. Do you have your birth certificate?"

"...No."

"Social security card."

"No."

Wu frowned. "Passport?"

"No. That’s all somewhere else. I’ve been moving recently, that’s why my car is so full.”

He sighed. "Could you call someone for some of this information?"

“Yes, but it would take a while. They aren’t exactly tech savvy and don’t live in this state let alone city.”

Wu frowned more. “Do you have someone to stay with here in Portland?”

She shook her head slowly. “It’s just me and my car. I came for business and it didn’t work out it seems.”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t give you your car back without some form of actual ID. So…I’m sorry. Try to get it worked out, pay the fines, you’ll get your car.” He turned to go finish the paper work while Sloane clenched her jaw in frustration, groaning softly and messaging the bridge of her nose with her thumbs as she leaned down with her elbows on her knees in the chair.

Nick stared at her a long while before patting her back. "I...I'm sorry, Sloane, I didn't know..."

She glared at him and stepped in close. “Well, since we don’t have an agreement anymore, I can just go out and _make_ a little extra cash come my way.”

Nick glared back. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh I dare,” she shot back. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave your pets alone. For now.”

Nick’s fist balled up and he turned to go to his desk rather than make a scene. She didn't say anything else, tense and upset at the wound to her pride and the stress of the situation. And she looked damn tired. Wu followed him while Sloane fell back into the chair with an annoyed huff.

A couple of minutes later, Wu walked over. “Hey…I didn’t make things awkward between you and your friend, did I?”

Nick snorted. “She’s not really a friend.”

Wu was a bit surprised by the sharp tone. “Then how do you know her?” Wu asked in confusion.

“She’s, uh…friend of the family. She came to town, we met up for a bit…”

“I see…looks like a tense relationship if you don’t mind me saying,” he said delicately.

“It is. We’re not on the best of terms…” he said honestly.

“Well, hopefully she gets this sorted out and you don’t have to worry about each other.”

“Yeah, hopefully.” Taking a breath, glanced over to the Captain’s office to see it was empty. “Where’s the Captain?”

“In a meeting, he’ll be in in a bit. You need something?”

“Just want to talk to him about a case that’s all…”

There was a sudden commotion near the front again and both Nick and Wu rushed over. Nick had a bad feeling about it and sure enough, he was right to be worried. Sloane was squaring up against someone another officer had brought in. Nick could see the perp was woged into a kind of cat-like wesen and snarling at Sloane as he shook off the officer trying to hold him back. Sloane just looked put out as he charged her and she dodged around expertly. When he lunged again, she brought her hand up into his jaw, following through with an elbow to his head, and then a knee to his groin. The wesen went down to his knees with a wheezing groan. Not leaving well enough alone though, she brought her heel down on his head, sending him on the floor. She moved as if to continue the fight and Nick quickly grabbed her and pinned her arms to her side. “What the hell, let go! He started it, I’m going to-!”

“You aren’t finishing it!” he hissed. “Not in the _police station_!”

Sloane froze and then grimaced when she realized he was right. Officers were already getting the man back into custody, but another was coming over with handcuffs for Sloane. “Hey, whoa, what the hell-I was defending myself!” she said, struggling again.

“You need to cool down as well,” the female officer said. “The cops could handle it, you assaulted the man.”

“The cops were doing jack all and your perp took a swing at me first!” She shot back.

Nick felt an idea come to him and held her tight as the cuffs went around her. “She’s right, you need to cool down. Maybe in a cell for a bit while we work this out.”

Sloane looked up at him incredulously. “You…I am going to kick your-”

“Please, dig yourself in deeper,” he said with a cocky smile. If looks could kill he’d be dead with how Sloane was glaring at him as she was led away. Hopefully something could be worked out that they could get her out of town. At least she’d be in the holding cell for hours, maybe a day or two, and not looking to kill someone.

Renard came in a bit later and Nick went to talk with him about the key immediately. He told Nick that the Royal Families have 4 of the 7 keys, and counting Nick's, there are 2 keys unaccounted for. The Royal Families have, and will, torture or use any means to get the rest he said. They discuss where the map made by the keys might lead to that's so important that people were willing to die and kill to find or protect it. Nick is skeptical that Renard is betraying his family, but Renard told him that that side of his family hates him and would have preferred that he was never born. He says they want as little to do with him as possible, even trying to kill him on occasion.

“There’s something else, not to change the subject too abruptly,” Nick said. “The, um…other Grimm is in the holding cells.”

Renard’s eyebrows jumped up. There was a knock at the door and they turned to see Wu waiting outside. Renard held up a hand, asking him to wait. “What’s a Grimm doing in our cells? Last I heard she was leaving.”

“She was waiting for money and Wu busted her for sleeping on the side of the road. Her license was expired.”

“We don’t arrest people for that unless we have other reasons.”

“Then what I think was a klaustrike someone was booking started a fight with her here in the station and she took him down.”

“Ah…” he said in understanding.

Nick sighed and nodded. “She was talking about hunting again to get extra money. I think she should stay in there until this is worked out.”

Renard nodded. “That does sound best. I’ll see about getting her car released and getting her on her way then when her money arrives.”

Nick nodded. Renard motioned Wu in, who apparently had a new call in about cow mutilations and a possible homicide and _aliens._

_This day just keeps getting better…_

Once Nick left, Renard sat and thought a bit more critically about all the problems before him. Especially about the second Grimm.

\------

It was near evening when Sloane got a visitor. It was a man she was fairly sure she’d seen the other day with Nick and the others taking care of the Volcanalis, but she surmised he was the immediate man in charge from the other officers calling him Captain. She was sitting on the bench/bed in the cell and looked at him as he walked to the front but didn’t unlock the cell.

“You must be Sloane. Nick’s told me a lot about you.”

Sloane’s eyebrow ticked up. “He did mention his boss was in the know. I think I saw you with him dealing with the Volcanalis too. So I’m guessing your here about me being a Grimm?”

“You’d be right.”

“What about it then?”

“I understand you plan on leaving.”

“As soon as possible, yeah. Nick’s made it rather obvious my way of doing things isn’t welcomed.”

“Can’t say I disagree. But I also can’t say I disagree with you.” Sloane arched her eyebrows. “Nick is a good detective. And he’s doing well as a Grimm. But I agree, he might be too soft at times. More difficult times are coming and he’s not going to be prepared for them.”

Sloane eyed him suspiciously. “You talk a lot more like you’re invested in these goings on than just an outsider looking through a window or a door…” Renard stared at her as well and then suddenly woged. Sloane didn’t panic or look surprised, but her arm tensed as if she would go for a weapon. “Zauberbeast? But not a very powerful one or you’d have done something to me or Nick already I’m sure…”

He turned back and shrugged slightly. “No, I don’t quite have my mother’s talent for magic. Bad breeding. But even so, I wasn’t planning on doing anything to you but talk.”

She gave a hollow laugh and sat up to look at him properly. “Talk? The wesen in charge of the police holding me just wants to talk?”

He spread his hands out, showing he had no weapon and was alone. “I do the best I can to be good at my job. I’m not just someone pushing their own agendas, I do care about my city.”

“Good for you,” She said snidely. “And what does that have to do with me again?”

“As I said, I’m worried about Nick. While we have a…sometimes tense relationship, we have the same goal of protecting this city. Sometimes that means I turn a blind eye when he has to do something Grimm related outside of hours. Make sure it doesn’t come back to him. Or to you, in the case of one killed Drangzorn recently…”

“You wouldn’t have gotten me,” she stated.

“You usually leave sooner,” he pointed out. “And while maybe others wouldn’t, we knew and connected the dots. Sticking around could’ve been bad for you. In the end though, pinning it on a notoriously violent drug dealer worked out in our favor as well as yours. So thank you.”

“You’re welcome?” she said uncertainly, not having quite anticipated being thanked for that.

Renard smirked. “I think you could still be a big help to Nick, and to others. There’s a lot going on here in Portland as far as wesen politics.”

Sloane huffed a laugh. “I’m not too big on politics.”

“That’s fine. But what they do here might have far reaching consequences. And closer consequences for Nick. I understand if you aren’t close, but I somehow still doubt you want him dead…or worse.”

Sloane frowned rolled her shoulders a little. “He’s got his little team doesn’t he?”

“They can only do so much. Another Grimm could be an asset. If you stayed, I could arrange things.”

“Arrange things?” she asked nonplussed.

“Get you a job first of all.”

“A job?” she parroted, looking more and more incredulous.

“Here, at the station. As a detective, like Nick.”

Sloane blinked and shook her head in disbelief. “Okay, if I had a week I couldn’t begin to tell you all the problems with that idea. Chiefly, I’m not interested in setting up roots. Secondly, as that implies, I haven’t had a job before. Not a real one. Hell, I haven’t been to college and I barely—technically—graduated high school. There’s little to no record of me anywhere, which is kind of the point.”

“Understandable. But Nick’s job takes him to wesen related cases quite often. As well as helps him learn about other mysterious goings on. As for your records, well…I have connections. Getting you a new history is not anything too stressful. So long as no one goes too deep, it should satisfy most everyone’s general search. You could’ve gone to Harvard if you wanted.”

“Wow. That is shady as hell,” she said rather flippantly.

“Considering the many fake IDs you already have, I don’t think you have room to talk. You’d have to tell me if you prefer Sloane Larson or Amelia White. Or maybe Francis Porter.”

She straightened and stood. “What? How-”

“I perused your car a little. No reason to formally search it and I left your trunk alone—”

“I bet!” she scoffed.

“I did. I just wanted to get an idea of who you were.”

“Considering I hid those in the lining of my passenger seat, color me dubious about that,” she spat.

Renard just smiled. “It’s a more common hiding place than you think. Was the name you gave Nick real?”

“…Yes. Stupidly maybe I gave him my real name, because that’s what Kelly knows me by too.”

“Kelly?”

“…The only other living Grimm he knows.”

“I see…Well, while I am still running a background search, I don’t see why you can’t use that name.”

“You’re officer saw a different name on my license, Sarah Jones.”

“I can explain that away with you having been undercover or something of the like.” Sloane huffed a bit, wondering if he had an answer for everything. “Aside from the job, I’d make sure you had a place to stay as well.”

“Ha. Not going to trust that much. Probably bugged it or set a trap.”

“You’d choose it.”

Sloane arched her eyebrows. “I’d choose?”

“Yes. Within reason,” he amended. “I can’t feasibly buy you a house or a luxury condo without a lot of suspicion, but I could ensure you have enough for a deposit on an apartment or townhouse to rent. Your pay would then cover the rest.”

Sloane snorted a little. “You’re a planner I see…”

“I try to be,” Renard said with a small smile.

Sloane regarded him. “Is Nick in anyway aware of what you’re suggesting?”

He shook his head. “No, he isn’t. He’s a bit preoccupied right now with a case. Likely wesen related, mutilated livestock and the like. Sounds like [Glühenvolk](http://grimm.wikia.com/wiki/Gl%C3%BChenvolk).”

Sloane’s face pinched. “Not likely, they’re dead.”

“Maybe…We’ve seen a few wesen supposedly extinct appear again here. It could be a valuable teaching time for you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What’s to say I don’t just hunt like always? Or kill you, boss, the second you open that door?”

“Nothing…aside from several others having outside instructions that if I die and you skip town, you become Americas Most Wanted. Easy to do the same if you do any hunting I find…unnecessary.”

Sloane’s lip curled. “Sounds like a leash and collar to me. No thanks.”

“That’s fine. I’m already working on having your car freed and then you.”

Sloane sat up a little. “What?”

“You and your car will be free to go, regardless of what you decide.”

She eyed him. “The catch?”

He smiled again, liking that she was sharp. _She might actually do well as a detective…_ “If you don’t accept my offer of a job and stick around, you leave. Immediately.”

“Was already working on that-”

“And you don’t come back. Ever. The moment you do, I’ll make sure you’re the most hunted woman in Portland, maybe all of Oregon.” Sloane frowned and regarded him for a bit, sizing him up likely. “You’re free to think it over. Truthfully, it’s going to take a little while for everything to be processed. Feel free to cool your heels in here till that.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a son of a bitch?” she ground out venomously.

His smile never faltered and his tone was breezy. “Several times. Doesn’t faze me, and my mother…just finds it amusing.” He turned to leave while Sloane leaned against the wall and looked up as she started turning that all over in her mind. Sighing, she laid down on the bench-bed and put her arm over her eyes as she tried to get a little rest.

\---------------------------

_Kiss of the Muse_

\-----------------------------

Sloane was released the next day, and so was her car. By then, she was so over the police station she had to resist kicking something. The bench sucked as a bed after the first few hours, the food was bland, and it was boring as hell. She worked out as best she could but the guards were creepy sometimes when she did.

Renard seemed to be able to tell by the warning look she sent his way when he was outside the lock up doors and so kept his mouth shut with a quiet sigh. Sloane picked up her things that had been confiscated like her phone and wallet—Luckily her knife was still hidden in the car. According to a missed message on her phone, the money she transferred to an accessible account was ready and she could go make a withdrawal. So she walked through to the closest bank to withdraw what she needed, nearly $1,000. Then she returned and her car was ready to be picked up, as Renard promised, after paying a fine she was sure was discounted for some reason. She snatched the keys so fast the attendant barely saw her and walked with heavy footfalls to her car to drive it out. On the dash inside she was surprised to find a new license—for the state of Oregon and in her real name, but usable—and registration for her car. Behind those was Renard’s card, with another number scrawled on the back. _Showing me he meant what he said about forging stuff probably…_ Putting the license in her wallet, she put everything else away and drove back into town. Once she had some food and supplies ready, she could say goodbye to Portland and get back to real Grimm work.

Nick tried to call her after she was released but considering he didn’t help her—or even visit—she was also rather over him and his ways. Or any other police. She let the phone ring and went instead to finally get something to eat.

When she came out of the restaurant, full of pancakes, she was not happy to see a black police officer standing near her car when she stepped back outside. He didn’t hide the badge around his neck, but he was on crutches oddly enough, so outrunning him wouldn’t be a problem if needed.

“You want something?” she said, tucking her hands into her jacket.

The man blinked and looked her up and down. “Sloane Larson?”

“If you’re going to impound my car again, I swear to God-” she started.

“Whoa, easy, easy!” he said, holding up his hands as best he could on crutches. “I’m not here to start anything or do anything to you or your car. I just need to talk to you about something.”

“What, did I forget something?”

“No…uh, look, this might be best discussed in…private.” Sloane gave him a very skeptical look and he sighed. “I’m Nick’s partner, Hank Griffin. And I, um…I’m a…a…Ker…shite…shick…” he said slowly, trying to get the pronunciation right.

Sloane’s eyebrows shot up. “Are…you trying to say “Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen”?”

“Yeah, that. Still getting used to these words, I took Spanish in high school…and barely passed with a C.”

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “You…Okay, so you’re not a Grimm or a wesen but you know about them?” she clarified, trying not to get a headache.

“Yeah. I mean, hanging around Nick as much as I do, I guess it’s a matter of time…I am friends with Monroe and Rosalee as well.” She glared and Hank quickly went on before she gave up on him. “But I got something about that all I need to talk to you about. Nick might be in trouble…”

Sloane downgraded to a frown but hesitated. “He seems intent he can get himself out of trouble without my help with his animal friends.”

Hank shook his head. “I don’t know if that’s true this time…Please, can we talk?”

“…You parked nearby? I don’t think you’d be comfortable in my car on those.” She nodded at the crutches.

Hank sighed in relief and nodded, leading her down to his car. It took him a sec to get his crutches in and then in his seat. Sloane climbed into the passenger seat and held out her hands. “Keys.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you trying to drive me off somewhere, we’re private enough in the car. So hand me the keys, you get them back when we’re done.”

“Paranoid much?” Hank said, but held them out.

“Considering my profession, I prefer to think of it as prepared.” She held on to the keys in her lap and settled back. “Okay, what’s the problem?”

Hank took a deep breath. “You ever heard of a Musai?”

Sloane straightened up. “Oh…please tell me you haven’t encountered one? Or kissed one?”

“No, I’ve already had my problems with wesen voodoo in a relationship,” Hank said. Sloane was a little curious but knew that now wasn’t the time. “It’s Nick…I think he got kissed by one.”

Sloane stared before groaning and leaning down to cradle her head in one hand. “Are you kidding me?!”

“I don’t think he knew what she was until she kissed him. But he’s…acting strange.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen. The kiss is—”

“Super addictive and often ends up getting people killed from their infatuation with the Musai.”

Sloane was surprised. “…Did the Blutbad tell you that?”

“Um…Kind of. We figured it out from the books in Marie’s trailer.”

Sloane looked up in horror. “The wesen know about Marie’s trailer?! They’ve been there!? How could he let those-those-”

“Look, knock it off!” Hank snapped, surprising her. “I get it. You were raised to think wesen were bad, and I admit, a lot of the time they seem to be. But we’ve met some good ones too. One of my best friends and my goddaughter are Coyotls, and I had to save her from some messed up ritual her relatives wanted to pull that they wanted nothing to do with. But I’ve known her since she was a baby and her dad since college and they’re good people. Monroe and Rosalee are good people. They’ve helped Nick stop pretty much every wesen he’s come across. And now they’re really worried about him, just like I am.”

Sloane was quiet a moment before grunting. “You haven’t seen what wesen are capable of.”

“I have seen some shit,” he argued.

“ _I_ saw my grandmother torn apart by a pack of wesen when I was nine and heard them talk about doing the same to me if they found me.” Hank snapped his jaw shut in shock. She eyed him coldly. “I should just ‘let go’ of that? Forget seeing someone I loved die, ripped to shreds, covered in blood and fighting to protect me from a pack of animals that wanted us dead for no reason other than what we were? We didn’t do anything to them! Never!” Her voice cracked and she breathed deeply to try and get under control. She never talked about this.

Hank paused before sighing. “Sorry, I didn’t know…But our friends wouldn’t do that.”

She laughed. “And I didn’t think the wesen, the men I’d known my whole life in town, would either. They weren’t all strangers. I grew up with some of them—one of them was our usual grocer. He’d give me a piece of candy whenever we went there. And he was fine killing us. So I don’t believe they’d hesitate to turn on him like they did on us.”

Hank shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry. But you can’t just say that based on those men.”

“It’s not just them. Most every wesen that has ever found out I’m a Grimm has tried to kill me. Most everyone I’ve hunted has killed or raped or done horrible things to people or even other wesen, even their own families. Just because you found a couple “good” ones, who may very well turn on you one day, doesn’t negate what every other one is capable of and will do if you give them an inch. This Musai for example? You think she doesn’t know what she’s doing when she entrances her men and pushes them to the brink of madness? She just wants them to worship her. To fight over her. To kill for her. It’s an ego trip. She probably thinks she hit the jack pot with a Grimm under her control.”

Hank was quiet again as he thought all that over. “…I still don’t think Monroe or Rosalee would do that…I think wesen are as susceptible to how their raised as they are to instinct, like humans are. But I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he finished honestly.

Sloane’s jaw worked a moment before she took a breath and held out his keys. “Yeah, well…I got them in the end.”

Hank didn’t bother asking what she meant, he could guess. He took the keys but set a hand on her shoulder when she reached for the door handle. “Wait, what about Nick? I mean…Monroe and Rosalee are trying to find a cure, but it’s not going well…”

“…So you want _my_ help?” she asked.

“Do you know anything?” he asked almost desperately.

“…I’m not working with wesen.”

Hank looked frustrated. “Okay, yes, fine, but do you know anything that could help? Do you want to help Nick at all?”

She blinked and then sighed. “…As much as I don’t _like_ him, I don’t want him spiraling down this hole either. The best I can recommend is keep him away from her, hope the infatuation breaks off.”

“That’s it?”

She shrugged. “That’s what I’ve got. Musai influence is hard to study, we haven’t found a reversal. Now I’ve been told to get out of town by your captain. I don’t think I should be sticking around. Probably won’t see you again, so bye, Detective Griffin.” She opened the door and walked out, moving around the back to get to the sidewalk again. She could feel Hank’s eyes on her but she was already putting up those walls she hadn’t meant to let down. But she couldn’t deny there was a nagging feeling inside her though about what he said. Nick being under the Musai’s spell could be very dangerous indeed…

Sighing, she grabbed her phone and dialed Nick’s number once she was in her car. It rang for a few moments but then he picked up.

“Yeah?” he asked curtly.

Sloane arched her eyebrows. “Well, that’s a friendly hello.”

“Considering I tried to call you a last couple of times and you ignored me, it’s as friendly as I’m feeling towards you.”

 _Very moody. Definite sign._ “I was kind of in your holding cell and not exactly happy with you either because of that. I just got informed by a friend of yours you got yourself caught by a Musai’s spell.”

“A friend? Really? Who was it talking about me and Khloe?” he ground out, not sounding happy.

Sloane sighed and rubbed her eyes. “You moron…”

“Shut up! God, you are so annoying with your holier than though attitude!”

Sloan felt a stab of anger but breathed deep. “I’m going to pretend that’s the Musai talking. Look, you can’t make contact again. It’s going to be hard, but with a little time-”

“Shove off, okay, Sloane? I think we’ve all established you don’t really care about me. Hell, you don’t care about anything! You’re just a cold bitch who likes to kill things, so don’t act like you give a damn.” He hanged up then and Sloane stared at the phone.

With a growl she threw it on the seat and started up her car, heading for the road out of town. _Ungrateful little…ugh! Fine, stay under that spell! May you murder someone and get life, you asshole!_ She drove off and headed for the highway, breathing hard and trying not to give into road rage. She was waiting in traffic near where she could get to the highway out of town when her anger started to cool. The frustration didn’t fade, but she started thinking straight again. She remembered Kelly and her promise to check on Nick and the nagging feeling he might end up killed or jailed because of a Musai of all things didn’t sit well with her. With another growl, she managed to get over and make a U-Turn to head back to town.

She found the spice shop again. Everything was telling her this was a bad idea, except the part that knew she had no other options. She felt physically ill as she walked up but tamped it down. The sign said closed but she saw the cars parked nearby and knew that not only were the wesen there but so was Hank. Pounding on the door, she sighed again and tried to put her instincts on the back burner to not kill the moment she saw someone. The door opened and the fuchsbau—Rosie? No, Rosalee, that was it—froze when she saw her.

“Oh! Um…”

“Nick got taken in by a Musai?” she asked bluntly, not looking for pleasantries.

Rosalee was surprised but nodded. “Uh, yeah…How did you know?”

The blutbad leaned over to see who Rosalee was talking to and looked surprised and on guard as she pushed her way in. “That Detective Griffin told me. He said you’re trying to figure out how to cure him?”

The blutbad—Monroe—nodded. “Yeah, but we’re not having much luck…Are you here to help?”

“Help Nick, yes. Detective Griffin mentioned you were working on something, I figured checking to make sure you two aren’t planning on stabbing him in the back.” Monroe glared. Sloane glared back, stretching her fingers slightly as she debated grabbing her knife and being done with this, Nick angry or no. But Rosalee stepped between them before she decided.

“Please say you know something?” Rosalee said. “Something that will snap Nick out of it.”

Sloane sighed and shook her head. “Nothing fast. Best I’ve heard is you have to keep them away from the Musai for about two weeks. That sometimes means locking them up though, considering the addictive properties. So…usually the Musai gets killed in that time too. But no telling them that, they usually try to commit suicide. And it doesn’t always work to be honest.”

“Still more helpful than Nick’s books, but I don’t think we have two weeks,” Monroe sighed.

“So back to the long shot…” Rosalee agreed.

“Long shot?” Sloane asked.

“True love.”

Sloane blinked and shook her head, wondering if she heard right. “Pardon?”

“It’s the only thing we’ve thought of. It’s the cure for so many things in…the stories.”

“Okay…those stories are watered down BS though, you realize? Most of them were based on real Grimm encounters people witnessed and then warped to make them make sense. And then Jacob and Wilhelm got drunk had a field day with them, but used them to send covert messages to other Grimms as well.”

“We know, but it’s the only thing we’ve thought of!” Rosalee said.

“Yes, something that doesn’t exist, good job,” she said sarcastically.

“Should’ve known you wouldn’t believe in true love,” Monroe muttered.

“I’m don’t believe _you_ right now, of all the-” she started, ready to get fighting.

They all froze when there was another knock at the door and someone walked in. It was a redhead—fairly attractive with wide eyes and a narrow nose. She paused when she saw Sloane. “Oh! Um, sorry, I…”

“Juliette?” Monroe asked, his tone saying he couldn’t believe their luck if she had to guess.

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you…but I didn’t realize you had a customer. I can wait.”

“No, it’s okay,” Rosalee said. “She’s, um…another Grimm.”

Sloane whipped her head around to stare at Rosalee. “What the hell?”

“It’s okay! This is, um…Nick’s girlfriend. She knows about wesen and Grimms.”

Juliette was looking at Sloane in surprise. “Oh! So…you’re another Grimm?”

Sloane was still wary but nodded. “And you’re…?”

“Um, human. Normal human, getting used to this,” she said awkwardly. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you. I’m Juliette Silverton,” she held out her hand.

Sloane hesitated but shook her hand. “Sloane Larson. Just passing through, helping with—”

“Something Nick’s working on,” Rosalee said quickly.

“Ah…about that, I…I’d like to go back to the trailer.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Monroe said. “Could it be a little later because we’re working on something now—”

“No, I…I’d like to go now. On my own if that’s okay…”

Monroe and Rosalee both looked surprised while Sloane tried not to feel a little jealous. She’d always wanted to see Marie’s trailer close up and it was starting to seem like she was the last to do so. “I…are you sure? I mean, shouldn’t one of us go with you?”

“Monroe, I just…want a little time to look at some of these wesen things on my own. I’ll be careful, but I want to really get a feeling for this and see if that helps with…my memories.” Monroe looked hesitant but finally took out a key and offered it to her. Sloane bristled at the Blutbad having a key but bit her tongue for the moment. “Thanks. I’ll bring it back later.” She turned back to Sloane. “It was, um, nice meeting you, though kind of short now. I hope we can talk later.”

Sloane eyed her again. “…I don’t think I’ll be in town long.”

“Oh…well, another time maybe.” She turned and headed back out the door.

“…Nick’s girlfriend?” Sloane clarified.

“Yeah. She, um…she was put under a hexenbeast’s spell for a while. Forgot all her memories of Nick. She’s still working on getting them back.”

“…What the hell does this guy keep getting everyone caught up in?” she sighed, messaging the bridge of her nose again. Getting caught in the crossfire was all too common for humans in a relationship with a Grimm. It probably wouldn’t be the last time something like that happened to the poor girl. “Well, is she the cure you’re looking for then? ‘True Love’?”

Rosalee sighed. “Maybe…but I’m not sure how to go about getting her to help Nick.”

“Right now, I vote getting this Musai out of the way first.”

“But—” Monroe started.

“You can keep looking for cures, but with her still at large she’s just going to keep causing trouble. Maybe she knows something anyway. I have ways of getting information.”

“Man it’s creepy how you said that,” Monroe said with a grimace.

“I wasn’t trying to sound nice,” she shot back. “Know anything about her?”

Monroe and Rosalee hesitated before Rosalee sighed. “Hank said her name was Khloe. Khloe Sedgwick I think. You might have to ask him for more information.”

Sloane nodded but then gave a frustrated huff. “The only number I have is Nick’s. And I don’t think he’s going to talk to me again. He was kind of an ass before already.”

“He’s not himself…kind of,” Monroe said.

“Here, use my phone, I have Hank’s number,” Rosalee said, handing her a cellphone after bringing up Hank’s contact.

Sloane pressed call and held it to her ear. He picked up almost immediately. “Rosalee, please tell me you found something!”

“Sorry to disappoint but it’s me, Sloane,” she said.

“Oh my god,” he breathed. “Please…please tell me you didn’t kill them.”

Sloane balked a little. “What? No, they’re alive.”

“Really?”

She rolled her eyes and held out the phone. “Say something to him, I think he’s actually scared I killed you. I won’t deny I _want_ to, but I’ve got more self-control than you all seem to think.”

Rosalee looked amused for some reason and called to the phone. “Monroe and I are fine, Hank. We have a…truce, I think, for the good of Nick.”

Sloane pulled the phone back to her ear. “Satisfied?”

“Yeah, sorry…just, uh, first thing I thought of.”

“I’d be insulted you think I’m just some mindless killer if I cared,” she said blandly. “I needed to call and ask if you knew where this Musai is. I’ll get her somewhere and we’ll figure out if there’s a quicker way to undo her spell. Otherwise, we’ll have to keep Nick somewhere for two weeks while it works out of his system. And he might go mad with desire for her to the point of trying to kill himself. Or someone else. That tends to happen in this situation.”

“Yeah, starting to figure that out. We found a giant mural painted on a street by her last boyfriend, Anton, in stolen paint! I mean it’s nice, but technically vandalism...and kind of creepy.”

“Last boyfriend? Oh no…” Sloane said, tensing. “If she still has someone else under her spell, it’s very likely she’ll try to have Nick kill the old boyfriend. Having more than one is dangerous, they’ll fight for her attention.”

“Yeah, well, Nick’s disappeared too!”

Sloane pulled out her notebook and pen, smacking them on the counter so fast Monroe backed up in surprise. “He’s probably gone to her! Where’s her address?!”

She wrote it down as Hank said it. “We’ll be there soon too!”

“That’s fine, but I’m actually closer! I’ll try to make sure no one dies. Yet.” She turned off the phone and shoved it at Rosalee as she rushed for the door.

“What’s going on!”

“No time to explain, just figure something out or Nick is going to probably going to kill someone and get life in prison, or be the one killed!” She slammed the door as she rushed for her car and climbed in, peeling out and heading for an upscale apartment block. She cursed when she saw Nick’s car was already there and rushed up to the apartment. Inside she could hear what sounded like a violent fight taking place and slammed her shoulder into the door to get it to open. Her bursting in got the attention of a woman in the room—the Musai if she had to guess—but Nick was still attempting to fight Luisant-Pêcheur of all things. They were taking their fight all over the apartment and wrecking quite a lot of things.

“Who are you?” the woman said.

Sloane glared and unsheathed her knife. “The second Grimm you’ll get to meet, and the last.”

She paled and started backing away. “N-Nick! Anton! Help!”

Sloane went on the defensive when the men turned and rushed at her. “Goddamit, Nick!” She kicked the otter-like wesen out of the way and tried to subdue Nick, but he actually evaded her and grabbed the hand with her knife, trying to twist it out of her grip. She dropped it, but swung around and caught handle with her other hand, stopping herself from bring it up to cut Nick but managing to step on his instep and head butt him across his nasal bridge so he’d back off. “We’re going to have a serious discussion about why you’re fighting better now than when we were training after this!”

It was a whirl of fighting but also making sure the Musai didn’t get away until the police showed up. Sloane quickly resheathed her knife out of view while Anton was arrested, wincing when Nick punched him and had to be reined in by his captain. The Luisant-Pêcheur was screaming at Nick that he “wouldn’t let him have her” as he was led away. Nick was also pushed out the door casting one last furious glance at Sloane. She tried not to tense too noticeably when Renard came up to her.

“You’re still here?”

Sloane sighed and moved as if stretching her shoulder. “Your other detective, Griffin, came to tell me about the Musai. I figured I should at least make sure Nick didn’t get himself killed for such a stupid reason.”

He nodded, accepting the answer. “Indeed…As I said before, Nick still has a lot to learn, even if he’s able to manage to win most every time with a little help.”

“Still want me to join your cult?” she said snidely.

“If you’re talking about what Nick and the others have, it’s more of a team. The police…well, I can’t speak for all precincts but I try to make it more of a team as well than a cult.”

“Encouraging,” she said sarcastically. She noted them escorting Khloe out. “What about her?”

“We’ll start dealing with her down at the station. You can come along, but you can’t interfere since you aren’t part of the team.”

Sloane gave him a withering look but headed back down and to her car. She drove to the station and inside, where Renard was waiting. “You can stay on the other side of the glass and listen in while we talk.”

“I can make her talk faster I’m fairly sure.”

Renard shook his head. “Right now I have to treat her as I would a witness. Which means I can’t let you hurt her. Generally we frown on hurting suspects and witnesses while in custody.”

“Sounds annoying.”

“It can be,” he agreed, leading her down the hall. “But we have our rules and regulations…and we have ways around them.”

Sloane gave him a considerate look before going into the room to observe Renard and Griffin questioning the Musai. At her “woe is me” act about how she can’t help what she does, Sloane felt a little testy. She moved to exit the room, partially intent to go confront them, when she saw Monroe, Rosalee, and Juliette arrive from down the hall. Frowning, she headed over. “What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here?” Monroe shot back.

“We came to see Nick,” Rosalee said, scanning for him. “We heard what happened, we need to try and break this now.” Sloane glanced at Juliette, feeling dubious about the “true love” idea. “Where is he?!”

Sloane sighed and grabbed a passing officer, by the shoulder. “You. Where’s Detective Burkhardt?”

“Wh-what?”

“Burkhardt. Where is he, we need to talk,” she said, imposing and not to be questioned again by her stance and tone.

“I, uh…I’m not sure.”

“Guys!” Hank hobbled over on his cast. “Nick’s gone to the holding cells, I think he’s going to…Anton’s in there!” he said quietly but urgently. Sloane cursed and let go of the other officer as she booked it towards the cells, the others right behind her. When they came in, Nick had a gun pointed into the cell at Anton. “Nick, hold it!” she snapped.

“Why?” he asked darkly. “You hate wesen right? Wouldn’t miss one.”

“You’re not wrong, but you’re in kind of a dumb place to try this,” she said seriously. “Remember? Police station?”

“Nick, she’s right. If you kill him here, in the station, I can’t do anything to protect you,” Renard said.

“I don’t need your protection! I don’t need you! I don’t need anyone but Khloe!” he shouted, aiming again.

“Nick, stop! Please listen, Juliette is here!” Rosalee said desperately.

Nick hesitated a moment and Juliette pushed her way through them to the front. “Nick…Look at me.” He refused to do so but she kept moving towards him. Sloane looked between them, unsure how this was going to play out. Her hand went to her knife to be safe, knowing it could turn violent. “Think about what you're doing.” Nick shook his head. He seemed to be going through something mentally that was trying to fight with him. Juliette swallowed, tears in her eyes. “Please just look at me.” He closed his eyes as he put his hand to his head as if he was pained, grunting. “Nick, look at me!” She grabbed his face and turned it to her. “Open your eyes. You have to see me, Nick. Open your eyes.”

Slowly he opened his eyes, panting as if he’d just finished a fight even though he was standing still the whole time. “Juliette…”

She smiled a little. “Yeah.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I'm here for you, just like you were there for me.”

Nick swallowed and slowly melted down into her while she held him. “Thank you. Thank you,” he said over and over.

Sloane stared for a moment, before taking her hand from her still sheathed knife. “That…was not how I saw this going,” she said quietly. It was strange. It was not right. It was the stuff of fairy tales.

“Looks like we were right,” Monroe said, sounding both smug and relieved.

“Hmph,” she snorted. “I’m still not sure about true love…but certainly, being in love with her probably helped.” They all moved to get out of the holding cell, Anton calling after them but Nick now ignoring him. Nick and the others moved to leave, Hank saying he’d take care of the paperwork. Nick paused as they passed Sloane and looked at her. “Sloane…I…I’m sorry about earlier.”

She held up a hand. “Save it. I get it; the Musai messed with you. Hard.”

“Yeah…” He said, looking embarrassed and guilty. “But still, I said some really harsh things.”

She shrugged a little. “Eh, they were true really. I just took exception to your choice of words. Try not to call me bitch in the future, at least to my face.” Sloane was surprised she said that, considering she wouldn’t be coming back.

Nick smiled a little. “You heading out?”

“…Eventually,” she answered. “Why? Coming around to my way of doing things?”

“No…but you are pretty handy to have around.”

She smiled a bit, and then tapped his chest with the back of her hand. “You better go rest though. You look like you’ve been through the wringer.”

He smiled and nodded as he left, Juliette next to him. Sloane waited a bit but bristled when she saw the Musai leaving as well. Renard came out after her and Sloane came up to him quietly enough she actually surprised him. “You’re letting her go?”

Renard sighed as he tried to hide the jump she got out of him. “I can’t do anything to her legally. She’s an apparent “victim” of stalking. But I did give her an ultimatum.”

“Of?”

“Same I gave you, or half of it. She has to leave Portland and not return.”

Sloane huffed. “That’s too easy after all she’s done.”

“I agree. But again, not much else I can do. Legally.” Sloane eyed him and moved to leave. “Still intent to leave and not come back as well?”

“…I’ll give you my answer tomorrow if that’s alright. I’d like to at least rest.”

Renard nodded and turned to head to his office. Sloane left and watched the Musai get into a cab and leave. She got into her own car and followed the cab headed towards her apartment buildings, parking a few blocks over. From the back of her car she removed a large black duffel bag and took it with her as she headed up the street. She entered the building and went to the stairwell, looking around and noting there were no cameras. Quickly she pulled her hair back into a stubby ponytail, and then tugged the hood attached to her shirt up. She then pulled out a jumpsuit from her bag, one you might see some sort of menial worker wear, zipping it up over her clothes. Then she pulled on a pair of work gloves and a paper mask and headed up the stairs. The door to the apartment was still busted, held closed by the chain. That was ease enough to clip with a pair of wire cutters in her duffel for just such purposes. Inside, the Musai was already starting to go over things to pack while drinking wine, muttering about bastard zauberbeasts. Sloane slipped in quietly, but closed the door loud enough to be heard behind her and dropped her duffel after pulling one thing out. The Musai whirled, spilling her wine, and gaped at her. “Who the hell…y-you?”

“Me,” Sloane said, inclining her head in challenge.

She swallowed, backing away. “What are you doing here?”

“I made a declaration earlier I believe. That I would be the second, but last Grimm you ever saw. I’m a woman of my word.”

She woged and shook when she saw it was true, she really was a Grimm. “I-I’m leaving, that Captain said-”

Sloane raised her hand, the small dart-like crossbow she’d taken from her bag firing an arrow into her throat. She gasped like a fish trying to breathe out of water, her hand going to her throat as blood starting tricking down neck and over her fingers. It’d be hard to scream now. Sloane loaded another shot into it. “I don’t care what he said. I’m still rather angry with you. And the many men you’ve probably made insane and killed one another.” She advanced, the Musai trying to move away, when the next shot landed in her leg close to the back of her knee. She went down and tried to crawl, but Sloane unsheathed her knife. She finished her off quickly with a blow to her heart from the back, waiting for her heart to stop beating before standing. She left the knife there as she went to the bathroom and grabbed some towels that she doubted would be missed. From her duffel she took out a new plastic shower curtain and opened it up along with some duct tape. When she was sure there would be little blood spray she removed her knife and used the towels to clean her knife and stem the blood. She removed the two dart-like arrows as well, wrapping the wounds in a towel as well to soak the blood and folding the darts in another. She then rolled her onto the shower curtain and wound her up with towels inside, using the tape to secure the curtain closed.

Going to the bedroom, she got together extra bedding from the closet and brought it out, winding the body in it like a burial shroud. From inside the duffel, she removed a large bag she had folded up inside. It was strong, made of plastic, and about six feet long and a couple feet wide. She put the Musai’s body inside and secured it closed. She then brought out a ventilator mask and pulled it on, hiding most of her face. Looking around, she found the Musai’s keys and pocketed them. With a grunt she hefted the bag up over her shoulder and closed the door behind her. She went to the elevator, late enough there was no one there but knowing there was likely a camera. Once she got to the lobby, a few people were out but ty didn’t pay Sloane any mind. Something she’d learned long ago, if you act like you’re meant to be somewhere, people generally think you are. Especially in a worker’s jumpsuit. She went out to the parking area and found the Musai’s car, a rather nice and expensive sedan. She put the body in the trunk and closed it before heading back up. Inside she looked around again and found a bottle of bleach under the bathroom sink. Using that and some old rags she brought, she made sure to remove any obvious blood stains from the hardwoods. The rags she used she put in a gallon Ziploc bag, then pulled off the now bleached and reddened jumpsuit and put that into another Ziploc. Both went into the duffel that was still by the door.

Going back to the bedroom, she quickly packed a suitcase full of a few cloths and such and brought it back out to the front room. Getting the suitcase and her duffel in hand, she made to leave the apartment.

“Hello?”

Sloane looked up to see a woman down the hall. “Hello?” She said in a friendly, mildly curious tone. She couldn’t act suspicious, but she knew how to blend in.

“Are you a friend of Khloe’s?” the woman asked.

“Yeah. Khloe and I are going on a trip together, just up north. After what’s happened, she needs a little time away.”

“Oh yes, I heard about all that…” she said in a concerned tone. “I mean, I don’t know her well, but I heard her boyfriend was killed just a few days ago and her ex was being …obsessive.”

“Yeah, that’s when we were planning to go and then things just got worse. I finally just said I’d come get her and we’d go. The police can try and contact her later if they need to. Anyway, she’s waiting down in the car, I just offered to get the bags she already packed so she could rest a little while longer.”

“Oh, of course, don’t let me keep you.”

Sloane nodded with a smile and headed towards the elevator. When the woman was inside the apartment, she turned and headed down the stairs again. At the Musai’s car, she put the bags in the back and started it up, heading for out of town.

Once she was out far enough away from the city among the woods she stopped on the side of the road. Hefting the body-bag out, she brought it out to the woods and off of a trail. Going back up, she grabbed the duffel and suitcase and brought them down. From inside the duffel she grabbed a fair size collapsible shovel and went to work digging a pit.

It was hours of work, well into the night with the occasional water break, but she got it done. Once it was down far enough, about five feet deep in a square shape, she opened the body-bag and rolled the body into the ditch, bedding and all. She had to arrange it, working against rigor mortis, but managed to get her into almost a fetal position. She then grabbed a small container of lighter fluid from her bag and left a little drizzle over the bedding. Pulling out a lighter, she lit one of the rags and tossed it down. The bedding went up quickly and she sighed and moved to sit and rest under a tree while she waiting for the body to burn.

From her duffel she grabbed another bottle of water and a protein bar to eat as she rested her eyes and body. She threw the rest of the rags in there as well, and then kept feeding clothes from the suitcase into it. A few pricier pieces she kept to possibly trade in one day—she doubted she could fit into them given she was taller and more muscular than the Musai—but most things went into the fire until she even tossed the suit case in. She slept under the tree while it all burned down. In the early hours of the morning the alarm she set on her phone woke her and she looked at the still smoldering pit. It was mostly a pile of ash, with bits of charred corpse peeking out here and there. Satisfied it was enough, she shoveled the dirt back over the hole and patted it down solidly. She even tossed some grass seed over it. She doubted anyone would find her quickly or come looking here.

Sloane headed back to the part of town where Khloe’s apartment was. Once there, she parked in a secluded area and took the plates off the car, then took the registration and other papers and identifiers as well, and scratched the vin number off. She boxed up the plates and ripped up the papers and tossed them in separate dumpsters on her walk back to her own car. Then she drove for a motel where she could shower and sleep on a bed. They didn’t ask why she was covered in dirt since she paid in cash, with a tip to leave her alone. In the afternoon she woke up and stared at the ceiling for a bit as she thought over everything that had happened. Sighing, she grabbed her phone and dialed the number Renard had given her.


	3. Outbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PART 3 OF THE CASEBOOK OF SLOANE LARSON!
> 
> Sloane has opted to stay and become a detective, much to Nick's chagrin. But she's agreed to play by the rules, and she could be an asset when violent people who look like they've risen from the grave start cropping up around Portland. But can Sloane really put her ways aside and work with wesen to stop this?
> 
> Episodes 43-46 redone! Zombies come to Portland just as Sloane decides the to stay. Let's hope it's not a sign.

_Walking Dead_ _\-- >_ _PTZD_

\-----------

After a day of rest at home—and getting things back on track with Juliette—Nick arrived back at work.

“You sure you don’t need more time off man?”

He shook his head, taking a deep breath. “No…I need to act like it’s normal. It still feels like a…weird nightmare, what she did to me through that kiss.”

“Yeah, well, be careful who lays their lips on you from now on.”

Nick smiled as they sat down at their desks. “Duly noted…” He paused in getting ready to start his paperwork when he saw Renard walk to the middle of the bullpen. This usually meant an announcement of some kind was about to be made.

“Everyone, I have an announcement to make.” And he was right again. “We have a new member joining our department, in order to make up for the departure of Detective Sullivan last month. There were some filing issues that resulted in her coming early and being turned away, so I apologize for not mentioning this earlier as I thought she would not be coming until next month from her former precinct in Eureka, California. This also resulted in a bit of a misunderstanding for everyone, including you, Officer Wu.” Wu frowned in confusion, shaking his head at curious glances. He had no idea what Renard was talking about, but Renard just pressed on. “She was on a long time undercover operation that recently wrapped up and is back to doing regular homicide work. A transfer was necessary, and we’re lucky that she’s chosen to join us. Now that we’ve worked the problems, she’s eager to get to work and settle in. Everyone, please welcome our new detective, Sloane Larson.”

Sloane stepped out of his office with a small smile, but Nick felt like he was going to fall backwards. Hank grabbed his arm so maybe he almost did. She glanced at him and smiled a little more but then looked around the room. She was surprisingly affable, maybe even _humble,_ as she spoke. “Hello. It’s, um, nice to meet all of you. I’m going to warn you, I’m not the most sociable person out there, but I’ll certainly do my best to watch your backs and work with all of you as a team player.”

Everyone clapped, some talking amongst themselves about the suddenness of the transfer. Renard held up a hand to get their attention again. “However, due to also losing Detective Hitchcock recently too, we’re short someone to partner her with. So, for now, she will partner with Detectives Burkhardt and Griffin as a three person team.” He gave them a look that dared them to object.

Nick was still unable to really speak so Hank smiled wanly. “Well…with me off my feet, that’ll be handy.”

“Indeed. Another desk will be set up with yours today, so please try to work well together. I expect everyone to be welcoming. That’s all for now,” he headed back for his office while Sloane walked over to them.

Before Nick could try and get a word out, Wu came to her, looking shocked but also concerned. “Detective? Why didn’t you say anything? And why did that license say Sarah Jones?”

“Well, I did say I was in law enforcement,” she said, still smiling. “Like he said, I’d been undercover till recently and forgot I still had that ID, put the wrong one in my wallet in the rush to pack. Then my paperwork was mishandled and I couldn’t get it sorted out between Eureka and here. I wasn’t sure how to explain it without sounding maybe…crazy?”

“Yeah. Crazy,” Nick said. “Here I thought you were just passing through…”

“Didn’t want to get your hopes up, buddy,” she smirked.

Wu laughed a little. “Well, I guess it’s good you two know each other. But man, I feel bad now…we put you in holding.”

Sloane smiled and shook her head. “It’s okay. I was having a rough day and that perp picked a fight and didn’t make it better for anyone. I think he thought I was someone else. I’m used to that after all this time.”

Wu smiled back, glad she was apparently so forgiving. “Well, if you need any help getting settled here in Portland, let me know.”

“Will do. Right now though I think I just need to settle into the job.”

“Right and I’ve got rounds to make. See you all later, and good luck with the new arrangement.” He waved as he headed off.

“Arrangement is one word for it,” Nick said lowly. “What the hell is going on?”

Sloane shrugged, looking as innocent as she could. “Ask your—or I guess, _our_ —captain. He offered me the job.”

“He did what?” Hank asked in surprise.

“Yep.” She pulled open part of her jacket with a smile where a badge much like Nick and Hank’s was attached to her inner pocket. “I get a shiny badge and everything.”

“I don’t understand, when did he offer you this job?” Nick pressed.

“That time I was in the holding cells because of my car and fighting that wesen—that you were so helpful with—he came and spoke to me about it. Said I had two options: Stay and join the force or leave and never came back. I decided on the former because…well, I’ve got a lot of questions.” Nick suddenly rose and stalked towards the office, opening the door and heading in. Sloane watched and glanced at Hank. “For a Grimm, he does not take surprises well…”

“Eh, when the surprises keep coming, it’s hard to adapt…” Hank said wisely.

Nick closed the door behind him and glared at Renard, who looked up with a cool expression. “You invited her to _stay_?! To join the police force?!”

“Yes,” he said, much more serenely.

“…Don’t you have more to say than that?!” he said, slapping a hand on his desk. He was trying to keep from yelling, but it was a near thing.

“Nick, calm down.”

“Calm down?! You invited a homicidal Grimm to stay here in the city!”

“She’s not homicidal. Not the way you’re thinking.”

“Really? Because she keeps talking about killing wesen, Monroe and Rosalee included.”

“She also willingly, on her own, went to Monroe and Rosalee to talk with them about getting you out from under the Musai’s spell,” he said patiently.

Nick straightened in surprise. “She…she did?”

“Yes. With no threats of violence to them apparently. Or at the very least just a lot of complaining and snark. She didn’t think the “true love” idea would work, but she was there and she heard them out before going to make sure you didn’t kill anyone and end up in jail. Do you recall that much at least?”

Nick was a bit surprised, thinking that over and looking contrite when he did remember Sloane getting between him and Anton to try and keep him from committing murder himself. He hadn’t thanked her for that come to think of it. “…But why did you ask her to stay?”

“Because she’s a Grimm,” he said simply. “Maybe she’s not how you’d like her to be, but she’s not a rampaging psychopath either. She has restraint when she needs it. She’s an asset that would be valuable to have on our side given her years of experience. I think she does have a lot she can teach you.”

Nick was calmer, but still obviously dubious. “Yeah, but it’s working with her that’s hard…How can we even say she’s a detective?”

“I took care of her background. To anyone trying to search her out, it looks like she’s an officer from Eureka California who transferred here to pursue bigger and brighter things when promoted to Detective after more than a year undercover. Under the name Sarah Jones she helped take down a drug ring in Sacramento. As for working with her…I believe it’s rather obvious she is used to working and being alone. She wasn’t lying when she said she wasn’t social.”

“And you think that will work out here? That you covered your bases?”

“I think it’s worth a shot and I know the quality of my colleagues’ work. Barring someone from the real precinct coming to Portland and tracking her down, she’s safe. I also think she can learn from you as well in how to adapt to life here.”

Nick frowned and shook his head. He knew Renard had connections and abilities, but he was starting to wonder how far they could reach. “It’s a nice thought I’ve had too, but I’m not sure she can change…”

“Well, wesen have thought for years Grimms would only kill them, not work with them, yet you’re attempting to do so. She has her reasons for being the way she is I’m sure, but whatever they are I just know I would prefer she be an ally than an enemy.”

Nick gave that a thought and then sighed. “I think she might still end up doing more harm than good…but she’s here now. I’ll give it a try.”

“Good.”

Nick nodded and then awkwardly looked at him. “Thank you, by the way, for…helping with the Musai thing.”

Renard smiled. “No need to thank me. I didn’t want to see one of my best detectives behind bars.”

Nick tried to fight a smile, knowing he was trying to be funny, and headed for the door. Outside, Sloane was looking over a computer with Hank.

“So, this is how you kept finding me? By putting a “BOLO” on my car?” she said, sounding both annoyed and a little impressed.

“Yeah. We just said you were a witness in something, nothing that would get you in trouble,” Hank said.

“Still, good to know.” She looked up when Nick came and sat back down. “We okay?” she asked slowly.

“…We’ll try to be okay,” he answered. “But I expect our deal from before to be in effect still.”

Sloane rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah, Renard had some conditions of his own along the same lines.” She looked around and spoke a little quieter. “I can’t “hunt” without evidence the wesen in question has committed a crime, I gotta run it by you or him—or Hank in a pinch since you’re in the know.”

“Glad to know I’m third choice…” he said coolly.

“No killing unless necessary and try to do it to where I or someone Renard can get a hold of can dispose of the evidence if we can’t say it was self-defense in the line of duty.”

 _Good, glad he thought that through,_ Nick thought. “And you agreed to all that?”

“Reluctantly,” she said blandly. “But my curiosity is a big driving force now. And you are under the same conditions,” she added.

“Come again?”

She poked him in the chest, looking seriously. “ _You_ have to keep me in the loop about wesen business you come upon. Especially if a Grimm might be needed. You don’t want me to go off solo, fine, but neither can you and its _official_ now. That’s part of why I’m partnered with both of you now, because you do tend to find the “weird” cases. ”

Nick couldn’t deny that was true but also a little daunting. He was worried what Sloane might be like out in the field, and wondered if a badge was going to hinder her or make her bolder. “Why did you decide to stay? I thought you wanted to leave.”

“I was about to leave actually. But then your partner here came and told up about the Musai. I wasn’t going to let that be what took you out. I wouldn’t be able to look Kelly in the face if that happened and I was still here. And considering I _like_ your mom, I’d prefer to keep her as a friend.”

Nick looked at Hank in surprise. Hank shrugged. “I was worried man. You were getting out of control; I had hoped she’d know how to reverse it.”

“I didn’t exactly,” she confessed. “My way would’ve taken having you locked up somewhere for two weeks while the spell worked out of your system. That doesn’t even always work though…”

Nick smirked a little. “So Monroe and Rosalee figured out something you didn’t?”

“Apparently,” she ground out with a scowl at him. “Though in all honesty I thought they were grasping at straws. While you’re still insane to trust them I think, at the very least you chose some competent wesen to… “work” with.”

“I take it then you won’t try to kill them?” he asked more seriously.

“So long as they give me no reason to, fine,” she sighed. “After all, I agreed to not hunt wesen who haven’t committed a crime. And I’m a woman of my word. But I also still want to do some training with you. You’re…instinctive, and your instincts are good. But I still have tricks I can teach you to make things easier.”

Nick hesitated but nodded. “Alright. But, um…I’m trying to work stuff out with Juliette right now so I don’t know when I’ll schedule that.”

Hank smiled. “Glad to hear that!”

“The red head from the jail, right? I met her at Monroe and Rosalee’s shop earlier that day…They explained a bit of what happened with you two.”

He nodded, not really wanting to go into details of that again. “Yeah. So I’m glad we have a chance to start again…”

Sloane looked as though she wanted to say something but hesitated. Instead she looked back at the computer. “Someone is going to have to teach me these programs though. I’m…out of practice,” she said, glancing around the room.

“We’ll show you as we go,” Nick said. He knew she was holding something back, which was unlike her. It was something about him and Juliette he had a feeling, given that’s when she got awkward. But he decided to let it go.

Maintenance brought up a desk a little later and they worked to figure out an arrangement that didn’t take up too much space so that they could all work close together. The easiest way ended being keeping Nick and Hanks’ desks facing each other with just a little more space between them and then Sloane’s capping them at one end. Her computer came next and Sloane sat down to log in and look it over. “It’s been a long time since I worked with a desk top computer…I’ve worked mostly with books and paper. Closest thing is my phone.”

“Well, better get used to it. I warned you police work is 80% paper work, and honestly a lot is on the computer,” Nick said.

“Joyous…” she said sarcastically. She perked up when Nick and Hank’s phones both went off and Nick picked up first.

“Detective Burkhardt. …What? You two okay? …Okay, got it, on our way.” He stood up, putting his phone in his pocket and making sure his gun was secure. “Wu and Franco were checking out a disturbance report and found a guy who may have killed someone. He tried to assault them and Franco shot him.”

“Shit,” Hank said, grabbing a crutch.

“Sure you’re okay to come?”

“I just need one crutch right now.”

“Okay, Tiny Tim…” He looked at Sloane who was apparently waiting on them. “Did Renard give you a gun with that badge?”

Sloane frowned. “Yes…but I dislike using guns.”

“Well, that thing is still your responsibility so it’s better with you than someplace someone can grab it.”

She frowned more but sighed and went over to her desk, pulling it out of the drawer where she had apparently slipped it in and holstering it to her. “There. I prefer my knife though.”

“If someone pulls a gun on you, you’ll probably want a gun to point back,” Hank said.

“If someone points a gun at me, they better pull that trigger fast before I get to them,” she muttered. They headed down to the car, Sloane climbing in the back without a fuss as they headed to the scene. It looked like a normal enough house on the outside, but inside it was a mess. The suspect, Richard Mulpus, was dead at the scene. Sloane grimaced a little, mostly looking in disgusted fascination at the trail of bright green mucus trailing from his nose. “That…is not normal.”

“We don’t think so either,” Wu said. “We also have a deceased woman, possibly a victim, over here.” Looking her over, Nick and Hank noticed first that while everything around them was torn apart and flipped over, the woman’s body was in pristine condition. Sloane agreed it was odd but did not seem very keen on the crime when they arrived back at the station.

“What’s wrong?” Nick asked. “It hasn’t even been a full day and you look done.”

“I was hoping for something more obviously wesen related,” she said, looking over the case report. “I can’t tell much of anything from this information…So I don’t know if it’s even worth it to me.”

“Maybe I’ve finally been blessed with a non-wesen crime,” Nick wondered in a mockingly hopeful tone.

Sloane sneered. “Great for you but that’s kind of not what I signed up for…”

He shrugged and clicked through his computer again before nodding. “Well, we got a hit on the woman. Lilly O'Hara. Long history of solicitation and drugs. Last known residence here in Portland. Last arrest, seven weeks ago, charges were dropped,” he said, sending them the screen shot.

“Any connection to the house she was in?” Hank asked.

“Not that I can see here. What about the guy?”

“Eh, not much,” Hank said. “Name's Richard Mulpus. Minor arrest record. Last conviction, four years ago, for check kiting. Served six months. Nothing much since. Address, Crescent hotel.”

“So no connection with O'Hara aside from being in the same room as her dead body?” Sloane asked.

“Not unless he hired her for the night. We won't know that until the lab sees her,” Hank said.

“Yeah, but why take her to a house and then break in and trash the place?” Nick said. Hank looked just as perplexed as him and before Nick could ask, Sloane was surprisingly on the beat faster than him.

“Any violent history from Mulpus?” Sloane asked, bored. “Like could he have done this before?”

“Asking a lot of questions for something “not worth your time,” Nick said with a smile. Sloane rolled her eyes.

“Nothing on record. Um, wait a minute. Something screwy here.”

“What?” the two Grimms asked together. They glanced at one another but didn’t comment on the wonder twin moment.

Hank did smile a second but went back to business quickly. “Just found a death certificate for Richard Mulpus.”

“Filed already? We haven't even talked to the M.E.,” Nick said in surprise.

“No, this one's dated three days ago,” Hanks said with disbelief and confusion.

“What?” Nick asked, getting up to go look at his computer. Sloane stood and walked over as well, scanning over the certificate on screen. “It's got to be a different guy,” Nick said.

“The fingerprints from both guys match Mulpus,” Hank said, showing them the file.

“What, so Mulpus died twice?”

“Yeah, according to this.”

“…Neat trick,” Nick said, not sure what else to say.

“It's gotta be a clerical error,” Hank said, checking through the files one more time.

Nick looked thoughtful before standing. “Let's take a look.”

Sloane smiled as she stood with them to follow. “On the Brightside, this just got interesting!”

Nick rolled his eyes but honestly couldn’t deny this was intriguing. He led the way down to the morgue, where Harper was examining Mulpus. Introductions were made for the new “detective” in the group and Hank showed Harper what they found.

“It's gotta be a clerical error, I mean, it happens. Somebody was probably trying to do too many things at once,” Harper said.

“Well, according to the certificate, he was pronounced dead at St. Joseph's hospital by a Dr. Feldman at 2:45 in the afternoon three days ago,” Hank said.

“Well, I guarantee you, he's dead now,” she retorted, gesturing at the bullet wounds.

“Okay. What about the green stuff that was coming out of his nose?” Nick asked.

“Not your typical mucus. Color and consistency abnormal.”

“No offense, but that was kinda of obvious,” Sloane said, grimacing at remembering the snot.

“What, a little mucus grosses you out?” Nick said with a smile.

“No…it’s just gross in general,” she said defensively. “And weird.”

“Yeah, well, we're running tox tests now to see what he was on. We've ruled out the usual suspects... coke, meth, heroin, alcohol,” Harper said.

“PCP? Wu said he was pretty strong, that might’ve made him crazy and prone to aggression,” Sloane asked.

“Negative on that too.”

“And really, no explanation for the previous death certificate?” she asked.

“My guess is, guys, you're working on a mistaken identity,” Harper said with a shrug.

Nick, Hank, and Sloane all looked at one another before Nick sighed and pulled out his phone to take a picture of Mulpus’ body. “Well, there's only one way to find out.”

That way was apparently driving to St. Joseph’s and speaking with Dr. Feldman. The doctor insisted he’d pronounced a man named Richard Mulpus dead three days ago himself, but said he couldn’t say for certain if the photo was of that man because he sees so many people in the ER day to day. He said they were free to go see the morgue themselves since no family came to pick up the body yet.

“So if we've got a positive I.D. That our dead guy, shot to death, who lived in the hotel who was taken by the paramedics here three days ago... who the hell's in the morgue?” Hank asked as he used his crutches to head down the hall. Sloane and Nick moved slowly enough he could keep up easily next to him.

“Evil twin,” Nick responded, trying mostly to lighten the mood.

“Actually, it could be a doppelganger,” Sloane said. “Or what most call a changeling, but they usually take the forms of children…It could be a fantoccio corpo, but they would’ve had to enter the body to move it and then split it open like a cocoon. They wouldn’t have just suddenly turned violent… I can’t think of a specific wesen who can do this…” she sighed.

“I forget wesen have a lot of freaky abilities…” Hank muttered. He noticed Nick had jogged up ahead to look around the corner and they quickly caught up. “What'd you see?”

Nick hesitated, glancing back again “A guy in a top hat…”

“What guy in a top hat?” Hank asked, both he and Sloane looking down the hall now. There was no sign of a man in a hat.

“I could've sworn I saw the same guy standing outside the crime scene this morning…”

“Same guy or same hat?” Hank asked.

“I don't know,” Nick sighed.

Hank shrugged and moved on down the hall, not thinking it was too important to dwell on. Nick was about to follow when Sloane put a hand on his shoulder. “Trust your instincts…If you saw him both places, there’s probably a reason.”

Nick nodded slightly. “You go between being encouraging and calling me an idiot pretty often…”

“I call it as I see it,” she said with a smile.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Well, either way, I don’t know which way he went…for now, the body is our best lead.”

Sloane nodded and followed them down to the morgue, though she couldn’t help but glance back as well. When they got to the morgue they found, to the attendant’s surprise, Mulpus was not in his cadaver tray on the shelves. That just made things more complicated as Sloane tried to think about what was going on.

It got even weirder when they returned to the precinct only for Wu to rush up to them.

“Hey, there you are. I've been looking for you guys. Oh, Larson, how’s your first day going?”

“Uh…well, it’s not boring, with people apparently rising from the dead only to die again…” she said honestly. “Great way to start a new job.”

Wu looked surprised. “Did you get the M.E. call already then?”

The glanced at each other and then back to Wu. “No. Why?” Nick asked.

“Well, it seems that the dead woman we found in the rental house this morning is not so dead.”

“How not so dead?” Hank asked, though they all already had an idea of the answer.

“Not so dead in the sense that when the M.E. started the autopsy, she woke up,” Wu said with a bit of a sarcastic tone of disbelief. They all exchanged looks.

“Where is she?” Nick asked.

“The M.E.?”

“No, the dead woman who isn't all that dead,” Sloane said more impatiently.

“Oh, she's in the I.C.U. at St. Joe's. I was thinking maybe we…” They didn’t wait for Wu to finish as they all rushed for the door to get back to their car, Hank moving as fast as he could on his crutches.

“This is the most times I’ve been to a hospital in a while…” Sloane said as they parked.

“What, don’t get injured? Too good at being a Grimm?” Nick said.

“Oh no, I get injured all the time. I just usually have to triage it because going to hospitals is A) expensive when you don’t have insurance and can’t just sneak away and B) dangerous when you’re going to get people asking a lot of questions about why you have claw marks on your back that are definitely not someone’s passionate embrace.”

“Wait, you triage _yourself_?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, most of the time. If I can I go to one of our safe houses that has a doctor, but those are pretty rare and only in some major cities. I have a pretty extensive medical kit and some old fashioned techniques. I can do stitches, administer shots and sedatives, set bones…I took a talon out of my stomach once, wanna see the scar?” She moved to lift her shirt up and Nick quickly stopped her.

“I…Sloane, that’s dangerous doing that sort of thing alone,” he said, unable to keep the worry out of his voice and face.

She shrugged, apparently not concerned. “That’s just how it was. Luckily I don’t have _that_ many scars thanks to some other Grimm home remedies. It’d be suspicious if I did and I can’t wear long sleeves and jeans all the time. But the talon one got complicated because I was alone on a mountain for a few days and I needed to get it out before it punctured anything. Most people just accept it when I say it was my appendectomy if they get a look at it.”

Nick and Hank shared a glance, a little worried now at thinking about anyone having to do that sort of thing on their own. “Let’s…go check on Lily O’Hara, we can talk more later.”

Sloane nodded, following them back into the hospital. Only now, that patient was missing as well.

“I’m starting to think this is _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_!” Hank said as they waited for the surveillance footage to wind back to where they needed to see it.

“I only know one wesen that can do something like that and considering we haven’t found any human husks that look like shed cicada skins, I don’t think it’s that,” Sloane said quietly.

“Oh, well, glad we have that to look to look forward to,” Nick said, hoping they never encountered that wesen. When they reviewed the footage at the station, they were all surprised to see a black man wearing a top hat wheeling their revived victim out of the ICU.

“That's her, our dead victim,” Hank said.

“And that's him,” Nick said, looking at the man.

“Same guy as before?”

“Yeah.”

Sloane gently smacked his shoulder with her hand. “Like I said, trust your instincts. You knew something was wrong with that guy.”

“Well, he doesn’t exactly blend in…” Nick pointed out. “We're going to need a copy of all your surveillance footage,” he told the guard. The guard nodded and went to go create a copy at another station.

Nick’s phone rang then and he took it out. “It’s Wu.” He answered, holding the phone up to his ear. “Burkhardt…Well, should I be? Okay, just a sec.” He took the phone away and clicked the speaker. “Wu has the tox report. Okay Wu.”

Wu’s voice came out over the phone clearly. “Lab found a complex interaction of various drugs, including tetrodotoxin, scopolamine, and a powerful hallucinogen called datura, which, according to this, can cause a Lazarus syndrome where the victim appears dead, only to awaken some time later.”

“That would explain him being declared dead the first time, same as her,” Hank said. Sloane looked like she was wracking her brain and getting frustrated with herself.

“It says, when ingested in large doses, the victim can exhibit erratic and explosive behavior,” Wu went on.

Hank sighed. “Okay, put an A.P.B out on Lily O’Hara.”

“Isn’t she in the hospital,” Wu asked.

“Not anymore,” Nick told him.

“This is getting too weird, even for Portland,” Wu said snidely before hanging up.

Hank looked back towards the monitor room. “We gotta find the guy with the top hat...”

“Dammit,” Sloane said, slapping her hand down on the desk, face twisted in frustration. “I can feel it in my gut this is a wesen case, but I’ve never heard of any of that stuff! I can’t think of any wesen that can do this!”

“Calm down,” Nick said gently.

“I can’t!” she snapped.

“Hey, I rarely know what wesen is doing these things going in.”

“You’re green though,” she huffed. “I’ve been doing this for almost two decades.”

Hank looked shocked at that information but Nick nodded. “You can’t expect to know everything though. We’ll go do some research…Did you ever get to see Marie’s trailer?”

The dark mood lifted almost instantly and the excited smile Sloane gave was actually rather infectious as she led the way back to the car. On the way they picked up some burgers to eat since it was past lunch time. When they got to the trailer park, Sloane hopped out of the car first and approached the trailer with a smile. “Wow…this brings back memories…”

“I thought you hadn’t seen the trailer before.”

“Not the inside. Well, not that I can remember well. She brought me inside once, when I was delirious from being hit in the head. Nursed me back to a somewhat healthy state and then my mentor came and got me. But I remember Marie toting it around the times we met. I’ve thought about getting one myself…It would be a lot more comfortable than sleeping in my car sometimes. And a lot more room for things.”

Nick smiled a little, thinking about his Aunt looking out for Sloane like that. He opened the door and gestured like a gentleman. “Ladies first.”

She gave him a wry smile but headed inside. “Wow…this is so…great! She really did plan this out well. It’s even got a bed! And a spice cabinet! And an armoire!” She opened the armoire, grinning more at the weapons inside. “An armory armoire, even better!”

Nick had to snort a laugh as he and Hank sat at the table in the middle with their food. Sloane acting like an excited kid was actually a nice change. “You can fangirl later, really, but we need to start looking through the books.”

Sloane actually blushed and closed the armoire again. “Right...” Walking over, she sat and pulled a book out. “I can already say I’m pretty sure none of mine would be any help. I’ve read them dozens of times and I can’t remember any with information about this ‘Lazarus effect’ type of thing. My grandmother’s house might have one but considering that’d be a long road trip and every second counts, you better hope we find something in yours.”

Nick nodded and they got comfortable as they each took a book and flipped through them. After a few minutes of eating, Sloane held up the book. “Nick…Could I borrow this one later?”

“Huh? Why?”

“Well, I don’t actually have as many books as you on hand. I have to pick and choose from my grandmother’s collection where it’s kept and it’s a pain to get them. That’s why I have flash cards of wesen stored alphabetically in my things, but I don’t think I have some of the ones in here. Maybe I could copy some things from these, expand my collection for future use.”

Nick nodded slowly. “Uh…sure. I mean, you’re free to come here and copy them in the trailer if you want.”

“Really?” she asked, looking excited again.

“Yeah. Just ask me or Monroe, we have keys.”

Her excitement fell a little as she stared at him. “I…you really did give a key to the _blutbad_? For real? He could come in here and shred-”

Nick frowned. “Don’t start.”

She frowned back but bit her tongue and went back to reading, carefully eating her burger around the delicate book. They were almost done with their food when Nick found an entry. He skimmed through it, giving them the information about one of his ancestor looking for a voodoo priest and witnessing a ceremony. At the end, he found that the priest was a cracher-mortel, _“whose spit can induce a deathlike trance_ ”.

“Well that sounds promising,” Sloane said, looking at the entry over his shoulder. “And disgusting, spitting in people’s faces like that…”

“So the cracher-mortel makes zombies?” Hank asked.

“Seems like it.” Nick’s phone rang and he pulled out. Answering the call, he held it to his ear. “Monroe?” Sloane glared automatically but Nick ignored her. “Trailer….I'm with Hank. …And Sloane. No, she’s, uh…it’s complicated. But she’s promised a truce when it comes to you two at least.” Sloane rolled her eyes. “…All right, we'll be there as soon as we're done here. We'll see you then.” He hanged up and looked at Hank. “Monroe and Rosalee want to talk with us about something.”

“Good chance to see if they know anything about this guy,” Hank said, tapping the picture.

Nick looked at Sloane. “You’ll be on your best behavior, right?”

“I’m not a child,” she said blandly.

“I know. I just want to make sure we’re clear what ‘best behavior’ means.”

She rolled her eyes again. “I get it, no attacking your pets.”

“ _Friends_.”

“Yeah yeah…So are we going over there?”

“I think it’s better to go to the captain first on this one. Plus, gotta make sure he knows it is a likely wesen case for your sake…”

They got back in the car and headed for the station, finding Renard still there thankfully. He readily saw them and Nick showed him the pictures from the hospital as they explained what was going on so far.

“We think we're dealing with a cracher-mortel who has the ability to induce a voodoo-like trance,” Hank said, giving his leg a rest in the chair.

“More of your books? Or…” Renard glanced at Sloane.

“Books,” she said simply. “Nick found it, but it sounds right to me from what I’ve seen. I’ve never faced one of these before.”

Renard looked back at Nick. “You're getting pretty comfortable with all this,” he said with a slight smile.

He wasn’t sure if she meant being a Grimm or Sloane being there. Either way the answer was the same. “Yeah. I wouldn't call it comfortable.”

“We're trying to get an I.D. on him, but so far, no go,” Hank added.

“Now why would he pick up two apparent strangers, drug them, and then put them in an unoccupied house?” Renard asked. No one knew the answer to that.

“There's something we're not seeing,” Nick sighed.

“More worrying, if Lily O’Hara has gone through the same thing that happened to Mulpus, she’s probably going to start losing it pretty soon,” Sloane pointed out.

“Probably,” Nick agreed. “At least it’ll be easier to find her.”

“All right. Keep me posted,” Renard said.

They agreed and headed back out the door. “What now?” Sloane asked.

“Now might be a good time to go talk to Rosalee and Monroe,” Nick said. “See if they know anything.

Sloane grimaced. “I…think it might be best you do that on your own. I’ll go see if I can hunt up any leads on my own.”

“Sloane—”

“No killing, no torture, I know,” she said, obviously getting tired of being reminded. “There are other ways I can get information. I just have to find the right places to check.”

Nick frowned but Hank was nodding. “Okay. You’re also going to sleep sometime, right? You were looking pretty tired the other day.”

Sloane gave him an odd look but shrugged. “I’ve run on less sleep than that. Right now I’m staying at a motel. Renard said I can start looking for an apartment and he’ll front the money for the down payment from my pay checks. I’d rather make sure we’re not about to have a zombie outbreak though…”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want this to turn into _The Walking Dead_ ,” Hank agreed.

“Is…that a movie?” she asked uncertainly. “I haven’t really seen many lately to be honest, but it sounds familiar…”

“Uh…no. TV,” Nick said.

“Ah, don’t really watch that either. Only Zombie thing I know is _Night of the Living Dead.”_

“Remake one or the black and white one?” Nick asked.

“… They remade it?” she asked, honestly confused.

Nick laughed a little. “I think that answers that question. Okay, you go see if you can find anything out, let us know if you do. And try to stay out of trouble.”

“I’m not the one that can’t handle trouble,” she said snidely, heading for her car which was still parked at the precinct. She drove off, looking around for seedy bars where people usually had an idea of what was going on in the weird parts of town.

Unfortunately, she had no luck. She showed the picture to a few people that looked like they might know some things, but aside from a few people recognizing Lily she got nothing. They didn’t know where she had gone, or who the man in the top hat was. It was another frustration added to a list of many. She didn’t like staying in one place, she didn’t like being tied down by rules and regulations, and she especially didn’t like feeling useless. None of that was going to stop her from getting this “cracher-mortel” on the end of her knife if she had her way, but it was making her second guess remaining in Portland not for the first time.

Going to the motel, she showered while she thought about it still and then dressed for bed. Her knife was placed under her pillow, her phone with an alarm set on the nightstand. _Tomorrow is another day,_ she told herself, trying not to feel like a clock wound too tightly.

\--------------

Things did not go well the next day. Sloane went into the precinct to find that Nick scheduled to come in later. That wasn’t terrible, she opted to sit and looking through the computers a little. When he did come in, he nodded her and then gestured she follow him to the Captain’s office. She quickly exited the program she was on and did so, giving him a curious look. Nick looked to Renard instead. “Is this a ‘shut the door’ kind of conversation?” he asked.

Renard was looking over something while standing at his desk and gave him a flat look. “My brother is here in Portland,” he said as he walked back around the desk and took a seat.

Sloane blinked at the odd conversation, wondering if it was some sort of code, before Nick sighed and shut the door. “Is he some sort of ‘your highness’?” he asked.

“What?” Sloane asked.

“He’s a prince, and wields a lot of power within the family.”

Sloane stared at him. “What?!”

“What’s he doing here?” Nick asked

“Well, he says he’s here to discuss family matters, but I never believe a word he says,” Renard said coolly, gesturing for them to sit. Nick did, but Sloane was still looking between them.

“Whoa, okay, time out!” Sloane practically shouted, making a T with her hands. “I thought you were a zauberbeast?”

Renard blinked and then looked amused. “Ah, sorry, I forgot you don’t know…I am a zauberbeast. Mostly. My mother is a hexenbeast, but my father was a king of a royal family. A _royal_ family.”

Sloane gaped at him. “You…you’re a royal?!”

“Yes, but only half and a very black sheep in the family,” he said. “I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

“I’m a little tempted to,” she said honestly. “I’m not a fan of the royals any more than I am of wesen.”

“Well, I wouldn’t blame you if you did honestly. I’m not really fond of them either, Eric especially. His mother tried to have mine murdered, and me.”

“That must’ve made for an awkward family Christmas,” Nick tried to joke.

“I wouldn’t know, I was never invited,” Renard replied.

“Well…glad to know there’s no love lost between you then,” Sloane said, sitting in the other chair now.

Nick sighed a little. “So he’s the one that wants the key?”

“All the royal families want the key. My brother is just more determined. He knows how much power it would give him if he had it.”

“Aaaand I’m lost again. Key?” Sloane asked. “You guys seem to be forgetting I’m new here and wasn’t part of your little club till now.”

Renard looked at Nick to see if he wanted to explain. Nicked turned slightly in his chair to face Sloane. “Among Aunt Marie’s things when I started looking was this…little metal tab, about this big,” he gestured with his fingers, “with markings on it. When I opened it, it had the end of a key inside, and it formed a map too when I tried using it like a stamp. Well, part of a map.”

“It’s one of seven,” Renard said.

“You…have one of those keys?” she asked in surprise.

“You know about them?” Nick asked.

“Well…not much, honestly. I’ve seen one once, a few years ago. My mentor took it from a group of verat she killed.”

“The verat?” Renard asked in surprise. “Then…she took it from the royals?”

“Yes. She heard they had it and went looking for it specifically. I remember because she kept talking about a key. I was with her at the time but I was just a kid. It was my first trip abroad actually, to Germany.”

“Was it just one?” Renard asked.

“I…think so? I only saw the one that she got anyway. Wait, no,” she amended, thinking. “She said another was found but someone else was taking care of it…” she clarified, remembering now. “I remember because I asked if I could try to get one, to prove I was good enough, and she laughed…she doesn’t laugh much, so made it kind of memorable…”

Nick frowned a little but Renard nodded slowly. “I see…I may be mistaken then how many keys the royals have now. If one faction of the royal families lost one, they would certainly try to keep it under wraps. I thought they had four, and then two were missing, and then Nick had one, but perhaps they lost a few themselves.”

“Do you know what she did with the key?” Nick asked Sloane.

Sloane sighed and shook her head. “I only saw it for a little bit. I found it among her things while I was putting them away when she got back and was looking it over, wondering why she’d go through so much trouble for it. She practically tore it from my hands and told me not to touch it. Gave a…very vague explanation, something about a Grimm legacy. Then she said she was taking it to a safe place and left without me. It must’ve been relatively close though, she was only gone a few hours and then she was back. This was still back in Germany though.”

“I see…well, at the very least, I see why Eric is so keen to get this one.” He pulled open the file again and handed them some pictures of documents. “Any of these men might be working with my brother. I don't know much more about them except for their names.” Sloane scanned the files with Nick. “Now this one... This is the one I'm most worried about.” He handed them another photo, this time of an empty file. “Thomas Schirach. His file is empty.”

“Death certificates, body transport permits...Are they here for a funeral?” Sloane asked.

“I haven’t found a properly filed death certificate for Schirach,” Renard said meaningfully.

“Are we talking forged documents?” Nick asked as he flipped through the other files, handing them to Sloane to look over as well.

“Probably,” Renard said.

“Could they be smuggling something? Or someone?” Sloane asked, her brain working through possibilities.

“I don't know.” They paused when Renard’s phone started ringing and he picked it up to look at the ID. “Oh, this is him.”

“You want us to leave?” Nick asked delicately.

“No. I want you to listen,” he said, answering the call and putting it on speaker. Sloane leaned in, curious now. “Eric,” Sean said simply.

“Sean. Let me first say, good morning. I'm having a hearty Northwestern breakfast, and I feel robust already,” came an oily slick voice over the line. Sloane wrinkled her nose, already disliking him without ever laying eyes on him.

“Well, good for you,” Renard said.

“I was hoping we could dine together tonight. There are some pressing family issues you'll be interested in.”

“Where?”

“My suite, at the Gregory. Shall we say, 8:00?”

“All right.”

“Can't wait to see you, brother,” he said, sounding greatly amused.

“Me either... Brother.” Renard tapped the call to an end and looked at them. “We're not exactly close.”

“Can’t say I blame you, he sounds…creepy,” Sloane said. Nick nodded a little in agreement before someone knocking got their attention.

Wu opened the door and leaned in. “Good morning. Well, not really. We've got sort of a mini crime wave situation. We've had a slew, and by that, I mean a crapload, of 911 calls reporting several violent assaults and a lot of property damage downtown. From the calls, they sound drug-fueled, similar to what Franco and I ran into in that rental house.”

Nick looked at Sloane and then to Renard. “Lilly O'Hara is still missing…”

“I’m betting she wasn’t the only one who was now,” Sloane agreed.

“If it keeps up, we're gonna run out of uniforms,” Wu added.

Renard nodded to them. “Go. I’ll tell Griffin to take it easy; he’s going to have a hard time on those crutches if there are hostiles in the streets.”

Sloane and Nick both got up and headed down to Nick’s car, opting to drive together. They made it to the shop where Wu was already there helping look after a man covered in broken glass. He rushed up when they climbed out of the car, and Sloane took in the chaos of the damaged shops and garbage-littered streets.

“Hey. According to witnesses, a man and a woman entered the shop and went crazy. The woman apparently threw the victim through the window. We think they're still inside. Nobody's seen them come out.”

“Any weapons involved?” Nick asked.

“No. Just good old brute force.”

“And that’s pretty brutish,” Sloane said, eying the window and the overturned and broken furniture inside.

“You want to wait till we check it out?” Wu asked.

“No. Let's see what we got,” Nick said, pulling out his gun and heading for the door. Sloane followed, going first for her knife but then taking the gun if just to avoid Wu’s questions since he was following with his gun drawn as well.

“Sure did a number on this place,” Wu said, walking carefully around the mess. They paused when they heard footsteps from above. “Sounds like somebody is upstairs,” Nick said.

“Two people,” Sloane corrected and he glanced at her curiously.

They heard some growls and grunting from upstairs as well then, mindless like animals. “Sounds like a...No. I'm not sure what that sounds like,” Wu said.

“I have some ideas,” Sloane muttered. They made their way up the stairs. The rooms there were apparently for storage. They lit their flashlights for a better look through the musty light of the storage room as they slowly went in. Once inside they fanned out, looking around the corners created by shelves and boxes

Wu yelling and a lot of crashing got their attention and Sloane and Nick went running for the other side of the room. Wu was on the ground while Lily O’Hara was on top of him, trying to claw at his face. She jumped off when she saw them coming and bolted out the other doorway like an animal. “She bit me!” Wu yelled, part indignity, part pain, and part disbelief.

Nick rushed after her but Sloane paused. “Can you stand and move?”

Wu nodded, hoisting himself up. He winced a little putting weight on his leg but nodded. “Hurts but I’ll live.”

Sloane nodded and rushed to follow Nick while Wu found his gun and flashlight. She heard a crash and felt her heart lurch as she sped up. She almost hit Nick as he was coming back around the corner, looking out windows. She sighed in relief but then looked out with him to see Lily now duking it out with the officers on the ground. Wu came up next to them and stared. “How the hell did she get down there?!” he asked.

“She went through a window and on to a car!” Nick said. Sloane glanced back at the broken window in the room around the corner and then back to Lily swiping at the cops and finally being taken down.

“She bit me,” Wu said again. “I don’t know what she’s on, but it’s a lot of it!” he turned to head back down, muttering to himself about crazy drug addicts.

Sloane looked at Nick. “You good?”

“Fine. I got out of the way in time,” he said, holstering his gun. Sloane did the same. “C’mon, we better get down there.”

She nodded and followed him back to the storage room to get to the stairwell. Something was bugging her though. Then she heard a soft growl. “Nick-”

A yell shot out as a large man came running for him, pale like Lily and his mouth open. Before he could tackle him, Nick landed a punch in his stomach that had him stumbling. Sloane came at him from the side and pulled the man away by his hair, giving him a strike to the side as well near his kidneys. Neither seemed to faze him. They both tried punching him in the face but that just seemed to make him angry as he stumbled back again and then ran for them. Reading each other first in the briefest of glances, they both parted to either side like double doors and the man ran right through the middle into the brick wall of the stairwell, finally going down as he concussed himself.

“What. The. Hell?” Sloane asked.

Nick didn’t answer, going over to maneuver the man around and cuff him. “He’s drugged up, like Lily.”

“I kind of figured. It was more of a rhetorical ‘what the hell’. Do we know this guy?”

“No, no idea who he is. But I want to take him to the spice shop.”

“Okay…why?”

“Rosalee might be able to help him. And if she can help him, we can help everyone else who’s been…zombified.”

Sloane frowned but then nodded with a sigh. “Right…and you want to get him there how?”

Nick reached into his pocket and then tossed her his keys, which she caught easily. “Bring my car around the side, I’ll sneak him down.”

Sloane eyed the large, unconcious drugged out man. “…Yeah, this should be fun,” she muttered, heading towards the side door out. She brought the car around while Nick carried the unconscious man down the stairs and out the door. Not an easy feat with him being a–hopeuflly not literal—dead weight. Quickly they loaded him in very back of the SUV and closed the door on him. “I realize I’m new at this, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t police procedure,” she said.

“Desperate times call for desperate measure,” Nick panted, glancing around to make sure no one saw.

“We must be desperate to go see wesen about this…” Sloane muttered, climbing into the car with him. She glanced back, slightly worried. “What if he wakes up? I don’t think he’s wesen, and he’s not in his right mind…I’d rather not kill him.”

“I’m with you on the not kill him part. Let’s just hope he stays out of it till we get to the spice shop.” They sped off towards the shop and Nick pulled out his phone to call ahead. “Monroe, hey. We’re heading to the shop. We need you and Rosalee’s help. …Yes, it’s with a case. I should’ve told you yesterday, but well…I’ll explain there. I just need to warn you, we have someone with us that’s potentially really dangerous. …No. Well, yes, she’s coming too, but it’s someone else. Again, explain there.” He hanged up. “…He thought I was talking about you when I said someone dangerous.”

Sloane couldn’t help but smile a little. “Good.”

Nick had Sloane use his phone to text Hank about what was happening as well and to meet them at the shop if he could. They got to the shop and Nick and Sloane managed to yank the man in the coveralls out of the back and drag him inside, then lift him with Monroe’s help onto a chaise lounge in the back of the shop. Hank arrived as they did and was a bit shocked by the apparent corpse they were pulling around. “He looks dead,” Monroe said. He was right, the man was pale and a little bloated like a corpse and certainly lifeless as they hauled him around.

“Yeah, I know he looks dead, and he probably was for a little while, but he's not now,” Nick said.

“So far we've seen three just like him,” Hank said.

“Three?” Rosalee said.

“That we know of. Two were pronounced dead, then get up and caused a lot of trouble, so we brought this one here.”

“And Wu shot one that got up and tried to attack him like an animal,” Sloane added. She eyed Monroe who just narrowed his eyes back, somehow feeling she was insulting him in her mind. He was right, but he couldn’t prove it. Sloane didn’t back down either, stretching her fingers as if preparing for a fight. Monroe rumbled slightly and Nick noticed the tension and quickly moved between them to break eye contact.

“And we went through the books and found something that we think might explain it,” Nick said.

“Yeah, the Cracher-Mortel,” Hank nodded. “There was also a reference to a voodoo priest known as Baron Samedi, among other names. We were hoping you might have some information about what he's done here.”

Rosalee nodded slowly and then started to move towards the shop front. “I think I might. I've got several books on wesen dammerzustand... wesen trances. There's a pretty big pharmacology associated with this.” She paused when she passed Sloane, who was leaning against the wall and staying quiet. Sloane flicked her eyes to her in challenge and Rosalee quickly made her way back to the book shelves.

“So you're telling me this guy is gonna wake up?” Monroe said, looking over the unconscious man.

“Yeah. And he won’t be in a very good mood,” Hank said.

Rosalee was already coming back to the room with a book in hand. “Okay. All right. There are several categories of trance-like states... bhakti, maenads, rapture, bacchae, euphoria...”

“If I know my latin and lore, none of those. We’re looking more for the “living dead” kind of trance,” Sloane said.

Rosalee nodded, still flipping pages. “Okay…here's the one we want. Caused by several different types of wesen "who can induce paralysis, cataplexy, hypnagogic hallucination, and the temporary illusion of death."”

“Good lord. Is there any treatment?” Monroe asked.

“Seems to be,” Rosalee said, much to everyone’s relief. “But there are four stages they go through. First is paralysis, second is a drugged-like state in which they can move. It progresses to the third stage, which to all appearances is death, and then comes the last stage... oh. This looks to be super fun. Increasingly violent behavior which, basically, leads to murder and mayhem.”

“Yeah, saw that stage today,” Sloane said lightly.

“So, we treat them in the first phase,” Nick said, watching Rosalee as she paced and read the book.

“No, we can't. As a matter of fact, the treatment would kill them in the first three stages. It's only effective in the final stage.” She set the book down and went over to a cabinet, opening it.

“Of course it is, nothing is ever that kind,” Sloane muttered.

“So, what is the treatment?” Hank asked.

“We have to stimulate the central nervous system,” she said, starting to look through her shelves in the treatment room. “And we can do that orally, or with ointments, or... ah...” She found what she was looking for, a brown wooden case, and pulled it out and onto the table. “The most efficacious way, subcutaneous.”

“So we give them a shot?” Nick clarified. Sloane walked forward as well, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Three simultaneous shots, actually...” She opened the case, revealing a collection of very different, very large syringes inside. “With a piqure-gigantesque.” She pulled out a very large syringe, about as big as her forearm, with three needles, testing to see if it would pull apart alright to be filled with something. It pulled smoothly with a sound like an unsheathed sword. “It is not a pleasant experience.”

“It does not look it,” Sloane agreed, though she was looking more fascinated now. A nice change from her cold, aloof exterior. Hank looked actually a little frightened of the syringe.

“How long does it take?” Nick asked, also a little intimidated.

“The effectiveness of the treatment is pretty fast, but it does take a while to prepare the doses. Fortunately, though, I think...” She checked the book again, looking over ingredients, nodding to herself. “I think we've got everything we'll need.”

“Okay, well, we need to get back to the precinct. You two okay if we leave him here with you?”

“Just as long as you keep him handcuffed,” Monroe said, though he didn’t look thrilled.

Nick reached into his pocket and pressed something into his hand. “Here are the keys, just in case.”

Sloane couldn’t help but smirk as they turned to head out. “Good luck. Oh, and be careful. He likes to tackle people. And the last one liked to bite. Try not to bite back if you know what’s good for you.” Monroe frowned at her. She turned and followed Nick and Hank out the door and back to the car and back to the station. Her good mood didn’t last when they found out there was a rash of missing persons, including an entire bus of people just that day that were now missing. _What does the Cracher-Mortel need with so many people?_ Sloane wondered. It was obvious Nick and Hank were wondering the same thing.

They did find the record of the man they took to the Spice Shop, Al Shaner, reported missing by the shop owner two days ago. The owner came in to talk to them and brought a recording of the service call Al went missing on. The deep, throaty sound of the client’s voice on the phone made Sloane frown again. _It’s a day for creepy voices over the phone…_

The car he described in his call for a tow truck however ended up being the car that belonged to one of their first victims, Richard Mulpus. Wu—who was walking alright but sore in his leg from the bite _and_ in the arm from a resulting tetanus shot apparently—found the Buick Centurion on a street near the ship yards. When they went to look at it and popped the trunk, there were a lot of very obvious occult items in the back: Candles, bowls, bottles of spices and what looked like blood, and little woven dolls as well.

“Looks like somebody is planning a party,” Hank said.

“Not a party I'd want to be invited to.”

“Looks like stuff for voodoo, from what very little I know about it,” Sloane said. “Although from what I do know, this is a pretty bastardized version of the practice.” _Maybe the cracher-mortel is responsible for people thinking this is how it’s practiced…_

“I don’t see a top hat though. Check for prints and take it in,” Hank said.

“Yeah, will do,” Wu said, closing the trunk again. Sloane and Hank noticed Nick walking off, scanning the horizon as if thinking he’d see a top hat wearing man lurking out among the ships. They both walked over to him, Hank using his crutches, and stood with him.

“What?” Hank asked, seeing the pensive look on his partner’s face.

Nick shook his head. “I don't know,” he sighed. “I just get the feeling this guy is playing us. I mean, the recorded phone call, the stuff in the trunk. I saw him at the hospital and the first crime scene? And why kidnap a tow truck driver and dump his car here?” He looked at both of them and then down again, chuckling a little. “I don't know, maybe I'm just over-thinking it.”

“No, no, no, maybe not. This thing is getting out of hand, and it's not making a lot of sense.”

“Agreed,” Sloane said. “There are more questions than answers right now—something I never like. But all the questions you have are valid. Like I said before, trust your instincts a little. If you feel something’s off, something’s off. But then, we can’t do much with what we have now…”

He nodded. “Yeah, we'd better get back to the precinct.”

“I can't,” Hank said, though he was smiling. “I'm finally getting this damn cast taken off. I gotta be there in an hour. Sad I missed out on your Zombie hunt earlier already, so I’d like to be able to move freely next time.”

“Same here,” Nick said. “Though, uh…Sloane had my back pretty well.”

“Pretty well? I helped make sure the truck driver didn’t cream you,” she snorted.

Nick chuckled again a bit more light-hearted. Hank smiled as well. “You just go talk to Juliette, pick up where you left off last night. Not much we can do right now.”

Sloane frowned again but sighed. “I can look into a few things still, but I think Hank might be right. Everywhere I inquired last night was dry. Part of why I think you’re right about something stinking here. We’re finding plenty of breadcrumbs left by this ‘Samedi’, but no one else in the city is. He can’t be both clean and sloppy, so he’s probably trying to get someone in particular’s attention. If that’s the case though, we don’t have much choice except waiting for the next one to drop.”

Nick sighed softly but nodded. “Right. I'll check back with you two later,” Nick said.

They all split up back to their respective cars and headed out. Sloane stopped and grabbed a sandwich and some tea at a supermarket before going back to her motel room. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she pulled a large case out from under the bed and opened it up. Inside were flash cards with pictures of wesen on them, information written on the reverse. They were old, a little yellowed and stained here and there, but she flipped through them as she ate. It’s what she usually did when she had down time. That or sharpen weapons, but she didn’t want to risk having those out for housekeeping to find. This could just be seen as a weird hobby, not a dangerous one.

It was a little past sunset when her phone rang he she saw it was Nick. She answered as she started putting the cards away. “Hey. Something happen?”

“Yeah, the guy at the shop’s awake.”

“And…okay?” she asked uncertainly.

“Apparently. Monroe says we should get down there right away.”

“I’m guessing he mostly meant you,” she said.

“Yes…but I promised to keep you in the loop.”

Sloane paused but huffed a small laugh. “Well, nice to know you listened. I’ll be there in a bit then.”

“We’re on our way too.”

Sloane hanged up and then wondered why he said we. Shrugging, she locked up her things and went out to her car again, heading for the shop. She ended up being the first one there and sighed as she headed to the door. The blutbad answered and she tensed, glaring on instinct. “Blutbad.”

“Hi to you too,” he said with a glower. “I should’ve guessed Nick would call you.”

She nodded and brushed past him into the shop. “So…the remedy worked.”

“Yes, it did. Rosalee knows her stuff. Same as with Nick.”

She turned to look at him icily. “I put more stock into herbs than I do “true love”, so at the very least it makes sense.”

“Hey, true love worked.”

“True love is a myth,” Sloane said. “You fall in love with someone; you fall out of love with them too just as easily. Teenagers think they’re in love with people they’ve never even met. It’s just fantasy or lust at its core there, and not much changes when we get older.”

“Man, never give a wedding toast,” Monroe said. “Love…maybe it isn’t always easy, but it’s always possible.”

“And sometimes impossible,” she said snidely. “Especially for Grimms.”

Monroe looked ready to launch into an argument when there was a knock at the door. He gave Sloane a warning look and went to answer it. “Nick, I'm glad you made it. Oh! You brought Juliette…” He stepped aside to let them in.

“She's got a lot of catching up to do,” Nick said.

“Well, you picked a hell of a night,” Monroe told her, trying to sound humorous.

Juliette smiled wanly and then noticed Sloane. “Oh…uh, hi again.”

“Hey…” she replied, looking her up and down again.

“Where is he?” Nick asked. 

“Right this way.” Monroe led them through the side room, to a little sitting area where Rosalee was sitting with Al, the tow truck driver, over cups of tea. Rosalee looked up and was surprised to see Juliette more than Sloane standing in the doorway. “Juliette…?”

“Learning curve,” Juliette said simply.

Rosalee accepted that with nod. “Works for me. Al, this is Detective Burkhardt and, uh…”

“Detective Larson,” Sloane said.

“They’re the ones that brought you in.”

Nick brought a chair over and sat at Al’s side. Sloane remained standing but came closer as well. “Hey, Al. I need you to tell me anything you can remember about your last call,” Nick said. “Um, do you remember if he was wearing a hat?”

The man nodded, surprised at the detail. “He sure was. I mean, I remember that most. It was a top hat, like Lincoln wore, and... Well, that and a lot of pain. It felt like my head was being crushed.”

“And, um, what about the car?”

“It was a '73 Buick Centurion. Supposedly it didn't start. When I tried, it did. Then the pain and… I just don't remember much other than, like, a big black room? I-I think he took me there.”

Sloane was making notes as he talked, leaving the questioning to Nick surprisingly. “Alright. Was there anyone else there?”

“There were others. I mean a lot. I thought I had died and gone to hell.”

“Do you remember where this was?”

“Sorry, I don't. There was, like, moaning and yelling. Could have been, like, the sound of a loud horn?”

“A horn like in a train or a ship?”

“It could have been a truck. I mean, I don't know,” he sighed.

“All right, anything else?”

“Green. There was a lot of green... Before everything went black.”

“What kind of wesen are you?” Juliette suddenly asked. Sloane froze and then sighed, wishing Nick had clued her in a bit more.

“What?” Al asked in confusion.

“Um, he's not a wesen,” Monroe whispered, making a chopping motion across his neck to say they should cut that topic off.

“Oh. What is he?” she whispered back.

“Just a regular guy.”

Sloane looked to Nick with an expression that read _You didn’t prep her at all?_ and he tried not to glare at her. It was an honest mistake he seemed to think.

“Hey, Al. How about some more tea, hmm?” Rosalee said, quickly changing the subject.

Nick pulled Monroe and Sloane out of the room where they could talk more privately. “That car we found was left across from the container yards, and some of those containers were green. And I'll bet you it would be pretty damn dark in there if you got shut in one.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Sloane nodded.

“Should probably check it out,” Monroe agreed.

Rosalee came up next to them quickly interrupting them. “Hi. What do you want us to do with Al? Because he's starting to ask a lot of questions we don't have a lot of answers for.”

Nick and Sloane looked at one another, unsure as well. “Just let him go?” Sloane said slowly with a shrug.

Nick nodded a little. “I'll send an officer to pick him up.”

“He said there were others,” Rosalee continued.

“A lot of them,” Monroe added.

“Do you want us to treat them? You know, 'cause if you do, we're gonna need a lot more antidote.”

Nick glanced at Juliette who was listening from behind them and nodded. “Start making it.”

“I want to help,” Juliette said, coming up to them.

Sloane looked at her and frowned dubiously. “Doing what?”

Rosalee looked perplexed a second before nodding slowly. “Well, she's a vet, and we're gonna be giving a lot of injections.”

“Is she you two’s primary physician?” Sloane said with a smirk.

Monroe glared but ignored the comment. “I guess she's sort of familiar with what we do here…” Juliette smiled at them gratefully.

“But, what is this guy doing this here in Portland?” Rosalee asked.

“No idea. I mean, we have, like, voodoo donuts, but that's kind of the extent of it,” Monroe said.

“I was reading in the books, and there is reference to one of these guys starting a revolution,” Nick said slowly.

“A revolution in Portland?” Rosalee asked incredulously.

“It might not be connected, but the Captain's brother is in town,” Nick added.

“A member of the royal family came here?” Monroe asked. “That sounds kind of revolutionary to me.”

“And the Captain said he was gonna make a play for the key,” Nick said, removing something from around his neck.

Sloane balked when she saw it was the key. “You had that around your neck this whole time?!” she growled.

“Safest place I could think of,” he shrugged.

“If he’s making a play for the key, that means he he’s looking for you,” Monroe said.

“So not so safe anymore,” Sloane surmised.

“What is that?” Juliette asked, staring at it in confusion.

Nick smiled sympathetically. “I'll tell you later.” He turned to Rosalee. “I need you to hide this.”

Rosalee sighed but took it. “Okay.”

Sloane gaped at him and then her, her hands moving uselessly between them. “You just…gave it to the fuchsbau…You constantly find ways to horrify me.”

“I trust her,” Nick said. “And no one would think to look here for it.”

“So, I guess we should start making some more antidote,” Monroe said. “Does anybody know how much more we're gonna need?”

“As much as you can.”

“And hopefully not more,” Sloane sighed.

They worked to quickly to get a large batch of the antidote ready and then piled into Nick’s car. It was a little awkward to say the least because Nick gave Juliette the front seat, so that left Sloane in the back with Monroe and Rosalee. It was a tense ride to the docks for everyone, but especially them as Sloane did her best to keep her distance, sticking to the side door, and didn’t talk. It was both a relief and an even bigger worry when they arrived and sprung out of the car.

“So…where do we start?” Monroe asked, looking around the towers of shipping crates.

“We start with green containers,” Nick said, not sure where else they could start.

“We only have one piqure-gigantesque,” Rosalee said, holding up the three-needled syringe. “Let's hope we find them one at a time.”

“Considering my luck lately, I rather doubt it,” Sloane said, turning on her flashlight. In her other hand, she had one of the padded training bats she used with Nick. “I got one more of these in the car if anyone is interested.”

“Give it to Juliette,” Nick said automatically.

Sloane arched her eyebrow but pulled the bat out of the back and offered it to Juliette. “Oh, uh, thanks…”

“It’s non-lethal. Or should be. I’d rather not kill them.”

Juliette smiled a little and nodded and hefted the bat.

“Let's go,” Nick said, starting through the labyrinthine container yard. Most of the ones they saw were unlocked, but a ways in Nick paused and walked over to one green container, pulling at a padlock attached to the bottom.

“Yeah, this one is locked.”

They all paused when the heard what sounded like growls and shouts. Sloane tightened her hand on the bat and looked around while Monroe knocked on the container. “Anyone in there?” he asked.

Rosalee frowned and looked around as well. “That doesn't sound like it's coming from inside.”

The growling and screeching was getting closer and Sloane quickly put her flashlight in her pocket to two hand the bat. “Because it isn't!” Around the corner came several zombified people, roaring at them and when they were spotted and rushing for them.

“Not coming one at a time!” Monroe yelled. Sloane managed to send one into the crate at the side with the bat, striking him again at the back of the head. “I got one down, dose him!” She turned and gasped when she saw Monroe was woged, having taken down another zombie. She gave him a look that could only be described as predatory and raised the bat again.

“Whoa, whoa, not me!” he said, changing back. She glared, not taking her eyes off him even as Juliette and Rosalee administered part of the injection to the fallen men.

“Hurry up!” Nick yelled, breaking her stance. He was trying to keep the woman he brought down from getting back up as she struggled and growled. “This one is waking up!”

They quickly administered the antidote to her and Rosalee pulled back the empty syringe. “Reload.”

They heard more shouting, growling and growling approaching and Juliette stood up with a tight expression. “Uh, I don't think we made enough antidote.”

They all cursed as it now seemed like zombies were coming from every direction, dozens of them. “We're not gonna be able to take them,” Nick said.

“You might have to shoot a few!” Monroe said, as they formed a tight cluster with their backs to each other.

“I can't! They're innocent victims.”

“They won't be innocent for long,” Rosalee said.

“Desperate times may call for desperate measures if we want to make it out of this,” Sloane said, though she looked gutted at the idea.

“You get the feeling we just walked into a trap?” Nick asked, glancing at her. She nodded back.

“I got a feeling we've gotta get out of here! Like, now!” Monroe shouted.

They started trying to dodge and push the zombies around rather than outright fight them. Sloane heard Nick shout. “Hey! Over here!” and saw several follow him around the corner.

“Nick!?” When she tried to follow him however, she was pushed back by another wave and forced to retreat back with the others.

“Where's Nick?” Juliette yelled, looking around.

“He led a few off, I couldn’t follow right away!” Sloane said, hand tightening on the bat.

“We have to go back for him!” she said, moving to go past her.

Monroe grabbed her first, pulling her back gently as he could. “Juliette, don't worry about Nick, okay? He's a Grimm. He can take care of himself.” There was a loud roar in the distance from some no doubt large group of zombies “Usually...”

Sloane growled under her breath and adjusted her grip again. “You three, back to the car. I’ll go see if I can find him.”

“Sloane, it’s too dangerous-”

“I said back to the car!” she shouted, her face twisted in anger and her eyes looking darker around the edges.

Monroe actually took a step back. “Okay, right, you’re a Grimm too, sorry. To the car.” He led Juliette away while Sloane turned to try and make her way through the maze again. A few times she had to strike down zombies in her path, with the bat or her fists. At one point, she broke the bat over the back of one large zombified man and cursed, throwing it away. She couldn’t risk stabbing someone. She thought she heard someone laughing above all this and tried to make her way there, but the closer she got, the thicker the zombies were. When one managed to tackle her and moved to try and sink his teeth into her neck, she managed to push his face away and dislodge him with her knees. “Dammit!” Without another choice, she maneuvered around and used one prone zombie as a step up to the top of a container. They didn’t have the reach to climb up after her, or the presence of mind to use each other for a boost up. She started running across the tops and climbing around the sides until she made it back to the car.

“Sloane! Are you okay?” Juliette asked, running up.

“A few scratches, but I’ll live,” she said, pushing her hair away. “I…I couldn’t get to Nick though. There are way more infected than we first thought, and they kept me from getting to the middle of the yard. I didn’t see Nick anywhere.”

Juliette paled and then tried to move past her. Sloane caught her though, holding her back. “Nick! Nick!”

Monroe rushed over, pulling her away firmly but gently again. “Juliette, you've got to get in the truck. Come on. It’s safer to wait there.” Sloane followed and climbed in the back with them while Monroe climbed into the driver’s seat. “Nick better hurry…”

They heard shouting and all tensed as zombies started coming from within the shipyard out, converging towards their truck. “Oh, we got trouble. Start the car!” Rosalee yelled.

The car started, but by them a swarm of pale, growling people descended on them, scratching and beating at it to try and get in or get them out. Sloane gritted her teeth as the car was rocked side to side and front to back with how they were writhing around it.

“We can't stay here,” Rosalee shouted.

“No, we can't leave! Nick is coming!” Juliette said, desperately looking out the window.

“He won't be able to get to us,” Rosalee said.

“She's right!” Monroe and Sloane said together. They glanced at one another. “We got to get out of here before they get in,” Monroe went on.

“Well, what are we gonna do... just run 'em over?” Juliette asked.

Monroe started fiddling with their gearshift. “Well, one hopes they'll move because we are.” They started forward, slowly at first, parting the mass of people. Sloane could hear a few climb on top of the car and hang on to the back. Monroe turned the corner into the ship yard and started driving through the aisles, picking up enough speed to try and shake their stowaway passengers. “How are we doing!?”

“Pretty good. Except for the one on the hood,” Rosalee said.

“And a couple up top!” Juliette added.

“I can try to roll down the window and persuade them to let go!” Sloane said.

“I got a better idea. Everyone buckle up!” Monroe ordered.

Rosalee and Juliette scrambled to do so and Sloane did after a moment of confusion. Monroe then turned a sharp corner and accelerated even more, zooming down the long isle. But as long as it was, it had an abrupt end coming up.

“Container, container!” Rosalee shouted.

“I know, I know!” he shouted back.

“This isn’t now I thought a Blutbad was going to kill me!” Sloane shouted, grabbing on to the seat.

There was a screech of breaks as Monroe slammed on them just before hitting the container. The car lurched forward, all of them held in place just by their seatbelts—which hurt a little as they dug into them—but there was a satisfying sound of three “thunks” as the three zombies went flying and smacked into the container in front of them.

There was a pause before Rosalee laughed a little. “I think it worked.”

Sloane and Juliette turned to look behind them. “Not for long!” Juliette shouted.

“They’re still on our ass!” Sloane added.

Monroe groaned but quickly reversed and then threw it forward in a turn to try and get away from them. They circumnavigated throughout the many rows of the yard between the containers, but it seemed like each path led to another group of zombies.

“Oh my God, they’re everywhere!” Monroe yelled when they had to stop again and turn to avoid another mass group. Another turn and suddenly their car hit something, jolting up once and then back down roughly enough the all had to take a moment to get their bearings.

“The hell was that?” Sloane aske, looking out her window. She saw there were several construction barriers and pylons around what appeared to be a large pile of dirt and gravel they had set up for some sort of project. “A ditch…you drove into a ditch _in a shipyard_?!” she asked incredulously.

“Is everyone okay?” Monroe asked. Rosalee and Juliette gave an affirmative and Monroe tried to hit the gas again, only for their tires to spin uselessly. “Uh oh, we're stuck!”

“Probably because we’re in a ditch!”

“Yes, I realized that, thanks,” he snapped.

“We can't stay here,” Juliette said. “We're gonna have to go up.”

He nodded. “Higher ground... let's go!” Monroe said. They all scramble out of the car, rushing for a nearby crane of some kind that created a path up three crates high. Sloane took the rear as they climbed up the neck of the crane, less wide than a side walk with nothing on either side to catch them if they tipped over, and to the crate. Looking down, the zombies had amassed around the crane and where figuring out how to climb up on their own.

“We can’t let them get up here!” Rosalee yelled.

“We need some help!” Monroe said.

“Look, calm down! At the very least, they can’t come in a swarm; they have to come single file!” Sloane said.

“But they’re coming fast!” Rosalee said as they started climbing up from the crane to them. Monroe punched the first and then managed to kick him off the container. From there it was a fight to keep the high ground as more started climbing up to them. Each was holding their own, Sloane at least glad to see the wesen could fight and Juliette could hold her own for a bit, but there was no way they were going to be able to keep them all down or give anyone the antidote like this.

Juliette was able to pull out her phone in the mess and call Hank for back up, though they she had to drop her phone at the end to beat back another zombie.

They had a moment to catch their breath and regroup when the last zombie was knocked away but more were still climbing up the crane.

“This is not getting better,” Monroe panted.

“They just keep coming!” Rosalee said.

“I’ve run out of options unless I pull my knife on them,” Sloane said.

“No, they are innocent people…just…very violent innocent people,” Rosalee said.

“Well we’re not going to be able to help _anyone_ if we get killed!”

Monroe woged again. “No one is getting killed!” He started beating back a few more, sending them over the sides. Sloane tensed again as she watched him, backing away as much as she could. Her hand went inside to her knife, but she was eyeing Monroe more than the zombies. She was thinking quickly, about how pushing him over might look like an accident. Nick couldn’t blame her for an accident…

Just then, they heard sirens nearby and they all paused to look out towards the front of the yard. Hank, Wu, and about two dozen officers in riot gear exited their vehicles. Hank was shouting orders to round the infected up in a container. It wasn’t easy, but they were herding them towards an open storage container like cowboys and cattle.

“Hank!” Juliette shouted.

He looked up to see them high on the crates and shouted back up. “Are you guys okay?”

“We’ve been better!” Sloane yelled back.

“Nick's somewhere in the yard, Hank. We have to find him,” Juliette shouted.

“All right, stay up there until we get control!”

“Like hell!” Sloane shouted back. “You three stay here! Try to figure out how to do the antidote on that many people. I’ll go help Hank and the others.”

“Sloane, are you sure?” Juliette asked.

“I don’t like sitting and waiting for anything. I also promised Kelly I’d look out for Nick, so I can’t just let him do this alone,” she said, going over to the crane and sliding down. She punched one rogue zombie that came to close to her, letting a couple of officers take him to the crate with the others, and made her way to Hank who was using his phone. She moved to go back towards the crates and Hank put a hand on her shoulder.

“Hold up. The captain is on his way.”

“Like I care, we need to go find Nick!”

“I think he knows something,” Hank said more meaningfully. Sloane paused and frowned but huffed and instead went to help wrangle a few more zombies into the crate with the others. Her frustration was mounting. She then covered the crane while the others made their way down.

Renard was there a few moments later, driving a black SUV through the chaos near to the crane. “Quick, get in the car!”

“No, we're not leaving without Nick,” Juliette shouted even as Hank ushered her to the car.

Renard sighed but spoke quickly out the window, loud over the din of the zombies but quiet enough no one else would hopefully overhear. “I followed my brother to one of the containers, where I found Nick's cell phone. My brother's gonna try to get him out of the country.”

“What?” Rosalee gasped, quickly climbing in the back.

“Why?” Sloane asked, opening the door to get in on the front passenger side this time.

Renard shook his head, either not knowing or not ready to answer in the chaos. “Let's go. We got to get to the airport.” Monroe, Hank, and Juliette worked to pile in. “Come on!” Renard shouted impatiently. When everyone was inside he took off quickly away from the shipyard, trusting his men to contain the problem.

“Okay, so what’s this about your brother kidnapping Nick?” Sloane said.

“I saw them carry the box and load it in a van,” Renard said.

“And you didn’t stop them?!”

“I was a bit busy when two men attacked me,” he bit out.

“What kind of box was it?” Rosalee asked.

Renard grimaced. “It, uh, looked like a coffin.” Everyone sucked in a breath. “My guess is they put Nick in this death state just like the others.”

“Oh, my God,” Juliette said, leaning back heavily against the seat.

“With the right paperwork, which they have, they could transport him out of the country legally, no questions asked.”

“So…that’s the blank file,” Sloane said, rubbing her temple. “The “deceased” man.”

“And this means the Baron is working for your brother?” Monroe asked.

“Yeah. All this madness was just a sideshow to distract us from what they were really after.”

“Nick,” Juliette said quietly.

“It’s either him or the key…” Sloane said

“You know,” Rosalee said slowly. “I'm... I'm not sure Nick will react the same way that the others have.”

“Because he's a Grimm,” Monroe said, picking up on her train of thought.

“They're not exactly normal. Uh, no offense, Sloane.”

“None taken. Fair call.” She said tersely.

“You…okay?” Monroe asked.

“Of course I’m not okay!” she shouted suddenly, making them all flinch back. “The son of one of the few people I actually like and respect has been kidnapped by a psychotic royal and a zombie making wesen on my watch when I promised to look out for him! On top of that, I’ve been all but useless lately because I let myself get leashed by him and you-” she pointed at Renard, “in how I usually run a hunt!”

“You aren’t useless, Sloane,” Rosalee said. “You’ve been a huge help, to us and Nick.”

“Oh, good, fantastic. All I know is in the past, a problem like this would take me a week to solve tops with some research and vigilant hunting, and instead I’ve been playing by your rules and Nick is gone!” She struck the side of the car and growled. “…Stop the car.”

“What?” Renard said, looking at her.

“Stop the car. Let me out, I’ll go do this on my own! Nothing has gone right since I tried working with all of you!” She moved to open her door despite them still moving down the highway pretty fast.

“Sloane, stop it!” Hank shouted, reaching over to grab her hand. “We’re all going to the same place, remember, you’re just going to end up behind!”

Sloane flinched and took her hand back. “Dammit…” Panting she muttered under her breath a little more brokenly. She hated her voice cracking, but the sudden bitterness and fear was settling in as she imagined Kelly’s face when she told her Nick was poisoned by a wesen and kidnapped by royals. “Kelly is never going to forgive me…”

The others exchanged a look, surprised she was losing her cool. Slowly Rosalee leaned forward in her seat until she could rest a hand on Sloane’s shoulder. Sloane tensed. “Calm down,” Rosalee said gently. “It’s not your fault. The royals and Samedi planned this together; we couldn’t have known that till now. And Nick isn’t gone. Not for good. We’re going to get him back. But not if you keep thinking you have to work on your own. Maybe that’s what got you through things in the past, but this isn’t just your fight or your problem. Nick and the rest of us have gotten as far as we have because we work together. We did the best tonight working together too.”

Sloane was quiet a moment, apparently calming down again, before she shrugged out of her touch. “You sound like a children’s cartoon show,” she said, though there wasn’t much heat to it.

Rosalee just smiled a little. “Hey, nice thing about being in a group, we all share the blame too. But again…we couldn’t have known that this was all a trap for Nick.”

They raced to the airport, Hank getting airport security on the phone to try and detain the plane, but when they got there they found two guards on the ground, apparently poisoned by Samedi, and the plane taking off in the distance even as they got out to watch it.

“Dammit!” Sloane yelled, hitting the side of the car.

Renard looked frustrated as well before turning back for the car. Juliette stopped him. “You have to do something. You stop that plane!” she said.

“There's nothing we can do. In a matter of minutes, that plane will be over international waters, where we can't touch them,” Renard said.

“Can't they scramble jets or something?” Rosalee asked.

“They won't do that unless there's a terrorist threat,” Hank said.

“They have a walking biological weapon on board, I’d call that pretty terroristic!” Sloane said, pointing towards the plane. Renard just shook his head. They all knew they wouldn’t believe them.

“Well, where are they taking him?” Monroe asked.

“Somewhere where my brother can control him... my guess is Austria.”

Everyone jumped when Juliette suddenly slapped Renard across the face. “Your family's responsible for this. I swear to God, you better get him back.”

Renard took a breath and gave her a level stare as he ground out. “I'll do everything in my power to keep Nick away from my family. But I can’t stop that plane.”

Hanks cellphone rang and he quickly answered it. “Griffin… Lock the door and stand guard. I'll send somebody down.” He put the phone away and stalked up to Rosalee. “That stuff you made works, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re gonna have to make a whole lot more of it.”

“What about Nick?” Juliette yelled.

“Look, they had to file a flight plan,” Renard said. “I could check with the FAA. Once we know where they're going, maybe we can intercept.”

“If we do, I’m killing Samedi. Your brother too,” Sloane said darkly.

Renard didn’t look too broken up by the idea. “In all honesty, I’m fine with that.”

“I... I'm sorry, but what about them?” Monroe asked, pointing to the two prone guards on the runway.

“It's too early to treat them,” Rosalee said. “We're gonna have to take them with us.”

\--------------

“How much of this stuff do they expect us to make?” Juliette asked, helping measure out more ingredients.

“As much as we can,” Rosalee answered.

“Yeah, but we can't deliver it one shot at a time. There's not enough time. Some of them will die before they can be treated!”

“And that’s assuming we ever had enough for everyone, there’s more than double what we expected…” Sloane added. She was helping as well in getting the ingredients prepared by chopping some of them into finer pieces, and doing a decent job from what Rosalee could see. She suspected the Grimm was trying to focus her energy into something before he exploded.

“We need a better way to do this,” Rosalee agreed.

Monroe came in with an arm full of more ingredients he managed to find. “I say if they're taking Nick to Austria, then we should go there too.”

“What? Are you serious?” Rosalee asked, taking some of the jars from him.

“Hell, yeah, I'm serious. I mean, whatever they're gonna do to Nick, they're gonna do it soon, and I don't entirely trust Captain Renard. If you recall, he's got a little of that royal blood coursing through his veins too.” He put the jars in his arms down roughly, breaking one near his fingers. “Ow! Damn it!”

Rosalee gently patted his arm as he took his hand away from the broken glass. “Just calm down, okay?”

“I'm sorry. It's just, I can't believe they took Nick... not to mention, they left us with a hell of a lot of mess to deal with.”

“I'm with you too,” Juliette said with conviction. “Let's go get him.”

Rosalee looked between them in disbelief. “This is the royal family you're talking about!” she reminded them.

“I know who we're dealing with,” Monroe said.

“No, you don’t,” Sloane said, suddenly driving the knife into the table. Everyone tensed and looked at her. “You think what they’ve done here is bad? Ha. You get over to Austria and German and even England, and the royals have their hands in everything. They’ve got informants everywhere. The moment they hear even the faintest rustling of us going over there to look for Nick in a big group, they’ll have us strung up on bogus charges of some kind. Hell, they’ll frame us for murder! It’s happened to some Grimms I’ve met. Nearly happened to me a couple of times. And we’re going to do Nick a fat lot of good in jail or awaiting trials and extraditions, especially when we have no idea where they’ve taken him before we go flying over there. Austria is a definite possibility, but there’s dozens of other Royal strongholds as well all over Europe, all over the world.”

“She’s right,” Rosalee said. “They have more money and protection than just determination is going to be able to get through.”

“It still doesn't mean we just let 'em get away with it!” Monroe said.

“I mean, if Nick doesn't do what they want, they're gonna kill him! They're never just gonna let him go,” Juliette said.

“Exactly. So the sooner we get there, the better!”

“Oh, don’t think for a second if I had any idea how to catch up to them fast I wouldn’t be at the airport already!” Sloane snapped, pulling the knife out of the table easily. “But as it is, I’m stuck here with you. So I’m making the best of it so that when we get Nick back, he’s not coming home to a horde of zombies or a mass grave!”

Monroe frowned but started looking for his phone “You know, there's a whole lot of people Nick has helped too.”

“What are we gonna do, raise an army?” Rosalee asked.

“No, just a few people who are willing to put their lives on the line for something that really matters. So you guys just, you know, keep fixing this stuff. I'm gonna make a few phone calls.” He went to the side room with his phone out while Rosalee and the others looked over the bubbling beakers and tubes.

Rosalee’s attention was then drawn to the jar Monroe had broken, where a yellow mist was rising up from the contents as it dispersed into the air. “That's it…”

“What?” Juliette asked. Sloane paused in chopping and grinding and came over and even Monroe paused in going through his contact list to look up.

“Remember what I told you about the different ways this treatment can be given?”

“Yeah. Orally, "ointmentally"...” Monroe started.

“I don’t think that’s a word. And also by shot,” Sloane finished.

“What about an inhalant?” she asked, getting excited.

“Oh, you mean we get 'em to smoke it?” Monroe said, looking both amused and a little excited as well.

Rosalee gave him an impatient look. “No, breathe it.”

“Like…an inhaler or a smoke grenade?” Sloane asked. “That’d definitely disperse the cure, but how? I don’t know if we can put a vaporizer in there…”

“There is another way,” Juliette said.

Everyone looked at her in surprise. “I ask again, how?”

“With the Williamson ether synthesis.”

“The what now?” she asked in confusion.

“It turns a liquid into a gas. Basically, it's an organic reaction which forms an ether from an organohalide and alcohol.”

“…I speak three languages, I don’t think that was any of them,” Sloane said in confusion.

Monroe looked just as perplexed but shrugged. “Uh, we got the alcohol.”

“So we just need to get them to inhale the antidote, like... like nitrous oxide,” Juliette said.

“We need to contain the gas in glass bottles,” Rosalee went on, starting to gather empty vessels.

“Yeah, or jars or anything we can break to release the gas,” Juliette agreed.

“Oh, so basically, we just create, like, a Molotov cocktail, except it doesn't explode... We hope,” Monroe said.

“Oh, okay, that I understand. God, if this is what college teaches you, I kind of wish I’d actually gone…” Sloane said, starting to help prep.

\-------------

Getting back to the ship yard, they managed to convince the cops present to let them smoke bomb the inside of the container. Monroe distracted those inside by running a riot club along the side of the crate at the other end while the rest of them threw the jars inside when the doors were open enough. Closing the doors again, they held their breath as they listened to those inside continue to growl and yowl like animals. It took several tense minutes before the noise inside died down. For a moment the police worried they were dead, but inside Sloane and the others could hear people groaning and talking like real people again. They opened the doors, and inside were some very confused, slightly scratched up people wondering what the hell had happened.

Sloane watched in surprise as they started walking out. She looked at Rosalee next to her. “…I have to admit…what you did was pretty amazing, making sure these people got cured. Most everyone was ready to give up.”

Rosalee smiled at her. “We don’t give up easily. And we’re not giving up on Nick either. He’s the priority now.”

Sloane frowned. “…You really do care about him…You and…him,” she nodded at Monroe. “I kept thinking this was all just an act to get him to not kill you, but you really care about Nick…and about these people too. If you didn’t…this just would’ve been your chance to be free of him.”

Rosalee smiled, not looking insulted. “Of course. He’s our friend, and these…were innocent people that needed our help. We help him because we care what happens to them.”

Sloane was quiet at that, not sure how to respond. Monroe came up to them then, his phone to his ear. “It's Hank,” he said.

“Does he have something?” Sloane asked quickly.

Monroe paused to listen to Hank on the phone and pulled a face. “What kind of bad news?”

“Put it on speaker,” Juliette said immediately.

“You know, maybe I should hear this first,” he said hesitantly.

“Monroe, I want to hear this,” Juliette said stubbornly.

“Okay…” He took the phone away and pressed a button on screen. “Hank, you're on speaker, so we can all hear.”

Hank took a breath they could all hear. “We received a report that the plane Nick was on went down. Now, we don't know anything more than that. We're headed out there now.”

“What?” Sloane gasped.

“Where?” was Juliette’s question.

“Juliette...” he started.

“Hank, I'm coming. Just... Just tell me where…”

Where ended up being near Mt. Cedara outside the city. They quickly piled back into Monroe’s car—a tight fit for a VW Bug—and raced out there as quick as they could. Smoke from the wreck could be seen several miles up the road. They parked near the police cars already on scene and Juliette barely waited for the car to even stop before jumping out and running towards the wreckage.

Before she could get close an officer was in her path, barring her from the scene. “No one's allowed into the area.”

Juliette, tried to get around him, but he kept blocking her. “No, you don't understand!”

“We know someone on the plane,” Monroe said.

“I'm sorry. No unauthorized personnel.”

Sloane opened her jacket to show her badge with a glare. “Am I authorized?”

“Uh…yes ma’am, I’d think so.”

“Then so are they!” she snapped.

“They're also with me,” Renard said as he and Hank exited the trees and came towards them, “so it’s fine.” The officer nodded and turned to go back to helping sort through the wreckage.

“Where's Nick?” Juliette asked immediately.

“He's not here,” Renard said quietly.

“We think he may have survived the crash,” Hank said.

“Look, he might be infected,” Renard went on. “He may not be himself. So you need to prepare yourselves.” Hanks phone rang and he moved off to the side to answer it.

Monroe looked at Rosalee worriedly. “You said if he got infected, a Grimm might react differently…”

“I'd say he reacted a lot differently,” Renard agreed.

“Good or bad?” Sloane asked.

“Depends on who he runs into.”

Hank rushed over to them after hanging up his phone again. “911 call just came in. A fight broke out at a bar about 2 miles from here. Apparently, a lot of people are getting hurt.”

Everyone exchanged worried glances at one another. “I say we start there,” Renard said. They split between his car and Monroe’s and flew out of the scene and back onto the highway. No one talked much until they reached a very rough looking bar much like one Sloane visited not too long ago. Just as they drove up, a man stumbled out.

“He's crazy! He's got a gun! There's people hurt.” Hank flashed his badge around his neck and the man brightened in relief. “Oh, you're a cop. Good! Go kill that son of bitch!” Sloane frowned at the man but pushed past him with Hank towards the door. Monroe was close on her heels but Renard held up a hand to both of them.

“Just stay here.”

“I should go with you,” Monroe said.

“And I definitely should go in there,” Sloane said.

“It may not be Nick,” Renard said, trying to stay calm.

Monroe sniffed the air deeply. “No, no, trust me. That's Nick. He’s been living with me for, you know, a while, so I know what he smells like.”

“There's something different about it now…” Rosalee said as she scented the air as well.

“What?” Hank asked worriedly.

“I can't explain it. It's... it's just different,” she said lamely.

“If it's Nick, I can help,” Juliette said as she came forward.

“This isn’t like last time,” Sloane said. “Nick was under the Musai’s spell, but otherwise still capable of higher thinking. If he’s like those other people…he might be all animal aggression now.”

“Sloane’s right,” Renard said. “Let's just figure out what we're dealing with first, okay?” The men and Sloane moved to the door to head inside.

“I'm telling you, he's not the same... be careful,” Rosalee called after.

Inside it looked like a raging bull and come through the place at happy hour. Some people were still inside, on the ground groaning and half or fully unconscious. Bottles and glasses were shattered everywhere and there was the faint smell of gunpowder in the air even the humans of the group could detect. Hank told one man to stay down while they made their way through the bar.

“Back here,” Monroe said, following his nose.

“You can track him?” Sloane asked.

“I can try.”

“Good,” Renard said. “We've got to stop him because it's only gonna get worse.” He nodded to Monroe. “Go.” Monroe nodded and Sloane followed him out the bar with Hank behind her, leaving Renard to start work getting help for those at the bar.

In the woods, Monroe continued to sniff the air. He lost his trail once or twice but found it again soon enough. He paused again at one point, trying moving his head around this way and that as he sniffed the air. Hank’s phone rang at one point and he gave Renard an update on their search—which was where they were heading but that they had nothing to show for it.

Monroe paused again and growled in frustration. “I’m sorry, I lost it again!”

“Well find it, or—” Sloane started, but they all went quiet when they heard a high pitched scream like a young girl. They saw a house on a hill through the trees off to the side, the only source of the noise possible this close. For a moment Sloane was taken back in her mind to a very similar house, painted white and not red with a brown roof and white shutters, nestled in the woods. She knew it so well, but it made her sick thinking of it, thinking of being inside when- “No…” she took off like a shot, outstripping Monroe and Hank as she followed the echo of the scream towards the house. She barreled into the house, the door already broken. Upstairs she could hear people screaming and she raced up them to see Nick trying to beat down the door. “Nick!”

He glanced back at her and she felt a stab of fear go through her. His eyes were red where they should be white they were so blood shot, and his skin was as pale as a corpse. He grunted but then went back to pushing at the door. “No! Nick, stop!” She raced up and tried to pull him away from the door by the hand. “Stop it Nick!” He yelled at her, throwing off her hand. Not one to be stopped easily, she grabbed him around the torso to try and pull him away. Fighting her grip, he roared and then smashed them both through the door, nearly making it fly off its hinges. The door hit someone—the father she guessed—and something flew out of his grip and clattered to the ground. Monroe and Hank were right behind them as Sloane kept trying to put Nick in submission hold. With a roar Nick flipped her over and she landed hard on her back with a shout. She barely managed to roll away before he tried to strike where her face had been and she got to her feet. Monroe and Hank both tried to pin him to the wall at once, but Nick shook them off and struck both of them. The father of the house tried to hit him with something—a gun safe?—but Nick appeared to barely feel it before sending him flying across the room with one hit.

“We gotta get him outta here!” Hank yelled.

“I’m open to suggestions!” Sloane shouted back.

Hank looked around and grabbed a statue from the table next to him, hurling it towards Nick. Without even looking Nick caught it in his hand. All three of them were surprised.

“…Okay, that was a good catch, I have to admit,” Sloane said.

Nick looked at the statue and then looked at them. Hank yelled and waved his hand to get his attention. “That's right! I threw it. Come and get me!” Nick growled and all three of them quickly booked it back out the bedroom door as he gave chase.

“You go out the back. I'll lead him out the front,” Hank said. They split up, but Monroe knocked over a lamp as they were moving, causing Nick to pause on his way to the front door. “Plan's not working,” Monroe said.

“And whose fault is that?” Sloane snarled, but shoved him towards the door as they broke out in a run with Nick on their heels. She managed to slow him down by pulling down an old china cabinet in his way, letting them get out the door and around the house back to Hank quickly.

“Now what? What are we going to do?” Monroe panted.

They all jumped when there was a crash and Nick bolted back out of the house like a wild animal, his eyes on them immediately. “Keep running!” Sloane said, all three of them rushing towards a barn in the distance.

Inside there, Hank drew his gun. “What, are you gonna shoot him?” Monroe said.

“Well, unless we can find a way to trap him, I'm gonna wound him. We don’t have much time,” he replied desperately.

“Aim for the thigh,” Sloane said, fine at this point using whatever they could to keep Nick down long enough to save him.

“What about the hay loft?” Monroe said quickly. They looked up at the loft and then made their way up, figuring at least it gave them the high ground and a place to collect their thoughts. Looking around there, nothing stuck out as useful. Nick came into the barn then, huffing and puffing like a beast as he looked around for them. Monroe shook his head, trying to think. “I don't know. I mean, maybe we could...” They gasped when his foot suddenly went through the loft floor with a loud crack and Hank quickly steadied him. Looking at the hole in the floor, they all exchanged a glance and then quickly got to the other side of the loft. Hank kept his gun drawn and Sloane pulled out her knife as Nick started making their way up to them, drawn by the noise. Monroe grabbed a small pitch fork just to be safe. Nick made it up to them, growling low at them.

“Whoa! Hey, Nick! Can you hear me?” Hank said. “Can you hear me? Do you know who I am?”

“Nick, it's us, man! Don't do it. Don't do it, Nick!”

“Please, Nick…I don’t want to tell your mother we had to hurt you,” Sloane said. “Or worse…” He growled and started forward. As he stepped in the middle of the loft though, the floor gave way completely under him and he fell through.

“Oh, my God!” Monroe shouted. They rushed over to look down, seeing him in a heap among the fallen planks of wood and some straw. “Do you think we killed him?”

Nick groaned then and started moving again, and all of them sighed in relief.

“We didn't,” Hank said. “Let's close him in.” They saw a cattle gate against the wall and quickly grabbed it, hefting it between them to put over the hole as Nick started growling at them again.

“Give him points for determination,” Sloane grunted as they put the gate in place.

“He had that before the whole zombie thing. I just preferred it when it was catching a criminal, not hunting us,” Monroe said.

Once they were sure he wasn’t going to get out right away, they climbed back down and went outside to meet with Renard and the others, who Hank and called earlier.

“Where's Nick?” Renard asked.

“Inside. We have him trapped,” Hank said.

“Probably not for long,” Monroe added.

“He’s stronger than before I think,” Sloane said.

“Is he hurt?” Juliette asked worriedly.

“If he is, I don't think he knows it,” Monroe said.

“Juliette, you have to understand, Nick is more animal than man right now,” Hank said as gently as he could.

Sloane looked up when she heard footsteps coming and saw the man of the farm house coming towards them, with a gun in hand. “Where is he?” he demanded.

“Sir, we have the situation under control,” Hank said quickly, showing his badge and putting a hand on his gun out of reflex. Sloane showed her own badge as well.

“You're cops? How did you get here so fast? I just called 911,” he said in disbelief.

“We've been following the suspect. I need you to put the gun down and go back in the house,” Hank said more urgently.

“He tried to kill me and my family!”

“Is anyone hurt?” Sloane asked.

“No. But they're scared to death! This guy's insane! Who is he?”

“His name is...” Renard glanced around. “Thomas Schirach.”

“He’s been drugged, sir. He’s dangerous, but we’re trained to handle him. You’re more a danger to us, yourself and your family if you get in the middle of this than you are to him,” Sloane said calmly.

“Sir, give me the gun and go back in the house,” Hank said, nodding in agreement with her.

“I'm not giving you my gun,” he said. “I'll go back inside, but my wife and kids are in there. And if this maniac gets out on the loose again, I...” There was a series of thuds and grunts growing louder from inside the barn.

“You, inside, now!” Sloane ordered him, pointing to the house. The man turned and quickly went back up the path with his gun in hand.

“All right, we're gonna go in,” Renard said, glancing at the barn where they could still hear Nick struggling. He looked back at Rosalee and Juliette. “Stay back... And just make sure that thing is ready,” he said, nodding to the three needle syringe in Juliette’s hand. Monroe, Renard, Sloane and Hank all went back into the barn. Through thin light filtering through the boards they could see Nick’s shadow as he moved inside, battering up against the wall and cracking the boards with its force.

“Let's take him,” Renard said.

“Uh... Not like this,” Monroe suggested, gesturing at himself. “I tried.” There was more banging from Nick inside but Sloane braced herself more for when Monroe and Renard both woged into their wesen forms. Hank was staring at Renard in shock.

“You okay?” Renard asked.

“I wish I could do that,” Hank said wistfully.

“Hank, no. I was just starting to like you,” Sloane said, in disappointment.

It was then that Nick broke through, apparently having used a shovel to help crack the boards open in a moment of higher thinking. He tossed the shovel down immediately though and rushed at them. That started an all-out four on one brawl. If Nick focused on one of them, the other three tried to get hits in and keep that one from being hurt or killed by Nick. Whatever they had at hand was used as a weapon, from boards to farm tools. Nick was still tossing them around like ragdolls though.

As he rolled out from being thrown again, Hank pulled his gun. “Nick! Nick, don't do it. I swear to God. Don't make me shoot you, please!” Nick growled a little, looking ready to advance. Sloane looked between them, wracking her brains for what to do. She then noticed Rosalee and Juliette sneaking up behind him. “I swear to God!”

“Nick, behind you!” Juliette yelled. He whirled around and she stuck him in the stomach with the syringe. He shouted and then back handed her away from him with a snarl. Sloane rushed up latched on to Nick again while he was distracted, making him shout as she pulled and maneuvered him around with a grip around his neck and the other on his arm, digging into the nerves. Rosalee took the opportunity to push the syringe in further and inject him. He raged again, pulling it out and trying to shake Sloane off, scratching at her arm and waving the syringe around wildly. She barely kept him from stabbing her in the eye with it. Finally though she felt him start to grow sluggish in her hold. She helped him move down to his knees and then slowly let go and laid him down on his side. “Easy there…” she said softly, like calming a darted animal. “Easy, we got you.”

Hank helped Juliette up and they all watched as Nick started to shiver and shake. “Is it working?” Juliette asked.

“I think so,” Rosalee said. Nick started groaning as he kept shivering and shaking.

“We should give him another shot just in case,” Renard said.

“We gave him everything we had,” Rosalee said. “We just have to get him back to the shop.”

“Well, let's get him back there fast... let's go!” Monroe said. They scrambled to get Nick into the van Renard brought just as the police started pulling up with lights and sirens blaring. Juliette and Monroe were watching over Nick in from the back seat. “He's still shaking,” Juliette said worriedly.

“I hope we're not too late,” Monroe said.

Juliette pressed her fingers to his wrist and frowned more. “He's really cold to the touch... Guys, his pulse is slowing down, and it's getting weaker. Are we losing him? Maybe we should try to keep him warm.” Rosalee grabbed a jacket and offered it to them and they draped it over Nick. “Nick, can you hear me?” He opened his eyes and looked at her, but seemed to be half-conscious and delirious.

“We need to get him to the shop before it's too late,” Rosalee said.

Monroe looked at Renard. “Your brother is responsible for this, right?”

Renard took a breath but nodded. “Yeah.”

“And they didn't find his body on the plane?”

“No.”

“Well, I don't know how you guys handle family issues, but I hope you're not gonna let him get away with this!”

“I’m definitely not,” Sloane growled. “He and Samedi are on my kill list.”

“We did find Samedi’s body at the crash site,” Renard said.

“Oh. Good. Your brother just moved up a space then.” Renard didn’t defend his brother and in fact looked fine with the idea.

They got to the shop and got Nick inside, setting him down on the chaise lounge to rest. Sloane sighed ash she sat on a chair while Rosalee and Juliette started work on another dose of antidote. She looked at her jacket and frowned. “Son of a…”

“What is it?” Monroe said.

“When Nick wakes up, tell him to clip his nails! He tore through my jacket!” She showed the sleeve of her jacket, which was shredded from Nick pulling at her arm while she held him. The others shook their heads a little and chuckled. Sloane pulled the jacket off and hissed. Looking down, there were several jagged lines in her skin that were raw and bloody that she didn’t see through the jacket’s black leather. “And my skin a little bit too…”

“You need a first aid kit?” Rosalee asked, immediately worried.

Sloane paused and looked around. “Pretty sure most of us do…Keep working on the antidote; I’ve got my own in my car we can use.” She stood and headed back out, having left her car at the spice shop earlier.

“…Did she just offer to share her first aid kit with all of us? I mean, wesen included?” Monroe asked. “I’m just not sure I heard her right.”

Rosalee smiled a little. “She’s…not that bad at heart I think.”

“She tried to kill us the first time we met!”

“And wasn’t our first instincts with Nick to attack him or run?” Monroe frowned but couldn’t deny it was. “You said it before, it might be in how she was raised. The same can be said of how we were raised to fear Grimms. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work past it.”

“Wait…Sloane tried to kill you?” Juliette asked.

Sloane returned with her first aid kit then, which was an odd amalgamation of modern practicalities—Band-Aids and bandages and medical tape and tubes of antiseptic—mixed in with old home remedies or possibly magical concoctions—pots and jars that smelled like oils and spices from all over the world. She used a little bit of antiseptic and something from a pot that smelled like rose oil and cloves on her scratches, wrapping them in gauze and tape. She helped Hank out with a split lip and a gash above his eye, but let him help Renard and Monroe.

By the time they were done, Rosalee was finished with a final dose of the antidote. They administered it and sat back, feeling both hopeful but scared that there was nothing more they could do. Renard went back to the precinct to help deal with the aftermath while they waited. They didn’t have to wait too long before Nick started moving, but he was flailing again, as if having a nightmare. Just to be safe, the got his hands secured to the frame with Hank’s handcuffs.

“Well…on the bright side, he doesn’t look like literal death anymore,” Sloane said, noting the healthier color in his cheeks. “…Is anyone else hungry?”

“Starving,” Rosalee said, laughing a little.

“Is any place still open?” Hank asked.

“Believe it or not, there is a 24 hour Chinese place a few blocks over.”

“24 hours?”

“Yes. It’s a, um…special part of town, but their eggrolls are delicious. And they deliver,” Monroe said with a smile.

“Sounds fantastic,” Sloane said.

They ordered in food, sitting and continuing to tend to their wounds. Rosalee helped treat a cut on Monroe’s forehead and Sloane eyed them as they playfully bantered with each other.

“I mean, if the royals are going to this extent to try to get a Grimm…If they're willing to do what they did, there's got to be some serious stuff in the works.”

“Knowing the royals, none of it is good,” Sloane said, expertly picking up a piece of sweet and sour pork with her chopsticks.

“Nick, can you hear me?” They all paused and looked over at Juliette, who’d kept a vigilant watch on Nick. “Hey, he's waking up.” Everyone put their things down and walked over.

“Nick! Can you hear us?” Monroe asked.

“What's going on?” he asked groggily. Juliette reached up to his wrists, pressing her fingers down. “What are you doing?”

“Um... Checking your pulse,” she said, glancing at everyone.

“Why?”

“That's got kind of a... Long answer attached to it,” Monroe said delicately.

“What's going on? Why am I handcuffed?” He looked up at his wrists in confusion.

“We, um... We didn't want you to fall over,” Hank said as he moved to unlock the cuffs.

“Or smack someone,” Sloane added.

“O... Kay,” He sat up slowly and winced with a grunt as he felt over his head. “That is a bad headache…How'd I get here?”

“We... Brought you,” Juliette said simply.

He sat up again and grunted, looking confused. “I'm really sore. Kind of everywhere.”

“But you look a lot better,” Monroe said.

“A lot better,” Rosalee agreed.

“Understatement,” Hank said.

“And your attitude is much improved too,” Sloane said.

Nick frowned and then got a better look at all the scrapes and bruises they had on them. “Were you all in an accident?”

“Of a sort…”Monroe said slowly.

“You don't remember anything?” Hank asked.

Nick looked at him and then down at his leg. “You got your cast off…”

“Yeah, I did. You remember that.”

“I remember you saying you were going to….” Nick said, confusion growing.

“What's the last thing you remember?” Sloane asked, suddenly offering him a glass of water. Nick took it in surprise, looking at her bandaged arm.

“Uh, I'm not really sure...”

“We were at the shipping yard,” Monroe prompted.

“Yeah, I remember that. We were trying to stop what was happening... And you had the medicine,” he nodded to Rosalee. “But we got separated, and I was chasing somebody...”

“Baron...” Hank started.

“Samedi,” he said quickly. “The guy with the hat.”

“The hat dude. You got it,” Monroe said with a smile.

“I was chasing him. And then we fell. And I found a passport with my photo. But somebody else's name... Thomas something. And that's pretty much it. I must've gotten hit…And I guess you guys found me and brought me here, right?” It was quiet as everyone looked at one another, not sure how to explain the entirety of what happened last night. “Or maybe not. Am I leaving something out?”

“A lot of stuff—” Sloane started, but then everyone started talking at once. They all paused, realizing they couldn’t tell it all together at once.

“I think Juliette should go,” Rosalee said.

“O... Kay,” she said hesitantly.

Nick looked suddenly worried and guilty. “I blew it, didn't I? I screwed it up and they got away?”

“No, you didn’t blow it,” Sloane said. Nick looked at her in surprise, not expecting the gentle words. “We all kind of blew it. There was…a lot more going on that we didn’t know.” She glanced at Rosalee. “It’s no one’s fault…” Rosalee smiled a little.

“There's much more to it than that,” Juliette went on.

“So just tell me,” Nick said.

Juliette hesitated before grasping his shirt and pulling it up. “He... got you. Like he got the others. See?” She gently pulled up his shirt and Nick looked down in shock to see two markings from three needles, and then back up to the others in horror.

What proceeded was a long explanation of what they knew about what happened to Nick and his activities last night. Nick started pacing, a little shaking at first but his movements getting more natural as he started getting all his faculties back.

“At least nobody got really hurt,” Monroe said. Sloane and Rosalee gave him a look. “I mean, really hurt... Badly. “

“You scared a few people,” Rosalee said.

“Oh, yeah, you definitely did that,” Hank sighed.

“Well, it's not like you knew what you were doing, Nick,” Juliette said. “You don't even remember.”

Nick paused and sighed in frustration. “Being under the influence isn't a very good defense.”

“Under the influence of what you were under the influence of... that's different,” Hank said.

“He’s right. I mean, thirty people at least also went through what you did last night,” Sloane said. “Or at least something very close to it.”

“How are we gonna explain it?” he asked.

“You don't have to,” Monroe said. “We sort of had it explained to us in a very physical way, which I don't think you really wanna share with anybody else.”

Nick frowned again. “I'm really sorry…”

“Nick, you didn't know,” Rosalee said.

Nick looked at Sloane’s bandaged arm, a little blood on the gauze, like scolded dog. She smiled jokingly. “Get me a new jacket we’ll call it even.”

His lips twitched but he still looked guilty and agitated.

“Look, I think that after everything you've gone through tonight you need a lotta sleep. So... You should come home with me now and get it,” Juliette said.

“Agreed,” Monroe said.

“I think we could all use a rest,” Sloane said. “And If I’m saying that, we probably needed it a while ago...”

Juliette walked over and embraced Nick’s side, Nick putting an arm around her back. “Thank God it's over,” she sighed.

“I'm just glad I didn't kill anybody...”

“We’re all glad about that,” Sloane said.

Tiredly they all split up and Sloane drove back alone to her motel room. Once there she took a shower, then redressed her scratches—which were already considerably better thanks to Grimm medicine—and fell into bed to take a long nap through the morning.

She was woken up by her phone ringing not in its usual alarm but an actual ring tone. It was later in the afternoon she saw by the sun and the clock on the nightstand. Grunting, she pressed talk. “Hello?”

“Sloane? Hey, you, uh…We need to meet at the Spice Shop,” Hank said.

She groaned. “Oh God, what now?”

“It’s not something I should really say on the phone, especially here at the precinct…”

“Bad?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

“More zombies?” she groaned again.

“No, not that bad…not for us anyway. It’s about Nick.”

Sloane sighed and got up. “Okay, I’ll be there in like…20 minutes.”

“See you then.” They hanged up and Sloane got redressed and back out to her car again.

She parked near the shop and was surprised when Rosalee let her in automatically. “Hey. We’re just waiting on Juliette.” She led her back to the side room once more where Hank, Renard, and Monroe were waiting.

“What’s this about?”

“They haven’t said yet, just that it’s a big problem…”

Sloane glanced at Hank who was tired as the rest of them but tightlipped about what was going on. “…Something about last night,” Sloane said. “Something’s gone wrong. And it’s about Nick.”

Renard eyed her and smiled, though there wasn’t much humor behind it. “Why is it Grimms make natural detectives…?”

“But he’s okay, we cured him,” Monroe said. “He’s still okay, right?”

“Juliette said so,” Hank said. “It’s not about his…health. It’s about what he did last night.”

“The farm guy still believes its ‘Thomas Shirach’ that attacked him, doesn’t he?” Sloane asked.

“It’s before that…”

Sloane frowned. She doubted Nick did anything in the woods while they were tracking him, so that left…“The bar?”

Hanks sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I was gonna wait till Juliette was here…”

“Might be best just to start,” Renard said. “She might figure it out at this rate.”

Hank took a deep breath. “Last night was overall good…we saved a lot of people and while there’s been injuries, none of those infected were killed and the civilians didn’t kill anyone.”

Sloane frowned, not liking that wording, while the others were all looking perplexed. “That…sounds pretty great to me,” Rosalee said.

“Yeah, we did a great job. Go team!” Monroe said with a little mock enthusiasm.

“There was however one casualty,” Hank said and everyone grew quiet. “A guy…at the bar we tracked Nick to died. More than likely by Nick’s hands, given the injuries.”

Everyone gasped and Rosalee covered her mouth in shock. “…So?” Sloane asked.

Hank looked at her. “He killed someone!”

“He’s a cop and a Grimm, you’re telling me it’s the first time?” she shot back.

“It’s different this time; this guy didn’t do anything to Nick to warrant an attack! He was probably defending himself. He was just there. Wrong place, wrong time, but Nick killed…”

Sloane frowned and sighed. “Okay, okay. Point taken…He’s not going to like that.”

“Which is why we have to figure out how to keep his name out of this,” Renard said. “Build him an iron tight alibi.”

“But it wasn't his fault!” Monroe exclaimed. “I mean, you saw him. He was trying to kill us. I mean, not us personally... Generally speaking.”

“Not a great defense,” Hank sighed.

“You know what you're asking us to do?” Rosalee asked.

Renard shrugged. “Nothing I haven't already done.”

“Not my first time lying to police either,” Sloane said as they heard a knock at the door. Rosalee went to answer it again and led Juliette in. “Hey!” Everyone was silent and she grew even more worried. “What's the problem?”

They hesitated before Renard spoke up frankly now that the others already knew. “One of the men that Nick fought at the bar has died.”

Juliette gaped in horror. “Oh, no…”

“He wasn't himself,” Monroe said quickly.

“It doesn't matter. You can't defend what you can't explain,” Hank said again.

“So Nick is a murderer…” Juliette asked, looking around as if hoping they’d tell her different.

“Technically,” Sloane said. “But then, so am I from certain perspectives.” She glanced at Monroe and Rosalee.

“But... So far, no one knows Nick was in the bar,” Hank said, getting back on topic.

“The man responsible for the death has been identified as Thomas Schirach,” Renard said.

“Which works for me, because I don't think we can blame Nick for what happened,” Rosalee said. “He was poisoned. He would've died.”

“And he definitely wasn’t acting like himself,” Sloane agreed. “I may not have known him as long as all of you, but I call him “bleeding heart” for a reason. And that’s why I’m worried…this is going to hurt him if he finds out in more than just his reputation.” Everyone nodded in agreement, knowing Nick would be gutted if he found out.

“As long as they're looking for Thomas Schirach, Nick is in the clear,” Renard went on. “Ironically, the false identity my brother created to get Nick out of the country is working in our favor.”

“What if they see Nick in the surveillance recordings?” Juliette asked worriedly.

“So far, none has been found,” Renard replied. Sloane arched her eyebrows, wondering about that. “Two Detectives have been assigned to the case. From the police reports, they're gonna know that there were two civilian women with me that night, and they're gonna wanna talk to all of us.”

“I know what we should tell them,” Rosalee said.

“And it is definitely not the truth,” Monroe interjected.

“Hank, are you good with this?” Juliette asked suddenly. Everyone looked to Hank, who they knew was a good, upstanding detective and not the sort to lie about a murder investigation.

Hank took a breath. “I'm not good with Nick going to prison for something he didn't even know he was doing. You heard him. He doesn't remember anything.”

“If he did I’d be more worried about how it would effect him to be honest,” Sloane said.

“Okay, okay. So we are all going to lie to protect Nick,” Juliette said, still amped up and worried. “What happens if he finds out?”

“Hopefully he throws us a little party,” Monroe said.

“Probably not,” Sloane said. “He’s the annoyingly noble type…”

“He's not going to find out,” Renard said bluntly. “At least, not for a little while. Now look, we all have to agree on three things. We were chasing down infected suspects, one of them was identified as Thomas Schirach, and you two were there because you had a treatment that was effective.”

“See? Not so bad. Some of it's true,” Monroe said, trying to lighten the mood.

“The best and easiest lies to remember rely heavily on the truth,” Sloane said. It sounded like she did have a lot of experience in that area when she spoke so sagely.

Renard nodded in agreement. “Now we have to decide on the details. Because that is how you get caught.”

\-------------------------

They schooled each other in the lie they came up with for more than an hour—Sloane giving tips on how to make sure it felt credible but not hokey or practiced—and then separated again. They had the rest of the day to rest luckily, and Sloane went in the next day to the precinct. She kept going through the programs, trying to make sure she understood them.

It was while she was doing this that two other detectives walked up to her. “Um, Detective Larson?”

She looked up. “Yes?”

“Hi, we haven’t gotten to introduce ourselves with everything that’s been going on. I’m  
Detective Keith Bauer,” one man said, offering his hand.

“And I’m Detective Alex Holtby.”

Sloane smiled personably and shook their hands. “Nice to meet you both. I, uh…have an idea this might not be entirely just to introduce yourselves.”

“No, I’m afraid not. We’re looking into an incident at a bar last night, the one you apparently went to with Detective Griffin while chasing a suspect?”

“I heard about that. Someone got killed?” she asked with convincing moderate interest and worry.

“Yeah.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Well, we were more curious about why you were at the shipyard already purportedly. With, uh, two women that ended up at the bar later with the captain.”

“Well, we were investigating the masses of people turning violent the other day. Miss Calvert had actually seen something like this before, some kind of virulent toxic infection that…attacks the nervous system? Have you talked her to her yet?”

“Not yet, no,” Holtby said.

“Well, she and Miss Silverton knew more about it than I did as far as what caused it. And they had a cure. Apparently it’s more common in tropical regions and the cure is an old folk remedy or something. All natural believe it or not. Anyway, they contacted the Captain about it and managed to provide some evidence they knew what they were talking about. Documented cases and the like. So he Okayed them to help us. We managed to track down one likely location where we thought some of the infected might be hanging out.”

“The shipyard?”

“Yes, the car of one of the first infected individual Officers Wu and Franco encountered, Richard Mulpus, was found close to the shipyard. Apparently they tend to flock together and something attracted them there. We figured it was as good a place to start as any. We obtained our warrant and searched the area in hopes of administering the treatment if we found more infected individuals, but it ended up there were many more than we thought and were pinned down until back up arrived and managed to wrangle them into a container. Then we managed to figure out how better to get the cure out to everyone.”

“Gas bombs?” he asked, obviously having heard.

“Something like that. Again, I don’t understand the science behind it…I’m just glad it worked.”

They nodded. “But you were also told you were at the site of a plane crash later, and the bar…”

“Yes. Using records, we determined that the cause of this outbreak was likely Thomas Schirach.” She brought up the death certificate on screen, this time with a different picture attached. “Mr. Schirach was pronounced dead mysteriously several days ago and was about to be transported back home to Austria when he purportedly came back to life in an “aggressive state” and escaped. From what we know, he had been taking a tour of several tropical islands before coming here for business. He must’ve somehow spread this toxin around to others. He was found apparently dead again in the next county, and was on that plane to head home. We were hoping to confirm what Miss Calvert and Miss Silverton said using him, but missed the plane. Then we heard it crashed.”

“He apparently came back to life again?” Baur said dubiously. “I mean, we have testaments from the pilots that the body in the travel coffin on board apparently “rose up” and started fighting with someone in back…But we thought he might’ve just been concussed from the crash.”

Sloane shrugged. “I’d be just as disbelieving if I hadn’t been chased up a crane by a group of crazed people that looked dead, trust me. We suspected he was “alive” and moving through the forest so we tried searching the area. Apparently he could still move fast enough to get miles away. We found the bar later and called the captain when it looked like someone had torn through it. Likely Schirach…So I see why you’re interested him. But he wasn’t at the scene. We managed to follow him through the woods, to a family residence on a farm.”

The nodded. “Yes, we spoke with the family. The father of the house said that there were police on scene already when he went outside to check…several people actually. Including a few women.”

She nodded back. “That was us. Well, aside from Detective Burkhardt. Nick got roughed up at the shipyard worse than us so we made him go home. We managed to get Schirach out of the house and to the barn, but then he busted through and ran off deeper into the woods. Without a search dog, we were having a tough time of it and it was too late by the time we could call for one. We still don’t know where he is.”

“I see…And you don’t know anything else about this Schirach?”

“I’m afraid all I know is what I managed to find searching for him in the databases. I don’t think I have more than you do right now.” The detectives nodded, frowning a bit. Sloane tried to smile jokingly. “I have to say, I’ve only been in Portland a few days and it’s definitely not boring…Is it always like this?”

Holtby laughed. “Why, regretting the transfer already?”

Sloane smiled. “No…Eureka was a ghost town in comparison to this though. Metaphorically speaking.”

“Well, don’t worry; it should get a little quieter now. Just regular burglaries and run of the mill homicides to worry about.”

“Not sure if that’s a relief or a disappointment…” she said lightly. The other detectives chuckled.

“Thanks for letting us talk to you,” Bauer said.

“Not a problem, sorry I couldn’t help you out more.”

The nodded and parted ways and Sloane sighed. Her story should match Hanks in all the important enough ways that no one suspected anything, but be told differently enough it didn’t sound like they’d planned it out. All they had to do now was wait it out.

Unfortunately, Baur and Holtby had the excellent ability of going to Juliette’s house when Nick was there and questioning her there. Thus, trying to protect Nick from the truth lasted about three days in total. And being the “bleeding heart Grimm” Sloane knew he was, he wanted to turn himself in. Hank called her about it and she rushed down to the parking lot to meet him. When Nick drove in and then came marching towards them, it was Hank that spoke first.

“You can't do this,” he said darkly.

“Get out of my way, Hank,” Nick said, obviously emotional.

“I'm already in the way, and so are the rest of us. We made a decision. You were not in good shape. You had no idea what you were doing.”

“I've heard it all, Hank,” he spat.

“And it’s true,” Sloane shot back. “You didn’t know what you were doing; you were not yourself at all.”

“Don’t you start!” he snapped. Sloane glared at him.

“You tried to kill me, Nick,” Hank said seriously, making him freeze. “You tried to kill Monroe and the Captain and Sloane. And you would have had we not worked together to take you down. And ask Juliette how it felt to get hit by you. Now, you wanna turn yourself in, go ahead. But you're going to do it alone.”

Nick hesitated, still turned towards the stairs.

“Except you aren’t alone,” Sloane said suddenly. Nick looked at her and she sighed. “As much as I hate to say it…you chose well when it came to those you trust. I thought for sure a fuchsbau and a blutbad would turn on you the second they could. I thought they were just helping you because they were scared of what you…we are. And they had a great opportunity here to be rid of you, they could’ve let you go to Austria or let you take the fall for this. Instead, everyone came together to think of a way to rescue you. The blutbad was talking about going to Austria to find you, standing up to the royals if need be. Juliette felt the same way. Rosalee made sure you got that cure. Renard organized us to make sure you were found and cured and now to make sure you don’t get sentenced for a crime you only committed because you were literally _out of your mind_. You…have good friends.”

Nick was quiet, looking down. “…Good friends lie to the police about murders?”

“No, great friends do that,” Sloane said meaningfully, folding her arms. Nick frowned at her and she sighed. “They convinced me the best way to get you back was working together. I was ready to go out and do it myself, but I had no way of knowing where they were taking you… But in the end, they were right because there is no way in hell I could’ve done anything like this on my own…And that’s the first time I’ve ever admitted that. Mostly because it’s the first time in a long while I didn’t _have_ to handle something on my own.” She looked at him. “I’m still not sold on the whole “wesen can be friends thing”. I still somewhat think the other shoe is going to drop, let’s be honest. But they are _your_ friends, and you…are lucky they care about you as much as they do. Hank is your friend. Juliette is your _girlfriend_. I’m…eh, I don’t know what we are,” she admitted. “But I don’t want you in jail for a crime you had no control over. You do this, you’re screwing over the guys who were willing to risk _everything_ to save you and now keep you out of jail. Honor is good, I believe in honor, but this is not going to effect just you negatively.”

Nick was still listening, looking down before turning. “You don’t know me at all, so don’t bother trying to manipulate me,” he said, heading for the stairs.

Sloane sighed. “That wasn’t exactly what I was trying to do this time…” She jumped when Hank put a hand on her shoulder.

“It was a good speech,” he said with a small smile.

Sloane smiled and scratched at the side of her jaw, actually a little embarrassed. “Yeah, well…you survive a zombie apocalypse with some people; it does make you think…a tiny bit.” She looked after Nick. “I guess it’s up to Renard to convince him now…”

“The captain can be pretty persuasive…” Hank said.

“I know that firsthand,” she said blandly.

Hank nodded and sighed. “All we can do now is wait and see.”

Sloane paused and glanced at him. “I could go for some coffee in the meantime.”

He chuckled. “I think you might have a good idea…”


	4. For the Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PART 4 OF THE CASEBOOK OF SLOANE LARSON
> 
> Sloane is trying to settle in to Portland, but there's a lot to get used to when you've spent your life on the road hunting wesen at your discretion. When girls start turning up dead in what looks like some sort of artistic ritual, Sloane is both disgusted and stumped. After a little friction at the station, she reluctantly seeks help from Rosalee. Rosalee in turn wants to see if Sloane is as harsh as she seems or if there's something softer hidden beneath. But can they find the culprit and find out what he is before another girl ends up dead?

###  _**“She tried to wipe off the blood, but it was to no avail, for it always came back. She wiped and scrubbed, but she could not get rid of the stain. When the sorcerer returned and saw the stain, he knew she had disobeyed and seen who he really was, and killed her like the others.”** _

\------------------------

**_For the Birds_ **

\------------------------

It was supposed to be just a quiet night on a quiet street of houses. A good night for a stay at home date between a couple trying to get back on track. “More wine?” the man asked, holding up the bottle.

“I shouldn’t…” Maggie said, looking tempted but regretful.

“C’mon, there’s just a bit left.”

“Oh fine,” she said, holding up the glass. He poured the rest of the red wine in the bottle between their glasses and set it aside. “This has been a great night, I have to admit…”

“It’s not quite over yet. I got you a little something.” He reached over the side of the couch and pulled out a small box he’d had hidden. “Just to say I appreciate the second chance…”

“You didn’t have to,” she said, taking the box with a little excited glint.

“I kind of did,” he said. “I made it for you in my glass blowing class. I have a feeling you’ll like it.”

She smiled more, opening the box. “Oh Ethan, it’s beautiful…” Maggie said, pulling the delicate glass bird carefully from the tissue paper and setting it in her hand. It was made for opalescent glass in purples and blues, the shape like a swan about to fly off. “A Trumpeter Swan?”

“Yep,” he grinned. “Like the ones we spotted on Sauvie Island last winter. Not accurate of course, I used your favorite colors. Do you like it?”

“Of course, I love it,” she grinned, leaning in to kiss him.

“I’m glad.” They kissed gently, his arm around her shoulders over the couch to bring her in close.

Maggie smiled, but it was still hesitant. “I do love it, and I’ve had a great time, but…I’m still not sure about this. After what happened…”

He frowned but then sighed and nodded. “I know. And I know I can swear up and down that nothing happened between me and that woman—or any other women—despite what she said, but there will always be doubt,” he said sincerely. Maggie felt a little guilty at the sad expression on his face and fingered the glass bird. “I just ask that you don’t give up on us yet. I love you, Maggie. You’re beautiful and kind and sweet. You’re the inspiration of my new painting. And it’s going to be even better than this little token of my affection,” he said, tapping the bird gently.

Maggie smiled more. “I do want to see that…” She glanced towards another room. “Could I see how far you’ve gotten?”

He flinched slightly. “Ah…not yet. It’s really not ready to be seen, it’s just a sketch.”

“I love your sketches though.”

“I know, but I want it to be cleaner when you see it. Prettier. Like you.” Maggie smiled more and leaned in to give him another kiss. They kissed for a while before a phone ringing interrupted them. Ethan pulled back and gave a groan. “Sorry…that’s probably my client, I’m also working on some illustrations…He’s been riding my ass all week and calling every evening, he keeps changing what he wants. It’s going to take a while knowing him, but I need the contract…”

Maggie smiled in understanding. “That’s fine, go do what you have to do.”

He smiled and kissed her before grabbing the phone off the coffee table and heading upstairs so he could talk in private. Maggie looked at the bird, smiling to herself. Taking out her phone, she took a picture then sent it to her friend Lisa via text.

**_Maggie:_ ** _Look what Ethan made for me <3_

A few seconds later she got back a text that made her pout.

**_Lisa:_** _Pretty, but did you forget about the whole CHEATED ON YOU WITH MULTIPLE GIRLS thing?_ And a second later _Plz tell me you are not srsly getting back with him._

Maggie sighed, some of that elation fading.

**_Maggie:_ ** _I know I shouldn’t but he says it’s a misunderstanding_

**_Lisa_ ** _: Maggie, no. you do not need this right now. Say bye and leave and don’t fall for his weird artsy charming thing._

**_Maggie:_ ** _He’s on the phone right now…_

**_Lisa:_ ** _Then tell him bye when he’s done and LEAVE. You’re not his lapdog, you don’t forgive him for this. You are better than that and better than him. He’s not even that good of an artist!_

Maggie frowned and put her phone back in her purse with a huff. She examined the glass bird in her hands again, then she looked at the door to Ethan’s art room again. Biting her lip, she glanced at the bedroom door and then back to the art room. Standing, she quietly walked over to the door and tried the knob. It turned easily and she opened it slowly enough it wouldn’t make any noise. Inside was a large canvas tarp over most of the floor. The room was small, meant to be a home office but sufficed as an art room. It was odd that there was a tarp over the window too, but she knew Ethan valued his privacy when he was creating his own art. There were cabinets with paints and pastels, and several blank canvases leaning against the walls. In the center of the room was an easel, the shape of a canvas distinct under a sheet. Creeping forward, she gently picked one edge of the sheet up to peek under it.

Maggie blinked and then felt confusion and disgust well up inside her. “What…? What is this…?” She jumped when she heard footsteps upstairs, dropping the sheet and then fumbling the glass bird in her hand as well. She blindly picked it up and quick stepped out of the door, closing it as softly as she could behind her. Rushing back to the couch, she sat down and tried to compose herself. A minute later Ethan walked down the stairs and he paused at the bottom.

“That was easier than I thought, he just had a couple of notes for me.” He paused and seemed to go still. “…Everything okay Maggie?”

“Y-yeah. Fine.”

“You sure? You didn’t go looking somewhere you shouldn’t have?”

Maggie felt her heartbeat ratchet up but shook her head. “What? No.”

“Really?” She heard him walking over. “Because…your hand is bleeding.” Maggie gasped and looked down, shocked to see her hand was covered in blood. She hadn’t even noticed the pain till he mentioned it and dropped the bird again to look at her hand. A gash was across her palm, about two inchs wide. Ethan, much more calmly than Maggie expected, walked over and picked the bird up. “For something you said you loved, you broke it awfully fast…” Maggie looked at the bird and saw that one of the wings had broken off and cut her. “Considering there’s a trail of blood leading right to, or from, my studio…I wonder where the wing is.”

Maggie swallowed. “I…I just wanted a peek…”

“And what did you think?” he asked, his voice still even but chillingly cold.

“I-It’s…I should’ve waited, like you said, but it’s got potential…” she said, trying to smile.

“You’re lying…you hated it.”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose. “No! No of course not-”

“You broke your promise…you broke your present…you’re not the girl I thought you were.”

Maggie swallowed and then stood. “I-I should go.”

Ethan was still speaking as though he hadn’t heard her. “None of you are…women distrust me so easily. I give them everything and they still want more…They always want me to make them art, make art about them, but it’s never good enough for them…” Maggie took a breath and turned to try and leave. Before she had the door open, Ethan was behind her and slammed the door shut, making her gasp and shake. “I’ll make you art though…I’ll show you how beautiful you are if that’s what you need.”

A hand went over Maggie’s mouth and she screamed into it, trying to flail and get away even as he dragged her towards the basement door.

\-------------------------

It was two weeks after the zombie incident when things seemed to quiet down. To everyone’s relief, Nick had indeed rethought turning himself in after talking to the Captain. He still seemed conflicted over the decision on occasion but slowly things seemed to ease off. “Thomas Shirach” was missing and presumed dead out in the woods somewhere, hopefully to remain that way.

Nick was still not sleeping well however. Or really, it was a problem with sleeping too well. Juliette woke up one night to see him pale as death and not breathing, and after a few terrified seconds he suddenly opened his eyes and seemed fine. That was strange and worrying to everyone. She began to regularly wake up to make sure he wasn’t in his death-like state again, since he couldn’t schedule a physical until two weeks out. It was a busy time of year for doctors doing physicals it seemed. He wasn’t aware of the death trances, but he had to admit there were moments where he spaced out a bit and didn’t know what happened. He wondered if that’s how it was going to be from now on. But he tried not to worry or let it interfere with his work.

Truthfully, he was more happy that Juliette was letting him over more to spend the night. Nothing sexual was done, it was still a bit too odd for her and Nick couldn’t blame her, but sleeping back in his own bed with her after talking all night about the things she was still trying to remember was progress he was happy to have.

In the morning after one such night he was surprised when his phone rang with Rosalee’s number. He answered while he finished putting on his shirt for work. “Rosalee, hey. Everything alright?”

“Not exactly,” she sighed. He heard what sounded like a car hood being slammed down. “I was wondering if you or Juliette could give me a lift to work? My car isn’t starting.”

“Seriously?” he asked in surprise.

“Yeah. It’s been acting weird for a while and I guess I put off getting it looked at too long…No smoke or anything, it just won’t turn over. I replaced the battery already, but still having trouble. I called Monroe but he has a client of his own coming by his house this morning. He can pick me up tonight no problem but I don’t want to make him miss his job, he helps out at the shop enough.”

“Uh, shouldn’t be a problem. Just a sec.” He put Rosalee on hold and walked in to glance at Juliette, who was brushing her teeth. “Hey. Rosalee needs a lift to the shop. Interested in taking her? I can too, it’s no problem.”

“Ummmm,” she said, thinking it over as she finished brushing and spit. “No, I can do it. I usually end up at the clinic a little too early anyway so I shouldn’t be too bad off if I pick her up and drop her off.”

Nick smiled at her and kissed her cheek before opening the line again. “Okay, Juliette is going to come pick you up.”

“Great, thank you and I’ll thank her too when I see her,” she sighed in relief.

“What about your car though?”

“I don’t know yet…I’ll check it tonight and if it’s still dead I might just have to spring for a tow truck,” she sighed. “The shop is doing okay, but not enough that added expenses are appreciated…”

“Well, I hope it works out…If you need more help, let us know.”

“Thanks. Talk to you later, Nick.”

“Right.” Nick hanged up and finished getting ready for work. He kissed Juliette again and headed out to his car, driving for the precinct.

\----------------

Sloane had acclimated to the precinct surprisingly well. She was not social by any means—turning down invitations for drinks or shooting the breeze with her “coworkers” any time it was offered. She tried to be polite about it and make up excuses, like settling in to town and the like, but truthfully she just had no interest what so ever and making friends. Socializing with Nick and Hank was enough for her. She had to admit, it was nice of them to give her a small file of shortcuts for the police computer programs too that she could covertly use until it seemed like she already knew them.

What was a little frustrating, to her at least, was there was no new wesen cases coming in. Sloane was used to travel and having things to occupy her mind regularly. Staying in one spot and having nothing to hunt was getting to her. It was making her fidgety. Working out in her motel room was only doing so much to distract her.

“Nick, are you okay enough to train again?” Sloane asked.

Nick looked up from reading an old case report he was working on and arched his eyebrows. They were mostly healed from the zombie incident, though he still looked a little pale at times. “Uh…I don’t know, maybe? I’ve got a physical next week to see how I’m doing…Juliette wants me to take it easy till then.”

Sloane huffed a little. “I need something to do…I finished my reports ages ago and I don’t have old ones like you two to work on…”

“I’m sure a case will come in soon,” Hank said, amused.

“Ugh…don’t make it sound like I want someone murdered,” Sloane said. “I just…I thought you said this was a good way to stay on top of wesen related crime?”

“It usually is. But maybe they’re hesitating after what happened last week to start things up again.”

Sloane snorted. “In my experience, every murder and crime is wesen-related…”

“Well, you did actively hunt for them,” Nick pointed out with a disapproving frown.

Sloane glared but didn’t have time to retort. Renard was leaning out of his office, looking towards them. “Larson. A word?”

Sloane sighed and stood. “Ohh, Sloane’s in trouble…” Nick said teasingly like a child. She rolled her eyes and flicked his ear as she passed, making him pout after her.

Renard shut the door behind her after she walked in and went to sit down at his desk again. “What’d I do? I thought I was ‘minding my manners’ pretty well,” she said sarcastically.

“As far as I know, yes, you have,” he said. “It’s not a problem about your work. I’m just curious how your first two weeks have been.”

Sloane arched her eyebrows back at him. “Um…well, aside from a few days of mass zombie panic at first…quiet.”

“Yes, we are in a slight lull when it comes to cases,” he relented.

“I could go out find one…” she suggested.

“That’s not how this job works. And we agreed, no hunting, no raising trouble, not unless a crime led you there first. And you need my approval that it is a wesen related case to handle it “off hours”.” Sloane glared but didn’t retort. “We also agreed I would assist you in finding a place to live.”

“My choice,” she reminded him.

“Yes, your choice. I don’t even need to see it. It just has to be within a certain budget. I’ll be drawing on advances from your paycheck for your down payment after all.”

“I remember.”

“Have you worked at all on that?”

Sloane shrugged. “I’ve looked at listings and what not, but I can’t find what I need.”

“And what’s that?” he asked curiously.

“Either a one bedroom with an attic or basement, or a two bedroom place. I need space for my…equipment.”

“Ah. And that’s proving difficult?”

“A little. Why the hell is rent so expensive?” she asked waspishly.

“I suppose you haven’t had to look at such things often,” Renard said thoughtfully.

“I also don’t want to live on the other side of town if I have to keep coming here…”

“Well, it is your job now. And that’s understandable, but I can’t help but feel there must be plenty of apartments or condos that fit that description still within your budget.” He eyed her. “Sure you aren’t just being picky?”

Sloane glared. “I rather pride myself on being low maintenance, thanks. I just haven’t found something that will work yet. I’ll get there eventually…”

“If you stick around,” Renard said.

“What?”

“I’m wondering if you just fear “putting down roots” as you say. Part of you still probably thinks you’ll be leaving Portland one day soon, why bother with a lease somewhere.”

Sloane was quiet, trying not to let him see he saw right through her. Truly, part of her was itching just to get out on the road again. That had been her life for at least a decade after all. It was taking a lot of her willpower to stay. But she also wanted to follow through with what she said, and keep an eye on Nick. As messed up as she considered his methods, she also had to admit he was getting results. It was intriguing in a way to see where this would lead, and her bet was still on tragedy. She’d rather be there to make sure he didn’t get himself killed.

“Try to find a place to at least put in a contract by the end of the month,” Renard finally said.

“Okay…that it?”

“Yes.”

Sloane stood and exited the office, heading back to her desk.

“Everything okay?” Nick asked.

“Yeah…just asking how my first couple of weeks have been.”

“Ah…Good to check in I suppose.”

Hank’s phone suddenly rang and he picked it up. “Griffin. …Yeah…Yeah, okay, got it.” He hanged up and stood. “Well, looks like your prayers are answered. We got a body.”

“Again, please don’t make it sound like I was asking for someone to be murdered,” she said, standing with Nick. She grabbed her gun holster, sighing as she had to leave it on pretty obviously without her jacket. Her knife she had to leave in her car because it wasn’t police issue.

“Where are we heading?” Nick asked.

“Just outside the woods apparently.”

Sloane tried to hide the slight smile she had as they headed down to their car. They all drove over separately, parking just outside the crime scene which was quartered off by tape. They flashed their badges and moved through to where crime scene techs were already taking pictures and evidence. Moving past them, Wu was there to greet them. “Hey. You two always get the weird ones. And now poor Detective Larson has to be dragged along with you.”

Sloane smirked a little, rarely referred to as “poor” like that. “I don’t mind. It’s a chance to use my brain and show what I can do.”

“Well, good luck with this one…we got a real wacko on our hand.” He gestured for them to follow and led them over to the body. Sloane frowned at what she saw. It was a young woman, in her twenties, with blonde hair and a long, graceful frame. It was sad enough she was dead, but then the way she was presented was bizarre, even from her experience. She was wearing a very crudely made white dress that looked like she was sewn into it. She’d look peacefully asleep, with her hands folded just below her chest, if it weren’t for the thick, dark red line across her neck. It appeared she’d been killed by a slash at her throat. Considering there was no blood on the ground around her, it was easy to surmise this was done somewhere else.

What made it eerie was there was also the white feathers sewn to her dress, like some kind of bird costume. More were strewn around her, soft and white and rustling like snow, in the shape of spread wings. As if she were a bird that was killed and fell to the ground.

“This…is not my usual kind of crime scene,” she admitted. “It’s very…dramatic.”

“Someone was either making a statement or wants attention,” Nick said.

“Or both,” Hank added. They all took a pair of neoprene gloves from the box offered to them by one of the techs and pulled them on, going over to look the girl over when the photographers backed off. “She hasn’t been here long…”

“Less than a day. The ranger who found her patrolled this area yesterday too. He found the body and called us right away. Whoever did this, dumped her last night,” Wu said. “The trail is open to anyone though, and no security cameras, so that’s not a lot to go on…We’re still trying to figure out the victim’s identity.”

Sloane knelt down carefully and gently pulled the girl’s head up to look at the wound. “Whatever did this was sharp and forceful. It almost took her down to the bone but tore the skin…Looks like he nicked her jugular. She probably bled out in seconds.”

“Ugh, you got a strong stomach…” Wu said.

“Pretty sure you have to have one in our line of work.” Sloane frowned. “But…the wound, the skin, and her dress are all clean…”

“Meaning someone put her in that after they killed her…” Nick said, kneeling on the other side. Hank remained standing, his leg still recovering from its injury. Nick noticed something then and reached out, gently pulling one hand away. “What’s that?”

Sloane looked as well and frowned. “It looks like…a broken glass bird?” She said in bewilderment, pulling it out carefully. Indeed it was a small blown glass bird, a swan it looked like, but its wing was cracked and missing. There was blood on it, red mixing with the pinks and purples of the glass. Nick called over one of the forensics and took a bag from them to put the bird into evidence.

“This, uh…ring any bells for you?” Hank asked them quietly.

Nick shook his head but Sloane was quiet. “It…is familiar…but different…” She looked over the victim’s body. “Bruises…scratches…” She pulled one of her feet up and frowned. “She’s got cuts on her feet too…and…glass?”

“Part of the bird?”

“No, there are different colors...and there’s a lot of it.”

“Well, Harper will get a better look at it at the autopsy,” Hank said.

Sloane nodded and set the foot back down as she stood. “It should’ve just restrained her…why glass?” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing, just…trying to figure out what we’re dealing with...Nothing is narrowing it down,” she said. Looking around, she started walking around the scene, looking around. “Any foot prints?”

“Yep. Got casts being made now,” Wu said. “Heavy looking boot prints.”

“I see…”

“You okay?” Wu asked.

“Yeah, just…doesn’t make any sense right now…” she said, a little frustration leaking in.

“Well, we’ll hopefully figure it out when we get her identity,” Wu said.

“Hopefully before the next one…”

“Next one?” Wu asked. “You think there’ll be more?”

Sloane blinked at looked at the scene. “…Someone went through that much trouble and artistry instead of just dumping her here. It looks like he probably had her somewhere for a while if I had to guess before she died. That is a lot of effort for a one-time thing. Someone who likes this kind of sick stuff probably is going to do it again.”

Wu looked back and nodded slowly. “No offense, I hope you’re wrong…even though you make sense.”

Nick sighed as well.

They searched the rest of the scene but didn’t find much else to go on. Heading back to the station, Sloane got to using the computer to look up the victim. Nick and Hank let her do it on her own the last couple of weeks so she could practice the systems. “Got her.”

Nick and Hank walked over. “Where?”

“Missing persons. I figured that would be the easiest to start there. Dated two weeks ago, her name is Maggie Falkner.” She showed them the picture that was given to them, what looked like a photo from time out with her friends cropped to just her. She looked happy and healthy, smiling widely at the camera. “Didn’t show up for work for two days, her boss called her sister, Jessie. She went to check on her and found she wasn’t at her apartment. All her stuff was there except her purse, which would have her wallet and phone she said. She filed the missing person’s report immediately and there haven’t been any leads till now…”

Nick sighed. “Well, we’d better talk to her…”

“I’ll give her a call…” Hank said, copying down the number and going back to his desk.

“…Someone’s going to have to tell her, her sister is dead…” Sloane said, staring at the picture.

“We’ll do that,” Nick said. “You…don’t seem the type to do that.”

Sloane glared at him a little. “What, I don’t seem sympathetic?”

“Uh…”

“It’s not my first time questioning people about the weird things that killed or took their family members.”

Nick held up his hands. “Right, sorry…” Sloane huffed a bit and reclined back in her chair a little. “Do you think this is a wesen case?” he asked quietly.

“Of course,” Sloane said without hesitation.

“Do you know what did it?” he asked hopefully.

There she paused, frowning. “…The obvious answer is an “Uccello con le Mani Diavolo.”

“...That’s a mouthful.”

Sloane’s lips twitched. “It means a “Bird with the Devil’s hands” in Italian. Germain it’s a little easier, “Teufels Kralle”, or “devil’s talon”. But I do love that Italian phrasing, especially with how dramatic this one is...”

Hank hanged up the phone then. “Okay, the sister wants to meet us right away...I said we found a lead on Maggie, but I didn’t tell her the details yet.”

“Okay...Let’s go tell the captain what we got so far.” They stood, Hank grabbing a print out of Maggie’s information, and headed to Renard’s office. Knocking, they heard him say come in and headed inside.

“Hey,” Renard said, setting down some papers. “I heard you got an odd case…”

“Yeah. We got and ID on the victim. Maggie Falkner, reported missing two weeks ago.”

“Two weeks?”

“Well, closer to two, about 20 days. It was before the zombie outbreak so I don’t think she was part of that,” Hank said.” Renard took the papers, looking them over, as well as the printouts of the crime scene. “This…is indeed very odd.”

“No odder than some of the other stuff we’ve seen lately,” Hank said bluntly.

Renard gave an agreeing glance as he looked over a photo of the glass bird. “It’s still odd…whimsically dark in a way.”

“I think it’s a Teufels Kralle,” Sloane said.

Renard looked at her and arched his eyebrows. “A Teufels Kralle? In Portland? During the summer?”

Sloane shrugged little, looking defensive. “I realize they prefer colder climates, but it matches the wound.”

“And not much else,” Renard said slowly.

“What is a Teufels Kralle exactly?” Nick asked.

Renard looked at Sloane expectantly. She sighed, shifting around. “It’s a bird like wesen, resembling a large eagel. When it transforms, so does it’s hand.” She raised her hand and hooked her first two fingers. “It turns into a group of huge talon, with one especially large one sharp enough to cut through skin, muscle, and even puncture bones.”

“It’s feathers are not white however, they’re black and gold,” Renard said.

“The’re not that numerous either, I know,” she said as patiently as she could. “Neither do they usually pose their victims like that. It usuall kills people and animals for defense or to consume their organs, primarily the liver—”

“Which, according to the initial examination of the body, are all in place with no other marks on aside from the lethal wound,” Renard said. “The glass is also inconsistent.”

“Teufels Kralle enjoy shiny things. They decorate their homes with them, anything from bottles to bits of metal.”

Renard sighed and shook his head. “Sloane, I think you’re off base on this one.”

“What? Then what wesen is it?” she said, now very defensive.

“I don’t know. But I seriously doubt it’s a Teufels Kralle. And until you convince me it a wessen, you follow Nick and Hank and do real detective work, not Grimm work.”

Sloane glared a little more at him and Renard stared her down. Hank and Nick stood back a little, glancing at one another. It was rare to find someone who would stand toe to toe witht he captain so fearlessly.

“I’m not saying it’s not a wesen,” Renard finally said. “Not yet. But there is just too much evidence that it’s _not_ your first choice.”

“...Fine. I’ll keep looking and find a proper theory,” she ground out. “Then I’ll hunt it down and cut it’s throat so it knows how it feels.”

Nick and Hank sighed a little but Renard just nodded. “Fine, so long as we can make it look like you didn’t do that yourself. But don’t forget to look for a place to live as well.”

“When did you become my den mother?” she snapped.

Nick and Hank sucked in a breath and Renard narrowed his eyes. “That’s when did you become my den mother, _sir_. And also, you can just go look at listings the rest of the afternoon then because you’re dismissed the rest of the day.”

“What?!”

Renard stood and stared her down. “You seem to forget. Here, at the precinct, I am your _boss._ I thought I made sure you understood that before you signed on. As your boss, I expect you to act like a detective and respect rank, since this is still a police matter and not a Grimm matter until you prove otherwise. So you are to leave, and not return until you do _or_ you have actual proof of what you claim.”

Sloane glared daggers at him and looked at Hank and Nick. Nick avoided her gaze and Hank held up his hands. “Hey, he’s our boss too.”

Growling, she stood up. “ _Fine._ See you later then,” she snapped, heading for the door.

Nick glanced at them before standing and rushing to catch her. “Sloane, wait!” She turned and glared back at him, obviously resentful of his silence in the room just now. “Renard does have a point...all we have right now is a wound that could’ve been made by any number of sharp objects. But,” he went on when she glared hard at him and he feared he might catch on fire. “Well...Monroe and Rosalee might know something.”

The glare didn’t let up. “Like hell I’m crawling to them!” she hissed.

“Sloane—”

“I know what I know, I don’t need your wesen friends trying to school me the way they do you, thanks.” She turned and headed for the elevator. Nick sighed, rather used to her being a ray of sunshine.

“Think she’ll be okay?” Hank said, watching her go.

“I think...she’s still adjusting,” Nick said.

“Well, I guess it’s you and me going to talk to Maggie Falkner’s sister then.”

Nick nodded, grabbing his holster and jacket to head out.

\------------------------------

In the basement, two women were huddled close together by the back wall.The ground around them was scarttered several feet deep with broken glass in all different colors, some large pieces and some near invisible in the darkness around them. They were held in place by lumps of concrete, making sweeping the glass away impossible. Their feet were bare, so if they tried to walk more than a few feet from the back wall, they would be cut to ribbons. Maggie had tried and howled in pain when small and large shards peirced her skin and she had to crawl back. Her blood was still on the ground, dried but leaving that acrid smell that only blood really has in the air.The only window to the outside world was across the see of glass at the other side, locked on their side and a peice of wood on the outside that kept out light and prying eyes and kept in the sound when they tried to yell for help.

When the door at the top of the stairs opened, both women held on tighter to one another. The light from beyond the door seemed brighter than the sun after hours in the dark. There was an otherworldly silohuette in front of the light. A man walked down, wearing heavy worker’s boots and crunching ove the glass without a care. He sat down a bowl of soup—the only meal they could expect that day. Except there was only one bowl.

“I finished the next dress,” he said. “Do I have a volunteer to wear it and be my next masterpiece?” Neither girl spoke, only sobbing. “Then I guess it’s my choice...” He reached out and grabbed the arm of the smaller of the two, a blond with faded make up. The other tried to hold on to her and pull her back as she screamed for help and cried.

“Ethan, no!” she screamed. “Stop this! Leave her alone!” In desperation she struck out and got him across the face. He paused and let go of the smaller girl. He then struck the other girl hard across the face, sending her sprawling to the ground.

“I’ll have to do your make up now...you’ll be all bruised.” He grabbed the woman by the hair and hoisted her up and over his shoulder like a sack of flour. “You’re in luck, Denise. Hannah volunteered for you.”

“No, please, don’t hurt her,” she said, though quieter and shakier than the other girl. She moved to try and go after him, but cried out when her foot hit a piece of glass and shrank back, leaving a bloody smear across the floor. Ethan’s heavy booted feet crunched over the glass without a care and back up the stairs, slamming the door shut behind him. Shaking and crying, Denise slid back downt he wall, murmering she was sorry.

\--------------------------------

“So your sister, she’s normally a dependable person?” Nick asked.

“Yes. I mean, she’s not uptight but she’s responsible,” the woman in front of him said. They were meeting with Mrs. Abigail Sweets, nee Falkner, the sister to the victim. She looked a lot like their victim, with blonde-brown hair and petite features. Her husband was next to her, holding her hand and providing emotional support.

“And she had no plans to go out of town for any reason? Work? Vacation?”

She shook her head. “Maggie would’ve told me. She has birds you see, she’d have left them with me or asked me to take care of them...I’ve been looking after them for now, since I found them alone there.” She nodded over to a large structure in the coner of the room that was covered with a sheet. Hank walked over and peaked inside, seeing four white finches mulling about in a cage the size of his torso. They twittered at being disturbed, fluttering about.

“Big cage for little birds,” he said.

“That’s the proper size for them, according to Maggie,” her sister said with a smile. “She loves birds, researched them and did bird-watching for a hobby...I think she would’ve studied them if she had the money. Instead she went into working for the ad agency.”

Nick frowned, remembering the glass bird in her hand. “Was she seeing anyone?”

“Well...off and on I think. She didn’t tell me much about him, except his name was Ethan and he was an aspiring artist...He works freelance. She got him some jobs at her agency before. She thought he was...cute and quirky. In that artistic way. He likes birds too, they met in a bird watching chat group.”

_Sounds riveting..._ Nick thought. “No last name?”

“I can’t remember...” she said quietly. “I never met him, I...think she thought I’d disapprove, the whole struggling artist thing. I did say it wasn’t an easy career when she first told me what he did.”

“And this bird watching group wouldn’t know him?”

“I’m not sure. It wasn’t like an official group, she didn’t have time for that. It’s an online group where you post pictures and info on what you’ve seen when you can go birding, and others can meet up with your or coroborate it. He’s the only one I know she’s met in person. They all went by screen names. I know Maggie’s was “SwanPrincess 95” and I think his was...It was a black bird of some kind,” she said helplessly. “You can look it up, it’s called “Flocking Together”.”

Nick nodded and wrote it down.

“I know what they say about strangers on the internet, but she’s known him for almost a year and half,” her husband added. “I don’t think they’ve been dating all that time, but isn’t that a bit long to consider him doing anything to her?” He squeezed his wife’s shoulder when she looked upset.

“You’d be surprised,” Nick said gently. He took a breath, knowing they’d run out of the usual simple inquiry questions. “On that note...is there anyone she was afraid of? Someone she thought might hurt her?”

The couple paused. “I...why would you ask that?” the sister said, looking between them.

“It’s a normal line of inquiry,” Hanks said. “Was there?”

“N-no, I don’t think so! Everyone loved Maggie...”

Nick sighed. “I...we found your sister earlier today, Mrs. Sweets...”

Abigail started shaking her head. “No...no, you wouldn’t be asking these things if...unless...”

Hank looked down. “We’re sorry...she was found dead and left in the woods, off one of the trails. She was murdered—”

“No! No no no,” she said, shaking her head. “I already lost my father last year, you can’t be serious that she’s...” She started crying, holding on to her husband for support.

He looked back at them, looking close to tears as well. “I’m sorry...I think that’s enough for right now...”

“We understand,” Nick said, rising. “We’ll be investigating the homicide from here on out. If you need us or have any other information, please call or come see us,” Nick said, taking out a card to hand to him. He nodded but was focusing on Abigail now. She was almost hyperventilating as she cried. They left back out to the car. “So...little bit of extra information.”

“But not much, and nothing concrete.”

“Boyfriend is a possible suspect?” he guessed.

“Yeah, but we don’t have a last name. How many “aspiring artists” named Ethan could there be in Portland?” Hank sounded like he knew the answer to that was “too many”.

“Well...cross reference it with bird enthusiasts?” he suggested.

“That means we’re going to have to go through the “Flocking Together” chat archive,” Hank pointed out.

Nick groaned and sighed as he started up the car. “...I wonder if Sloane is having more luck.”

“You mean apartment hunting?”

Nick snorted. “From what I know about her, Sloane is not spending her time “apartment” hunting...I just hope she isn’t going overboard.”

\-------------

Sloane dodged as the voged Dickfellig rushed her head and horn first, striking the wall behind her hard enough to leave a gouge in it. He growled and shook his head, turning towards her again. “Oh for the love of—I’m actually just trying to talk!” she said. He rushed her again but this time she growled back and planted her feet, grabbing him by the horn when he came close. He pushed her a few feet, but Grimm strength was on her side. It was an inherent ability a trained Grimm could call up, a short burst of strength that let her swing him around by his horn and his back into the wall. He hit hard enough his head snapped against the brick this time and he gave a shout and groan as he leaned against the wall. He wasn’t in any danger, Dickfelligs having thick skin as the name suggested as well as tough bones and joints. Just like the rhinoceros they took after. He changed back to his human form, a large black man, groaning as he cradled his head.

“Okay, now that we’ve gotten introductions out of the way,” she said, squatting down in front of him. “Yes, big guy, I’m a Grimm. Can I ask you to _not_ attack me now? You are the third wesen I’ve had to try and not fight today and it’s barely five. I can keep going but it’s just an annoyance now.”

“Don’t you Grimms just kill us anyway?” he spat.

“Lucky for you, I’ve got an agreement going on with someone else not to kill. But that doesn’t stop me from breaking bones or taking fingers,” she said with a blood-starved glint in her eye, flashing her knife. The badge she’d left locked in her glove box. “All I want is to ask a couple of questions, then we part ways with our bodies intact.”

He stared at her a few moments, still breathing hard, before looking away. “What do you want to know?”

“Good choice. I’m looking for a Teufels Kralle. I heard you keep your ear to the ground about who comes in and out of the city. So you seen one around?”

He frowned. “One of those big, velociraptor birds?”

“Yes.”

He slowly shook his head, wincing again at the pain at the back. “No, I haven’t seen any of them here...Only one I’ve ever met is up in Canada.”

“Canada?”

“Yeah. He’s a smuggler for a drug ring. I’ve had to keep his boys out of my neighborhood and I went up to personally ask he leave that shit out of my hood. Not the nicest guy. But he doesn’t come this far down, especially not in summer. Guy likes the cold, was wearing gym shorts in forty degree weather...But yeah, if one came here, I don’t know about it.” Sloane growled under her breath and stood, turning to leave. “What, no thank you?”

She turned a dangerous glare back on him. “I’m not having a great day, so don’t push me.” She headed back to her car and then back to the motel she was still staying at. She’d been asking around almost all after noon, similar to when she was trying to find out more about Samedi with the same amount of luck. That was to say, zero luck. Renard’s words nagged at her and she wondered if she was indeed hunting for the wrong type of wesen.

Her cell rang and she picked it up, seeing Nick’s number. Opening the line, she held it up to her ear as she kept laying back. “Hey...”

“Hey. How’s the “house” hunt going?” he asked.

Sloane smirked a little at the implied quotations marks. “Terribly. Can’t find anything on the kind of place I’m looking for...”

“Well, I figured we should still let you know what we heard from the sister.”

Sloane sighed and sat up. “I...appreciate that, thanks.”

“No problem. Though to be honest, it’s not much.”

“Eh, could be something in a small detail,” she said, grabbing her notebook and pen. She copied down what he said and frowned. “Well...I admit, that isn’t much to go on. She just disappeared one night?”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t know how to track down the boyfriend?”

“No last name, so not at the moment. We’re requesting chat logs from that bird watching website, but just looking it’s already a little daunting how many “black bird” related names there are...From Ravens, to crows, to actual black birds.”

Sloane huffed a breath and let the notebook fall next to her on the bed. “...I admit it. This isn’t a normal Teufels Kralle MO. Usually they’re a little shady, but attack in self defense or on the hunt. Not active hunters of humans, they’re fine with animals. And they’re not concerned with dressing the body up like some wierd ritual as far as I know.”

“You know anything else that could fit the bill?”

“Not off the top of my head,” she admitted. “I’ll go through my files, see if there’s anything I’m overlooking.”

“Okay. I have plans with Juliette tonight, but tomorrow we could meet at the trailer to do some research.”

Sloane smiled a little more. “That’s a good idea.

“Hank is going to leave early for physical therapy and will probably be wiped from that, so it’ll be the two of us...unless Monroe or Rosalee come.” Sloane glared automatically even if he couldn’t see her but didn’t say anything. “...Your silence still says a lot.”

“I would hope so.”

He sighed. “Fine, in the interest of peace, I won’t invite them to the trailer. But I am going to call and ask their opinion.”

“Fine, but I don’t have to listen to it...How are you doing by the way?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I mean...I don’t know what the cracher-mortel’s drugs do to a Grimm to be honest, but...you were differnet. Even from the other “zombies”.”

Nick was quiet for a moment. “Different...how?”

“Well, aside from the obvious mindless attack thing that everyone went through...your reflexes seemed up. And your strength. Hank threw something, a statuette or whatever, at you and you caught it before you even turned your head.”

“Really?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“Yeah. I mean, that kind of thing comes with time for us. Strength and reflexes I mean, and our senses get heightened. But not usually within the first couple of years. I just started unlocking it about ten years ago myself and I’ve been a Grimm for almost two decades.”

“Huh...I...don’t know really. I mean, my hearing got...supernaturally good once before. When I was blinded by a Jinnamuru Xunte.”

“You were what?!” Sloane asked in disbelief. “One of those was _here_?”

“Yeah. We had to track him down, figured out he was going to grief group meetings to find his um…victims.”

“Makes sense…Renard owes me an apology though, because if one of those came to Portland, a Teufals Kralle is not _that_ farfetched.”

Nick chuckled. “True, I suppose.”

“But it blinded you? That thing shoots like...worms that eat your eyes right?” she couldn’t keep a hint of disgust out of her voice. “How did you...”

“Rosalee,” Nick said simply. “She made a cure for it, though we had to get part of the wesens eye to do it...I managed to take him down blind though,” he said with a hint of pride.

“...Huh. I guess I should stop under estimating the fuchsbau...and you.”

“Yes, you should,” he said sagely.

Sloane rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah...But are you okay now?”

He was quiet a moment before nodding. “As well as I can be.” Sloane frowned, not finding that much of an answer, but Nick was still talking. “I should probably get going. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Alright...Do you think Renard really doesn’t want me coming back in until I’ve got proof I’m right?”

“I think he’d be okay with it, it was more of a statement than a formal write up...but then, he’s hard to predict.”

“That’s a zauberbeast for you...but it might be his royal half too.”

“Yeah. Better safe than sorry, come in and keep your head down.”

“Okay...I’ll talk to you later then.”

“Right. Goodnight.”

“Night.” They hanged up and Sloane sighed a little, laying back down on the bed.

Nick meanwhile headed to his car, dialing another number on his phone.

“Hey Nick,” Monroe said when he picked up. “Everything okay?”

“Ah...yes and no,” Nick said. “We’ve got a weird case again.”

“Do you ever get any that aren’t “wierd”?” he asked.

“I thought I used to, before being a Grimm...Though now I wonder how man of those involved wesen too.”

“I can see your point. Let me put you on speaker, I’m at the shop to pick up Rosalee, she can help out too.” There was a pause and then he Monroe spoke again. “So what’s this one about?”

“That’s...hard to explain. We found a girl, murdered, this morning in the woods out near one of the trails. But her body...it was really wierdly staged. With feathers and things like that. No other oddness to it, just how she looked staged in the woods. Her throat was slit, but we don’t know by what yet. Sloane thinks it’s a Teufels Kralle though.”

“A Teufals Kralle? Here? Now?” Monroe asked with a perplexed look.

“I doubt that...” Rosalee said.

“So does Renard,” Nick says. “And Sloane isn’t so sure anymore either. But we have nothing else to really go on with just how wierd this case is...”

“Well, from the way it sounds, you don’t have much to narrow it down with...” Monroe said.

“Yeah...I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what the coroner says. I just thought I’d let you guys know we might need your expertise soon.”

“And we’re happy to help,” Rosalee said. “Though I’m guessing Sloane is still a bit resistant?”

“A bit,” Nick sighed. “I’d hoped after what happened with Samedi and everything, she would be a little more...open.”

“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” Rosalee said. “But...I think there’s hope.”

“You do?” Monroe asked dubiously.

“Yes. She’s not a mindless, violent killer. If she was, nothing would’ve stopped her killing us or hunting. But she’s agreed to hold back so long as she’s here. She can be reasoned with. Maybe that means she’ll learn.”

“Maybe...” the blutbad said doubtfly. “But she’s still kind of frighteningly prone to threats.”

“She’s probably used to it in fighting. I can tell you some of the stuff I heard in my wilder days would shock any hardened killer. And I might’ve said some of those things myself...” Monroe smiled and chuckled.

“I guess we’ll just see where it goes...” Nick said. “How’s the car by the way?”

Rosalee groaned. “I don’t know. It worked last night, then it wouldn’t this morning. I’m too scared it’ll conk out on me to drive it far. All the towing companies I called wanted to charge an arm and a leg, even with insurance. I’m going to try it again when I get home, see if it worked itself out...”

Nick chuckled. “Good luck with that.”

“Thanks.”

“Until then, I can drive her around now,” Monroe said.

Nick smiled, knowing it was just as much an excuse to spend more time with her. “Very chivalrious Monroe.” He could see the blutbad blush and roll his eyes in his mind’s eye, with Rosalee’s amused smile next to him. “Well, I’ve got dinner with Juliette to get to.”

“Should I expect you back before midnight?” Monroe joked.

“I don’t know, but I’ll call and let you know, _dad._ ”

Rosalee laughed and he knew Monroe was just shaking his head with a smile. “Don’t make me give you a curfew.”

“Have fun,” Rosalee added.

“As much fun as you can,” Monroe added and Nick could just imagine his eyebrow waggle. Nick couldn’t help but smile and said his goodbyes before hanging up and heading home.

Juliette was nearly done with dinner when he arrived. The scent of porkchops and garlic mashed potatoes was palatable even at the front of the house. He smiled, feeling at home. It was a nice feeling after months of staying with Monroe and feeling like a long term houseguest. Juliette herself was still adjusting to things, and he couldn’t blame her. Her memories were falling into place still, but she’d welcomed him back and they were trying to find what was “normal” for them now.

“Nick, that you?” she called.

“Yeah. Dinner smells great,” he said, taking off his jacket and holster.

“Then you won’t mind setting the table.” He chuckled and went to go do so. “How was your day?”

“Eh...we, uh, had a body found this morning,” he said honestly.

“Oh, that’s awful,” she said, pausing in stirring the potatoes to come to the archway leading to the dining room.

“Yeah. Still investigating, can’t talk too much about it...”

“Does it seem...” she left the question hanging and Nick shook his head.

“I don’t know. Sloane thinks so, but...well, she doesn’t know what kind of wesen it could be.”

“Well...I’d be happy to help figure it out...”

Nick smiled a little. “We’ll see...right now, we don’t have enough to go on, even Monroe and Rosalee say so. Sloane is...stubborn though.”

“I kind of got that feeling...But then, her stubborness helped save you,” she said, walking over to take his hand. “So...I can’t fault her too hard. Besides, it must be a Grimm thing,” she said, giving him a playful smile.

Nick laughed a little. “Yeah...maybe.”

“That being said, you’re ready for your physical coming up, right?”

“It’s not something you can exactly study for...” he pointed out.

“I know...but I want to be sure you’re okay,” she said, looking at him a little anxiously.

Nick smiled warmly and kissed her forehead. “I’m...honestly glad you worry about me, if that sounds right.”

“I think I get it,” she said with a smile.

\------------------

Sloane sighed and flipped through another page of apartment listings on her phone. She wasn’t sure she’d be welcomed back at the station just yet so she was still in her motel room. Her alarm woke her early as it usually did when she wasn’t up late and she pulled a meal bar from her bag for breakfast. After that she worked out using what was around her. It was a routine, but it was also trying to burn off the frustration in her system. After more than two hours of crunches, push-ups, mild aerobics and stretching, she was a little calmer but still annoyed. After a shower, she laid back down and scrolled through a apartment hunting website on her phone. It was late morning, close to lunch-time and she’d spent the morning actually looking at listings like Renard wanted. Nothing was standing out to her however and she was growing bored and restless.

It was a welcome distraction when Nick called her. “Hey.”

“Hey. Not coming in?”

She shrugged. “I’m still not sure our captain was joking about me not coming back.”

“Like I said, I think Renard was just trying to make a point. He asked where you were just now.”

“Ugh...Men say women are confusing, but I swear you’re the ones that make everything hard...” Sloane groused. “I’ll be there in a bit then. But my searching and asking questions hasn’t yielded anything.”

“How did you ask the questions and who did you even question?” Nick asked suspiciously.

“As nicely as possible,” she said glibly. “And I went looking for the shadier wesen of the city. They’re always around. I left everyone alive even when they attacked me, be proud of me,” she fake whined.

“Hm,” was his response, not exactly a seal of approval but perhaps a little amused.

“Any new developments?” she asked, changing the topic.

“A few. According to the coroner, Maggie Falkner was malnourished. Not starved, but definitely fed very little. Death was apparently about two days ago. You were right, the cut to her throat did nick the jugular. She did likely bleed out quickly. Nothing on the glass on her feet, or the bird either yet, except that it’s kind of cheap colored glass. Common and not useful till we have something to compare it to. Dress was made from muslin you can get cheaply anywhere and the feathers are ones you can get at a craft store. The white ones around her are likely from a pillow. And again, nothing we can really trace.”

“So still nothing useful...”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. I still owe you a meal since you got those burgers before.”

“That was over a week ago,” Nick said.

“I don’t like being in debt to people,” she said simply. “You want me to pick you up lunch? Hank’s welcome to it too.”

Nick felt himself smile a little. “Hold on, I’ll ask.” He pulled the phone away. “Sloane’s offering food.”

“I was just thinking I could go for meat lovers sub sandwich,” he said with a smile.

“Usual place?”

“Of course.” Hanks phone rang and he picked it up while Nick smiled and put the phone back to his ear.

“We’ll take you up on that.”

“Then tell me what this usual place is before I head out,” she said, pulling her boots over.

“You could hear that?” he asked, surprised.

“I told you, the longer they live, the better a Grimm’s senses get.”

“Right...I’d like to talk more about that later.”

“Sure, but first, where am I getting food? Seriously, I’m hungry too.”

“I’ll text you-”

“Lunch’ll have to wait,” Hank said suddenly, getting his attention. “We’ve got another body.”

“What?” Nick asked.

“Did he say another body?” Sloane said over the line. “As in like the last one?”

“Yeah, he did.”

Hank talked towards the phone. “I’ll text you the address, I don’t think Renard can fault you coming to this since you weren’t formally dismissed.”

“We’re clearing that up later, I don’t get all this procedural stuff...” She muttered. “I’ll meet you there.” Sloane hanged up and quickly finished getting ready, pulling on a black zip-up sweat shirt she bought and using it to hide her gun and knife holster at her side. She wasn’t leaving the knife behind again. Rushing out to the car, she plugged the address into the GPS in her phone and followed it. She was confused when it led her to an old, condemned office building instead of the woods. Getting out and heading over to the polcie already at the scene, Nick and Hank nodded to her and motioned her over.

“Here?”

“Yeah...A pawn shop owner a block over saw a suspicious car nearby this morning. When they came back by a couple hours later and saw it was gone, they went to take a look since this place has been used as a drug den before and he didn’t want more users in the area...” Indeed, Nick was somewhat familiar. Last year it had been the spot where the many red tents were set up for wesen to smoke Jay at the Trauminsel. “And he found...well...” He led her around the tape inside, and Sloane gaped.

“Oh my God...this is...worse than the last one...” she said quietly. It was another blonde woman, about the same age, but rather than lying down in a nest of feathers she had been forced into a kneeling position, slumped over with in a literal dead weight. Her arms were forced to rise above her head on either side with sharp wires attached to two makeshift posts of scrapmetal collected from the warehouse, like a sick marianette. Glued to those arms were more feathers, and she wore a feathered dress like before, giving her the look of a bird stretching it’s wings upward. Bits of rubish and wires, collected from around the warehouse likely, circled her like a makeshift nest. There was no blood, so whoever did this had killed her and brought her here to quickly set the stage. Leaning down slightly, she saw the large gash in her throat again. It looked like it almost ook her head off this time. There were also cuts along her hands and arms, as if she’d tried to ward off the attack.

“Yeah, this is messed up,” Hank said. “We got a serial killer who watches too much TV...though I thought they usually had a cooling off period.”

Nick frowned again and put on a glove, reaching out to gently pinch her skin. “She’s like the last girl as far as body condition...Malnourished if I had to guess.”

“So he probably had her at the same time?” Sloane asked.

“Yeah...he had multiple victims with him.”

“Now I’m worried he had more than two,” Sloane said. “...I’d say it was a Ziegevolk, but they wouldn’t just kill them and Maggie was definitely not pregnant…Not this girl either.”

“Yeah, we have dealt with a Ziegevolk before and this definitely isn’t their MO.”

“Technically two of them,” Hank said. “Though the lawyer wasn’t doing anything to girls…Just swaying juries.”

Sloane looked at them. “…One day you have got to give me a rundown of what you’ve all done in the past, I keep getting confused and interested and feeling left out…”

Nick smiled a bit at her honesty saying that. “That can be arranged then I think.”

“For now, I think we’d better focus on this case though,” Hank said. The nodded and split to walk around the scene, looking for clues. There wasn’t much of anything. No finger prints, no stray fibers that could be seen, not even foot prints now that there was a concrete floor. When Sloane went over to examine the body again she frowned when she noticed something was wrong with her mouth. It was bulging slightly despite her slack jaw. Gently pulling her head up, she silently apologized as she opened the girl’s mouth.

“Oh God!” she cursed, getting several people’s attention.

“What?” Nick walked back over as Sloane, with a grimace, put her gloved fingers inside the girls mouth and pulled out a glass bird. “Another one…as if they whole feather thing wasn’t a sick enough calling card…” She held up the glass it was different from the other, taller and thinner and colored in greens and blues. It’d been shoved back farther in her mouth to fit with its long legs, but it’s wings were also broken off. There was no blood on it this time, so she had a feeling it hadn’t been in there when she was alive.

“This psycho has a thing for birds,” Nick said, grabbing a bag to put it in.

“So did Maggie actually,” Hank said thoughtfully. “She had those pet birds and was part of a bird watching group…With that Ethan guy.”

“Do we believe in coincidences?” Sloane asked.

“I’m not ruling much out at this point. I’m starting to think these are important too, not just creepy window dressing.” He gently wiggled the bag with the glass bird.

“Weird as it is, I’m starting to agree…” She looked at the girl again and her expression grew sad as she gently let her head back down. She was so limp, like a doll, only sitting up because of the wires pulling at her arms. If she were alive it would be torture. “…No one deserves to suffer like this...” she said quietly. “Even when I hunt, I make it quick because I shouldn’t take pleasure in pain or killing…whoever did this just treated her like a thing.”

Nick couldn’t disagree. He wondered how many actual crime scenes Sloane had ever seen since she was more effected than normal. “I can’t say you’re wrong…”

She looked up at him. “Can we get her down now?” she asked, softly.

Nick was surprised how honestly sad she sounded and he nodded slowly. “I think so. We have photos and have gathered what we could. The crime techs will get her down and on the way to the coroner.”

Sloane sighed and nodded, standing. “What do we do then?’

“Head back to the station, start on identifying her, and then try to piece this together,” he said.

Sloane sighed, looking a little frustrated. When they were heading towards her car she paused. “…You guys mind if I separate from you for a bit?”

Nick frowned. “Why?”

“If it’s lunch we can pick up on the way,” Hank said.

“No, it’s just…there’s something I want to look into. If it pans out, I’ll let you know.”

“Kind of vague,” Nick said suspiciously.

Sloane rolled her eyes. “It’s not going to involve death or violence, I promise. I’d just rather make sure I’m not making an ass of myself before I divulge the idea…”

Nick and Hank glanced at each other and Hank shrugged to show he was okay with it. “Alright…just keep us updated.”

“Same to you,” she said, heading for her car. Nick and Hank climbed into theirs and they headed in separate directions. Nick couldn’t help but watch Sloane’s car from the rearview mirror, still a little suspicious. She turned off to head towards another part of town.

At the station, they started trying to figure out their new victim, using the missing persons database first since Sloane had luck there before. They divided up the names after putting in her basic description and went through looking at the photos.

“Got her,” Hank said. “Hannah Renfrew. She was a newly minted defense attorney.”

Nick walked over to look at the picture and sighed. The photo was more professional looking than Maggie’s, maybe a job or passport photo, but the smile and glint in her eye was full of life. “Last seen?”

“Twenty-two Days ago at her office at Wright and Fey Law Offices. Just a couple of days after Maggie. Her boss asked the landlord to check on her after an unexplained two-day absence and not answering her phone. Lived alone, no sign of a struggle. When no one could get hold of her, her friend put in the missing person’s report on behalf of the family.”

“Anything in common with Falkner?”

“Not that I can see, aside from looks. And even then it’s mostly just the blonde hair.”

Nick sighed and sat down. Could these two girls really just be random targets? He couldn’t see that as likely. He started looking through the file, wondering if Sloane was having more luck.

\---------------

Sloane parked along the street and sighed. “I can’t believe I’m doing this…” she muttered. Getting out of the car and paying the meter, she headed towards a now somewhat familiar Spice Shop. She took a breath and opened the door.

The fuchsbau—Rosalee—looked up from measuring out little packets of spices for quick sales. “Welcome to Exoctic Spice and-Oh! Sloane…”

Sloane glanced around. “Is the Blutbad here?”

Rosalee tried not to frown but shook her head. “No, he’s working from home today…”

“Good.” She turned the shops sign to CLOSED and then locked the door. Rosalee tensed a little, watching her carefully and glancing to the knife on the table. Sloane saw and rolled her eyes. “I’m not here to kill you. I just…need some help with this case,” she said awkwardly.

Rosalee visibly relaxed, surprised, but then smiled. “Oh! Well, that’s fine then.” She started clearing the counter. “Is it this odd “bird” case?”

“Nick already talked to you about it?”

“Yes, but just a little over the phone. We didn’t have enough information to say what might’ve done it.”

Sloane sighed. “I’m afraid I’m in the same boat there…I don’t know what kind of wesen this might be,” she admitted, sounding annoyed and bitter. She pulled out a phone and then held it out when she found a picture. “I mean, that looks like the kind of thing a large talon could do, right?”

“Oh my god!” Rosalee averted her gaze from the crime scene photo. “Sloane, you have pictures of the murder scene on your phone?!”

“Yeah…faster than sketching and helps me get down details I might need to inquire about. Like now.”

“Is that legal?”

She shrugged. “No one saw me do it and I’m deleting them after. Besides, I’m pretty sure you’ve seen worse in person.”

“Doesn’t mean I like seeing it suddenly…” Taking a breath, she looked at it again and frowned. “That’s…not how Nick described the scene…”

“This is the second victim,” Sloane said, hand tightening around the phone.

“Second? Already?”

“Yes. I don’t care who or what these girls are…were, they don’t deserve this. I want to find this thing, ASAP.”

Rosalee gave her an assessing look before taking the phone. “…I agree. This is cruel and disgusting…”

Sloane nodded. “This wesen must be pretty cold-blooded. But I don’t see a lot of the usual signs I’d expect from most species. Just a lot of circumstantial stuff.”

Rosalee sighed, handing the phone back. “Well…it could be one you wouldn’t suspect. Nick and Monroe told me about a time they had to apprehend a homicidal _mauzherts._ ”

Sloane’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re joking?”

“Well, mostly Nick. Monroe had his own problems…some Reaper sympathizers roughed him up for associating with Nick.”

Sloane blinked. That was a surprise. It never occurred to her that maybe other wesen might not like a Blutbad befriending a Grimm. She shook her head a little to dislodge that thought. “I really need to be caught up on what’s been going on with the wesen in this city. Okay, so it might not be an obvious choice. But…a mauzhertz? I usually just ignore them, they’re hardly a threat.”

“Ah, this one managed to kill three people apparently,” Rosalee said. “Including a Lausenschlange.”

Sloane gave her a perturbed look. “Okay, I call BS.”

Rosalee held up her hands. “If I didn’t trust Nick and Monroe, I wouldn’t believe it either.”

“Huh…Well, I guess it’s possible…But then there’s no telling what did it till I can find it. And I prefer being more prepared when I confront a killer wesen…”

“Well…do you have anything that might lead you to him? Not as a wesen but as…him? I mean he must have a job or a hobby or…someway to identify him.”

Sloane frowned and then looked thoughtful. “The birds…”

“What?”

She hesitated but then pulled out her phone again. “Both victims had blown glass birds with them. One was in the first girl’s hands, the other was shoved in the second’s mouth.” Rosalee wrinkled her nose but looked at the pictures. “Nick and Hank said that the first girl, Maggie, was into bird watching, so maybe the bird was from someone or somewhere?”

“Well…they must’ve come from somewhere, maybe where they got them ties them together. I bet if you asked some of the art and jewelry shops, someone might have an idea.”

“You think?”

“Hipsters probably love this stuff, so yeah.”

“…What’s a hipster?” Sloane asked, obviously confused. “Is it like a goth?”

Rosalee smiled a little. “It’s…I’ll explain later. My point is, the people that make these sorts of things might be your best bet to figure out who made these. Artists tend to keep tabs on each other. The art district is a few blocks over, where you have small galleries and shops for this kind of stuff.”

Sloane nodded and straightened. “Okay, I guess that’s a start.” She turned to head towards the door and Rosalee rounded around her counter.

“Wait up, I’ll join you.”

Sloane whirled, looking at her in shock. “You what?”

“Hey, I helped you figure this out, I think I deserve to with you to investigate further.”

“I can do this part fine on my own,” Sloane said bluntly.

“I’m sure you can, really, but I want to help. Like you said, girls didn’t deserve that, I’m certain. I want to find out who or what did that to them and bring them down,” she said with conviction. “Plus, I know this city better than you do and the best places to look for this sort of stuff.”

Sloane frowned, her fingers tapping lightly at her side as she thought that point over. It was true, she wasn’t into the ‘arts’, she had no idea where to look for that sort of thing. “…Fine. But just for now.”

“Great. I’ll have to join you in your car though. Mine has been acting awful. I managed to get here this morning but it conked out on me when I wanted to go get lunch.”

Sloane wrinkled her nose but sighed. “Alright. Follow me. But don’t do anything rash. Nick already gets on my case about you and the Blutbad—”

“Monroe.”

“Often enough as it is. If you get hurt, he’ll blame me,” she finished. She waited for her to close up shop and then went to her car.

“Oh, your things are gone…” Rosalee said, looking at the near empty back of the car as she buckled up.

“Most of them. I got a few things stashed away, but I put most of them in the motel room. Driving around one city with them is cumbersome. I suppose that’s a another reason I _should_ get an apartment,” she said off-handedly. “I think the staff is getting suspicious and I don’t need them snooping…”

“You’re looking for an apartment?”

Sloane didn’t look particularly interested in small talk but shrugged. “Yeah. If I’m staying here for a year or more I’ll need a better place to live…”

“…Why are you staying?” Rosalee asked as they headed down the block. “Turn here and head for down town.”

Sloane was quiet a few seconds at she thought and then sighed. “As much as I inherently disagree with Nick and your...friendship, it works. And despite my best judgement, I’m curious. About how this works between him and the wesen and how he manages it and…what it’s like for him to live how he does. And if I need to rescue him. I’m also morbidly curious about what the hell is up with this town and how it’s a magnet for crazy wesen shit going on. I’ve been all over and seen some weird, sick and intriguing things, but never so much in one town.”

Rosalee chuckled. “I admit…Portland is not your typical city for wesen. I grew up here and I never realized all the things that happened in the background.”

“You grew up here?” she asked, surprised.

“Yeah. That shop was my father’s till he died and then my brother ran it until…he was killed by a couple of Skalengeks looking for drugs…” she said, looking down.

Sloane glanced at her and then back at the road. “…I’d say sorry to hear that but I doubt you’d believe me.”

Rosalee looked at her and smiled a little more encouragingly. “I might…”

“That makes one of us then,” she muttered. She followed Rosalee’s directions down to the artsy part of town, where several galleries and shops were set up among coffee shops and cafes.

“This is the Pearl District,” Rosalee said, trying to lighten the mood that was still a little dark. “It’s kind of high end and traditional, I don’t know if we’ll find it here, but it’s the closest art district. Alberta is more a contemporary district, but that’s near the airport…”

“Probably not there. The crime scenes were public places and typically killers don’t generally leave the radius of a few miles to dump a body from where the crime occurred. This makes more sense given where the victims were found.”

“How do you know that?”

“Would you want to travel more than a thirty minutes with a body in your car and risk being found? He also kept them captive for a while and he’d have to check on them often so I’m guessing he lives near there. Likely then the scene of the crime is his home or another place he has control over. A work space maybe.”

“Ah...makes sense,” Rosalee said, nodding slowly. “Given people like living close to where they work then, this might be a good start after all. There’s quite a few galleries here though, so we got our work cut out for us…”

Sloane nodded and parked the car, getting out with Rosalee to start asking questions.

They went to three galleries, asking about birds, Sloane showing a picture (without blood or wounds) of her victims. No one appeared to know anything. Rosalee mostly looked around at the art, having to admit Sloane had the questioning handled really. Despite only just being newly minted as a cop, she appeared to have the routine down.

It was the fourth gallery, called _Agron,_ when they were met with no one at the front. Sloane sighed and scratched her head. “Seems like they stepped out…”

“Do you want to move on or wait?” Rosalee asked.

“We can wait a few minutes I guess, the door’s open and it’s not like there are any better leads…”

“I’m sorry…maybe this is a bust,” she sighed.

Sloane hesitated but shrugged. “I can’t deny, it’s a good idea. This sicko is getting these birds from somewhere. Finding out where might help us find him.”

Rosalee looked at her in surprise but smiled. “You can be nice you know…”

“I _can_ be, yes,” she said a bit more impatiently.

“What I mean is…you can be like Nick. And work with us.”

“Again, _can_. Not saying I _will_. It’s convenient right now and you’re smart for a fuchsbau…”

Rosalee frowned and sighed again. “I’d be your friend too if you wanted.”

Sloane tensed and looked at her in confusion. “…I am a _Grimm._ A Grimm who tried to kill you not too terribly long ago.”

“You’re also the Grimm that worked with us to save a lot of people and our dear friend, who is also a Grimm. So you’re not a mindless killer or a bad person.”

Sloane frowned and then looked away. “I know I’m not a bad person. I hunt to protect people. Further, I’ve made it this far without close friends. I have allies and contacts, that’s enough.”

“That sounds lonely though…”

She shrugged. “Maybe to you but it works fine for me. No betrayal, no drama, just me,” she said, walking further into the gallery.

Rosalee sighed but dropped the argument. She did find it odd ‘betrayal’ was high on her list of reasons to deny their friendship.

Sloane walked over to a reception desk, looking around. She saw a card holder and plucked one up. It had the name and number of the gallery in lovely flowing script, and stamped at the side was _J. E. Gant-Owner_. She put the card in her pocket and moved around the side to look through the exhibit. Rosalee was waiting closer to the door, looking at some pottery on display.

Sloane froze suddenly, looking at a painting on the wall. “What…in the hell?” she said, backing away a little.

“What is it?” Rosalee walked over and looked at the painting. It was more impressionist than realistic. A wash of darkness around the edges, but then a ring of white lines surrounding a bed of dark grey-green. On the grey-green was what looked like a dead, white bird with it’s wings spread out. A line of red was across the bird’s neck, spilling out into the around the light.

“That…that is our first murder scene,” Sloane said. “Substitute the bird for a girl and that is our murder in the woods!”

“Oh my God,” Rosalee breathed.

Sloane moved onto the next painting. This one, a gray bird was being lifted up by chains around its wings, the red line around its neck dripping down onto the floor. “This is the second!” she said urgently.

“Someone is painting these things?” Rosalee asked in disgust, looking them over. “There’s no signature…”

“That’s not going to stop me from finding them…” Sloane said darkly. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and pulled her phone out, quickly taking pictures of the paintings. She paused when they heard the door to the gallery open. Stalking over, she was met with a man dressed stylishly, with curly blonde hair and stubble around his jaw. He looked surprised to see them but Sloane stared him down.

“Uh, hello. Can I help you?”

“Do you work here?”

“I’m the owner, yes…”

Sloane quickly opened her jacket, showing her badge. “I’m Detective Larson. I’m investigating a homicide.”

“Oh!” he gasped. “What, near here?”

“Not exactly. I was looking into a connection to the crime.” She pulled out her notepad. “This might sound odd sir, but have you ever sold or come across any glass animals? Birds in particular.”

“Uh…well, yes as a matter of fact. We sometimes sell them here.” He gestured to a glass case near the front. “Local artists do a lot of things, even blowing glass. A friend of mine makes them and I sell them. I’m out right now though.”

“I see. Can you get his name?” Rosalee asked. Sloane shot her a look but didn’t say anything.

“Of course.” He went behind the counter and started writing something down.

“There’s something else, about some paintings-” Rosalee started, but Sloane held up a hand this time, shaking her head.

“What?” he asked, looking up.

“Just...Have you seen these women?” Sloane said, pulling out her phone and showing the missing persons pictures of Maggie and Hannah, not the crime scene photos.

He looked at them and shook his head slowly. “They’re very pretty but no, I don’t think so. Being a small gallery, I’d usually remember customers as well.”

Sloane nodded and put her phone back in her pocket. He handed her a sheet of paper. “E. Prescott?”

“That’s what he always has me write for his name. I usually call him Press so I’m blanking on his actual first name,” the owner said. “We met a few months ago when he first came in. Interesting guy, but a little…Quirky. He’s fairly well known around these parts.”

Sloane nodded slowly.

“Understood…You know, I have to admit, I’m not a big art person. But we looked around and I thought a couple of these paintings were very pretty.”

“Really?” he asked, brightening.

“Yes. I mean, their style leaves a lot to the imagination, but it’s interesting that way too. Like this one,” she pointed to one on a column that was a lot of blues and grays and greens. “Reminds me of a storm over the ocean.”

“Ah, a very good interpretation,” he said with a smile. “It’s actually called “Maelstrom.””

“Really? I didn’t see any titles anywhere…”

“Yes, I just got these in and I have to put up the information still.”

“I see…Those over there are interesting too,” she pointed to the two pictures calmly. “But I don’t quite understand them…”

“Ah, those. Yes, they’re a bit more…complex.”

“I see dying birds,” Rosalee said, trying to play it cool as well.

“Yes, as do I. One is called “The Swan”,” he pointed to the first painting of the white bird, “the other “The Crane”,” he pointed to the second. “I don’t usually like such obvious death motifs but there was something about them…And then there’s the third one.”

“Third one?” Rosalee and Sloane asked together. A cold feeling settled in their stomachs.

He nodded and pointed to the next one in line, which Sloane hadn’t even taken to be part of the collection. It was a lot of harsh reds and oranges and in the center a black mass that could be a bird melting into them. “Oh…” Sloane said quietly.

“I don’t…suppose it’s called “Phoenix”?” Rosalee asked hopefully. “Little cheerier, rise from the ashes sort of thing?”

“No, it’s called “The Raven”. The last in the series. It does certainly look like fire though…”

“I see…very interesting,” Sloane said. “Who’s the artist?”

“He wants to remain anonymous I’m afraid, even here at the gallery. Sort of a reclusive type.”

“That’s a shame…” Sloane said. “Oh, I didn’t ask yours. Your name that is.”

“John. John Gant.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Gant.”

He smiled and then looked between them. “You know, you both are very lovely…I know some painters who would love to use you as models.”

Rosalee smiled a little on reflex but Sloane shook her head. “Not my sort of thing.”

“Well, if you change your mind, please give me a call. I’ll give you my number if you like.”

“I got your card, that’s enough for now.”

He frowned a bit but nodded. “Well…Best of luck on your investigation then.”

“Thank you. Oh, but if you think of something,” she quickly wrote down her number. “Please call us.”

He smiled now. “Don’t suppose this is your private line?”

Sloane frowned. “It’s my cell.”

“Well, I feel very privileged then.” He looked to Rosalee. “And what about you? Do I get doubly lucky?”

Rosalee shook her head. “Uh, no…I’m just a consultant, so…”

“Ah, well. I hope I’m lucky enough to see you again, Detective Larson.”

“Right…” They both turned to head out of the gallery and headed back down to Sloane’s car.

“…That third picture…” Rosalee said slowly.

“I was worried there was another victim,” Sloane said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“We have to do something!”

“Really, because I was thinking a coffee break would be great about now,” she said sarcastically. She pulled out the note and looked at it. “E. Prescott…If that stands for Ethan, maybe that’s our killer.”

“You should head back to the station then, do back ground checks with Nick and Hank or something.” Sloane arched her eyebrows and Rosalee shrugged. “That’s what cops do, right?”

“Uh…kind of new to the cop thing myself so…But I have his address right here…” Starting up the car, she pulled back out to the road. “I’ll drop you back at the shop first.”

“Don’t you need back up?”

“I’m fine.”

“But I want to help,” she said more insistently. “If there’s a third girl, I want to help get her back before anything happens.

“…I suppose I did find a lead thanks to you,” Sloane said, heading into traffic. “You sure you don’t want to head back to the shop?”

“I’m sure. Besides, with my car busted I’m feeling a little cooped up…You don’t realize how free having your own transportation is until it’s gone.”

Sloane hummed and handed her the phone and the piece of paper. “Well, be useful and look up the address then.”

Rosalee looked at her and smiled a little despite the curt tone since it meant Sloane was taking her along.

\------------------------------

Monroe was working on one of his jobs, carefully reassembling the mechanisms inside an antique pocket watch. He was just about to put one of the cogs in place when his phone buzzed and he just managed to stop his hand from jumping and losing it. Breathing out, he set it down carefully and picked it up. “Monroe speaking.”

“Hey, yeah. This is Anthony Hernandez, from The Auto Doc. You called asking us to meet a Rosalee Calvert to help her car, yeah? At this “Exotic Spice and Tea” place?”

“Uh, yeah, I called this morning.”

“Did she know we were coming?”

“No, I meant for it to be a surprise, to help her fix her car.”

“Well, she’s not here man so we can’t really do anything.”

“Not there?” Monroe asked in confusion, straightening a little. “Her car is working?”

“No, the car with the license plate you gave us is here, but there’s no answer when I knocked on the door. It’s locked and says it’s closed. Without the actual owner’s OK and the keys, we can’t do too much when you’re the one calling us.”

Monroe frowned. “Okay, um, sorry about that…Can you hang around, maybe she just walked somewhere.”

“I’ll hang for a bit man, but if I got nothing I’m heading back for another job. And they’re still going to charge you twenty for me coming out.”

“Yeah, thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” Monroe said blithely.

“Just being honest.”

“Right, I’ll call you back in a bit.” He hanged up and then dialed Rosalee’s number.

\-------------------------------

  1. Prescott’s place ended up being an old warehouse just on the edge of the Pearl District, looking shabby chic with its faded “Whitestone and Mill’s Fine Hats and Gloves” painted ad on its side. “This is the place?” Sloane asked.



“This is the address the gallery owner gave us,” Rosalee said. “He did say this guy was quirky. And in Portland that’s kind of the new normal some places.”

“Fun.” Sloane parked and moved to get out just as Rosalee’s phone rang. She looked at her curiously when she pulled it out.

“Oh, it’s Monroe…”

“Don’t suppose you’d ignore it?” Sloane asked.

Rosalee gave her an unimpressed look and hit the green button on screen. “Hey Hon, what’s up?”

“Hey, just wondering where you are...”

“You’re not at the shop to pick me up already are you?” she asked quickly.

“No, not me. I’d sent over a tow truck to bring your car to a garage for you, figuring I could help pay for it. But the guy called to say your car is there and you’re not.”

“Oh, Monroe, I’m sorry,” she said guiltily. “That was so nice of you, I’d have stuck around if I’d known, but, um…” She glanced at Sloane, who was looking impatient. “I went out to help a friend with something.” Sloane looked incredulous then, pointing to herself in confusion. Rosalee shrugged. “She picked me up and I’ve been gone the last couple of hours.”

“Oh, I see…” Monroe sighed. “It’s okay, just sucks cause they can’t do anything without you there.”

“Please tell me you didn’t already pay,” she winced.

“Don’t worry, it’ll just be twenty for them going out there. I can afford that,” he said good-naturedly. “What are you doing anyway?”

“Um, well…”

There was a pause and she could tell Monroe was thinking. “Is it something I’m going to like or not like?” he finally asked.

Rosalee sighed. “I’m with Sloane. Helping her investigate something.”

“You what?!”

“And Sloane would like to get back to investigating now,” Sloane said, opening her car door meaningfully.

“Rosalee, are you sure you should be alone with her?”

“I’ve been alone with her most of the afternoon, Monroe, it’s fine. I trust her.” Sloane gave her another baffled look before closing the door and starting for the warehouse. “Anyway, we’re just going to check out a guy who makes glass animals, it’s shouldn’t be anything dangerous.”

“If Sloane wants to talk to him, he’s probably dangerous.”

“Yes, but in that case, I think I’m safer being on the side of the Grimm, don’t you?” she said, opening her own door and climbing out.

“There’s only one Grimm I’d feel you were safe with. Does Nick know where you are?”

“We haven’t found anything concrete yet, so…probably not.”

Monroe groaned slightly and she knew he was palming his face. “Just…be careful.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too. Which is why I want you back in one piece.”

“Understood. I’ll see you later, bye.”

“Bye,” he said reluctantly as he hanged up. Rosalee put her phone in her pocket and jogged to catch up with Sloane, who was knocking on the door around the side of the building.

A moment later it opened and a man with broad shoulders, tan skin, dark hair in an undercut and a handle-bar mustache with bleached tips opened up. He was wearing a heavy apron over his front, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off sleeves of tattoos that flowed from flowers to skulls to pin-up girl dressed like a mariachi player surprisingly easily. “Hello?”

Sloane eyed him critically before opening her jacket to show her badge. “Detective Sloane Larson, Portland PD. Are you E. Prescott?”

“Yeah, I am,” he nodded, looking surprised. “Something I can do for you?”

“We’re looking into some suspicious deaths and your name has come up in our investigation.”

He froze. “M-my name?”

“Yes. Mind if we have a word?”

“U-um, sure…come in.” He opened the door, gesturing for them to enter. They did and the immediate area they entered was a huge glass blowing workshop. There were stacks of bottles and glass animals and other figures on shelves across the way, a kiln nearby pumping out enough heat Sloane and Rosalee already felt a little warm. “How could my name come up? I mean, I’ve been here all week…”

“This is your workshop?”

“Yeah, but I live above it,” he pointed up. “I converted the offices into an apartment. Makes things easier, I just come down here to work. And that’s all I’ve really been doing this week, aside from going for groceries.” He was twitching nervously.

“And can anyone confirm that?”

“Um, no…I live alone and no one’s come by this week…But seriously, why are you asking me that?”

Sloane was still glancing around and then walked over to a shelf, picking up a glass blown horse. “Some glass animals were found at a crime scene, very purposefully placed on the bodies. You’re the first name we’ve gotten in relation to making them.”

He swallowed, chewing on the end of his mustache. “S-seriously?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I-but I’m not the only one! I mean, I give classes on it…”

“You seem nervous,” Sloane said, putting the horse back down a little close to the edge.

Prescott straightened and tried to steady his voice. “I’ve never been part of a police inquiry before…”

“Do you know a Maggie Falkner?” Rosalee asked. Sloane eyed her a bit annoyed but Rosalee shrugged, not wanting to stay quiet forever.

“Maggie Falkner? Um…the name sounds familiar, but I don’t think I’ve met her…”

“Then why does it sound familiar?” Sloane pressed, moving towards him slowly.

Prescott moved back a little. “I-I don’t know! I just feel like I’ve heard the name!”

And just like that, he suddenly woged. He grew black feathers that tinged blue in the light over his head, and a long pointed black beak as well. His eyes grew large and dark, and there was just a hint of white feathers curling up from his neckline. His head cocked like a birds for a moment before his beak opened with a frightened, squawking shout and he woged back, trying scramble over the table. “Grimm!”

Sloane looked surprised but underwhelmed as well. “A Teanga Fola? Really?”

“A Teanga Fola?” Rosalee asked, looking at him in surprise. She couldn’t see him woged but took Sloane’s word for it. “I wouldn’t expect they’d murder people…”

“We wouldn’t!” he said, still trying to get away from Sloane despite being backed against the wall. “That whole thing about us bringing bad luck is a myth!”

“Well you’re pretty unlucky right now,” Sloane glared, advancing. She grabbed him by the throat, lifted him one handed in a surprising show of strength, and pinned him to the table. He gasped and tried to kick away until she tightened her grip. “You tell me where the third girl is right now!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he gasped, trying to struggle more. A few in progress projects fell to the floor and shattered.

“Don’t play dumb with me! We’ve had two murders and the bird theme just keeps on rolling.”

“What?!”

She pulled out her phone and brought up one of the pictures from the crime scene. “You still don’t recognize her?”

“Oh my God!” he gaped. “I-You think I did that?!”

“I’m pretty damn convinced, and if you don’t tell me where your third victim is—and she’d better be alive for your sake—I’ll start carving the truth out of you!”

“Sloane, calm down! He might be telling the truth!” Rosalee said, quickly rushing over. She didn’t touch her, hesitating and unsure how to break them apart.

“You saw those paintings! If there’s a third girl, we need to get her out of here now!”

“I don’t…paint!” Prescott gasped out. “I do glass…and pottery!”

“Like I’ll believe you,” Sloane growled, putting her phone away and pulling out her knife. “Now start talking or I’ll shave off that mustache of yours a little too closely, Ethan.”

“E-than? I’m not Ethan!” he shouted.

“Again, not believing a “blood tongue”,” she spat, bringing the blade close to his eyes. “Talk or I take an ear!”

“Sloane!” Rosalee said. “Stop it!”

Prescott struggled more. “I’m not Ethan! Look at my ID, it’s in my wallet on the table!”

Sloane was already bring the knife close when Rosalee rushed over and grabbed the wallet, quickly fumbling it open. “He’s telling the truth! His name is…Elwood?” she read in surprise.

Sloane paused and looked up, her hand loosening. “Elwood?”

“There’s a reason I go by Press…” he said, panting as he drew in more air finally. “Elwood Prescott sounds too preppy, so I just use my first initial and then Press, which sounds…unique but less dorky…?”

“You could’ve given the girls a fake name,” Sloane said, still not letting him up.

“I don’t like girls!” he said. “Or boys! I’m asexual and aromantic, I don’t want a relationship now or ever, so why would I be giving any girl a fake name?!”

Sloane blinked. “I…That’s a thing?”

“Yes!”

“…You’re serious.”

“Yes! I take that very seriously! Now please, just let me go…” he sobbed.

Sloane hesitated and looked at Rosalee. “I don’t think he did it,” Rosalee said honestly. “He could be a great actor, but there’s nothing besides the glass animals that really point us to him…If you kill him, Nick and the others will know.”

Sloane took a deep breath before taking her hand off his throat and stepping back. He quickly scrambled up and moved away, rubbing at his throat. “…Sorry?” she said lamely.

“Sorry? Sorry?! You just threatened to carve me up like a turkey and you’re sorry?!”

“Hey, I’m trying to find a girl who’s probably going to be murdered, I’m under a lot of stress,” she bit out.

“We are sorry,” Rosalee said.

“Are you a Grimm too?”

“Um…no, but I’m a wesen.”

“Working with a Grimm? I’ve heard about you…I thought you helped wesen too…” he said, calming a little.

“Different Grimm,” Sloane spat. “Look, if you’re a dead end, we’re better off just leaving. As far as you’re concerned, we were never here.”

He held up his hands. “Right, yes, agreed. Please leave…”

Sloane huffed and turned to go but Rosalee gently caught her arm. “Wait, he said he gave classes earlier, didn’t he? Maybe he’d recognize the birds.”

Sloane arched her eyebrows but then dug out her phone and brought up the pictures of the birds. “You ask. I don’t think he cares for me much.”

“I can’t see why,” Rosalee said sarcastically, taking the phone. She walked over, holding it up. “Press, if you could tell us if you recognize these, we’d really appreciate it. They could help us save a girl’s life and bring a killer to justice if you know who made them or bought them.”

He hesitated but moved close to look. “Um…I can’t really say who, sorry, but I can tell you it was an amateur. These things would break if you tapped them with wet spaghetti noodle. They were probably made with an improper kiln by someone just learning.”

“So not yours?”

“No, not mine. The bird thing is familiar though…”

“But that doesn’t help us,” Sloane said, grabbing her phone back. “We’re out of here.”

She turned to head out and Rosalee looked apologetically back at Press. “I’m really sorry about this…Um, if you think of anything, call us.” She pulled out one of her own business cards and handed it to him, scrawling her cell on the back quickly with a pencil on the table. “Anything you think could help us catch this guy before he kills someone else…” Press frowned but nodded, taking the card. Rosalee turned and quickly headed to the car outside where Sloane was impatiently waiting. She hesitated as they climbed into the car but gave Sloane a critical look. “You took that too far in there.”

Sloane paused in starting the car and leveled a glare at her. “I did what I thought was necessary.”

“You almost disfigured the wrong man!”

“Says you, but I’m not convinced he’s not lying still.”

“Sloane, what reason does he have to keep lying? He knows you’re a Grimm and he was obviously terrified of you, he wasn’t faking that, I could smell the fear. He’d have cracked right then and there if he was our guy.”

Sloane huffed and then folded her arms. “Fine, okay. But that leaves us back near square one with a girl’s life still hanging in the balance.”

“True…”

Sloane sighed and then started the car. “I should take you back to the shop. I’ll meet up with Hank and Nick to continue.”

Rosalee was a little disappointed but nodded, figuring that she was already on edge and it was best to humor her. “Okay…maybe I can still catch that mechanic Monroe called for me and get my car into the shop.”

“Yeah, great. I’m just hoping Nick and Hank have had some better luck than us. And that the Teanga Fola doesn’t actually bring bad luck.”

\------------------------------

Nick stretched his back in his chair, grunting softly. They’d been researching both Hannah Renfrew and Maggie Falkner more thoroughly, looking for any sort of connection. Nothing was really connecting however. They had different jobs, lived miles apart, and didn’t appear to have any connections. Nick had contacted Hannah’s work, her landlord, and her brother who lived in Salem, Oregon. That last one he had to leave a message to call him and he was dreading giving more bad news to a family that no doubt was still hoping Hannah was a alive. “Got anything?”

“Nothing. Both of them have clean records aside from a couple of speeding and parking tickets…” Hank said with a sigh.

“We’re missing something,” Nick said. “Something must’ve connected these girls besides how they died…” He looked up when he saw Wu purposefully walking over to them.

“Hey guys, you have a visitor,” he said.

“A visitor?”

“Yeah. A Lisa Alvarado. She says she’s a friend of Maggie Falkner, wanted to see if she could be of help.”

Nick and Hank looked at one another and nodded, standing. “We’ll talk with her in one of the interrogation rooms.”

“Okay, I’ll bring her back.”

They headed for one of the rooms. Moments later Wu led a tanned woman with dark hair in. She was wearing sunglasses but took them off when she was inside. She had obviously been crying earlier, her eyes red and swollen and her expression morose. She sat down in the offered seat, looking around. “Never thought I’d be in one of these rooms…”

“We just thought it was more private and quiet so we could talk,” Nick said gently. “We’re sorry about your friend.”

She nodded little, swallowing. “…I sort of knew. I mean…after two weeks with no word, I just knew…either someone had taken her and wasn’t going to give her back or she was…” She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “I didn’t say it out loud, like it would keep it from being true, and I didn’t want to upset Abby…but I knew. I was trying to get the police and more people to look, but there were a lot of other disappearances around then…they just assumed Maggie was one of them.” She glared a little accusingly. “And even after the others were found, they didn’t take looking for her seriously.

Hank and Nick both felt a pang of sympathy. “We’re sorry about that, really,” Hank said.

“They should’ve kept looking!” She sobbed and then wiped at her eyes.

Nick sighed, hoping this didn’t derail too much. “How did you know Miss Falkner?”

Lisa took a deep breath, sniffling. “We met in college. Same dorm freshman year and got along so well we even switched roommates around the next semester to be together. She is…was a good friend. One of my best.”

“Do you remember what happened before she disappeared?”

Lisa nodded slowly. “I replayed it over in my head a lot…normal day for me really. I work at an accounting firm, just a day of audits and number crunching. Maggie and I texted at least a couple times a day, just updates on things. She texted me that evening…I got upset with her though…” she said guiltily.

“Why?” Nick asked.

“Her boyfriend, Ethan. Well, Ex-boyfriend. They’d just broken up a couple of days before, to my relief.”

Nick and Hank both perked up with interest. “Really? Her sister mentioned an on again, off again boyfriend.”

“That’s him, Ethan.”

Did you bring this up before when the missing person’s case was opened?”

“I tried, but I don’t know him well so I didn’t have a lot of information on him…” she admitted.

“What do you know?” Hank asked. “Have you met him before?”

“Not really, but Maggie told me a lot about him. Even second hand, I always kind of thought he was weird.”

“She said they met on a bird watching site?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, but that’s not too weird. I mean, it was Maggie’s hobby, I was used to it. They went out together to look at trumpet swans and all these other birds too. But from what she told me he was always a little…odd. An artist, but like one of those pretentious artists. And I honestly didn’t care for his attitude, or his art. Neither did her bosses when she tried to get him a job. It was all fast strokes and blurry lines that you had to like squint to see something or use your imagination…”

“Impressionist?” Hank asked. Nick glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and he shrugged. “Dated an art major in college, learned some stuff.”

“Yeah, that. I mean they were okay, but not really what they’d use in advertising…he got kind of diva on Maggie when he was rejected. Being all “They don’t understand”. That’s when things started kind of getting rocky. Then she got contacted by this lady who said _she_ was Ethan’s girlfriend and basically that he’d been cheating this whole time with a lot of girls and that kind of sent it into a nosedive.”

“I see, so they broke up recently?”

“Well…they were supposed to. Then he asked her to dinner at his place to try and smooth things over. I told her not to go…” she finished quietly. She pulled out her phone and quickly brought up the text conversation. “This is what she texted me and I told her how much I thought she should just ditch him.”

Nick took the phone and looked at the texts, then stopped on the photo of the glass bird with a sudden ratcheting of his heart. “This glass bird…”

“Ethan gave it to her that night to try and smooth things over…”

Nick and Hank looked at one other again before back to her. “Can you give us any of Ethan’s information? Last name would be especially helpful, or his phone number.”

“Um, some of it I think…” He gave her a pen and took a piece of paper from his the file she could use to write on. When he uncovered the piece, she saw the file photo of Hannah. “…Hey…that’s one of the girls Ethan was having an affair with!”

Nick looked at the photo and turned it around. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah! Apparently she bought some of his art for her office or something. She contacted Maggie and another girl and they all broke up with him at once. Maggie didn’t want to believe it and asked me to look at her facebook to see if I thought it was fake. It wasn’t fake, I was sure, my office has dealt with hers before.”

Nick and looked at Hank but the other detective leaned forward. “You said it was her and another girl?” Hank said.

“Um, yeah…Maggie said he was seeing two other girls at least, I’m sure. This one and another I never saw…”

Nick tried not to curse and stood. “Excuse me a moment, I need to make a call…Please write down everything you know about Ethan.” He quickly went to the observation room, pulling out his phone.

\----------------

Sloane was still driving back towards the spice shop when her phone rang. She pulled over into a parking lot and pulled it out, seeing it was Nick. Answering it, she glanced at Rosalee. “Hey Nick…”

“Hey, where are you?”

“We’re heading to the Spice Shop.”

“We? The Spice Shop?”

Sloane grimaced but sighed. “The Fuchsbau’s with me…”

“And she’d like to be included on this conversation,” Rosalee said coolly. Rolling her eyes, Sloane pressed the speaker button. “Hey Nick.”

“Rosalee? You’re helping Sloane?” he asked in surprise.

“Yes, she actually came seeking my advice. And it worked…mostly,” she amended at Sloane’s dubious expression.

“She figured we should look into the glass birds and helped me navigate the Pearl District. The only place we found that had them was a gallery called “Argos”. Unfortunately the lead from there was a bust.”

“Really?”

“Well…the artist is wesen. A Teanga Fola.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a bird-like wesen, they love shiny things, so I got a little excited thinking we were on the right track with all this other bird-brained business.” She shot Rosalee a warning look not to mention threatening him. “But he’s harmless. Just a glass blower, who teaches classes too so there are other people who do this weird hobby in the city apparently. His name is Elwood Prescott, not Ethan, according to his license. I’ll double check him and a few things when I get back but for now he’s dropped down.”

“Elwood? Don’t here that much these days…” Nick said.

“There’s a bigger problem,” Rosalee said. “We think there’s a third victim.”

“You do?”

“There were some creepy paintings that resembled our murder scenes pretty damn closely at that gallery too,” Sloane agreed. “The subjects were birds, but one was a dead swan in a circle of feathers and the other a dead crane in chains. And there was a third one.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I’ll send you them.” She clicked through to send them via text. She could practically hear Nick grimacing when he opened them.

“This bird thing is just getting weird…I miss straightforward messed up cases, these artsy ones are creepier.”

“Agreed.”

“That’s not the most troubling part, Nick,” Roslaee said. “Sloane didn’t get a pic of the third one, but we saw it. If I had to guess, it looked like this victim was going to end up killed and then burned!”

“Shit,” Nick said. “We think there might be a third victim too. Maggie’s friend came in to give us some information and she said that Ethan was cheating on her with two other girls, one of whom was Hannah. So if there’s another girl, it’s probably this other woman.”

“So we’re making the right connections,” Sloane said. “What else did her friend say?”

“Hank’s with her while she writes it all down.” He looked through the glass where Hank was still going over things with Lisa at the table.

“We need a last name more than anything. Give me that and maybe I can go back and ask the glass blower if he’s had any students by that name.”

“Right…” He quickly went back out of the observation room and opened the door where the two were together. “Lisa, you said you might remember things about Ethan? What’s his last name?”

She bit her lip, thinking. “I…I think it was Grant? Something that started with a G…”

“Grant…”Sloane asked, straightening.

“That hearing is a little freaky, I’m going to be honest,” Nick said quietly.

Sloane wasn’t listening, pulling the gallery card out of her pocket. “J. E. Gant…JOHN ETHAN GANT?!!”

Nick flinched but then looked at Lisa. “Could it be Ethan Gant?”

“Yes! That’s it!”

“Oh, that little…” She practically threw the phone to Rosalee, putting the car back in drive and doing a very illegal pull out from the parking lot that had a lot of cars honking at her.

“What’s going on?” Nick said.

“The gallery owner, his name is John Gant,” Rosalee said, holding on to the bar at the side of the car for safety. “But he has the middle initial E and I think Sloane has made a connection. I’m pretty sure Sloane is heading back to the gallery.”

“Sloane, don’t do that! Wait for us!”

“Like hell!” She shouted, zooming through back towards the art district.

“If he has someone hostage—”

“Then she’s my priority!”

“Sloane!”

Glaring, she grabbed the phone back from Rosalee. “Oh, you’re breaking up! Can’t hear you!” She ended the call, and then shut her phone down, throwing it in the back seat.

“You sure about this?” Rosalee asked.

“I’m sure I’m going to kick this guy’s ass, yes. You can stay in the car.”

“Oh, like that’s going to happen,” Rosalee said. “You aim high, I’ll aim low.”

Sloane couldn’t help a little twitch of a smile at that.

\------------------------

Nick growled as he cut his phone off after trying to call Sloane back and got her voice mail right away. He quickly opened the door again. “Lisa, do you know if Ethan is connected a gallery called “Argos”?”

“Um, yeah, he owns it I think…Usually sells most of his own works there. And a few of his friends.”

He gave Hank a very pointed look and Hank stood up. “Ms. Alvarado, I’m going to ask that you give the rest of your statement to one of our officers, I believe this gives us a break in our case and we need to hurry.”

“Um, alright…” she said, watching as they rushed out.

“Sloane is on her way to that gallery and Rosalee is with her,” Nick said hurriedly once the door was closed.

“What?”

“They went their earlier. I guess they got to the same conclusion a little faster. But the point is, Sloane is going to confront this guy now and we need to get down there.”

“I’ll get the address, you get someone in with Alvarado,” Hank said, heading for his computer. Nick got Wu to go in and talk with their witness while he got ready to head out. He was just about to leave when his phone rang and he picked it up without looking. “Sloane?”

“Uh…no, Monroe,” Monroe said.

“Oh, Monroe…Uh, sorry…”

“No problem…everything okay?”

“Yeah, just uh, about to go track down a lead on our case. Sloane thinks she’s found the killer and is going to confront him.”

“Oh, so Sloane and Rosalee successful in their investigating?”

“In a manner of speaking…Was there something you needed?”

“Not really, just calling to see if you or someone could pick up Rosalee when they get back to the shop, she texted me they were on their way back. My client is running late and still insists on picking up their watch today.”

“Her car is still out of commission?”

“Yeah. I sent someone to look at it but Rosalee had already left with Sloane. You know, I didn’t think she’d deign to work with a wesen again...She’s full of surprises.”

“She’s full of something alright,” Nick muttered.

“…Nick…Sloane didn’t drop off Rosalee yet…is she still with her while she’s heading for this serial killer.” Nick was silent and Monroe cursed. “Oh my God!”

“Monroe, calm down—”

“Calm down? Rosalee is tracking down one psychopath with another psychopath!”

“She’ll be fine, Sloane promised not to hurt her.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the same as making sure she’ll be okay!”

Nick sighed. “Look, we’re going to catch up with them now, I’ll make sure Rosalee will be okay.”

“I’m coming with you then!”

“Monroe, we can’t detour to pick you up if we’re going to catch up to them,” Nick said calmly. “And I’m not telling you the address so don’t ask. Having you show up suddenly isn’t going to help this time, it’s broad daylight and we’re going there as police.”

He could hear the blutbad moving around in frustration before giving a growling exhale. “Fine! But you better update me!”

“I will, I will,” he said soothingly. “I’ll call you when we find them.”

“Okay…But if anything happens to Rosalee—”

“Try to stay calm—”

“No, you listen! If anything happens to Rosalee, I don’t think you’re going to be able to stop me from going after that woman,” Monroe said darkly.

Nick took a breath, knowing Monroe’s eyes must have been turning red. He needed to be the calm, rational one right now. “I understand…Talk to you later.”

“Yeah, later.”

Nick sighed as he ended the call, hoping this was all going to work out.

\-------------

Sloane was close to the gallery when she stopped and parked a little ways away but in view of it. “Sloane? Why did we stop?”

“I don’t want him to know we’re coming. Because I’m going to have to get the girl’s location from him, which is going to be time consuming and probably messy. I generally prefer privacy when I stab a man multiple times, so I have to secure the area.”

“…Not sure if that was a joke or not…”

Sloane parked and then climbed out, heading for the gallery, Rosalee close behind. They came up short however when the found the inside was dark and the door was locked. “Dammit!”

“He must’ve already headed home…” Rosalee said.

“Or where the girl is…If we’re lucky it’s one in the same. I really don’t want to call Nick though…” She started around the side, Rosalee quickly following again. They went down the side alley and around to the back of the building. She paused at the back door to the gallery and glanced around before she reached into her jacket and pulled out thin black pack of something. Opening it, Rosalee was shocked to see a set of lock picking tools.

“Are you serious? You can pick locks?”

“You can’t?” Sloane asked breezily, kneeling down.

“No…Monroe can.”

“Good for him, now keep a look out. We go in, we find something with his address and we get ready to kick his ass whenever we find him.”

Rosalee didn’t argue, looking out at the opening of the alley and hoping no one was going to follow them. It took Sloane a couple of minutes, but she got the door open and they got inside. Sloane headed immediately for the back office, growling when it was locked too and starting work on that lock. Rosalee stood guard again, staying out of sight from door. She glanced where the bird pictures would be, intent not to look like, to find they were gone. In fact, all the paintings were gone. “The walls are suddenly very bare…”

“He’s probably planning to skip town,” Sloane said matter-of-factly. Rosalee glared, not wanting him to get the chance.

Rosalee jumped and Sloane paused in her work when a cheery, trilling tune echoed in the darkened gallery. She looked at Rosalee with a quirked eyebrow and she smiled apologetically as she pulled her phone out of her purse. “Sorry…” Sloane just rolled her eyes and went back to working on the lock. Rosalee looked at the phone and frowned at the unfamiliar local number. Taking a chance, she accepted the call and put it to her ear. “Rosalee Calvert.” Sloane shot her a look again, not approving of taking a call while they were breaking into a place, but Rosalee ignored her.

“Um, hey…This is Press. Uh, Elwood Prescott.” He stressed the Elwood.

“Oh, hello Mr. Prescott,” she said. “Um, if this is about earlier, I promise, my friend is very sorry.” Sloane snorted.

“Um, it’s kind of about earlier. I’ve been wracking my brain because I do want to help if there’s a girl in trouble and…I came to a pretty bad realization. If you’re looking for an Ethan, I’ve been teaching a guy named John Ethan Gant how to make glass sculptures, and he usually goes by his middle name. I considered him a friend so I didn’t want to admit it might be him…”

Rosalee tried not to sound put out or like they already knew, but also loud enough to get Sloane’s attention. “Your friend is John Ethan Gant? So you think he might be responsible for this?” Sloane paused again and looked up a little more interested.”

“Yeah. Maggie Falkner, I know he mentioned that name at some point. And a couple of weeks ago he bought some glass from me but said he wanted to practice at home. I haven’t seen him since and I didn’t see what he made, but I know he likes birds too. Ironic I know, but he doesn’t know what I am.”

“Yes. Um, do you have an address for him?”

“Yeah, but like, if he’s not guilty…that Grimm isn’t going to hurt him, is she? I don’t even know if he’s wesen or what kind if he is, but if he’s innocent-”

Sloane took the phone from Rosalee. “This is the Grimm. We have some other evidence that points to your friend. We actually questioned him earlier and he pointed us in your direction, saying you might’ve made the glass birds we found. Possibly so he could clear out his gallery and skip out. We’re there and it’s bare as bones.”

“…I don’t want to believe you, but then he seemed to have gone off the deep end recently and you have no reason to lie, huh?”

“Not at the moment, no. We need his address so we can take him down and hopefully find that other missing girl.”

“Right. I know it, I’ll text it to Miss Calvert then. Um, Miss Grimm?”

“Yeah?”

“I really hope you get him and get that girl back safely.”

Sloane was quiet a moment before sighing. “Me too.” She handed the phone back to Rosalee and they quickly headed back out to the cars. The address came through a couple of seconds later and Rosalee plugged it into the map, giving her directions.

They ended up in a rather lower middle-class looking neighborhood. The houses were small, old, and not very well maintained, but the neighborhood was quiet. They passed by Gant’s house, a squat brown craftsman. Sloane sailed on past the house, keeping an eye on him out her rearview mirror. A car was in the driveway and she turned the corner and parked a block over.

“Sure you don’t want to wait in the car?” Sloane asked, checking on her knife and pulling out a few other tools from the back seat.

“I’ve come this far, and I’ve done things like this before with Nick and Monroe…”

Sloane nodded and didn’t argue further. They got out of the car, walking back towards the house. She glanced at the windows, but didn’t see him looking out at the street. Once they were at the side of the house, she quickly skulked closer with Rosalee behind her. She put a finger to her lips and then leaned against the side of the house, moving around until she could just barely see through the thick curtains. There was a mess of material and feathers all over the floor in the living room. Gant was sitting in the middle of it, sewing by hand like a madman what looked like a simple white dress. There was a bucket of black paint next to him and she had a feeling that was to make his “Raven”.

She pulled away and motioned Rosalee to duck out of sight just to be safe. She spoke quietly just near enough to each other they would be the only ones to hear. “He’s in there, and he’s making a dress with feathers on it.”

“So he’s getting ready to kill her? I mean…she’s not already dead?”

“I don’t know. The others were before they were put in the dresses. We need to figure out where he’d keep her…” She looked around and froze when she saw the basement window, covered in ply wood nailed into the frame. Rosalee followed her gaze and then looked at her in understanding. Kneeling, Sloane they gripped the ply wood and pulled, trying to be as silent as possible. Luckily the nails weren’t long and they pulled it out enough they could look into the gloom of the basement. There were the usual things you’d find in a basement like boxes stacked in a corner, shelves of old art supplies, a water heater, etc. But there was something glittering on the concrete floor in the light too. Like stars spilled across the floor. Tilting her head, she was able to discern it was glass. A large amount of glass was on the floor, like a minefield. She crouched down to get a better look and sucked in a breath. In the corner of the far wall she could just make out the huddled figure of someone curled up on the floor.

“I think I see her,” Sloane said softly.

“Then we need to get in there!” Rosalee hissed.

Sloane set the board back in place gently. “He’s going to hear me if I break in here…We need to distract him…”

“I could knock on his door? Say I had car trouble? It’s not a lie, just the car isn’t here…”

“He’d recognize you from earlier today and wonder how you found his house,” Sloane said.

Rosalee frowned, knowing that was probably true. Then she perked up and prodded Sloane. “You still have his phone number?” Sloane blinked then smirked a little and pulled the card out of her pocket. Rosalee took it and rummaged through her purse for her phone. “I’ll call him, try to distract him a while.”

“Go a little further out, somewhere he won’t see or hear.” Rosalee took the phone and nodded, quickly moving around to the back of the neighboring house. Sloane maneuvered so she was below a window and slowly straightened to look in again. Gant was holding up the dress to admire it and she grimaced when she saw it was almost done. When a tinkling ringtone was heard Gant paused but then stood and turned. Sloane quickly ducked back down and pressed herself against the wall. Closing her eyes, she focused her hearing as best she could. It was muffled, but she could just make out Gant’s voice.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. Gant? This is Rosalee Calvert. We met earlier today, I was with Detective Larson?”

“Ah, yes. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I was hoping I could talk to you a bit about some of your paintings. I was thinking about buying one, for my apartment. But I’m just not sure which…and it seems your Gallery is closed for the evening.”

Gant sounded pleased but also apologetic. “I’m happy to hear that, but I actually took all my stock out earlier to do a bit of renovating.”

“Oh, I see. Well, that’s actually what I’m doing too, but I’m having a lot of trouble figuring out what I want to do. I’m willing to buy privately, but first I was hoping you could maybe help me decide the best look. I mean, you’re an artist with his own gallery, you probably have a lot of experience. Some know how on…finding your vision.”

“Well, I mean, it’s more of a natural ability. Some study it, others are born with it.” Sloane rolled her eyes at the superior tone. The man was quite a piece of work.

“Right…I don’t want to trouble you. I’m…I’m just hopeless when it comes to art really. I need a little coaching I think. I’m not even sure what the difference is with contemporary or modern works. I’d imagine an expert like yourself would know quite a lot.”

“Oh, well, that’s very kind of you to say…”

Sloane couldn’t help but smile a little as she moved towards the plywood again. _The fuchsbau knows just how to get a man talking..._ Slowly she pried the wood all the way off, using her knife to help ease it away slowly and trying to be quiet about it. The sound and the sudden light got the attention of the girl inside and she quickly sat up. She was a small thing, made smaller by barely being fed, with dark blonde hair. She was only dressed in a pair of jeans and a thin T-shirt and looked like she hadn’t properly bathed in days. Her wide, fearful eyes met Sloane’s and Sloane put a finger to her lips. The girl swallowed, glancing at the door at the top of the stairs, but then back to her with a shaky nod. Sloane then inspected the window. She took off her sweat shirt and put it against the glass with a bit of pressure. She wished she had duct tape. But with a deep breath, she took out her knife and pounded the handle against the glass enough to crack it, slightly muffled by the shirt.

“What was that?” Gant asked.

“Oh dammit!” Rosalee said, loud enough Sloane could just hear her. “I was rinsing out a glass and slipped and broke in the sink!”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. At least it’s in the sink.”

“You can call me again later if you like.”

“No no, I find this really interesting and it’s not going to hurt anyone there. Please, go on.”

“Alright…well, it really depends on the colors you have in your apartment...”

“Oh, well, I have a brown leather couch, but I might be getting a new one soon. I was thinking red, or maybe more neutral like gray…”

Sloane smiled and pulled a few pieces out of the frame so she could reach in and unlock the window, swinging it inwards. She then slipped down into the basement, landing carefully on the landing on the floor without hardly a sound. She started over to the girl, glass crunching under her boots. “Hey. Ready to get out of here?”

The girl looked close to breaking down and nodded frantically. “H-Hannah and Maggie…”

Sloane frowned and sighed. “We’ll talk about them later. Right now, we need to get out of here before that guy knows I’m here.”

She nodded and slowly stood, her knees knocking together from either fear or being near starved. Sloane realized she didn’t have shoes on then. _So that’s why he put broken glass down…_ “Hold on to me,” She said, pulling the girl’s arm over her shoulders and then sweeping her up bridal style with a grunt. The girl clung to her as she stepped back over the glass slowly. Once they were on the other side, she set the girl on her feet. “I’m going to boost you up through the window, okay? Keep your head down for a bit and be _quiet,_ he’s still inside the house. There’s a woman out there near the back, she’s…with me.”

The girl nodded and Sloane knelt down to make a cradle with her hands to boost her up. The girl put her foot in her hands and Sloane quickly tried to lift her up. However, the girl’s leg suddenly buckled and she gave an involuntary shout as she felt backwards, toppling a shelf of pant as well. There was a second of tense silence before Sloane quickly grabbed her up. “Move! Quick!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she said, hearing the footsteps upstairs coming towards them.

“Mr. Gant?” Rosalee was saying to the phone frantically. “Are you there?”

Gant paused and put the phone to his ear. “You sound suddenly much closer…”

Rosalee swallowed. “I-I don’t know what you mean…”

“I think you do!” He threw the phone down, breaking it.

Sloane was scrambling to get the girl back on her feet and get her up to the window. The door burst open before she could and Gant stood at the stares, looking at her lividly. “Oh! The detective from earlier! I’m fairly sure you shouldn’t be down here…”

The girl was shaking like her body was collapsing behind her. “Please, Ethan…just let me go…”

“I can’t do that, Denise. You are going to become one of my great masterpieces.”

Sloane positioned herself so that she was directly between the two of them. “You go through me first, asshole!”

Gant chuckled darkly as he moved down the steps. “You remind me of Hannah…so ready to defend the defenseless…I didn’t have plans for another work of art after Denise…but if you are volunteering, I’ll be happy to oblige!” He grabbed an easel resting near the steps among the paint supplies and held it like a spear. Rushing towards her Sloane almost dodged but realized Denise was paralyzed behind her. Gritting her teeth, she instead caught the easel in her hands and braced herself as he pushed her back slightly. “Oh, you’re strong!”

Sloane glared and wrenched the easel away, trying to pull it from his grip but he backed away with it instead. She shook out her hands and glanced back quickly at Denise. She cursed when she saw she was apparently passed out in the corner, having fainted. Turning back, she readied herself for a fight. “If we’re going to do this, then show me what you are then. What kind of wesen are you?”

He paused, a look of honest confusion coming over his face. “Wesen?”

She growled. “Don’t play dumb! I’ve hunted monsters like you all my life. What are you? Are you a Teufels Kralle? Or something thoroughly bland, like a mauzherts?” She was trying to goad him, but he regarded her with an odd look.

“What?”

“I’m a Grimm, stop trying to act dumb! I’ve lost the patience for it!”

“My dear lady,” he said in a patronizingly sweet and formal voice. “I’m not acting dumb, I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just an artist making art.”

Sloane stared and then felt a stab of shock and dread come over her. “You…you’re human?”

“Well, that depends on your definition I suppose…I always felt a true artist should try to obtain immortality,” he said, and she honestly didn’t think someone could sound that full of himself without playing a snobby caricature. It was like he was playing some sort of character.

“You’re human…you’re just a homicidal, out of his mind human…” she muttered.

He glared. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m not the crazy one here…”

“You kidnapped girls and did bird themed murders and then painted them! I think crazy people in general have more sense than you do!” Sloane said, feeling a bit like her world was tilting. Never had she met a _human_ capable of these things.

“Well, one can’t always see art when it’s in front of them…Everyone will remember me in the future though, creating art out of death!” He lunged and Sloane gasped and quickly backed away as he tried to thrust the easel into her throat.

\-------------------------

Nick sighed as he looked into the gallery, which was dark and desolate. They’d arrived too late, the shop closed and no sign of Gant or Sloane and Rosalee. Hank was in the car, doing a quick look up of Gant for his home address. When his phone started ringing, he quickly pulled it out and saw it was Rosalee calling this time.

“Rosalee? Where’s Sloane?”

“Right now, I’m hoping she’s kicking this killer’s ass. But I don’t know for sure.”

“Where are you?” Nick asked urgently.

“Fitcher Street. Gant’s address is 1053. We almost got the girl out but he heard us! Sloane’s fighting him!” Nick cursed under his breath. “I’m going back to help Sloane.”

“Rosalee, stay there and wait for us!” Nick said.

“Sorry, but I don’t think I can do that. Just get over here fast!” The line went dead.

“Rosalee?” Nick asked the phone. “Rosalee! Dammit!”

“Nick?” Hank asked, leaning out the car window to look at him.

Nick rushed over and climbed into the driver’s seat. “1053 Fitcher Street! Sloane and Rosalee found him and the girl!”

Hank held on as Nick sped off, turning on the lights and siren as he went.

\----------------------------------

Sloane was dodging every hit Gant was throwing at her. The easel struck the water heater with a pang that Sloane knew he must’ve felt in his arms, denting and jostling the old tank and splintering the wood. He threw part of it away and kept used the pointed end like a spear to try and stab her.

“C’mon! Where’s that anger, hm? You looked ready to kill me earlier!”

Sloane froze a moment, remembering what she had told Nick about his feelings killing a normal human. Gritting her teeth, she reached into her jacket and took her knife back out from its holster. Gant’s eyes widened, not having anticipated that it seemed. “I still am.” She rushed him and he scrambled back. He tried to block her with what was left of the easel, and she swiftly kicked him in the gut. He oofed and doubled over, but then surge up with a roar he rushed her again, pushing her back like a train against the wall at the back. Their feet skidded over the broken glass on the floor but he pinned her with the easel longways against the wall.

Sloane brought the knife up and plunged it into one of his hands, making him howl and drop the easel from that hand as he staggered back. “My hand! You bitch, my hand!”

“Artists do love their hands, don’t they? she said coldly. _He’s a monster. He may not be wesen, but he’s a monster. Treat him like one._

He snarled at her and used his other hand to swing the easel around wildly. She dodged one aimed for her face coming from her left, but one swing struck her right side near her knee and she buckled, hissing as she hit part of the field of glass on her side. There were no shards thick enough to pierce her sides, but the tiny burning pricks in her skin were not welcome all the same. She saw him tensing to rush her again, and Sloane prepared to gut him like a pig when he was close enough. However movement caught her eye. Someone was coming down the steps behind him and her eyes widened. He must’ve read her reaction because he started to turn. He turned, just in time to be slashed across the face by his own pair of scissors in Rosalee’s hands. “Ugh!” He dropped the easle and staggered, putting his hands to his face.

“What are you doing, I have it covered!” Sloane shouted, quickly scrambling up and not minding the rest of the glass.

“Like I’d let you face him alone!” She said back, stilling holding the scissors like a weapon.

Gant snarled. “A couple of bitches aren’t going to kill me! I’ll kill you both and leave you here to die!”

Rosalee glared then. “Oh really?” She woged then and bared her fangs at him in her fox-like face. “Want to try it then?”

Gant’s eyes widened and he backed away in terror, dropping the easel. “W-what the hell?! What are you?!”

Rosalee was surprised, but Sloane saw the opening. Rushing up behind him, she punched him in the back, then the backs of his knees, and then for good measure forced his body down into the glass. He screamed as the glass cut, hundreds of lacerations opening up across his torso and face. He tried to get up, but Sloane maliciously ground her foot into his back and forced him back down. Gripping her knife, she brought it down into his thigh, forcing a louder scream out of him. Pulling it out, she glared down at him. “I’m going to slit your throat like you did to those girls,” she snarled.

Rosalee hesitated but then put a hand on her shoulder. “Sloane…Nick and Hank will be here soon. They’ll take care of him.”

She looked up defiantly. “He’s a filthy murderer!”

“Yes, and he’s going to get a trial…He’ll have to face up to what he’s done in front of everyone. That’s what Nick would want and he’s…human, isn’t he?”

Sloane huffed and puffed, warring with herself and what answer to give. “…Yes. Barely.”

“Then it’s not your duty as a Grimm to kill him. If you do this, then Renard and Nick are going to have to figure out how to hide what you did like they did for Nick, and that’s going to be hard on Nick after what happened just a couple of weeks ago. This…trash is already down. Let the courts get justice this time.”

Sloane breathed in and out, thinking over that. “…Hand me those scissors…”

\--------------

Nick and Hank pulled up to where they saw Sloane’s car, still empty. Turning the corner, he found the house and slammed on the breaks. As they started for the house though, the front door opened up and Sloane and Rosalee both came out, an unconscious girl supported between them. Sloane noticed him first and smirked tiredly. “Hey. Was there traffic?” Rosalee rolled her eyes at Sloane but smiled a little as Nick slowed in front of them. He could see when she turned that Sloane’s left side was littered with glass and her sweatshirt stained with blood. He came forward and quickly took the girl from them, bringing her over to the car. Hank took her, pressing his fingers to her neck. She was unconscious but still alive.

Nick rounded on Sloane as he stalked back to them. “What the hell happened?!”

“What happened is Gant had broken glass all over his basement floor to keep the girls in a corner. I do not recommend fighting on top of broken glass by the way, it hurts if your opponent gets you on the ground…Then again, hurts them if you get them on the ground too.”

“And we kicked his ass,” Rosalee said. “Mostly Sloane though.”

“Eh, you got in a good shot with those scissors and gave me the opening. Also freaking him out with the woging, that was handy.”

Nick was still looking between them, torn with relief, disbelief, and a little anger that they did this all on their own. Hank was tending the girl across the street where they parked. It looked like Denise was coming around slowly but was very confused. “I-you-Okay. Back up, what happened exactly?”

Sloane shrugged. “He pissed me off. If anyone asks though, I had probable cause when I came to question Gant and heard her yell for help. That’s how procedure works, right?”

Nick frowned. “I…think we can swing that, yeah…What really happened though?”

“I’ll explain everything, but…you might want to get in there and check things over before the rest of the police get here,” Sloane said. “We called 911 before we left.”

“Gant is bleeding on his basement floor, but he is still alive,” Rosalee added.

“He is?”

“I was convinced to show restraint…” Sloane said dryly, glancing at Rosalee.

Nick looked at her as well. “Are you okay, Rosalee?”

Rosalee smiled. “I’m fine. Not even a scratch to be honest. Sloane took the brunt of it and actually kept him from me. Was that intentional?”

“Eh…I did owe you for keeping him from turning me into a shish kabob. And…like, helping me all day,” she said, trying to be nonchalant.

Rosalee smiled. “And keeping you from killing him?”

“I could’ve gone either way, but yeah. Like you said, let the courts take care of him since he’s human.”

“He’s human?” Nick asked in surprise. “Not wesen? At all?”

Sloane sighed, not looking at him as she nodded. Rosalee gently patted her back. “We should get you to the shop and treat you now…”

“I’ll have to make a statement probably,” she said, sounding like she’d rather do anything else. “So I don’t know if I can leave just yet.”

Nick blinked, looking between them. While not exactly overly friendly, Sloane seemed much more tolerant of Rosalee’s presence and touch than she had even just a day ago. “...So…you two got Gant…together. And he’s alive?”

“Alive, last we saw him. At the bottom of his basement stairs with a stab wound in his thigh. From a pair of scissors.”

“Scissors?”

“Well…that’s what’s in his thigh now. It’s not a knife wound anymore,” she said with a small smile. Nick wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she meant. “Anyway, I tied off his leg so he should survive until an ambulance comes. I just figured we should get the girl outside first. She wasn’t hit, to the best of my knowledge. I think she’s just in a bad way from lack of care…”

Nick nodded slowly. “Okay…You two wait out here then, I’ll go check it out.”

Sloane nodded and sighed as she sat down on the house’s stoop. Nick pulled his gun and headed inside. She looked up at a point on the horizon of the setting sun, zoning out a little. Rosalee frowned and sat next to her. “You okay?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“No, I mean…are you…”

Sloane frowned and looked at her. “What?”

Rosalee hesitated but then reached up. Sloane flinched just slightly at her hands near her face, but she gently ruffled a lock of hair. “You have glass in your hair,” Rosalee said lamely.

“…Pretty sure I got it other places too…” Sloane said, looking confused. They looked at one another and Sloane actually huffed out a laugh when Rosalee started giggling. An oddly giddy feeling was in Sloane’s chest, as though just having someone care about something so stupid as glass in her hair made the whole scenario that much better or that much stranger.

Inside, Nick swept his gaze around the room just past the front hall. There was a dress spread out on the floor, badly painted black with dripping black feathers sewn to it, not quite finished. Nick shook his head a little, marveling a little at the lengths this man went to. It was both good and bad to know a human was capable of such things. Good because then he had to admit that sometimes he might have to fight them as well and wesen aren’t the only scary creatures in the world. Bad because, well, what he did was monstrous. He went to a side room, opening it up to look inside. It looked as though this was where Gant had done is more conventional art. A canvas was set up over a tarp on the floor, a charcoal sketch taking shape on it. Nick’s stomach turned when he recognized the form of a woman being hung from the neck, but there was the form of a bird around it. It looked like a bird you might see in a butcher shop window once upon a time, dead, hung up and displayed for purchase. _He was planning a fourth victim…Probably more after he skipped town._ He closed the door and looked around the room. He paused when he saw the basement door was open, when he was sure it had been closed a moment ago. There was a smeared trail of blood running across the hardwoods around the corner. He heard something bang in the kitchen and quickly moved towards it. “Portland PD! If someone’s there, you better put your hands up!”

He rounded the corner to see a man that must be Gant, resting on his open oven door. His leg had a large wound in it, but there was a tourniquet around his thigh made from his belt. He looked up at him, eyes fevered and crazed, and smiled at him. “Oh…hello, officer.”

Nick trained the gun on him. “John Gant, you are under arrest for kidnapping and murder.”

“I prefer Ethan,” he said dazedly. “And I’m afraid I’ve already chosen my death…it was going to be Denise’s beautiful send off…but I guess I’ll be the raven now.”

Nick paused and took a deep breath through his nose when he scented something in the air. Looking at the oven, he realized it was a gas range. Gant had turned the gas on every burner and the oven on on, and it was quickly permeating the room. In his hand was a lighter. “Gant, don’t do this!” Gant smiled and put his thumb on the striker. Turning, Nick rushed back to the door and threw it open. “Run!”

Sloane and Rosalee jumped, looked at each other, and then sprang up to sprint across the street, Nick on their heels. Nick and Hank made sure Denise came with them and they all huddled behind the SUV. Seconds later there was a loud, echoing boom that shook the street and made Denise scream. They turned to see the windows blown out, the roof and walls in tatters, and the house smoldering and catching on fire.

“Holy shit…” Hank said. “What…?”

“He blew himself up,” Nick said. “That was his plan for…” He didn’t finish, looking at Denise who was clinging to Hank and crying.

“…I guess in a way, he still recreated that last painting…” Rosalee said, just as the fire department and ambulance pulled up. Nick remembered the unfinished piece and was glad it was going to stay unfinished.

\-------------------

It was late in the evening when Nick, Sloane and Rosalee were back in the shop. Sloane had given convincing lies to the emergency responders and fellow officers about what happened—saying she, Nick, and Hank interrupted Gant as he was preparing to kill Denise and got her to safety. They did their best to keep Rosalee out of it, since they didn’t want her to get questioned too, and kept her hidden in the car. The EMTs took Denise away at the scene to quickly be treated. Denise had trouble forming words due to delirium from dehydration and hunger, which was a large part of why she blacked out. They rushed her to the hospital to administer fluids but said she’d likely make a full recovery. Hank was fairly certain her memory of her rescue was going to be fuzzy at best, which would work in their favor.

At the shop, Rosalee was gently picking glass from the side of Sloane’s arm with a pair of tweezers while Nick was coordinating with Renard by phone about the case. “You sure you didn’t want the EMTs doing this?”

“I was getting sick of the questions,” Sloane sighed.

“I’m surprised you’re letting me do this…”

Sloane just grunted, not looking at her and zoning out again like she had on the steps of the house before it blew up. Rosalee frowned and put the tweezers down, thinking she’d gotten all the glass. She took the jar of salve Sloane had brought in and gently applied it. It had an odd scent and she wanted to know what it was made out of, but decided that was a question for another day. “You okay?”

“I’ve had worse,” she said flippantly.

“No, I mean…are you…”

Sloane frowned and looked at her. “What? We did this earlier, what is it?”

“You seem…disturbed by this. And I would’ve thought you’d have seen far worse,” Rosalee finally said.

“…I have. But that was all done by wesen. This…this was a human. A _human._ I…” She sighed and shook her head. “Forget it.”

“No, go on…” Rosalee said gently.

Sloane was quiet and she sighed when she finally spoke. “Since I was nine, I’ve been told humans are the victims. The ones we protect, because they can’t protect themselves. That all the evil in the world was because of wesen.” Rosalee frowned but didn’t interrupt. “And…I believed that. I had to. I had to believe that wesen were the inherent evil of this world and that we were protecting the poor humans. I mean I knew there were bad humans out there, but never like this. Not without some influence, like a mind altering effect a wesen produces. But from everything we’re finding out, Gant just…snapped. So …I guess it’s put more things in perspective…”

Rosalee hummed as she wrapped gauze around the cuts. “…I think evil can dwell anywhere.” Sloane looked at her, arching an eyebrow. “I’m the first to admit there are a lot of devious, evil wesen in the world. My brother was killed by a couple of junkie skalengeks after all. And I’ve seen and heard of other horrific things. But then to us, Grimms are the boogeymen who put our heads on pikes and brand us like animals…”

“I’ve never—” Sloane started.

“Maybe not you, but can you say it’s never happened?”

Sloane closed her mouth then sighed. “No…I know it has…even today.”

Rosalee nodded. “To us, Grimms are the scary ones…or at least they should be. But Nick doesn’t scare me anymore. Not that way. Monroe should scare me too. Blutbad are pretty well known among wesen as being powerful and primal. But he’s…gentle with me. And kind. Nick is too. He said he was sorry when I came to see what happened to my brother, and I believe him. So if there can be a Grimm like him, I know there can be good in the world where you least expect it. Just like there can be evil where you think there can’t be. But you know…I’d much prefer being friends with you than being enemies or…super tense work partners.” Sloane was quiet, letting Rosalee finish her first aid. “There.”

“…Thanks,” she said, flexing her arm around the bandage a little and finding it acceptable.

“You’re welcome. Um…maybe you could give me a ride home later?”

“Ride home?”

“Yeah. I checked my car when we got back, just being hopeful, and it’s still dead. As a doornail. Not starting or even running the lights,” she sighed.

Sloane regarded her a moment and seemed about to say something when Nick walked back in the room. “Sloane, Renard wants to talk to you.”

Sloane sighed and stood, taking the phone and walking back to the other side of the shop. “Yes…Sir?”

“Sir? Well, this is a change.”

She sighed again. “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me things like “I acted rashly” and “This isn’t how police are supposed to investigate things.””

“And what would you say to me if I did?” he asked, sounding amused.

Sloane gritted her teeth. “I’d say…you’re right. I’m still trying to act like the lone Grimm, and that’s not how this arrangement is going to work. I could’ve gotten a victim killed today, least of all myself and the fu… Rosalee. And Nick too, with the house exploding…”

“Indeed. I’m glad to hear you’ve reflected on all that.”

“I maintain I did the right thing even if I was wrong in my assumptions,” Sloane said. “If I’d been late, the victim would very possibly be dead.”

Renard sighed. “I’ll give you that, I suppose.”

“But I do see now…working with what tools I’m given is essential. And that includes having partners of some sort. But it’s still new for me. The vast majority of my time has been spent alone or very brief team ups. I don’t…really know how this works that well,” she admitted awkwardly.

“Truthfully, when you do work with them, you do a good job,” Renard said. “I think you just need to stop thinking so hard that you have to shoulder everything on your own.”

Sloane was quiet before sighing. “I suppose so.”

“I expect a better work ethic and a better team experience from now on.”

Sloane rolled her eyes. “Okay.”

“Okay…?”

She sighed. “Okay, _captain_.”

“Thank you.”

“You enjoy that a little too much…”

“Perhaps, but it is one of the few joys in my life.”

Sloane snorted. “Is that all?”

“For now. I expect a full report on my desk by tomorrow evening.”

Sloane inwardly groaned. “Yessir…”

“That also means I expect you at the station bright and early as well.”

Sloane’s eyebrow ticked up but she smirked. “I get it…”

“Very well then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” She hanged up and went to return the phone with the shop door suddenly flew open with bang and a tinkling of the bell.

“Where’s Rosalee!?” Monroe shouted.

Sloane blinked, still on edge but trying to relax. After all, this Blutbad was Nick’s friend and Rosalee’s boyfriend, she supposed he could be trusted. “She’s in the back. We—”

Monroe’s eyes were red as blood when he got to her, snarling. “If she’s hurt, I’m going to tear your throat out!”

Sloane’s eyes widened and she stepped back before she tensed again, glaring with a sneer. _Or not_. “Try it, blutbad…I dare you.”

Monroe growled but before he could move, Rosalee rushed out, Nick right behind her. “Monroe, I’m fine!” She said, getting between the two of them. “Look, barely a scratch! Calm down!”

Monroe blinked. “I…oh…But...”

“I chose to go with Sloane and help, and Sloane got hurt a lot more than I did…helping save a girl’s life.”

“Oh…” he looked at Sloane who was still glaring at him. “I, um…I’m sorry, I-”

“Whatever,” Sloane said, shoving Nick’s phone back at him. “I get it, I’m leaving.”

“Sloane,” Rosalee started.

“It’s fine. Somethings don’t change,” she said, heading out the door. She glanced back at towards where Rosalee’s car was parked and paused before heading to her own car.

Rosalee gave an annoyed look at Monroe, who hanged his head sheepishly. “I’m sorry…I just…I could barely get ahold of you all day so I got worked up and worried…”

Rosalee sighed and shook her head. “I know…But we were making good progress I think…”

Nick looked at the door. “Weirdly…I think you were too actually. I just hope she’s open to change at all…I’m still not so sure.”

Rosalee frowned but sighed as they filed back out and she headed to Monroe’s yellow beetle to head home.

\------------------------------

When they returned in the morning, Monroe moved to park near the back of the shop where Rosalee’s car still sat. “I’ll call the tow shop again today, see if they can come out…What the hell?” Monroe said, stopping the car near the entrance to the alley. Someone was leaning over her car’s engine, apparently tinkering with it. Rosalee was out already, rushing over.

“Hey, I don’t know what you’re doing but you’re not stealing-” Sloane straightened up and looked at her, her brow arched, and Rosalee stopped short. “Sloane? What are you doing?”

Sloane had a black bandana tied to keep her hair covered and back, a little bit of grease on her cheek and shirt. “Your alternator is dead.”

“What?”

Sloane turned back, moving a socket wrench in her hand. “Your car won’t start because your alternator died. Simple enough to fix. It’ll be about $400 to $500 for a new one. But I won’t charge for the labor, and you don’t need to tow it anywhere because I can fix it here.”

Rosalee blinked owlishly before smiling a little. “I see. You…know a lot about cars?”

“I practically lived in mine for the last 10 years, so I had to learn upkeep and such.” She straightened, what must be the alternator in hands, a metallic fan-like device a little smaller than her head. “I can change a tire, do an oil change, replace spark plugs, breaks, and radiators, and lucky for you, alternators as well.”

Rosalee smiled brightly. “That is lucky. I’ll, uh, give you money for the new one then…do you think you can fix it today?”

She put the alternator in an old cloth bag, putting her gloves and other tools in a small tool box next to it and grabbing a rag to wipe off her hands. “If they have an appropriate new one for you at a parts store, yes. If not, they’ll need to order it for you.”

“Great!” Rosalee said excitedly. She then tilted her head slightly in question. “Um…why are you fixing it for me though?”

Sloane paused as if being caught at something. Flushing slightly, she cleared her throat. “I just don’t want to be indebted to you…”

Rosalee couldn’t help but smile a bit. “For…?”

“…Helping me,” she muttered.

Rosalee smiled a little more. “I’m grateful for the help with my car…but you know, I’d have been fine if with just being your friend.”

Sloane flushed more. “I…don’t think…”

Rosalee gently patted her shoulder. “One thing at a time?”

“…yeah.” She grabbed the bag up. “I’d better get to the station. I’ll pick up an alternator and bring it back by later to install it.”

“I’ll give you my card for it,” she said, opening her purse. “Just don’t go on a shopping spree. $500 isn’t bad, but it’s still not cheap for me right now…”

“I’ll keep that in mind…” She took the card and headed back to her own car, giving Monroe and icy glance as she passed his car.

Monroe got out, looking at her go and then back to Rosalee. “What just happened?”

Rosalee smiled a little. “I’m hoping it was progress…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 4! This is an original one based on "Fitcher's Bird". Very similar to the robber bridegroom, but a bit more bird themed. I nearly called this chapter "A Murder Most Fowl", but even I groaned at that pun...But yes, this is where Sloane starts being a bit more open to working with the others and less grouchy. Rosalee seems like the type who would pick up on that sort of thing, I figured she'd be the one to get the ball rolling. Finding out the killer is human really kind of rocked her world view enough to help too. That's not going to be the last time something really does that for her though...
> 
> Edit: Realized, I forgot some wesen information!  
> Teufels Kralle is based on a Harpy Eagle for the most part, who's talons can be as large as a grizzly bears claws. Make them human sized, that's probably larger than your fingers!
> 
> Teanga Fola-Irish for "Blood Tongue". Based on the Irish Magpie, it's said that magpies have a drop of the devil's blood under their tongue, and that they often cause trouble and are bad luck.


	5. Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PART 5 OF THE CASEBOOK OF SLOANE LARSON
> 
> This one goes over "A Dish Best Served Cold" and "One Night Stand"
> 
> Sloane and the others have to deal with people exploding in trees, a restaurant run by pigs, and later a drowning death perpetrated by modern mermaids. In between Sloane gets closer to the others and finally finds a new place to live thanks to Rosalee. But will that be enough for her to settle down into a routine with roots set up?

_A Dish Best Served Cold_

\----------------------

Nick parked his car and exited, heading out of the garage and towards the station. Yesterday was his physical and while usually he was at least a little sore the next day, he felt perfectly fine. He chalked it up to another strange side-effect and tried not to worry. After all, less fatigue would normally be a good thing. It had certainly been nice not to feel tired last night when he got to talk things over with Juliette some more.

He was surprised to Sloane exiting the garage just ahead of him. “Sloane!”

She paused and looked back. She didn’t exactly smile but she visibly relaxed. “Oh, hey. How was the doctor’s visit?”

Nick sighed a little. “Not…informative, exactly.”

“How do you mean?”

“I had no problem passing. And by that I mean my heartrate didn’t change hardly a beat while I was running on a treadmill for almost thirty minutes, upping the speed every few minutes. I didn’t even breathe hard.”

Her eyebrows rose up. “That’s…different. I mean Grimms have great stamina, but thirty minutes of constant running would still normally get to us.”

“Yeah. The doctor thinks his machine must be broken, but I didn’t sweat or feel anything either. Juliette and I think Rosalee was right, that stuff the Cracher-Mortel spat at me affected me differently than a normal human...”

“Well, so far not in a bad way after you took the antidote…right? I mean, upped endurance sound pretty good.”

“Eh…I scared Juliette one night when I apparently looked dead…” he admitted.

She paused, giving him a hard look, “Hold up, “looked dead”?”

“Yeah. I was pale, not breathing and my pulse was…gone by her account.”

Sloane frowned and Nick could swear it was in worry. “Okay, I take it back, that’s not good…”

“You don’t know anything about it?” he asked hopefully.

Sloane shook her head. “I looked through the stuff I have with me and found nothing on a cracher-mortel. Or what that toxin could do to a Grimm.”

Nick sighed. “I didn’t find anything about a Grimm getting hit with it either…”

Sloane hesitated before looking at him a bit more openly anxious. “If it gets worse, say so. I can head to where the rest of my collection is; see if I have anything there. Or—and to be honest, this is a last resort—I can send word out to other Grimms who might have information. We figured out how to get you back, we’ll figure out how to deal with it.”

Nick couldn’t help but smile a little. ““We”?”

Sloane rolled her eyes and held up her hands in mock surrender as she turned to head towards the station again. “I still have many, _many_ reservations about this set up…but at the very least, Rosalee is tolerable and…”

“And?” he prompted teasingly.

“And you’re all growing on me. Like a fungus,” she added in disgust.

Nick laughed and swatted her shoulder. “Gee, thanks!” She smirked and started heading for the station again, but Nick was still smiling. He had to admit Sloane calling Rosalee by her first name was good progress, admitting she liked them was great, though she was obviously still defensive towards Monroe. “They like you too you know.” Sloane looked back at him with an unimpressed expression. “Well, Rosalee does. She’s still happy with you fixing her car.”

“It really wasn’t that hard,” Sloane muttered, looking actually a little flustered. “Not like it was the transmission…”

They were at the doors when Hank was just in front of them, phone in hand.

“Oh good, there you two are!” he said. “No time to get comfortable, we got to get going.”

“Where?” Nick asked.

“Little picnic in the woods. Dead body in a tree.

“In a tree?”

“That's what they said.”

“Huh, been a while since I’ve seen that,” Sloane said.

\--------------------

“You know, I take back what I said earlier, I’ve never seen this,” Sloane said, grimacing a little. The man in the tree was odd, but the fact his insides were spilling out through his stomach was rank. The crime team was already working on getting the victim down after taking cursory photos of the scene. “They say variety is the spice of life or whatever, but I’m getting real tired of feeling like this city just loves making my years of being a Grimm feel like I’ve just been doing the same old thing…” she added more quietly.

“Do you think a wesen did this?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, this one I’m pretty sure a human can’t do…just saying. Wild animal also doesn’t seem likely, I don’t see anything that would mean they bit or clawed him open from here…Which I admit, also rules out some wesen.”

“So it’s not a Teufels Kralle—” Nick started with a teasing smile.

“Finish that sentence, Burkhardt, I dare you,” she said, pointing at him. Nick just smiled.

They got the victim down, Hank reaching his gloved hand around and pulling his wallet out to look at the ID. “Yeah, that's him. Name's Ned Klosterman. Lives in Portland.”

He handed the wallet to Wu, who looked it over as well. “Ironically, he's an organ donor, although I'm not sure who'd want what's left.” There was a moment of silence, everyone giving him a rather judging look. Even Sloane was a little surprised by the dark humor. Wu frowned and turned. “I'll run the name.”

The detectives turned to look back at the body. “Someone must have ripped him open,” Hank said.

“Yeah, or took a chain saw to him,” Nick said.

“…Actually…It kind of looks like they blew him up from the inside like a balloon?” Sloane said, tilting her head slightly. “I have no idea how you would do that…except maybe shove an airtube in him.

“And on that note, perhaps we should probably head back and contact his next of kin,” Nick said, trying not to imagine someone pumping air into a man like a cartoon character. They headed back to the station and it was easy enough to get ahold of Ned’s wife quickly. She visibly shaken and distraught, still crying when she came down to talk them, but muscled through the questions.

“Everything seemed fine,” she said, trying to speak clearly. “He went to work, and so did I.”

“Did you talk to him during the day?” Hank asked, keeping his tone gentle.

“No, we were both pretty busy,” she said, sniffing and looking regretful.

“What time did you get home?” Nick asked, also keeping it gentle. Sloane was staying quiet, just taking notes.

“I got home around 6:00, and, um, he normally gets home by 7:00,” she said, focusing on the facts. “And when he wasn't home by 8:00, I called his work, and they said he left early. So when he didn't come home, I called the police,” her voice cracked at the last word and she quickly brought the tissues back up to her face to blot her tears.

“Was everything going okay with your marriage?” Hank asked.

She looked a bit annoyed by the question, but nodded “Yes. It was great. We celebrated our fifth anniversary two nights ago. We went out to dinner.”

“Any problems that night?” Hank asked.

“No. We were happy. We were really happy,” she said, her face contorting in grief.

“Do you know anyone who would want to harm your husband?”

She shook her head, trying to hold back the tears again but not succeeding. It took her a moment to find her voice. “Just please find who did this to him.”

They wrapped things up and Mrs. Klosterman left, heading back to the precinct. Nick looked at Sloane, who was typing up a copy of her notes for them. “You were oddly quiet…”

She glanced up at him and then back at the computer screen. “You two are better with grieving spouses than I am. I often end up saying the wrong thing.”

“Oh? Why?”

Sloane sighed and leaned back in her chair. “…Marriage and love aren’t things I can really relate to, so trying to force myself to empathize or remain distant ends up either in my saying something dumb or something callous. I can fake it for a bit, but there’s always something that trips me up.”

Nick and Hank blinked in surprise. “Wait, what do you mean you can’t relate?” Hank asked.

She shrugged. “My grandfather was long dead by the time I was born. My mother was never married and didn’t really stick around after I was born, leaving my grandmother to raise me. None of the other major influences in my life were married or I didn’t know them well enough to really get an idea for it. Then going on hunts…you see a lot of the bad sides of romance. Wesen can have some scary mating rituals. And humans don’t seem to fair much better. Far as I’m concerned, it’s just not necessary, especially nowadays.”

Nick frowned a little. “Well, maybe not necessary…but people like to do it. As a show of their love.”

“Not sure people would have to show it if it was love,” Sloane said. “I mean, wouldn’t two people who love each other just be content to know they did? Why make a big show of it? But then, I’m still not sold on “true love” either, so…”

“Even after it saved me?” Nick pointed out.

“I don’t know what saved you with the Muse, but having history with Juliette definitely helped. But saying it’s true love is a lot of pressure I’d think. It’s not something I think I’d want.”

“Well, I can’t say I blame you, I’ve felt that way sometimes,” Hank said. “But at the same time, I still believe Miss Right is out there and will become _the_ Mrs. Griffin.”

Sloane shrugged again. “That’s fine, but to me I think too much importance is placed on those sorts of feelings. And all too often, it just ends up in divorce or someone cheating or getting your feelings hurt some way anyway, so why bother? Or to put it another way, like I said, there’s too much pressure in being someone’s “soulmate”. Then you’re putting all your happiness in being with one person.”

Nick sighed a bit. “Because sometimes…you meet someone and they feel like they’re your other half.”

“And what if I think I’m whole on my own?” Sloane shot back.

“Okay, other half is a bad expression” Nick acknowledged. “But like…when you’re with someone who just _gets_ you. Who you have fun with, and can talk with about the serious and the stupid stuff, and leaves you little notes and gifts just to brighten your day…When you feel lonely without them sometimes and you want to share everything…It makes the rough stuff I had to go through as a cop, and now as a Grimm, worth it.”

Sloane looked at him and sighed. “You’re a hopeless romantic too…”

“I guess so, yeah,” he said, blushing faintly.

“Well, I’m sorry but I don’t think I can share your ideal. Closest I’ve ever come to falling in love…well, it was two times and neither ended well,” she said with a grimace. “So I think I’m just going to opt out. Frankly, Grimms just don’t-” She paused and looked up at Nick. “…Nevermind.”

“What?” Nick asked. He was still blushing a little, but was also curious about the look.

“Nothing you want to hear, I do know that, and I should practice a little tact I’m told,” she said, finishing typing. “I’m going to go grab something to drink, back in a sec.” She stood and headed off while Nick frowned a little.

“Sloane has a pretty cynical view on that stuff…” Hank said.

“Surprised?”

“Eh…not exactly, but it’s still kind of sad…I mean, if that’s how she really feels and she doesn’t want all that, it’s fine. But I wonder if it’s just what she’s convinced herself of after living like she has…I convinced myself that love was stupid more than once when I got my heart broken.”

Nick nodded a little and sat down to keep looking through files. When Hank was engrossed with his own work, Nick brought up the DMV record of the man he’d killed at the bar while under Baron Samedi’s drug. The man was not a paragon of the community, but it was still a life on his hands. And the scary thing was that moment that used to be lost in the fog of a zombie drug was getting clearer over time. It was hard to remember the moment his hands connected with the man. Sighing he stood up. Hank was off somewhere but Sloane looked up curiously. “Just going to go ask the Captain something.”

She arched her eyebrows but nodded. “Okay then.”

He went over to the office, knocking before entering. Renard was packing up his briefcase and looked up when he came in. His nervous expression was probably hard to miss. “Problem?”

Nick hesitated but nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. The man I killed, Mitchell Zinc, I... “

“Accidentally killed,” Renard interjected.

“Well, that's not the point,” Nick said. Renard quirked a brow, not looking impressed. “I killed him...” Nick said more emphatically.

“Yeah, I know. And you're bothered by it,” he said, looking more impatient.

“Yes, I am. I'm beginning to remember.”

Renard stood, giving him a hard look. “Let me ask you something, Nick. What's really bothering you, the fact that you killed somebody or the fact that you killed somebody who wasn't wesen?” Nick froze at the comment and the look on Renard’s face. “Because God knows you've killed plenty of them.” He closed the briefcase and grabbed his jacket. “That's what you Grimms do, isn't it? That’s what Sloane was always saying, but I thought you were different, and so did you. But maybe you’re not if none of their deaths bother you as much as this. Now, excuse me. I've got a meeting with the mayor.” He brushed past a shocked Nick but paused at the door to look at him. “When you have an answer, let me know.” He left and Nick wanted to say something, anything, but all he could think of were Renard’s words. He left the office and moved back towards his desk to see Hank and Sloane already standing.

“Hey, we got another tree hugger,” Hank said, moving past him to head on out. Nick was surprised but turned to follow, Sloane with him.

She looked at him and frowned. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah…” he said, not looking at her.

“…That was believable,” she said sarcastically. “Want another go?”

Nick sighed, feeling aggravated. Renard’s question of whether the guilt he felt was because he was human, considering the wesen he’s killed, still gave him a sick feeling. Sloane never seemed conflicted about wesen being killed, but she was showing a lot of compassion now. Were Grimms just wired naturally not to care about wesen? Did that make him different since he cared about Monroe and Rosalee and the others? Or not since he also never had trouble killing the violent ones? “I…later, okay? We’ve got a job to do.”

“Okay…”

The next victim ended up being a woman, Stephanie Robinson, but in the same situation as the first. Up a tree, her insides now outsides.

“Same M.O. We got ourselves a serial killer here?” Hank said, looking up at the victim.

“Oh please, not another one,” Sloane sighed. “I already had to deal with one this month…”

“I’m not sure it is. This is a completely different kind of victim. So what's the connection between the two?”

“Besides the tree?” Hank asked.

“And the hollowed out insides?” Sloane added.

Nick gave her an unimpressed look and turned back to Wu. “Anybody see her climb up there?”

“Uh, even if they did, it's not that unusual in Portland,” he said.

Nick sighed again. “Where's the car?”

“This way.” He led them over to a gray sedan parked up the street from the park. The three detectives put on gloves as they went, preparing to look it over. “Purse is on the front seat. That's where I got her license and work I.D. Other than that, that's how I found it.”

Nick picked up the purse and examined it, pulling some slips of paper from one fold. “Got some receipts here.” He passed them out so they could look over them. “One from the Apple store yesterday, another from Target.”

“Gas station, a dry cleaner,” Sloane said, shrugging a bit.

“Two days ago, she went to a spa. The night before last, looks like she went to dinner at Raven & Rose,” Hank said.

“Raven & Rose? Aw! Love that place,” Wu said. “Chef Ostler? Genius. Which is why you can't get a reservation unless you want to eat at 5:00.” They looked at him blankly and he flushed, looking down. “Off topic.”

“Parking receipt,” Nick went on, but then Hank held up a hand.

“Wait a minute. Didn't Klosterman and his wife have dinner for their anniversary?”

Nick blinked but then nodded slowly. “Yeah, but we didn't get the name of the restaurant.”

“Maybe the victims knew each other.”

“Well, they couldn't have gone together. This is dated from last night,” Nick said, pointing to the date.

“But still, they died the same way. There might be a connection.”

“Doesn’t hurt to check I guess,” Sloane said.

Nick nodded slowly. “We should call Mrs. Klosterman…Why don’t you do it, Sloane?”

She frowned. “Me?”

“Yeah. You need to get used to talking to witnesses and victim’s friends and family.”

“I told you, I’m not the best—”

“You get better with time and practice,” Nick said, pulling out his notes and pointing out her number. Sloane looked at Hank but Hank gestured for her to go on. Sighing, she took the notes and walked off a bit, taking out her phone to dial the number. She waited for the phone to pick up and tried to center herself into her “empathetic” mode. When it picked up, a rather tired voice spoke. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Klosterman? Um, hello, sorry to bother you. This is Detective Larson.”

“Oh, hello…Did you find something?” she asked hopefully.

“I…sort of. We’re considering a lead,” she said evasively, not thinking that revealing there was another dead body up a tree would do anyone any good. “I just have a quick question. You went out to dinner with your husband for your anniversary, right?”

“Yes…?”

“What was the name of the restaurant?”

“Um…The Raven & Rose.”

Sloane’s eyebrows shot up. “Really…”

“Does that help?” she asked.

Sloane nodded to herself and to Hank and Nick. “Yes, it does. Thank you very much. That's all I needed.” She was about to hang up when Nick gestured for her to go on. She gave him an exasperated look, hesitating, but went on. “…I’m…very sorry for what’s happened. I didn’t get the chance to say so yesterday…”

She sniffed and took a breath. “Thank you…Please, let me know about what happens.”

“We’ll do our best.” She then hanged up.

“Okay, not bad,” Hank said. “You’re not as frosty as you think.”

“Frosty?” She asked, confused. Shaking her head, she handed Nick’s notebook back to him. “In any case, Raven & Rose is apparently popular.”

They nodded, finished going over the car for any more clues, and then returned to the station. Hank pulled up the background on the chef in charge of The Raven & Rose.

“"Chef Graydon Ostler is a celebrated, award-winning chef and restaurateur who trained at the Cordon Bleu in Paris and the I.C.C. in Munich,”” Hank read from the restaurant’s website. ““He has just returned from Europe to open a new restaurant in Portland. According to food critic Gustav York, "Raven & Rose is the shining star in his expanding food universe."””

“"Food universe." Really?” Nick asked in an amused tone.

“Agreed, little hokey…” Sloane said.

“Without a connection between the victims or someone at the restaurant, we have no motive. We may not even have a murder,” Hank sighed.

“All we have is two people who ate there, climbed trees, and blew up,” Nick said.

“Hey, something made them die like that. Even if it was an accident, I’m pretty sure we should find out if we don’t want more people dying…” Sloane said. Hank and Nick nodded, knowing she had a point.

“That's enough to look at their menu,” Hank said, standing.

“Alright, but don’t actually eat anything, I really don’t want to actually see someone blow up…” Sloane said as she grabbed her (new again, thanks to the incident with Gant) jacket. She glanced towards Renard’s office and paused, seeing a rather intense look on his face as he talked on a cellphone. Shaking it off, she followed them out to the car.

The restaurant was a nice looking one, reminding her of tavern-house pubs in England and Germany but a little more modern and upscale. Hank stood off to the side and Nick knocked on the door. A waiter came to the door, looking at them reproachfully. “I'm sorry; we don't open for another half hour.” Nick and Sloane opened their jackets to show their badges, while Hank also turned from the side to show his hanging around his neck. The waiter blanched. “Oh…” He quickly unlocked the door and opened it.

“We need to talk to Graydon Ostler,” Hank said.

The waiter shook his head, smiling nervously. “Oh, no, you don't understand. He gets pretty stressed just before we serve dinner, so...”

There was sudden shouting from beyond the room, and Sloane and the others all turned to look towards the kitchen. “No, no, no!” There was a crash and the sound of something possibly breaking. “Get away from the stove! You're turning my sauce into cheese!” More crashing and Sloane looked at Nick and Hank.

“I think we can find him,” Nick said with a nod, heading towards the commotion with his two partners following.

“Back up! You will destroy my reputation!” Looking through a row of shelving holding pots and plates, they could see a man in a chef’s jacket brandishing a cleaver as he yelled at his staff. “How many times do I have to teach you the meaning of cuisine? This is an art, not carpentry!” He brought the cleaver down and imbedded it in a cutting board with a loud “thwak”. He then looked at his staff and woged into a pig like creature. All around him his staff woged as well into the same piggy faces. “Get back to your stations, now!” He shouted through his jowly, snouted lips.

Both Nick and Sloane were eyeing them now, Nick with a look of resignation and Sloane with a predatory glint. “What?” Hank asked, lost.

“Wesen,” Nick said.

“What kind?”

“Bauerschwein,” he and Sloane said together.

“Ostler?”

“All of them,” Nick said.

“This should be fun,” Sloane quipped, though she looked as put out as Hank and Nick as they headed around the corner. The chef was as combative as they expected, defensive that they in anyway accused his restaurant of being part of two people dying. In the end though they got him to agree to give them information on what the victims ate and his staff. Back at the station they went through the information, but it wasn’t proving very useful.

“Neither of the victims ordered the same thing,” Hank sighed. “Klosterman had osso buco; Robinson had Halibut with huckleberry sauce. They both ordered wine. He had Pinot noir, she had sauvignon blanc.”

“No one on this list has a criminal record, including the chef. And Klosterman's wife didn't recognize any of these names,” Nick said, feeling a little frustrated. Sloane was just as much at a loss as she looked over the info.

Wu walked up then, holding a folder. “Got the tox screens back on your vics.”

“Well, I assume you've read them?” Hank asked, sitting on the edge of his desk.

“Of course.”

“Then just tell us.”

Wu sighed and said bluntly. “No known pathogens. No known poisons or toxins. You got nothing.” He dropped the folder on Nick’s desk and headed off again.

“Yeah, nothing except a kitchen full of bauerschwein,” Nick said, knowing in his gut there was something wrong.

“We can't arrest 'em for that,” Hank sighed.

“Maybe we should try something else…” Sloane muttered, about to likely suggest something very illegal.

“No,” Nick said. She shot him an annoyed look but went back to looking over the reports.

\-----------------

That evening, Sloane was going through her usual workout routine, doing push-ups in her motel room. She was still apartment hunting and having no real luck. “65…66…67…” she grunted quietly. When her phone rang she sighed and stood up, walking over to her nightstand. She hesitated at the name that popped up but answered it. “Hey…”

“Hey,” Rosalee said. “Sorry to call so suddenly…Um, are you busy?”

“…Not exactly, just working out.”

“Great! I mean, um…would you be interested in coming to a really small kind of …party?”

Sloane blinked. “Party?”

“Yeah. See, you know Nick’s been staying with Monroe for a while?”

Sloane frowned automatically. “I’m aware, yes.”

“Well, he’s actually moving out tonight and back home with Juliette. So we’re throwing a little moving out party. As a surprise.” It was quiet for a few seconds and Rosalee took a breath. “There, uh, will be drinks and cake…”

“Why are you inviting me?” she asked suspiciously.

“Well…You’re Nick’s friend. And…mine.”

Sloane blinked, feeling sudden warmth in her that was unfamiliar. “…Friend might be stretching it on both counts…”

Rosalee was quiet now for a second before taking a breath. “Not to me,” she said. “I’m inviting you for that reason.”

“…The Blutbad will be there?”

“It is Monroe’s home, so yes…but so will Hank, and Juliette. And a friend of ours you haven’t met, Bud. He’s, um…an Eisbieber.”

“…I’m not going to do much to an eisbieber, they don’t worry me,” she said, picking up on the questioning tone in her voice.

“So you’ll come?” Rosalee said hopefully. “Please? I think Nick would like you there. I would.”

Sloane sighed. “I…Fine, okay.”

“Great! Can you be here in an hour?”

Sloane looked at the clock. “Probably, yeah. Do I…bring anything?”

Rosalee chuckled at the hesitant, unsure question. “No, just yourself.”

“Alright. I guess…see you soon.”

“See you soon.” They hanged up and Sloane spent almost a minute staring at her phone. She contemplated blowing the whole idea off, but instead took a quick shower and changed into her jeans and a decent (though still plane as the rest of her shirts) T-shirt and her jacket. She looked at her knife and decided to bring it but leave it in the car. As strange as it was, she trusted Rosalee. She’d tried to save her when she was fighting Gant and though she knew she’d had it covered, the fact that she’d risked herself to help a Grimm that barely tolerated her and the victim of a homicidal human had gained Sloane’s respect.

Driving to Monroe’s house, she parked down the street where she saw Hank’s car and got out to walk towards it. As she approached, the back gate open up and Rosalee beckoned her over with a voice just above a stage whisper. “Sloane, over here! Come through the back door.”

Sloane hesitated again on instinct but then walked over and followed her through the gate. In back, Juliette and Hank were waiting on the back porch. Hank smiled when he saw her. “Hey, you did come.”

“Well…Rosalee is convincing,” she said, feeling a little awkward. That was a new feeling and she didn’t like it much.

He nodded and then stood aside. “Bud, you haven’t met Sloane yet, have you?”

“Sloane?” He came forward, a stout middle-aged man with graying blonde hair and a mustache-beard combination, wearing a floral Hawaiian shirt. “Oh, hey! Nick’s told me a little about you.”

“Really?” she asked, somewhat surprised.

“Yeah,” he ambled forward with a smile and stuck out his hand. “Rupert Ferdinand Wurstner. But everyone calls me Bud.”

“Ah, the Eisbieber,” Sloane said. She glanced at his hand and when Rosalee not so subtly nudged her she took it and gave it a shake.

“Yeah! So, uh, I’m not clear though. Nick says you were training him, but you are obviously in the know so…are you Kiershite like Hank and Juliette or…”

Rosalee’s eyes widened, realizing that Monroe and Nick hadn’t told him. “Bud-”

“I’m a Grimm,” Sloane said simply. Bud’s eyes widened and he woged, looking at her eyes. He opened his mouth, possibly to yell, and quick as a flash Sloane’s hand was over his mouth. “Don’t.” She glanced at Rosalee and the others. “…Please.”

He nodded slowly, changing back to his human face and she took her hand back. “Sorry, just…wow…another Grimm. Kind of a surprise. Are, you uh…like Nick?” He asked hopefully.

Sloane tried not to look as uncomfortable as she felt. “Not exactly…but we have an agreement, so I guess I am for now.”

“Oh. Well, if Rosalee trusts you, then you’re great!” he said, smiling as he shook her hand again and let go.

Sloane blinked, surprised at how quickly he accepted her. Hank and Juliette were smiling as well, as if sharing some sort of inside joke.

“Okay, so Monroe is helping Nick pack and when he gives us the signal we go inside, and then shout surprise!” Rosalee said.

“…So…we’re sneaking up on him?”

“Kind of,” Hank said.

“Have you never been to a surprise party before Sloane?” Juliette asked.

“I’ve honestly been to very few parties that didn’t involve hunting…” she said. “So…yeah.”

“Oh…” Juliette said, looking apologetic. “I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay, really,” Sloane said, shrugging. It felt more like a nervous twitch. She was quickly feeling like this was a mistake. Rosalee, Hank, they had an odd effect on her, made her nervous to try and stay on their good side. It was annoying. Before she could turn around and leave though, they heard a window upstairs close.

“Okay, that’s our sign to get in and set up!” Rosalee said. She opened the door quickly and they all filed in. Bud picked up a plastic cake box, about as big as his chest, from the table nearby and carried inside. He almost knocked over a chair and Hank quickly grabbed it, everyone worried Nick would hear them. When they heard steps coming down the stairs, they all made sure they couldn’t be seen from the front door and waited. Opening her senses, Sloane could hear Nick asking Monroe about the restaurant from the case and rolled her eyes a little. From what she knew about him, it didn’t surprise her that the blutbad was interested in such a stuffy place. Or that Nick still had his head in the case.

They headed back down the hall, Nick packing his toothbrush away in a bag. “Well, I think this just about does it,” he sighed. Sloane glanced around the corner, wondering what the “signal” was.

“Here, let me help you,” Monroe said. He lifted a box, handing it to Nick. He then lifted the second box and set it on top of the box Nick already held, making him grunt and sway a little.

“Unh! Monroe, I thought you said you were gonna give me a hand,” he said, trying to move under the bulky weight.

“Yeah, I am, 'cause I got... I got the bag,” he said. Sloane’s lips twitched just a tiny bit, practically able to picture Nick’s exasperated look behind the boxes as he shuffled to the door.

“Could you get the door for me?”

Monroe set the bag down. “You're not actually going anywhere just yet…” Rosalee gently prodded Sloane as they all stood. Monroe took the top box off and they all came out from the kitchen.

“Surprise!”

Sloane could freely admit she was slightly less enthusiastic, more because she felt a little silly, but the look of confusion turning to a smile on Nick’s face was…enjoyable.

“Surprise? For what? It's not my birthday,” he laughed, looking at all of them.

“It's for your leaving,” Monroe said.

“Oh, yes. And we're pretty excited about it,” Rosalee laughed.

“So my wife baked a cake!” Bud exclaimed. “She doesn't need much of an excuse.”

Nick smiled and then looked at Sloane. “I’m…Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m surprised you came.”

Sloane gave him a stony faced look. “I’m not here for you…I came for the cake.” Nick blinked and there was a moment of silence before she smirked a little.

He gave a bark of laughter and patted her shoulder, Rosalee laughing as well. “I keep forgetting you do have a sense of humor somewhere in there!”

“What are you talking about? I’m hilarious,” she said with the same deadpan delivery.

“To yourself maybe,” he said, pushing her along gently.

They went to the kitchen, pouring some champagne and cutting into the cake, which was decorated to look like a suitcase with “bon voyage” written across it and decorative, edible travel stickers. “Bud, this cake is so gorgeous,” Juliette said. “Where's your wife?”

“With the kids. Somebody's got to watch 'em. God knows what they'll chew up when you're not home.” The all laughed, Sloane mostly just smiling as comfortably as she could.

Monroe lifted his glass. “All right, now, I just want to say, for a roommate who's a Grimm... and I really mean this...” The phone suddenly rang and he paused, frowning.

“I’ll get it,” Rosalee said, leaving the group to go answer it.

“So where was I?”

“You were about to tell me how great I am,” Nick said, his arm around Juliette.

“Actually, I was about to say how great I was for putting up with you, but yeah, you were okay too.”

Sloane glanced between the two of them. Though she still didn’t trust Monroe—how could she, he was a Blutbad— she couldn’t overlook that he and Nick did seem to have a stable, good friendship. At least what she assumed was one, she had little experience herself.

“Uh, can we get to the drinking part?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, let's do this.”

“Yeah! Cheers.” They all said, toasting their glasses.

They were about to drink when Rosalee called to them, looking worried. “Hey, Kimber's on the phone. Something's happened to Sam. She's calling everyone looking for him.”

Monroe frowned, setting his glass down. “What?” He quickly strode over and took the phone, moving away from them to talk. Rosalee came back to join them, obviously worried.

“Who's Sam?” Nick asked.

“He's a friend of Monroe's. I just met him at a restaurant the other night.”

“What happened to him?” Bud asked.

“He hasn't come home, and he's not answering his phone, so she's very concerned.”

Sloane frowned as well. Monroe hanged up and came back to them. “Okay, this is weird. Kimber says Sam snapped this morning, that he woke up and his eyes were kind of glassy. He didn't feel well, but he went to work anyway, and now she can't find him. And this is not like Sam.”

“Did he eat at Raven & Rose?” Nick asked. Sloane looked at him, wondering why that was his first thought.

“Yeah, that's actually where we ran into him,” Monroe said.

“I love that place. A little pricey but worth it,” Bud interjected.

“All right, is he a Blutbad?” Nick asked.

“Sam? Uh, yeah, why?” He was getting confused and despite not sure how he came to this conclusion, Sloane was starting to see his line of reasoning.

“We're working on a case. We've got two dead bodies, and both of them ate at the Raven & Rose in the last few days.”

“Do you know Ned Klosterman or Stephanie Robinson?” Hank asked, in detective mode now as well.

“Ned, I do, yeah. Why?”

“They were the two victims.” Monroe gaped but Nick pressed on. “Is Ned a Blutbad?”

“Yeah, yeah, he... he's one of my old sort of hunting buddies, you know, from...” Sloane glared at him, feeling her anger rise. She knew he must’ve been a beast once, never mind being vegan or whatever now. She balled her hands up tightly but kept her urge to strike him down. “Oh, my God!” he sat down heavily in shock, Rosalee rubbing over his shoulder.

“What about Stephanie Robinson?” Hank asked.

“Um, I don't know. I don't know her,” he said, trying to collect his thoughts.

“But Ned is and the events leading up to their deaths are similar,” Nick said, looking at Hank and Sloane.

“I guess we have another connection,” Sloane bit out. It was hard to keep the distaste out of her voice. Nick frowned at her and she looked away.

“Monroe, we're gonna need Sam's license plate,” Hank said. “We're gonna have to put an A.P.B. out on his car.”

“Uh, right. Okay,” he stood, going back to the phone to recall Kimber.

Rosalee stepped closer to them. “What's going on?”

“The restaurant is run by bauerschwein, and we think that they're somehow targeting Blutbaden,” Nick said.

“Oh, God! Oh, God! This is really bad,” Bud said, starting to get fidgety. “Bauerschwein going after Blutbaden? I mean, isn't it sort of the other way around?”

“You'd be surprised,” Nick said.

“Why though?” Sloane asked. Bud was taking the cake to put into the fridge.

“Near as I can tell, it’s a thing between the two wesen species. Bauerschwein and Blutbaden have this long standing grudge against each other. It’s not the first time we’ve had to deal with it.”

“Huh…Never thought I’d agree with a wesen…” she muttered.

Rosalee frowned at her. “Sloane…”

“What? Just because I’m okay with you doesn’t mean I’m going to start feeling warm and fuzzys for a bunch of blutbaden,” she said.

“Well, one happens to be my boyfriend,” she said defensively.

Sloane glowered back.

“Rosalee, you said that Monroe ate there,” Juliette said, trying to get back on topic. “What did he eat?”

“Uh, I don't remember,” she said, trying to think now.

Monroe came back and handed a piece of paper to Hank. “Here's the license plate.”

“Thanks.” Hank took it and moved a few feet away to call it in.

“Do you feel okay?” Nick asked worriedly.

“Yeah, fine. I mean, should I not?”

“He doesn’t look like he’s dying…” Sloane said, eyeing him.

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” he shot back.

“How did they die?” Rosalee said quickly.

“It's something similar to gastric dilatation volvulus. Basically, their insides burst,” Juliette said.

“That sounds familiar. I have to get to the shop,” Rosalee said, moving past them. Monroe followed, looking confused and agitated.

They all ended up at the cars and heading for the shop, where Rosalee started looking through several books on what appeared to be mushrooms. When she found what she was looking for she set it on the table triumphantly. “I knew I knew it. It's called vollige verzweiflung in German... the black despair mushroom.”

“Sounds…fun?” Sloane said.

“Not really. It's found mostly in the black forest. It is similar to a rare strain of fungus called "ophiocordyceps unilateralis” from the tropics, which attacks carpenter ants, causing them to climb into trees where their insides burst, spreading the fungal spores.”

“Nature is disgustingly fascinating sometimes,” she muttered.

““When eaten raw, the mushrooms are harmless, but when cooked, they release a toxin fatal to Blutbaden."…” She looked at Monroe with clear worry. Monroe himself looked scared as he clutched his stomach.

“What's wrong?” Juliette asked.

“I'm trying to remember if I had any mushrooms at Raven & Rose. Did I?” he asked Rosalee.

“I don't know. Th-those could have been in anything,” she said, growing more worried.

“We checked what the victims had to eat. They ordered completely different things,” Nick said.

“And I don’t remember mushrooms being among the ingredients,” Sloane added.

“Is Sam's girlfriend a Blutbad?” Juliette asked.

“Nah-uh, she's a Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen,” Monroe said. “You know, like you and Hank. She's not a wesen, but she knows the—”

“Wait, whoa!” Rosalee said, grasping his arm as she thought of something. “The tartlets.”

“What tartlets?” Hank asked.

“The beef and truffle tartlets. They weren't on the menu. They were compliments of the chef,” she said quickly. Nick looked pissed and Sloane couldn’t blame him, Ostler had conveniently not mentioned any “complimentary tartlets”.” Everyone got one,” she turned to Monroe, looking relieved, “except you didn't eat it.”

“Well, no, it had meat,” he said, looking relieved as well.

“So the truffles weren’t truffles, they were this killer mushrooms…” Sloane said. “That’s…devious.”

“And that’s how he does it,” Nick said, feeling like they’d just solved it all. “Serves it to everybody.” Hanks phone rang and he picked it up.

“But only the Blutbaden are affected,” Sloane finished with a nod.

“Where?” Hank was asking into the phone. “Thank you.” Ending the call, he looked at the others. “They found Sam's car ran off the road in Washington Park. He was not with his car.”

“He's not gonna go far,” Nick said, motioning for them to head out.

“I'm going with you. He's my friend,” Monroe said, grabbing his jacket.

They piled back into their cars and drove quickly out to Washington Park, coming up to a couple of police cars near the abandoned vehicle. They quickly got out and rushed over.

“Any sign of the owner?” Nick asked the officer at the scene.

“Not since I've been here,” he answered.

“Well, that's definitely Sam's car, so he's got to be around here somewhere,” Monroe said. A distant roar cut through the night then, and Sloane’s hand reached up automatically to her knife now holstered at her side again. Nick put a hand on her shoulder to try and get her to pause.

“What the hell is that?” The officer exclaimed.

“Sam,” Monroe breathed, rushing towards the woods.

“Stay with the car. Call the paramedics,” Nick ordered, following him with Sloane and Hank. There was more roaring and they followed the sound with flashlights drawn, looking for the source. The closer they got the more distinctly they heard a pained groan within the roar. Sloane had to admit it sounded painful and pathetic.

“There,” Nick said suddenly, pointing his flashlight to a tree. Looking up, they could see a man sitting in the crook of a tree, straining and groaning with pain with his hands on his very extended abdomen. It reminded her of a woman in labor almost.

“Sam?” Monroe called. “Hold on, man! We're here, we're coming!” Sam grunted and groaned more, woging suddenly into his blutbad form. “Sam!?” He let out a piercing howl and the four of them backed away just as his stomach split open and his intestines spilled to the ground. Sloane gaped, looking back up to the lifeless body now hanging across the tree branch. No longer a blutbad, no longer a man, just a corpse.

“Oh, my God,” Monroe said quietly, looking sick. Hank called in what they found and in minutes the medical examiner was there, taking what was left of Sam away while crime techs looked over the scene. Monroe was standing off to the side, his hands in his pockets and a glassy look on his face. Nick walked over to him, clearly worried, and Sloane hanged back just enough she could hear them. “Monroe?”

“I'm gonna kill that bauerschwein,” he said darkly.

Nick swallowed and tried to stay rational. “We still don't have any evidence that he knew what he was doing.”

“He's a bauerschwein,” he scoffed. “What more evidence do you need?”

“Well, I need something I can take to court,” Nick said patiently.

“Not this time, Nick. Either you take care of this, or I will.”

“Let me handle this.”

“I've already lost two friends, man. I am not losing any more. So one way or another, that pig is going down.” Monroe stalked past him back towards the cars. Nick was watching him go, clearing anxious.

“He's not gonna go vigilante on us, is he?” Hank asked.

“He might…”

“I really hate saying this and you can never tell him, but I might agree with him,” Sloane said. “Not sure how we prove the pig had intention or that mushrooms were a murder weapon. At this point, I’d just as soon make some ham hocks.”

Nick glared at her and shook his head. “I don’t want to do that unless it is absolutely necessary…”

She frowned, knowing they had different definitions of necessary.

“I thought you didn’t like Blutbads,” Hank said, giving her an appraising look. “Why would you stop him?”

Sloane snorted. “I hate Blutbaden. I would kill any I come across if possible. But I don’t enjoy pain or torturing what I hunt.” Sloane glanced back towards the Medical Examiner’s truck. “That…was a long, torturous death. It’s disgusting that someone would do that, even to a random blutbad. There are only five specific men I would wish that on.”

Nick blinked. “Five specific…?”

She looked at him, gauging how much to tell him. “Four of them are already dead…the fifth I’m still looking for. As it stands though, I don’t like causing pain for the sake of pain. It makes me no better than many of them. Short, clean deaths are my preferred method. Someone that does this? Sadistic and disgusting. Dishonorable too, not even knowing them or knowing their faces.”

Nick nodded slowly, finding he couldn’t disagree with that sentiment even if he didn’t want to consider any killing.

“So what do we do about the chef?” Hank asked.

Nick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “…I’m going to confront him.”

“Awesome, let’s go,” Sloane said.

“No, I want to do it on my own.”

Sloane and Hank both frowned. “No way,” Sloane said.

“I kind of agree with her. If you’re “confronting” him, I’m thinking it’s as a Grimm.”

“Yeah. Which is why I think I should go alone. The less he knows about you knowing,” he nodded to Hank, “or our back up Grimm. That way, he’s still blind to what we have up our sleeves.”

Hank frowned but sighed. “Well, when you put it like that…”

“I suppose,” Sloane said, folding her arms. “But call me “back up Grimm” again and we will have words, Burkhardt.”

Nick smiled a little and they went their separate ways. Sloane decided on heading back to the motel to try and get some sleep. That ended up being a good choice because it was in the early morning when her phone beeped with a text. _Meet at the spice shop-Nick_.

Sighing, she got redressed and headed to the shop, just as Nick pulled up. He motioned for her to follow him through the open door, obviously agitated. Monroe and Rosalee were already there, apparently in a heated discussion. “You were right. Chef Ostler knows exactly what he's doing,” Nick said by way of greeting.

“You talked to him?” Rosalee asked in surprise.

“Yes. I thought I'd give him a chance to turn himself in,” Nick said near desperately.

“Oh, I'm sure that went over big. Did he take you up on that?” Monroe asked sarcastically, pacing around the room like a caged animal.

“Well, I got the confirmation that I needed,” Nick said patiently.

“What good does it do if we know he's guilty? You can't arrest him for serving something that's only poisonous to Blutbaden.”

“Yeah, I mean, he must’ve looked for that mushroom specifically since it’s rare,” Sloane said. “I’m fairly sure he must’ve had some idea what it’d do. Even so, I don’t think we can prove “murder by mushroom” in this case since so few people died...manslaughter maybe?”

“There's nothing you two can do, as cops, anyway!” Monroe burst out. “I'm sorry, but somebody has got to put the fear of God into these Schwein!” He grabbed his coat violently off the table and headed towards the exit past them.

“You do this, you risk everything,” Nick said.

“Listen to him,” Rosalee said, trying to stop him.

“No. Not after what they did to Ned and Sam and Hap. I am not gonna let them get away with it!” He woged and Sloan grabbed out her knife quickly. He glared at her. “You want some too?”

Sloane didn’t say anything, just adjusted the knife in her grip.

“No,” Nick said, putting a hand around her wrist. “Let him go…”

She didn’t take her eyes off Monroe, tensing and breathing hard as he pushed past them with a snarl. She closed her eyes when she heard the door open and close, breathing deeply. Nick slowly let go of her wrist and she tried to relax but he could still see the faint tremors he’d felt when he’d grabbed her. He’d almost think she was scared of Monroe if he thought she was scared of anything.

“Please, do something!” Rosalee said, looking desperate.

“If he wants to go down for murder, I don’t see how we’ll stop him,” Sloane said, putting her knife back in her holster under her arm. “It’s a blutbad thing, getting blood-starved…”

“Sloane, I know you don’t like them, but I love Monroe,” Rosalee said, her voice snapping like a whip. Sloane looked at her. “I do. He’s good, and he’s kind, he’s possibly the best thing to happen to me in a long time. But he’s also angry right now because his friends are dead. We all have a breaking point and I understand his anger, but I don’t want to lose him.”

Sloane looked at her for a long moment before sighing. “Fine…But you’ll owe me for this. Assuming we can get a plan together.”

“I might have something…” Nick said slowly. “Monroe still has his phone, right?”

\---------------------

Sloane was convinced this plan was stupid and not going to work. And it almost didn’t, because of the overacting blutbad named Monroe. But in the end, they got their pig.

Sloane however had been not comfortable with the plan. Getting together every Blutbad Monroe knew to scare Ostler into confessing by making him scared out of his wits of their retaliation. She’d begun breathing heavily while they advanced, Monroe “dead” on the ground after his “fight” with Nick. She suddenly felt very small, surrounded by red eyes and bloodlust. Nick had to call for her to follow when Ostler agreed to confess and they took him to the station.

“…you okay?” He asked from the driver’s seat.

“Just…get me out of here,” she said, closing her eyes and trying to fight off visions of blood and red eyes. She was breathing deeply, trying to keep the nausea rolling in her stomach from upending everything inside.

They got back to the station and Ostler signed his confession to using ingredients he knew could be lethal without proper preparation, knowingly endangering his customers and causing three known deaths while never providing a warning. Sloane sighed, wondering how Nick managed to do this without killing him as he came back to the observation room where they were waiting; Monroe, Hank, her and Renard.

“You know, you connected on a couple of those,” Monroe said, gesturing with an ice pack at his bruised jaw.

“Yeah, you too,” Nick retorted, pointed at a graze on his brow. They both ended up laughing and Sloane shook her head a little. How did this seem both easy and hard? Killing the Bauershwein would’ve been her call, and simpler. Yet Nick found a way to do it without more bloodshed. She wasn’t sure what she felt, if it was annoyance or sick sort of admiration. She didn’t want it to be the latter.

“He signed it,” Nick said, handing the confession over to Renard.

“And this little piggy went to jail,” Renard said glibly. Nick chuckled while Sloane rolled her eyes again. They all prepared to leave.

As they were heading out, Nick gently put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, uh…can I talk to you?”

Sloane paused but nodded and followed him out to the side of the station. Nick hesitated there however, apparently having trouble collecting his thoughts. “What is it, Nick?”

“Yeah, just…I have an awkward question.”

“Okay…?” she said slowly.

Nick took a deep breath. “Have you…ever killed someone who wasn’t wesen?”

Sloane’s eyebrows shot up. “Pardon?”

“I mean, like…a normal human. Have you ever…?” he trailed off, feeling suddenly stupid. “Gant doesn’t count because he killed himself really.”

“…Is this about that bar incident?” she asked. Nick didn’t look at her and she sighed. _I knew it._ She hesitated before folding her arms and resting against the wall. “Yes. A couple of times, maybe more.

Nick looked up in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. Most of the time, it was in self-defense and if they don’t woge, I’m not always sure. I didn’t like it, but when I guy tries to stab you with a broken bottle because you killed his gang-mate who was a Hässlich, you fight back.”

He nodded a bit, knowing he couldn’t fault her that, but the phrasing got his attention. “…You said most of the time?” Nick said.

Sloane gave him a hard look. “…There was an accident once that I…killed an innocent normal human. Someone that got caught in the middle. That…was harder to come to terms with, that someone innocent was killed because of something I did.”

Nick hesitated but pressed a little more. “Did you come to terms with it?”

“Not completely, no,” she admitted. “There are times I still regret it, though my mentor told me to get over it. That things like that happen when you’re hunting wesen.”

“…Is that supposed to be easier?” he asked quietly. “Killing wesen instead of humans?”

Sloane arched her brows. “Generally, yes. We’re hardwired to hunt them, like a natural predator to them.”

Nick was quiet a moment and Sloane wondered if she’d said the wrong thing. “Renard made a good point when I saw him the other day, wanting to talk about what happened,” he finally said. “He said I felt worse killing a human in a drugged state than I did killing wesen when I was in the right state of mind. I’ve killed several wesen in the past when I deemed it necessary and didn’t beat myself up about it. Heck, I sent two reapers heads in a box back to their boss.”

“Still want to hear about that one,” Sloane added.

Nick ignored that. “But...killing this guy had an effect on me. And yeah, I wasn’t in my right mind, but it was still me that did it. And he wasn’t a good guy. Lots of past offenses, and he pulled a knife on me...But it still felt wrong. I guess...I wonder if it’s hypocritical, to feel guilt over a human but not a wesen...”

Sloane was quiet now, thinking that over. Taking a breath after a few beats, she slowly spoke. “It’s hard sometiems to see wesen as real or human for us,” she said. “That’s part of what makes us hunt. We see the side of them they try to hide. The primal, animal side. And for us, that makes it easier. I know that’s not the answer you want, but it’s the first thing to come to mind. But...I could also say maybe part of what your feeling is just...the loss of control.” Nick looked up at that. “We like being in control. You’re a cop and a Grimm, you want to be the one in control of yourself. Seeing yourself do that, but not remembering, not being in your right mind, is scary for anyone, but especially us. It’s like...seeing yourself as the monster all of a sudden. How wesen must see you. Or more like a wesen. So that might be part of it.”

Nick hummed a little, not cheered by the thought. “Maybe...”

“In which case, I mean, you’ll have to just learn to accept it,” she went on. “That guy may have been acting in self defense when you started trashing the bar, but he was also prepared to kill. Even if he was human, you have a right to defend yourself and keep living.”

“So did he,” Nick said quietly.

“Yes. But he lost. You won. You’re still here, so you keep going and doing what you have to to protect others. You gotta make tough calls sometimes to hunt another day.That’s what we do as Grimms.”

“And as police officers too,” he agreed, straightening a little. “I had to prepare myself for the posibiltiy of killing someone in the past. And I’ve done it, on hard stand offs and the likie. It was definitely rough the first time, but I saw a councilor and eventually I just came to terms with it and that it’s a thing I might have to do on this job. I always try not to of course, I take trying to deescelate things seriously, and I carried that over to being a Grimm. I really don’t want to have to kill if I don’t have to...”

She looked at him, feeling that the moment of professional pride that started lifting him up was already fading. “But…you figured out how to arrest this guy instead of kill him,” she said. “I may have preferred to kill him, but you figured out a way to do it without more death. It was harder, and riskier, but you were willing to do it to make sure no one else died. That’s…commendable on a level.” She hesitated before putting a hand on his shoulder. “You…see wesen as people. Some good, some bad, some…in between I guess. When you had to kill them, you had to because they gave you no choice. But you give them one all the time. You lived. The fact you’re here means you can keep doing that, right? Keep…proving me wrong as infuriating as it is.”

Nick stared at her a moment before smiling. “Well…I do enjoy proving you wrong, yes.”

“Don’t get cheeky with me,” she said snidely, flicking his ear and smirking when he cupped it with an affronted glare. “But yeah. Killing shouldn’t be easy, and one shouldn’t enjoy it. That’s why I particularly disliked this baurshwein and many other wesen I hunt. I…enjoy the hunt, using my skills and my mind to track and fight, but not the ending. It’s just what I’ve always thought of as the inevitable conclusion, so I did it as quick as I could. You, you found another ending. Maybe you’re more of a bleeding heart than I am, but that’s not necessarily bad as long as I can count on you. I think worrying about this sort of thing means…you are a good person. For whatever that’s worth.”

Nick was quiet a few seconds before nodding slowly with a small smile. “It’s…That’s worth more than you might think.”

She smiled slightly. “Go home and relax. We’ll probably have some other messed up case to deal with soon enough.”

“Yeah…thanks for going along with the plan by the way. I know you were really uncomfortable during the whole confrontation.”

“You’re welcome…But never surround me with Blutbader again or I will take them all down,” she said, heading back out and towards their cars. Nick shook his head but did the same, ready for a well-deserved rest.

\--------------------

_One Night Stand_

Sloane sighed as she flipped through apartment listings on her phone. She was still having trouble finding something that would suit her. It was a few days after the Raven & Rose incident—the restaurant now shut down since its chef was awaiting trial for knowingly serving dangerous mushrooms—and Renard was a little more insistent she find an apartment.

“What’s wrong?” Rosalee asked. Sloane was getting a few ingredients to make the salve she used on her wounds, her stock running low. It was also, though Sloane still hated to admit it, nice to be in the fuchsbau’s company. They’d been chatting on and off all afternoon and Sloane was surprised they were interested in a lot of similar things. Similar music—a little bit of everything, but especially classic rock and classical. Similar movies—older movies mainly, and part of that was because Sloane hadn’t really seen any new ones in years. Even things they disliked were similar enough they could talk about them for long periods of time. But Sloane had gotten into the habit of looking at apartment listings at least once every couple of hours, distracting her today.

“Oh, just…apartment hunting,” she said.

“Really?” Rosalee asked in surprise, pausing in cutting and measuring out some beeswax.

“Yeah. Can’t seem to find a place that’ll work…”

“What do you mean?”

She sighed and set her phone down. “I don’t want to be too far from the station. But I also need room. Like either an attic or basement, or even just a second bedroom.”

“Most people would prefer the second bedroom…” Rosalee said with a small smile.

“This is for my Grimm things,” she said. “I don’t think I can have them actually in my room…I’ll have trouble sleeping rather than focusing on whatever we’re doing at the time.”

“Ah, I understand. You want a bedroom to be your sanctuary.”

Sloane wrinkled her nose a little at the phrasing but shrugged. “I guess so. Mostly I just want to be able to sleep. Point is, a studio apartment isn’t going to cut it, and neither is a one bedroom. I mean, I don’t expect to be throwing parties or anything, but if someone has to come in I don’t want them seeing my crossbow and swords and wesen books everywhere...Or me having to sleep in the living room if I don’t have anywhere else to put my stuff.”

“Understandable…any other conditions.”

“Uh…not really. Functional kitchen and bathroom, not too picky on size, no funky smells or dead bodies. I’d prefer furnished because, well, I have no furniture. Laundry…I guess having one in would be good in case of, you know…blood and other stuff. I usually had to find a 24 hour place in the dead of night or throw out and or burn a lot clothes when they were stained. It gets annoying so having my own laundry would be rather nice…”

Rosalee smiled a little. “Well…I might have a listing for you then.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Mine.”

Sloane blinked and shook her head. “You lost me.”

“I’m moving out of my house—well, it’s my brother’s old house—and in with Monroe.”

“You are?” she asked, frowning more.

“Don’t start,” Rosalee warned, pointing her wax knife at her.

“I didn’t say anything,” she said, holding her hands up.

“You had a look on your face,” she said, gesturing at her face with knife. It showed how much she really had come to trust her not to find it threatening. “I told you, I love Monroe. So, we’re going to try living together.”

“Okay…Your point?” she asked.

“My point is, I haven’t actually put the house on the market yet. And I don’t really want to move until then…but I also really want to move.”

Sloane hummed a little. “I was thinking an apartment, but a house…that’d be cool. What’s it like?”

“I’m not going to lie, it was sort of my brother’s bachelor pad, so it’s not like a family home. But it’s three bedrooms—one is more like an office—two baths, and I would say it’s about 1200 square feet. Probably about halfway between here and the station.”

“What’s the price?” she asked delicately.

“Mmm…It’s not in the up-and-coming part of town, so I had it appraised for about $350,000,” Rosalee said. “It’s a nice enough neighborhood though, no issues and the neighbors keep to themselves. I’m not saying you have to. We can go look at it before you decide anything and we can talk about what would work best for both of us.”

Sloane pursed her lips a little before sighing and nodding. “Okay.”

“You don’t sound enthused…” Rosalee said, putting the beeswax up and getting down a jar of lemon balm.

“No, I…appreciate this, really,” Sloane said. “It’s just…I haven’t really lived anywhere for a long time…” she admitted. “It’s just been motels and my car for years.”

Rosalee frowned sympathetically. “Oooh…so it’s a little intimidating, getting your own place?”

“I guess…Renard said something like I’m scared to admit I’m staying here for a while…”

Rosalee sighed and nodded. “I…honestly felt the same way before I moved back here.”

She frowned in confuseion. “Why?”

“I…lived in Seattle for a while before coming back. But for a long time it wasn’t really living. For a couple of years I was on the streets and in shelters or…living with very bad people.”

Sloane blinked in surprise. “…You’re kidding? You’re probably the most level headed out of everyone I’ve met here so far.”

Rosalee smiled a little. “It all comes from hard living, I promise. I…was addicted to Jay, a wesen drug, for seven years. Caused a lot of strife for me, a rift between me and my family…a hard time starting over…” She shook her head. “My mother and sister were pretty upset with me for a lot of reasons, but my brother Freddie was the one that helped me start over. That’s why when he died, I came back to help. At first I wanted to go back to Seattle. I had a rather boring job in an office there, but it was stable. And staying hear meant I’d likely take over our family’s old shop, which is not stable.” She gestured around. “At the same time, being home, being here felt…right. But it wasn’t an easy choice. A lot of memories are here. Mostly good, but…kind of sad too because now my father and my brother are gone and the rest of my family is still kind of quiet…being hundreds of miles away was a good excuse not to try too hard to mend those ties.”

Sloane looked down a little bit. “…I…don’t really know what to say,” she said honestly. “Family isn’t really an area I have any experience in.”

“It’s fine. I just thought I’d let you know, since Monroe and Nick know. And that I get the whole “should I stay or should I go” thing.”

Sloane smiled just a little. “Thanks…Do you like it here?”

Rosalee smiled. “Love it. Not just because Monroe is here, but…I feel like I have a future. It’s tough being a one woman show here at the shop. But helping Nick and other wesen who come in…makes it worthwhile and kind of fun sometimes. Not the whole life and death part but…”

“Solving the problem?” Sloane guessed.

“Yeah.”

Sloane nodded. “I told Nick this, but I like the hunt. I like the looking for clues and leads and piecing information together. The end…was just always inevitable to me, but not the part I enjoy…”

Rosalee didn’t ask what she meant by the end, she had a good idea what that was. “Maybe that’s why you make a pretty good detective.”

“Eh, not sure about that. Seems like Nick and Hank do most of that.”

“They’re seasoned detectives; you’re still learning the ropes. And helping out, I’m sure.”

Sloane smiled a little more. It was harder and harder to deny she like hanging around Rosalee. She’d never had a lot of friends, even when she was young. Having someone to talk to about this was…strange, but also made her feel lighter somehow.

Roslee put the knife down, heating the wax over a small bunson burner to melt it down in the jar. “So, want to meet up later and I’ll show you the house?”

Sloane took a breath but nodded. “Sure, sounds good.”

Rosalee smiled excitedly, putting the lemon balm with the other ingredients she’d prepared for Sloane. “I think that’s everything then…Do you want to use the back room to make it?”

Sloane smirked a little. “You want to know the recipe for my salve, don’t you?”

Rosalee blushed but laughed at being found out. “Yeah, I do. It’s pretty amazing, those cuts you had after the whole thing with the crazy artist healed in like less than two days.”

“Yes, it is pretty great, though it really only works on flesh wounds and keeps me from having too many scars.” Sloane looked at the ingredients laid out on the counter. It would be a hassle to have to carry them back to her hotel room and try to make it there… “Alright. You knowing it could prove pretty handy in the future after all.”

“Really? It’s not a secret family recipe?” she asked in surprise.

“Oh, it is. Which is why you’ll have to swear you won’t let anyone else know,” Sloane said seriously.

“I promise,” Rosalee said, holding out her pinky. Sloane looked at it in confusion, then back up to her. “Pinky promise?”

“…What?”

Rosalee’s smiled faltered for a second before she wiggled her pinky. “Hold your pinky up.” Sloane did so slowly, still confused. Rosalee hooked their pinkies together and shook them a little. “Pinky promises. They’re a kind of traditional thing, a promise that you can’t break or bad luck comes your way. At least that’s what I’ve always been told.”

“Huh…” she said, looking at their fingers. “Okay…Help me carry this stuff to the back.”

\----------------------

In the end, Sloane liked Rosalee’s house. It was indeed convenient to the station, less than twenty minutes even with traffic, had solid features and was a cute white and blue craftsman with a grey roof. And it had the coveted second bedroom _and_ another smaller room. Freddie had apparently used the smaller room as an office since it was an odd shape--like the side view of a faceted diamond--and at the back of the house, but it was big enough Sloane could properly store most of her things there, and make a weapons closet. The other she supposed she could make a guest room, or use for more storage. The second bathroom was down the hall with the 2 bedrooms, a linen closet, and a laundry room that led to the garage. There was even a small powder room off the living room. The kitchen was a good size, shaped like an L to the left of the front door with a nice island. The dining room was a decent size just off of there and had french doors out to a back deck and a nice back yard that wrapped around the house.

“It’s a bit more than I think Renard had in mind when he told me to find a place,” Sloane said. “Price and size wise…”

“Are you trying to talk yourself out of it?” Sloane smiled at Rosalee’s knowing-tone.

Sloane huffed a laugh. “No…I like it. A lot actually. But the thing is, I don’t think he’d go into that big of a down payment…Which means I’d have to use my own money.”

“If you don’t have that much, we can work something else out. Like a loan, or I could lease it to you.”

Sloane shook her head. “No. I know I can trust you, and…If I’m gonna have a place of my own, I think I’d like it to be _mine._ Besides, loans would get tricky for me, the whole credit history thing.. _._ ” Scratching the side of her face she sighed finally. “It’ll take me a bit to move money around, but I can get the $350,000 you were quoted if that’s what you’re willing to accept. In cash.”

Rosalee blinked in confusion. “Wait…you can? But you didn’t have a job before…”

“Well, I had less than legal means of making money before,” she said evasively. Rosalee frowned and was going to say something but Sloane continued on. “But for this, I have a pretty sizeable trust from my grandmother that I can tap into now that I’m not moving around so much. I can get you cash and cover closing costs in probably…two weeks?”

“A trust from your grandmother? Are you sure?” she asked worriedly.

“I promise you, that’s not going to put too much of a dent in it…If you’d prefer I can move money around in my other accounts quicker, but I wouldn’t ask too much about where that came from,” she said carefully.

Rosalee was hesitant, but then she knew that Sloane had a past probably more checkered than hers. She was moving on and trying to do better, and Rosalee would honestly not sneeze at a full price payout. “Alright. But I think we can sweeten the deal for both of us.”

“How so?”

“You said you didn’t have any furniture right? I’m not going to need all of this moving in with Monroe, so I think we can work out something…”

Sloane ended up buying quite a bit of the furniture from Rosalee, both to her advantage and it kept Rosalee from having to move it or put it on craigslist or trade out with Monroe. She bought the bed frame from the master—a new mattress would be delivered soon— and nightstand, the bureau, the old antique desk in the second bedroom, the couch, and some of kitchen goods like pots and pans and such. In the living room the couch would stay, as would the coffee table. She hesitated about the TV, DVD player and stand, considering she hadn’t watched hardly any TV over the years, but Rosalee convinced her to just in case it would come in handy. In return for the great prices on what she bought, Sloan ended up helping her box what she did plan to take over to Monroe’s over the next couple of weeks, before Sloane could move her own things in.

“I wonder if Monroe is going to have room for all this…even with what you got from me, this is a lot of stuff,” Rosalee said as she finished taping one of the last boxes shut. A bag of finished breakfast tacos was sitting by the trash bag she was also filling up, Sloane having arrived as planned that morning to help finish packing up. They’d been doing a lot of that over the last few days but the end was in sight. On the counter was Rosalee’s MP3 stereo, her phone hooked up and playing some music to help pass the time. She’d noticed Sloane liked music the first day she did this. She’d tap things out, sway a little bit, even tap her feet. Rosalee had stared the first time she noticed it until Sloane noticed and then immediately stopped, embarrassed. Neither of them said anything about it, but Rosalee had found it cute that Sloane had a weakness for rhythm so she kept the music on as background noise.

“That’s kind of between you two…” Sloane said, putting another box outside the door. “I’ve haven’t lived with anyone since I was eighteen and still with my mentor, and even then we were pretty minimalist since we moved around a lot. Oh, I guess I lived with some other Grimms on and off too, but that was the same.”

“That sounds rough…”

She shrugged. “Could’ve been worse.” 

Rosalee hummed and picked up the box she had. “I think this is the last of it.”

“I’ll help you with them to the car then.”

“Actually…why don’t you sweep up?”

“Sweep up?”

“Yeah. We did kind of make a mess clearing stuff up…” she said, looking around. There was dust, packing supplies, bits of paper and the backs of stickers and just general debris lying around. “I’ll help when I’m done. I’d feel better leaving here with it looking a little nicer, even if it is your place starting tomorrow. It’ll give you a chance to kind of start thinking of as your place too.”

“My place?”

“Yeah. You can do whatever you want here pretty much! Even redecorate, move stuff around, paint etc.”

Sloane seemed surprised by the idea despite days of preparation. “Huh…alright. You sure you don’t need help?”

“I’m sure, you basically loaded the last two trips on your own, and I can get this one. Here, I’ll turn up the music for you to make it more fun.” She stepped back over to her stereo and upped the volume on the old school pop song playing. Sloane rolled her eyes but Rosalee just smiled and readjusted the box. “I’ll be back in a bit!”

Sloane nodded and went to the hall closet to grab the broom while Rosalee headed out the door, closing it behind her. Sloane sighed a bit, looking around. “My place…” She muttered. It was a bit surreal. She had a house, a real house. A place she could do whatever she wanted. It was a freeing and yet intimidating concept. She felt that urge to run again but took a breath and tamped it down. Grabbing the broom, she started sweeping up the bits of packing tape that had gotten tangled, balled up newspapers, and just general mess. The song on the stereo changed and Sloane felt her lips twitch when she recognized it. Billy Idol’s _Dancing with Myself_ was just starting and she felt her body already moving a bit to the beat. She tightened her grip on the broom to try and focus, pushing it across the floor. _My place…I can do what I want…_ She smiled a bit, starting to move more rhythmically. With practiced ease her feet started moving through steps.

It’d been a long time since she’d really let herself think about dancing. To not think too hard and let her feet move, focusing just on the music and rhythm and getting lost. She even started bouncing one of the tape balls on the broom before striking it like a ball into the bin. She only noticed the music changed to something old and Sinatra-like when she figured out she needed to step differently. There was hopping and heel turning, a little shuffling and twirling. She smiled a bit, feeling more at ease. She could do this; she could dance, without being told not to. She had no shared walls with neighbors, no one was below her to mind the footfalls. No one was living with her to judge. The walls were a good thickness so no one would mind a little music. It was finally a chance to do something for herself—

Sloane turned to see Rosalee in the doorway, staring in shock. Sloane froze, the broom slipping from her hand to fall to the floor. They stared at one another before Sloane slowly walked over and turned the stereo off. “…You didn’t see that.”

“Oh, I saw,” Rosalee said, a smile spreading on her face.

“Then that means I have to kill you,” she warned. She wasn’t serious, but she tried to look it.

Rosalee wasn’t fooled, smiling more. “That might’ve been intimidating before the whole Ginger Rogers routine…”

Sloane glared but blushed as well. “I’m not as good as Ginger Rogers…”

“That was really good!” Rosalee said, coming over. “I had no idea you could dance like that, it was great.”

“No, no it wasn’t, it was just-I was just…”

Rosalee frowned, realizing Sloane was close to panicking. “Sloane…it’s okay, really.” Sloane didn’t meet her gaze and Rosalee grew worried. “There’s no reason you can’t dance…”

“…I’m…It’s not something a Grimm should…” she said quietly.

“Who says? Grimms also shouldn’t be friends with Fuchsbau right? But you’re my friend. Maybe one of my best the way things are going.”

Sloane was shocked by that, feeling herself heat up more with embarrassment. “…I…I still don’t want people to know…or see…it’s just a dumb thing I do…I can’t stop it when music plays…”

“It’s not dumb if you like it, but that’s fine. You are good, you know.”

“I’m out of practice,” she muttered, still embarrassed but relaxing just slightly.

“Still, not bad.”

Sloane finally looked at her again. “Promise not to tell anyone though?”

“If you insist...” Rosalee smiled and went over to the stereo, pushing some buttons on her phone. “But I still say you can dance if you want to…you can leave your friends behind…” Sloane frowned, thinking that sounded familiar, but also an odd choice of words given what she just said. “Because your friends don’t dance and if they don’t dance, well they’re no friends of mine.” She pushed play on a song that Sloane recognized after a second and then she stared at Rosalee in disbelief.

“Really? You are seriously-and you’re dancing. You’re doing that dance.”

Rosalee started dancing to _Safety Dance_ , purposefully being dorky and goading her to join as she mouthed along with the words. Sloane couldn’t help it, she started laughing. A full on laugh like she hadn’t had in years, shaking her body. Her stomach was already hurting from not laughing in ages, but she couldn’t stop herself or put that stoic mask back on. Rosalee smiled wider, feeling proud. She grabbed her hands to lead her into a dance together in the house that was soon going to be all her own when the paperwork was finalized. Sloane felt suddenly lighter than she had in years and danced along.

\----------------------

Sloane got to the station earlier than her shift asked for and dropped by Renard’s office.

“Sloane. Something I can do?” he asked, finishing paperwork.

“No…Just here to give you this.” She handed him a sheet of paper. “My, uh…new address.”

Renard smiled a little and took it, looking it over. “Finally got that apartment then? I was worried I’d have to remind you again.”

“Yeah. Rosalee helped, it’s…her old place,” she said, feeling a little awkward.

“…It’s a house,” he said, noting the address didn’t have an apartment number.

“Yes it is,” Sloane said. “You don’t have to worry, I paid for it out of my old savings. My…grandmother left me quite a bit I haven’t touched, and I had more saved up.”

“I see, that works out well then,” he said, smiling. “I’ll have your files updated. Do you need an advance on anything?”

“No, I’ve got it covered. I should be moving in soon, it’s just a matter of getting the time.”

“Well, it’s all worked out well then. Was there anything else?”

“Not really.”

“Then you should go join Nick and Hank. While I wish I could give you time to finish moving, I believe you two have a case,” he nodded towards where Nick and Hank were obviously waiting on her.

“Got it.” She turned to leave.

“Oh, and Sloane?”

She glanced back. “Yes?”

“I’m glad you’re adapting well here. You’re an asset to the department for certain, but…you seem to be meshing well over all now. I was worried you wouldn’t.”

Sloane frowned a little but then shrugged. “I’m…learning things. It’s interesting. I sort of naively and kind of stupidly thought I was done learning anything about being a Grimm, and didn’t really appreciate being so…thrown at first. But it’s not so bad I guess. At the very least, I’m not as bored as I thought I’d be staying in one place.”

Renard smiled a little. “That’s good to hear. Please then, go keep learning.”

She rolled her eyes a little and went out to join Nick and Hank. “Hey, what’d Renard need?” Nick said.

“I was just letting him know that I have my own place now.”

“Rosalee all moved out?”

“As of yesterday. I still need to move in and I’m sleeping at the hotel till I get my new bed. And the payment still needs to go through but I don’t see much problem there since it’s cash.”

“That’s good,” Hank said. “But we actually got a case now.”

“Lead the way,” she said.

They headed out and to the bank of the Columbia River, where apparently they’d found a drowned man in his early twenties. He fit the description of a missing person, but aside from also drowning he had several very bad scratches around his ankles, like from an animal. Sloane shuddered, imagining being pulled under the water by something.

“Who filed the report?” Nick asked.

Hank looked at his notes. “Jake Barnes, filed last night at 9:15.”

“Let’s talk to him.”

They started back for the car and Sloane glanced back, looking out over the water suspiciously. In the car, Nick looked back at her. “Think its wesen?”

“Possible. There are several types of wesen that like or even need to be submerged in water. I can rule out a couple given that he wasn’t nibbled on…”

“More man-eaters? Really?” Hank asked.

“Yes. The Pua Niho comes to mind, but they prefer salt water being that they’re shark like. Fresh water…A Matope Khungu I suppose could do it, though they live usually in more humid, tropical conditions. They like to let their food rest in water for several days till it’s slightly decayed. They usually just hunt big game, but have been known to hunt humans…”

“What are they like?” Hank asked, looking a bit disgusted.

“Aligator types. Leathery skin, lots of teeth, good in the water. Not to be confused Gelumcaedus, which are also rather reptilian and tough as nails.”

“Sounds fun,” Nick said.

“Not really. They can stand toe to toe with Grimms, I saw one rip a man’s arm off once…”

“Okay, really hope it’s not that,” Hank said.

“Same,” Nick agreed.

“Like I said, I don’t think it is. The victim was scratched up, but not eaten, just…drowned.”

Nick looked back at her again. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” she said, trying to get rid of the shudder that went through her back.

They tracked down Jake Barnes to his apartment and questioned him about what happened. Apparently he and Dan had met with a couple of girls by the river and one thing had led to another. Sloane didn’t care for the idea of sex in water but kept that to herself. Something had tried to drag them down after that, but something else—a girl he thought— saved Jake while Dan wasn’t so lucky. They ended up returning to the river with Jake for a more thorough look at the scene. While he was talking, Sloane scanned the river, trying look for any traces of something still there. It was hard with how deep and green the water was and she shuddered again at the thought of being dragged down under it.

“Hank, Sloane!” Nick called, grabbing her attention. He was already off and running after something and Sloane followed quickly, able to catch up to him faster than Hank or Jake, and saw a dark haired girl running through the brush ahead of them. Before they could catch up she was in the water and under, swimming at an alarming speed out quite a distance before surfacing and looking at them. Her eyes seemed to glow even in the day light and she gave a quiet squeaking noise before diving back under. Nick stared at the water in shock and then looked at Sloane. Sloane was trying to track her movements through the water, but she was soon far enough away even enhanced Grimm sight couldn’t do much. Hank jogged up then.

“What happened?” he asked.

“She dove in,” Nick said, still looking at the water.

“You see her come up?”

“Yeah, about 50 yards out.”

“She swam all that way underwater?” he asked in surprise. “What are we dealing with?”

“A Naiad,” Sloane said.

Nick looked at her. “You know them well?”

“Pretty well. They-” She paused when Jake caught up and gave them a look that said “later”.

“I think that was the girl I saw before,” Jake said, panting. “Where’d she go?”

“I don’t know,” Nick said honestly.

They dropped Jake back off in town and returned to the station, Hank calling in about any other bodies possibly being found on the way.

“I doubt those girls are missing,” Sloane said. “They were probably Naiads as well.”

“What are those?” Nick asked.

“You might know them better as mermaids.”

Hank and Nick both looked back at her as though she’d grown a second head. “Mermaids?” they said together.

Sloane thought they really shouldn’t be so shocked at this point. “Yeah. Sea nymphs. Though not a siren, those are a little different. Not sure how they got lumped together like they have…Also, no fish tail. Those were manatees, and I really don’t know how they got mixed into this other than sailors being weirdly horny.”

“Okay, but…so they drown people? Like in the folklore?” Hank asked.

“Sort of. It’s actually the males who do the drowning.” She looked at Nick. “To be honest, I’m fairly certain Marie had a book with an entry on them. It might be good to see if it has any information we can use.”

Nick nodded. “Okay. We can check out the trailer later, but we should probably inform Renard at the station.”

They headed back, Hank getting information from the river patrol just as Renard was coming in a few minutes later. They quickly caught him up on the case on their way to his office.

“River patrol didn't find any bodies matching Jake's description of Sarah, Anna, or the girl Nick saw jump into the river,” Hank said as they walked.

“They're probably still alive. Somebody went back to the campsite and took the sisters' clothes,” Renard said, nodding.

“Jake said they were scared. They probably got out of the river, grabbed their stuff, and ran.”

“The girl I saw go into the river was a lot more than a girl when she got under the water,” Nick said meaningfully at the office door.

Renard took a breath, opening the office door to let them in. “You know what she was?”

“Naiad seems the most likely,” Sloane said simply.

“Really?” he asked, closing the door behind them.

“She had gills and glowing eyes and swam like a fish.”

“I see…that could be a problem, but it makes sense. You think then these girls and the boys were…”

“Jake admitted to having sex with one of them,” Sloane said.

“Alright. But I’m not sure why they would drown them after?” Renard asked.

“Maybe they woged and the boys saw?” Nick asked.

“Jake isn’t letting on he saw anything out of the ordinary,” Hank said.

“This seems to be a common thread with Naiads,” Sloane said. “I’m not sure why, by they like to get men from the shore rather than their own kind, and then they end up drowned after…” she gestured vaguely. “Doing the deed.”

Renard hummed and then paused when he got a text message, pulling out his phone. “Ah…I have to deal with this. You think you have this covered?”

“I think so,” Sloane said, looking at Hank and Nick. They nodded and headed out of the office. After finishing up work at the station, they first headed over to Monroe’s—now Monroe & Rosalee’s really—to help with unpacking. Inevitably they started talking about the case.

“In the river? You know, I'm not really that much of a water person. I'm really more of a Mountain and land kind of lubber,” Monroe said. Sloane really disliked that she agreed with him.

“There was this girl I knew in Seattle, she was a Naiad, lived out on Bainbridge Island. She's was kind of weird. Nice though. But she could swim like a fish,” Rosalee said.

“Called it,” Sloane said with a smile.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Sloane said she was pretty sure the girl we saw was a Naiad.”

“And I was right.”

“Oh, naiads. Yeah, no, I've heard of naiads. I've never seen one, though. What are they, like, a water nymph or something?” Monroe said, looking to Rosalee.

“Sort of. Very close-knit families. They never stray far from the water.”

“That's probably why Jake can't describe who saved him,” Hank said.

“So then, I think the trailer is the next stop,” Sloane said. Monroe perked up a little, looking at Nick and Hank.

“Yeah. Right, we should be going,” Nick said, taking some que from him as he stood. “Looks like you guys have a lot left to do.”

“Yeah, we do. We sure do,” Monroe said, looking around at the many boxes still needing to be sorted. “Hey, you know, but if you guys need any help, you know, in the trailer... I mean, I probably shouldn't leave with so much left to do…” He looked at Rosalee, who was smiling in amusement.

“Go ahead.”

“What?” Sloane said.

“Are you sure? I mean, it's not gonna take that long,” Monroe said, looking excited.

“Please, take him,” she said, pushing Monroe towards them slightly.

“Nooooo…” Sloane said under her breath.

“Thanks,” Monroe kissed her cheek and Sloane glowered as he moved past towards Nick and Hank. She looked at Rosalee in annoyance and the fuchsbau just smiled. “It’s fine, really.”

She grunted and turned to head out, following them to the trailer. They started pulling books off the shelves, looking though them.

It was Monroe that found something first. It was a document from a Grimm traveling aboard a trading vessel, dated 1755. It detailed that a man went missing after stating that he’d seen a beautiful woman swimming like a fish alongside their boat. The Grimm captured her and dragged her aboard the boat secretly, questioning her about what happened to the crewman. It appeared the longer she was out of the water, the drier and more shriveled she became. When he turned the page to the last part of the entry, Sloane frowned at the vacant stare of the sketch he’d made of a dried up Naiad. ““At sunrise this morning, the creature died from what I assume was severe dehydration,”” Monroe read. ““I'm afraid whatever secrets the naiad was keeping have died with her."”

A phone suddenly rang and Hank picked his up, looking at the Id. “It's Wu.” He answered it on speaker. “Got something for us?”

“We ran the number from Jake Barnes' missing cell phone. GPS puts it at the Andersen marina,” Wu said.

“That's not far up the river from where they went swimming,” Nick said.

“How you want to handle this?”

“Meet us at the marina,” Hank said, Sloane and Nick already getting ready to go.

“We should bring Jake along in case he can I.D. whoever took the phone,” Nick said.

Monroe got back into his own car to head home while they picked up Jake and headed to the Marina. They left Jake near the car with a pair of binoculars so he could scope out the locals without being seen. Wu tracked the phone’s signal to a houseboat and the owner, Abel Mahario, was adamant he had nothing to do with any drownings. However, when Wu called Jake’s number, the easily heard the ring tone inside the house. They found the phone tucked away behind a couch cushion, and then found a picture of three girls. The youngest looked like the girl Nick and Sloane had seen dive into the water, so they brought the picture out to confront Mahario. Mahario claimed he had no idea how the phone got there. When they asked to speak to his youngest daughter, Elly, he revealed she was deaf. None of them knew sign language so that was a bust for the moment.

Things got more complicated when two of the girls, the infamous Anna and Sarah, arrived back and Jake came down to confront them. The girls said they had no idea what he was talking about, but the evidence added up too much to be a coincidence. Two men tried to confront them as well, but in the end Anna and Sarah would be coming back to the precinct with them.

“Listen, you can't do this,” Mahario said as Hank and the officers escorted the girls to a squad car.

“Sir, we can make the same arrangements for you, unless you want to clear this up right now,” Nick said.

“You don't understand!” He woged then, his eyes glowing yellow, his teeth sharpening, and gills undulating around his neck. His eyes widened when he looked at Sloane and Nick.

“Well, I guess we have more to talk about than I thought,” Nick said with a satisfied smirk.

“I don’t know, kind of saw it coming myself,” Sloane said.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Big surprise. But we’re going to talk to your daughters first, give you some time to think about it.” They walked around either side of him and back towards the cars. Sloane had a nagging feeling there was more here though.

\---------------------

At the station, they put the girls in two separate interrogation rooms. Sloane could already see dry patches appearing on their arms, and she knew Hank and Nick could see them too. To her it meant they had a set amount of time to do this before they died. To them it meant the same thing, though she figured they were more concerned about the whole “dying” thing than she was.

“Jake says this is the girl that pulled him out. You want to tell us what happened?” Nick said, holding the photo out to Sarah, the blonde. He tapped over the youngest girl in the photo, a pretty girl with olive skin and dark hair. She looked away, keeping her mouth shut. Nick sat down in the chair and motioned for Sloane to do the same. “We're the only three here who know what you and your sister are.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she said.

“You're naiads,” Sloane said. She tensed in surprise but looked away again, keeping her lips together.

“You really want to spend the next 24 hours drying out in a holding cell?” Nick asked more desperately.

“'Cause that's where you're going if you don't start talking,” Hank added.

“I have nothing to say.”

Hank sighed and they all stood. “Well, let's hope your sister does.”

They went to the other room where Anna, the red-headed sister, sat. She was just as tight lipped as Sarah. “Jake saw Dan pulled under,” Nick said. “Jake is only alive because Elly saved him. That means you either saw what happened or were involved with what happened. You need to tell us, Anna. Because I know naiads can only be out of the water for so long.” Anna looked at him in shock, looking at Sloane and Hank as well when they didn’t call Nick crazy. “And you will die in here if you don't start talking. Who pulled Jake under the water? Who killed Dan?” Anna shook her head slowly, tearing up, but still kept her lips locked. Sloane sighed a little and followed them to Renard’s office to give him an update.

“Knowing what they are and what will happen to them, we don't want to keep them locked up,” Nick said.

“You don’t, I’m rather indifferent,” Sloane said. He gave her a look and she held up a hand, gesturing she’d not harp on about that.

“They're not giving us much choice,” Hank sighed. “At the very least, they know what happened and didn't report it.”

“So they might know who did it,” Renard speculated.

“That's the problem, we think they're protecting somebody,” Nick said.

“I’d say their sister, but she saved Jake so that’s rather counterproductive in drowning men…” Sloane said.

“How much time do you think they have?” Renard asked.

“I doubt they'll survive the night,” Nick said, frustration mounting.

“And what about the girl who saved your victim from the river?”

“Can't find her,” Hank sighed.

Renard sighed as well. “So how do we explain two dead women in our holding cells? We can't very well say they're naiads.”

“We'll get blamed for something we had no control over,” Nick groaned.

“And they're playing a very serious game. If they're involved, what do we do, just let 'em go?” Hank asked.

“No. This is their problem, not ours. If they choose to die, we let the M.E. explain it. Just 'cause they're wesen, it doesn't entitle them to special treatment,” Renard said.

Sloane’s eyebrows ticked up, finding a little bit of respect for that. “…I can take care of them. Their bodies I mean.”

“Sloane—” Nick started.

“It’s not the first time I’ve made a body disappear,” she said, giving him a steady look. “And I don’t just mean hiding it for the police to find later, I mean making it disappear. I only leave bodies places I know I won’t get the blame for or it doesn’t matter when it’s found. If I have to, I make it gone.”

Nick and Hank stared at her for a long time with looks akin to horror, but Renard was nodding a little more considering than they liked. They were interrupted by knocking at the door and Wu opening it.

“Yeah?”

“The girls' father, Abel Mahario, is here,” he said, looking dubious. “Apparently, he wants to talk.” Sloane looked at Hank and Nick and then to Renard, who nodded to them.

They met Abel in an interrogation room and he got right to the subject at hand. “I killed that boy. I did it. You need to arrest me and let my daughters go.”

“How'd you kill him?” Hank asked, looking as doubtful as the rest of them.

Abel looked at him like he was stupid. “I drowned him.”

“Why?” Nick shot out.

“I have my reasons,” he ground out.

“I know you didn't do it for a cell phone,” Hank said.

“We know you want to save your girls, but we'd rather leave here with whoever's really responsible,” Nick said calmly.

“I am! I told you I did it! I-I pulled him underwater!”

“Were your daughters there too?”

“No.”

“Jake Barnes says they were.”

“Well, he's lying.”

“Why would he lie?”

“He just saw them,” Abel snapped.

“He knew their names,” Sloane said. “And recognized them. So they must’ve met, and they must’ve been there.”

Abel breathed deeply. ”I saw those two boys attacking my daughters, and I did what I had to.”

“So you're telling us you were saving your daughters?” Nick asked.

“They were being raped!” he spat out.

Sloane glared at him. She knew the truth and she despised someone trying to use something like a false rape allegation to try and justify cold blooded murder. Her hand twitched, she was close to grabbing him by the throat when Nick leaned in. “Then why did your other daughter pull Jake out of the water?”

Hank was right on his heels and Sloane was surprised when they started going back and forth questioning so fast even she could barely keep up. All the while they closed in on him. “Who gave you the black eye? Did you know she was there too? What time did you get there? How did you get there? You walk? Take a car? What did the other guy look like, the one you killed? Was he tall, short, fat, black, white? We need some details here. Why don't you take us to the place where it happened?”

Abel was sweating now and Nick folded his arms. “You see how difficult this gets when you're not telling the truth?”

“Why does it matter?” he asked desperately. “I'm offering my life for my daughters'.” Sloane blinked, staring at him a moment. Nick and Hank were already heading for the door and she stood to follow, but looked back at Abel who was looking close to breaking down.

“Not easy being a parent,” Hank said.

“Yeah, but it could be what we need,” Nick pointed out. “Those girls may be ready to throw their own lives away, but they might not be so willing when it's their dad's life they're dealing with.”

“Use his confession as leverage?” Renard asked.

“Might be just as tough being a daughter.”

He nodded slowly. “I guess we'll find out if it's a loving family.”

Sloane frowned again, feeling a momentary twinge inside her, but followed Nick and Hank to holding cells.

“Your father confessed to everything. You are free to go,” Nick said.

“What?” Anna asked, blinking in confusion.

“What did... what did he confess to?” they asked, moving slowly to the front of the cells. They were weak obviously, drying out more and more, and their voices were becoming raspy.

“The murder of Dan Hopkins and the attempted murder of Jake Barnes.”

“That's a lie,” Sarah said.

“You think we'd be letting you go if we didn't have a confession?”

She looked down, shaking her head. “No. This isn't right.”

“Sarah, they're letting us go,” Anna said as if trying to talk sense into her.

“And arresting dad? He'll die here.”

“We can talk about this at home,” she said, putting more meaning into her words.

“It's dad, Anna.”

“Sarah, don't.”

She looked down a moment before back up at Nick with determination. “Dominic did it.”

“Dominic?”

“And Jesse too. It's those two guys from the marina.”

Nick nodded to them and Hank moved to unlock Sarah’s cell while he went to unlock Anna’s. “They'll kill us, Sarah,” Anna said, looking at her with fear. When she turned try and exit the cell, she woged suddenly as she desperately tried to catch her breath, a chirping noise coming from her almost like a dolphin.

“They don’t have much time left,” Sloane said.

“We need to get you out of here,” Nick added.

Anna woged back and took a shaking step back, fear making her shake like gasping fish. “Sarah, they’re Grimms! You can't trust them!”

“I have no choice,” she said, resigned.

In the interrogation room once again, Sarah broke down what happened. Dominic and Jesse had apparently snuck to the river as well without the girls knowing. Dominic pulled Dan under, Jessie pulled Jake. The girls had chosen them to help start families, though they were with Dominic and Jesse.

“So you weren’t intending for those boys to die at the hands of your...partners?” Sloane asked, unsure what to call them.

“No! We don’t follow that tradition. At least dad doesn’t, but Dominic and Jesse still do…We didn’t know they did.”

“You didn’t know they followed those traditions until you were about to…?” Nick asked.

“No. We only just met face to face six months ago. Our relationships are arranged. We didn't think that they would actually do anything, we just... we just thought they were talking.”

“So this is some kind of ritual?” Hank asked.

“I think that's what they want us to think, but it's more about revenge.” She sighed and looked at them. “We can only conceive and give birth in the water. Naiad men are born sterile. They know we have to mate with other men. Otherwise, we'll die out. I mean, they're not very happy about it, but neither are we.”

“Well, I can see where that may cause a little bit of tension,” Nick said.

“Our men have to raise the children of other men. I mean, some of them are okay with it, but... Others aren't so... Accepting.”

“Men…” Sloane muttered, earning a look from Hank and Nick to which she stared back daring them to say something.

Nick’s phone rang and he pulled it out, frowning in confusion. “It's Jake.” He answered the phone. “Hello?” He listened, eyes widening a bit. “Stay where you are. We're gonna send some uniforms your way.” He hanged up and looked at the others. “Jesse and Dominic beat up Jake. Elly was there, and they took her.”

“Oh, my God, they're gonna cut her!” Sarah gasped.

“What?” Hank asked.

“They'll cut the telae between her fingers and toes.” She gestured with her hand between her fingers, where the webbings would be if she woged. “It’s how they used to banish those that broke our laws. It’s painful and disfiguring, but more than that she won’t be able to swim anymore, and that’s dangerous for us!”

“Where would they take her?” Nick asked.

“Where they can make an example out of her: Home.”

They quickly scrambled to get ready but Sloane paused and looked at her. “You mind being a widow?”

Sarah blinked but then gave her a hard look. “If they hurt my sister…cut their throats. Heck, do it anyway, I don’t want to see him again.”

Sloane smirked a little and quickly caught up with Nick and Hank.

\-----------------------

Getting to the marina, they were coming down the docks just in time to see Elly dragged into the water by rope tied to an anchor. One of the men, Dominic she assumed, was coming for them woged into his Naiad form.

“I got him, go get the girl!” Sloane yelled, getting in front of Dominic.

He sneered at her with his sharp, fish-like teeth. “You think you can take me, little lady?”

Sloane glared and rushed him, bringing her fist up into his face and sending him reeling back with his hands to his nose. “I’m Grimm, fish stick. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

He growled and tried to grab her but she ducked down, bringing her elbow into his side near his kidneys three times in quick succession before she had to dodge left. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Hank was duking it out with the other, and heard a splash as Nick dived into the water for Elly when she didn’t come up. Dodging another swipe from Dominic, she gasped as he tried to pull her into a bear hug. He was strong, her ribs protesting the squeeze. Glaring at him, she took as deep a breath as she could and then bit down on his gills, blowing into them. He screamed, letting go and pulling back at the suffusion of air through his system. Landing on her feet, Sloane swung around and kicked him straight across the temple, sending him down. He woged back to a human and Hank, having subdued Jesse and handcuffed him to a boat tie, rushed over to secure Dominic the same way.

“You okay?” he panted.

“Depends. Are you going to let me gut him like a fish?” she said, eying the prone man darkly.

He gave her a flat look. “No.”

She pouted but sighed, catching her breath. “Eh, I’ll live with the disappointment then…” She looked down at the water and frowned. “Nick…has Nick come back up?”

Hank looked out there as well and his eyes widened in panic. “Nick! Nick!”

Sloane felt her heart drop and she rushed over, looking at the water. She swallowed, the water dark and deep looking in the night. There was no way for her to be able to see him, even with Grimm sight. “Nick! Nick, get up here!” she yelled without thinking. “Please don’t make me go down there…” she added quietly.

Just then she saw a form coming to the surface and breathed out a sigh of relief when it was Nick with Elly in his arms. She coughed as Hank helped her out of the water and carried her away from the dock. Sloane reached down to help Nick, frowning at the chill and the pallor of his skin. Nick quickly headed over to Hank and Elly and she followed. Elly was coughing up water, apparently having been unconscious and unable to woge while she was under. Hank looked up at Nick worriedly and Nick noticed, looking at him in confusion.

“You alright?” Hank asked.

Nick looked shook his head in confusion, and Sloane was surprised when the paleness of his skin turned rosier before their eyes. “I’m thinking so.”

Hank looked worried still but turned to Elly, making sure she could see his lips. “You okay?”

She nodded shakily, shivering slightly. Hank stood and took off his Jacket, looking at Nick again. “We got Dominic and Jesse handcuffed. How do you want to deal with them?”

Nick shrugged as if it were obvious. “Lock 'em up.”

“They won't last long,” Hank pointed out as he draped his jacket around Elly.

“They should've thought about that before,” Nick spat.

Sloane smiled. “Well, happy ending all around then I think…”

“Not going to go after the Maharios?” Nick asked.

“I have a feeling you’d stop me if I did,” Sloane said. The look on his face said she was right and she sighed. “Plus…they aren’t the murders. I think they’ve learned a lesson about the old ways here, she saved a guy, the dad was trying to protect his daughters…I don’t know. I don’t feel good just killing them. Doesn’t feel honorable.”

Nick smiled a little and Hank did as well. He turned a worried look back to Nick however. “You know how long you were under that water? We thought you were dead. You sure looked like it when you came up.”

Nick looked anxious as well but before they could talk more, the Mahiros arrived and rushed to reunite with Elly. She gave Nick and Sloane a smile as her father hugged her tight and Sloane found she couldn’t help but smile a little back with Nick.

At the station, Jake viewed a lineup of men that included Dominic, who was sporting a nasty bruise along the right side of his face from Sloane’s boot. They were steel toe after all.

“Number three,” Jake said.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Hank knocked on the glass three times and the lineup was dispersed, an officer taking Dominic away. Jake sighed and then groaned as he rubbed over his face.

“Look, can I... can I ask you guys something?”

They glanced at each other, having a feeling what this might be. “Sure.” Nick said.

Jake sighed again as he tried his best to collect his thoughts. “I-I'm not so sure how to say this, but... You know that girl that pulled me out of the water, Elly?”

“What about her?” Hank asked.

“Well, I don't know, but I saw something really strange.”

“Like what?” Nick asked.

“Like, I... Think she's, like, a mutant or something, some kind of, like, mermaid thing... I... ugh. Okay, I know how that sounds, believe me. I just... She came over and went to the pool and she just wasn't... Normal,” he said desperately.

“Nobody is, Jake. It's Portland,” Nick laughed, leaving the room with Hank in tow.

Sloane frowned at him disapprovingly and shook her head, closing the door. “Jake?”

“Yeah?” he said, sounding defeated.

“You aren’t crazy.”

He looked up. “I…I’m not?”

She shook her head. “I’m going to give you a very small run down of what’s happened from…a different point of view, alright? It’ll help make sense of all this. But, you also have to remember, it’s very unlikely anyone is going to believe you. So if you try to tell anyone outside this room…”

“I’ll be committed,” he guessed.

“More than likely. But as much as you’ve seen, I doubt you’re going to be able to just say it was your imagination.” She pulled up a chair. “Have you ever heard of a Naiad?”

“No…”

“Well, it is like a mermaid. You see…”

She spent about an hour explaining, in very limited detail, about what Elly and her family were. She didn’t mention other wesen, or even the word wesen, just letting him assume that Naiads were the oddest thing in the world. Jake was a bit shell shocked by the end but nodded slowly.

“So…Sarah and Anna didn’t know those guys were going to…?”

Sloane shook her head. “No. They do feel bad for what happened to your friend Dan, but no one was supposed to die when they took you to that beach. Ultimately we got those men because of the girls finally said so. And they are likely not going to live long.”

He nodded slowly. “Usually I’m kind of eh on capital punishment, but…” He sighed, thinking things over, then looked up. “…Am…am I going to be a dad?” he asked hesitantly.

Sloane shrugged. “Hard to say, as far as I know they otherwise adhere to normal anatomy rules and despite what my Phys Ed teachers tried to tell me, I know it’s not always a one and done kind of thing. We’ll have to see what happens. Either way, you have a choice here. You can just put this all in the back of your mind and live a normal life, let the Maharios deal with whatever comes up….”

“Or?” He asked uncertainly.

“Or…keep in touch. With Elly and the others. I’m not a fan of Naiads by any means, but… that family is tolerable at least. Close knit but progressive, I doubt I’ll have to worry about them much in the future. That Dominic and Jesse will end up dried out for what they did is good enough for me at least this time.”

Jake was quiet as he turned thoughtful. “I don’t know…”

“Well, no one says you have to decide now,” Sloane said, standing. “Just remember, no telling others. For your sake and theirs. Because if you start spreading information around and causing a panic,” she leaned in and gave him a piercing look, “then you become my problem.”

Jake gulped and nodded. “I-I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry…”

“Good. Glad we had this talk. I’ll show you out.” She led him out through the station and back out the front door before returning to her desk.

“Hey, everything okay?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, just took care of something, that’s all.” She paused in filling out her report and glanced at him. “You?”

Nick twitched a little. “Fine…”

They were quiet a second and Sloane looked back at the computer. “Good.”

“…You don’t like water, do you?” Nick asked suddenly.

Sloane froze and then slowly turned her head to him. “What? Why would you say that?”

“Because I know you. If you thought I was going to die or screw up, you’d have come after me in a second.”

“You don’t “know” me,” she started.

“Fine, from what I know of you, you’d have done that. But you didn’t. You stayed on the docks with Hank.”

“It was dark…”

“You can see better in the dark than Hank. I…could. Under the water too.”

Sloane straightened in surprise. “Huh…your Grimm abilities are coming fast then. And sharp.”

“So I know you would’ve been able to see fine,” Nick said, not falling for the change in subject.

Sloane frowned and then sighed a little. He was not going to let this go she knew and while she despised letting out information like this, she resigned herself. It was annoying that besides becoming an adept Grimm, he was also a good detective. “Fine, yes. I’m not a fan of water.”

“Can you not swim?”

“I can swim fine,” she snapped. “I just…dislike deep, open bodies of water. Pools are fine, just…lakes, oceans, large rivers like that…not a fan.”

“Why?”

“Hell if I know,” she growled. “Isn’t that what phobias are, unexplained fears?”

“I guess…”

“…I’m sorry I almost let you and…I guess the Naiad too, drown because of it,” she admitted. “I despise that stupid weakness…”

“Hey, it’s not stupid,” Nick said, a little thrown by her admission. “Really. I can see how it would be a little freaky…”

“Don’t patronize me,” she said with a glare.

“I’m not, I promise,” he held up his hands.

She snorted and turned back to her computer. “You tell anyone, you’ll pay,” she said.

“Remind me to take you to the aquarium sometime.”

Sloane glared and kept typing.


	6. Killer Looks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 6 of The Case Book of Sloane Larson!
> 
> Sloane is trying to settle into her new home, and the others are happy to help. But elsewhere in Portland, a woman who's frustrated with her face and her body and her life gets a little help from a friendly hexenbiest to become beautiful like her sister and get the man of her dreams. But when she wants more, how far is she willing to go to become beautiful?

**_O! Beware, my lord, of jealousy; it is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on!_ **

\----------------------------------

**Killer Looks**

\----------------------------------

Margo Barnett looked down at her phone, pulling the YouTube timeline back again. The perky, conventionally attractive young woman explained again how to highlight her cheekbones and darken her cheeks just slightly to give the illusion of high, well-shaped cheekbones and jawline. Margo was fairly certain this make-up guru already had them, and thus was cheating, but she tried again. Frowning, Margo clicked her tongue and tried to wipe the contour back into line. It didn’t work, smudging it worse. She growled and threw the brush on the floor in frustration.

“Hey, Margo? Everything okay?” her sister asked outside the door.

Looking at herself, she had to sigh and admit defeat. There was no amount of make-up that was going to make her round face more angular and thin. With the dark bronzer and too light highlight cut up her skin like a Picasso painting, the mascara was already clumping, and the lipstick was too dark. None of the colors suited her skin-tone either, even though she’d done her best to match them, and made her acne-scarred face look like the surface of a barren planet with all its dips and craters. “Fine…”

“Okay…” she said, yawning. “I’m going to grab some cereal. It’s going on 8:30 though; shouldn’t you be getting to work?”

Margo cursed, looking at her phone for the time. Running the water, she quickly scrubbed her face with remover and dried it. Then she had to change her shirt because it got wet, which sucked because it was one of the few flattering shirts she had that she really liked.

Getting changed and applying just the simplest make-up she usually did, she headed down stairs.

Her sister looked up and smiled. “Hey. Good thing you live close to work, huh?”

“Yeah…” Margo tried not to glare at her sister, but it was hard. Even without make-up Haylee was the opposite of her: Tall and statuesque, warm, sun-kissed tan skin, good bone structure that was easy to see because she was blessed with a good metabolism. She had her dark hair dyed blonde and pulled off the messy ponytail perfectly. And even in a shirt and pajama shorts she looked good. In short, she was hot. And while not ugly, Margo was shorter, larger, and planer than her sister in every way. No one ever believed they were twins.

“God, I’m still jet-lagged,” she said sleepily. “Remind me never to take a red-eye again.”

“Think how it was for me picking you up,” Margo said.

“Hey, I told you I was fine taking an Uber. Oh, look what I found last night!” She held out a picture. “It’s us back in middle school. God, we were so young…”

Margo took the photo and looked at it with a bit of nostalgia. Back then, she and Haylee looked a lot more like twins, before she ballooned up because of puberty. She tried not to dwell on how unfair it was Haylee came out like a swan and she was just an ugly duck, scarred by painful acne and a slow metabolism. But back then they had looked like twins, even more so in matching N’Sync Concert T-shirts.

“That was a good night…”

“Hell yeah it was!” Haylee grinned. “My dreams of being Mrs. Timberlake may have fizzled out, but it was still amazing.”

Margo huffed a laugh and handed it back. “I was ready to fight you for that title too. Better than being Mrs. Curtis…”

Haylee frowned. “Margie…”

Margo shook her head. “It’s fine. Anyway, you got the house for today. Try not to go nuts.”

“My party girl days are winding down, I’m mostly just going to rest and keep going through pictures.”

Margo paused, glancing over to see the photo albums open on the table. “Why are you looking through photos all of a sudden?”

“Oh, Phoebe Lafayette messaged me on Facebook,” she said, trying to be nonchalant.

“Excuse me?” Margo said, her guard immediately up and her tone sharp.

“Chill, Margo, we’re not friends,” she said with a mollifying tone. “She remembered I was on the yearbook committee and wanted to know if I had any pictures from our senior year for the slideshow.”

“A slideshow? Seriously?” she asked snidely.

“I think its pretty standard for a high school reunion, sis,” she said. She then paused and gestured at her own cheek near her ear. “You, uh, got a little something there...Bronzer?”

Margo clicked her tongue and tried to smooth it out and away. “I was trying something different. It didn’t work. Mom’s makeup lessons never worked for me,” she added a touch harshly.

“…Oh, and John texted while you were getting ready, he’ll be in town tonight.”

Margo froze. “Tonight?”

Haylee smirked. “Yep. So, uh, get ready for that. Oh, and here.” She handed her a magazine, one of those very Cosmo like ones. “This has the article I wrote in it. Check it out.”

Margo swallowed, trying to calm down, and headed out, now distracted. “I’ll just, uh…check it out at lunch. I gotta get going or I’ll be late.” Grabbing her briefcase, she headed out the door.

\---------------

Sloane set another box down in the spare room of her new house. It was her day off—the first in a week it felt thanks to a homicide case that didn’t involve any wesen. It wrapped up once they got the son’s bank statements showing he’d killed his father for his inheritance to help his massive debt. He folded like a napkin when confronted under the weight of the guilt. But now that was over and she had finally been able to square up with the motel and move the last few bits of her things in. The furniture Rosalee left almost two weeks ago were where they should be, and a new mattress was delivered just the other day. So it was just a matter of figuring out where her things would go. This was the second to last trip to her car and then it would be just a matter of figuring out where to put things.

She paused heading to the door however when she heard her phone ring, resting on the counter in the kitchen. Looking at the ID, it was a number she didn’t recognize. On instinct she let it go, but waited. A minute later, the same number popped up in another call and she grabbed it and opened the line. “Hello?”

“Hello there.” She smiled a little at Kelly’s voice and leaned against the counter. “You still remember to pick up on the second call.”

“Given that’s your code it’s you calling, yeah,” Sloane said. “You okay?”

“Not exactly, no.”

Sloane straightened, on alert now. “You need help?”

“Not immediately. Just having some trouble completing what I came over here to do…Made all the more complicated by a Royal ending up dead.”

“A royal?”

“Yes. Prince Eric of some such. Assassinated apparently, car bomb. It was two months ago and they’re still paranoid and trying to find who did it, to the point they’re trying to search random people.”

 _Eric…Renard’s brother that tried to kidnap Nick?_ “That sounds…infuriating.”

“A bit, yes,” she said, though the calm tone Kelly normally had didn’t betray and extreme emotion. Sloane rather envied her control. “I’m gonna try again, but I don’t see much luck on my side.”

“Don’t suppose you can be more specific?”

“I’m afraid not. It’s not that I don’t trust you, Sloane, you know I do. But the fewer people that know, the safer everyone is.”

“I understand.” And she did, even if her curiosity was disappointed.

“So, what about you?”

“Uh…Well…I’m doing pretty good,” she said, trying to be honest but slightly evasive.

There was pause and Sloane sighed a bit, knowing what was coming. “What’s wrong, Sloane?”

“Nothing…exactly. Just…I’m staying in Portland for a while,” she finally sighed. It was strange to admit to someone who she’d often adamantly tell she didn’t want to set up roots.

“You are?” Kelly asked, genuinely surprised. “Wait, so you made it to Portland?”

“Yeah. Got here around March actually.”

“It’s October…have you been there this whole time?”

“Well…yes…” Sloane huffed a bit. “At first it was to train Nick, because your son is a freaking bleeding heart I was convinced was going to get himself killed,” she ground out.

“Ah…so you’ve met him and his friends,” she said knowingly.

“Yes. And I would’ve appreciated a heads up that he associates with wesen, including a Blutbad!”

“I know, I know. But I thought if I told you, you would…do something rash.”

“I almost did,” Sloane huffed. “At least by his standards. I met the blutbad and Rosa…the Fuchsbau by accident first and almost took them both out.”

“You need to work on that,” Kelly said. “I know Deirdre taught you different, but not every wesen you see has to die on sight.”

“I don’t kill _every_ wesen I meet,” she said, a touch defensively. “And I’m not doing much killing at all now thanks to your son.”

“What do you mean?”

Sloane sighed again. “I agreed to stay for a while talking with Nick’s…boss, the police captain. Apparently he’s in on all this too. He convinced me to stay because apparently Portland is a hotbed for wesen activity. He’s not wrong either, this place is like a damn magnet.”

Kelly gave a soft chuckle. “Yes, it does seem that way.”

“However,” Sloane added. “I can’t actively “hunt”. I have to wait for cases to come my way. I thought about leaving more than once, but…”

“But?”

“…I’m learning things here. As much as I hate to admit it. The experience could be valuable,” she said honestly.

Kelly sounded pleased, though Sloane wasn’t sure why. “That’s a good attitude to have. No matter how much you study, you should always have new things to learn, especially as a Grimm.”

“Deirdre would pitch of fit if she knew who I was learning from…” Sloane said with a shudder.

“Yes…but then, I don’t’ think her teachings ever suited you well.” Sloane frowned and was about to ask what she meant when Kelly went on. “I should probably go. I just wanted to check in on you. Are you still looking out for Nick now that you’re staying?”

She thought about his odd changes lately, since the Zombie incident, but decided not to bring that up just yet. Kelly had enough to worry about at the moment it sounded like. “…As best I can. Your son is also a trouble magnet, even for a Grimm.”

Kelly did laugh then. “Yes, that hasn’t changed much…thank you, Sloane.”

Sloane felt herself blush a little at the warmer tone. She wasn’t used to that sort of tone and it made her feel strange. “It’s fine, really…”

“If it’s alright, I may call you more often to check in on you and Nick.”

She smiled. “That’d be good by me.”

“Good. Take care.”

They hanged up and Sloane sighed a little before going to finish bringing up boxes.

\---------------------------

Margo sat at a table outside the café at her office, flipping through the magazine Haylee had given her again. Looking through at all the women not like her that graced the pages, she sighed and closed it. She tried not to let it get to her, she did, but when a reminder of how the masses saw her as inferior was everywhere it was hard. Haylee’s article—a good read on women’s health and how doctors never listen—was buried in between advertisements on anti-aging creams using models who didn’t need them and lingerie adverts with women who were airbrushed so much they looked like they were made of velvet. It felt a bit hypocritical.

“Hey, Curtis!” She looked up, frowning when she saw her coworker Emma coming over. Emma looked like she should be in that magazine, all blonde hair and pouty lips. Why she was an accountant was beyond Margo, especially because she tended to parse as much of her work out to others as she could. Margo knew because she was a Senior Accountant, but Emma had been promoted to her equal months ago after just two years. She wanted to believe she earned it, but given how tightly tailored her suit was it made it hard to take her seriously.

“It’s Barnett now.”

“Oh, right, sorry, the whole maiden name thing,” she said. Margo had a feeling she wasn’t really sorry and wondered if that was a dig. “Look, I have a favor to ask. Could you finish up those reports for Klineman this afternoon?”

“What? Why can’t you?” she frowned.

“I’ve got a family emergency. I’m heading out soon, Mr. Baker Okayed it. But those need to be finished. And since you’re the other senior accountant…”

Margo didn’t really like how she framed “senior”; she was only 28, only three years older than her. “I’ve got something to do this evening.”

“You’re so good, I’m sure you’ll get done! Please? It’s really important,” she said more sincerely. “I promise I’ll pay you back somehow. Plus Baker’s already Okayed it, like I said.”

“Did he realize those were due today?” she asked blithely. “What is so important?”

“I forgot…” Emma said evasively. “And it’s personal.”

Margo sighed, knowing it was going to easier to say alright than deal with her any further. “Yes, fine. Just send them to me.”

“Oh, thank you so much! I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” She quickly walked off and Margo sighed, texting her sister she would probably be home late. Haylee’s reply was a sad face but they left it at that.

Sure enough, it was very late in the afternoon before she got out of the office. She was about to text Haylee again when she noted something new on her timeline on Facebook. It was Emma, taking a selfie with a bunch of friends at a spa, posted moments ago. She must’ve forgotten they were ‘friends’ because Margo rarely posted anything. “Family emergency my ass…” Margo muttered. “Just wait until I get my hands on that lying little…”

She paused when her foot went down on something that wasn’t sidewalk and stepped back. On the ground was a wallet, and a very expensive one at that if she was to believe the label. Picking it up, she inspected it. Strangely, there was no credit card or ID, but she was shocked by the amount of cash inside. This would be tempting for someone to steal.

But, Margo had been raised right and wasn’t hurting for money. Where the ID should have been she found several business cards for the same shop. The card was black with a stylized white flower on the front framed by two crescent moons on the left and right, _Moonflower_ written below as well as the address and phone. Logically she decided this must be where this person worked, or at least someone would hopefully recognize the wallet. It wasn’t far from where she was, so she made her way the two blocks over in the shopping district.

She came to a stop outside a shop where brick was painted black, and the script on the window read in scrawling white letters _Moonflower_ _Beauty Co._ Inside it looked like a normal high-end beauty store. Soaps, lotions, make-up and accessories were all laid out beautifully, and much of it looked natural and handmade. It smelled wonderfully fresh as well, like a field of flowers and fresh cut grass, but not so overpowering it made her head spin. She walked around, picking up a piece of soap that was pale pink with bits of roses in it. It was very well made, and expensive. Setting it down again, she moved further in. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

She heard movement near the back and reluctantly moved further in. There she saw the back door was open, and someone was struggling to get through with an overloaded dolly. One box was precariously about to tip over. “Whoa, hey, hold on!” She rushed over and quickly grabbed the box, pulling it off, and then kept another from falling.

“Hello?” A voice behind them asked.

“Yeah, hi. Hold on a sec, okay, these are all about to fall.” Quickly she set down the box she had in her hands while bracing the other with her knee, then grabbed that one and set it aside as well.

“Oh, thank you so much,” the person sighed. She came out from behind the boxes and Margo felt a flash of surprise and envy when she saw her. She was tall, willowy, with her black hair cut in a bob and her pale skin almost luminescent in the gentle lighting of the store. Her make-up was done perfectly as well, framing her almond shaped eyes and accentuating her cheekbones in a way Margo never could manage. She was dressed in a bohemian chic cream colored top and long flowing black skirt, a pale blue apron over the front.

“No problem. But you did kind of overload this thing…” she said bluntly. She always had to be the one to fix problems.

“I know,” she sighed. “They were supposed to come earlier when my employees were still here, but the time came for them to go home and _then_ the deliveries come…So I tried to cut corners and load it up high to go faster.” She wheeled the dolly in and set it in the corner. “I may schedule my deliveries on different days from now…There’s quite a learning curve to this.” Swiping her hands down her front, she smiled. “I’m Angela Tien, the owner of this shop. Thank you again for your help. We’re about to close, but I’m happy to stay open a little longer to help you.”

“Actually, I’m here to see about returning this. I found it a couple blocks over.” She quickly pulled out the wallet and held it up.

“Oh my!” Her face lit up. “You found it! Thank you!”

“No problem…Um, there wasn’t an ID or any cards inside, just a bunch of cards for this business…” She said, handing it over.

“Yes, this is my shop wallet. To keep things for the shop separated from my personal things. I just about cried thinking I lost it, with so much money inside too…” She looked up, pausing as she was opening it.

“What’s there is what I found it with,” Margo said honestly. The woman took out the cash and quickly counted, smiling once again.

“And it’s all here. Oh, thank you so much I’m just getting started and losing this was a big blow. I’ve been calling and looking all over for it. It must’ve fallen out when I ran to buy some extra ribbon for the bags.”

Margo smiled, feeling better at making the woman’s day. “No problem, really…”

She tilted her head. “Are you sure? You seem…troubled?”

Margo blinked and then shook her head. “Oh, it’s nothing! Sorry…”

The woman seemed to look at her searchingly for a moment before she nodded. “Let me put this up. Feel free to look around, I’d be happy to reward you for saving my poor wallet, and probably me having to clean up a lot of broken soap and bottles.”

Margo nodded and started walking around. She was trying to find something small but nice that she would use if the woman insisted on her getting something. Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out to look at a text from Haylee.

**_Haylee:_ ** _John and I are going to grab dinner, let me know when you’re heading home!_

Margo felt a pang in her chest and glared at her phone.

“What’s troubling you?”

Margo looked up to see the woman was there again. “What? No, I’m…”

The woman regarded her again before smiling at her in understanding. “You try not to complain out loud, am I correct?” she guessed. Margo frowned, unsure how to respond to the gentle but knowing tone. “Don’t worry. I have a sixth sense for these things. I find I’m able to help find a solution fairly often.” She gestured for her to follow her walking towards a small sitting area. A small bistro table in white painted wrought iron and matching chairs with pale periwinkle cushions was there. “What’s your name?”

Margo sat down slowly, unsure why she was so at ease with this strange woman. “I’m Margret... Most people call me Margo.”

She nodded and propped her chin on her hands. “Very well then, Margo…what is troubling you?” Margo hesitated, not sure she should talk about it to a stranger. Angela seemed to sense this as well and airily waved a hand. “I’m not a gossip, don’t worry. Like I said, I enjoy fixing people’s problems. But I need to know what yours is.”

“…I’m not sure you could fix this. Not unless you could make me beautiful,” she said with a chuckle.

Angela tilted her head. “What makes you believe you aren’t?”

Margo laughed a bit more hollowly. “Oh, don’t try that inner beauty stuff on me. I’ve come to know what a load of bull it is.” Angela raised an eyebrow and Margo took a deep breath, feeling herself speaking before she really even thought of what to say. “I’ve had a hell of a year. My husband of five years left me for another woman. My job promoted a girl who’d been there a third as long as me and had no idea what she was doing to my equal position, probably because she’s sleeping with one of the supervisors. Or he wants her to. She tricked me into working overtime for her today. And I’ve got my high school reunion coming up in oh… days. So just…stress. Stress, stress and more stress. Got something for that?”

“Of course…but that’s not what you asked for first,” Angela said. “You asked to be beautiful. All this makes you believe you need that? Or something else?”

Margo hesitated, unnerved at how this woman could seem to find the deeper feelings in her so easily. Was it just her or did her eyes glow slightly? Must be a trick of the light. “…I’m a twin. Fraternal though, and anyone can tell that. My sister is gorgeous and I am…not. She took after our mother, who was also gorgeous—and there was a little bit of favoritism there. Looks were always big to mom. And it’s not fair. Because we were both the same once, we did look like we could be identical once. But puberty hit and it hit me _hard_ , and she just breezed through it. I was the target of bullies, especially this horrible girl named Phoebe. And she, my sister…she got the attention of all the boys and clubs and all that. Everyone wanted her to be their friend or their girlfriend. My mom had all these hopes and dreams for her…She had the kind of time in high school I wanted. Then she moved to New York to try and be a writer—not a model like mom wanted—and I became accountant here in Portland so I could look after our mom while still going to school and she was in the hospital most days. Cancer.”

“I’m so sorry,” Angel said gently. “That must’ve been hard.”

“Yeah… She died just after I graduated college and I still just stayed here. Even less remarkable somehow. I thought I lucked out with Dan—I mean, mom didn’t like him but that wasn’t surprising. Dan and I got married, but the moment he thought he could do better he was gone. And to make it all even better,” she laughed, almost crying, “my high school crush, one of our best friends, is in town now too. And he’s gonna see how far I’ve gone. Exactly nowhere, still the town we grew up in, still “Large Marge”, as everyone called me. Nothing’s changed in the ten years since high school, except maybe I’m even more pathetic for feeling the same way I did then. Like I don’t matter if I can’t be pretty...I’m stuck,” she choked out.

Angela nodded slowly. “That is tough…”

Margo sniffed, blotting her eyes. “Yeah, well…just how things, are, right? If I can’t fit in the box, I don’t fit in. Man, I’ve been holding that in for a while, sorry…I don’t even know why I told you all that, I'm really sorry.”

“No trouble, I pried it out of you so to speak…But I think I can give you something to help.”

“What?” Margo asked in surprise, laughing a little. “You got like…beauty pills or something?”

“Or something. Like I said, I owe you. Please, wait here for a bit.” Standing, she walked over to a door to a back room and closed the door behind her. Margo wasn’t sure what was going on, but something was compelling her to stay seated.

It was about 30 minutes later that she was thinking of knocking on the door or just leaving when Angela came back out. She walked over and presented her with a sphere about the size of her fist that was colored dark blue with streaks of gold and silver. “…A bath bomb?” She asked, unsure if she was serious.

“I know it doesn’t seem like much, but trust me. Take a bath with this tonight. You’re going to have to submerge yourself completely three times—that means holding your breath and going under. Come up for air after you count to ten. Then count to thirty and go back under. Again, do this three times. Then, fill a jar with water from the bath and screw it on with a tight lid. Rinse off. Place the jar in a window and let it soak up some moonlight. In the morning, before the sun rises, wake up and drink it.”

“I’m sorry, drink the bathwater?” Margo said, looking at her with what she hoped was a good “are you insane” expression. She backed up slightly, wondering if she should run for it. Angela gently took her hand however and placed the bomb into it.

“I know this sounds crazy, but I promise you this will work. I’ve given it to many a woman before who needed a little help to feel and look her best. It’s not the most powerful version, but it will get you started down the path you want and “unstuck” shall we say. After that it’s up to you.”

Margo blinked, looking at the sphere in her hands. “…So I drink this?”

“Yes. You’ll feel drowsy afterwards, go back to bed and the next time you wake, you should be changed. Oh, but you may want to take a shower before you look and exfoliate. A little dry skin afterwards is a side effect, but it can be scrubbed off.”

“Really? One night and a little dry skin, that’s all?”

“That’s all.”

Margo stared at the rock-like sphere in her hand and then back up at her, unsure. “…This sounds like magic…”

Angela smiled in amusement, and Margo gasped when her eyes seemed to glow golden in the shop’s light. “Of course. What did you think it was?”

\-------------------------------

Sloane waited in line for her sandwich at the little deli in walking distance from her new house. It was a quaint mom and pop shop and she liked it. While she was waiting, her phone dinged with a message and she pulled it up.

**_Rosalee:_ ** _Are you home?_

She arched eyebrow but typed back.

**_Sloane:_ ** _Not right now, but I’m back soon. Why?_

**_Rosalee:_ ** _Stopped by to give you something. ;3_

Sloane blinked at the little face but just shook her head.

**_Sloane:_ ** _Be there soon. Let yourself in, you got a key still._

**_Rosalee:_ ** _okay_

A couple of minutes later her sandwich was ready and she had it made to go, then headed back towards her house. She saw Rosalee’s car just in front of her house and smiled, heading up to walk through the door. She was confused when the lights were off and reached up to turn them on.

“Surprise!”

Sloane nearly dropped her food, managing to tighten her grip instead in case she could throw it, and reached for her knife as she flattened herself against the door. Everyone—Rosalee, Nick, Juliette, Hank, Monroe, Bud—paused and then looked at her panicked look.

“Told you guys startling a Grimm wasn’t a good idea,” Bud said.

“…What are you all doing?” Sloane asked, letting go of the knife handle. She was still a wild-eyed.

“House warming party,” Rosalee said, trying not to laugh. She walked over. “I thought making it a surprise was the best way for you to let us do it because you’d refuse.”

“…For future reference, please don’t do that again…” she said quietly, not quite meeting her eyes. “I almost…” _Threw my knife at you. It probably would’ve hit you or Juliette…_

“Sorry,” she said more seriously, giving her a hug.

Sloane relaxed and patted her shoulder awkwardly. Hugs were still a new thing Rosalee was trying to get her used to. “I appreciate the thought,” she said honestly, if a little hesitantly. “So…how does a housewarming work?”

“Well, we brought food,” Nick said. “Which you apparently went to get,” he added with an embarrassed look at the bag.

She shrugged, not upset. “It’ll keep, I’ll have lunch covered for tomorrow. Is there cake?”

“Oh, is there!” Bud said. “My wife takes any excuse to bake. Oh, and no offense to the previous owner,” he said, glancing at Rosalee, “But I see a few things you could have tuned up or repaired around here. I’ll make a list of what to look out for.”

Sloane smiled a little, following them to her dining room. There was a nice spread of finger foods laid out, and a big cake that looked like a house made from vanilla cake with a layer of chocolate in between. They began eating and chatting, Sloane describing some of what she was thinking of doing as far as where to put things.

“Oh, we got you presents,” Juliette said.

“What, really?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes, it’s tradition,” Rosalee said. She pulled out a box and handed it to her. “This is from Monroe and me.”

Sloane resisted eyeing Monroe but opened the box up. She blinked, pulling out an electronic device of some sort. “Uh…What is it?” She looked over the packaging that noted several apps and services.

Rosalee smiled. “It’s a streaming device. You can watch Netflix, YouTube, even TV on here using your Wi-Fi.”

“We figured, since you’re not traveling much and haven’t seen TV or movies in a while, you can use this to catch up in your spare time. And you know…actually try to relax,” Monroe said.

“...Huh…that…actually sounds really nice,” she admitted. “You guys keep talking about things I haven’t seen and it’s gotten me kind of curious.”

Rosalee smiled and hugged her shoulders.

“There’s a list of stuff we all recommend too,” Juliette said, pulling it out. “You still have to pay for some of the services, but it’s pretty good if you don’t want cable.”

“Sounds cool,” she smiled.

“I just got you a few bottles of wine,” Hank said, pulling them out.

“That will be good while watching some of these,” Juliette said with a wry grin. Sloane smiled, taking the bottles and looking them over. Merlot, good in her book.

“Here’s mine and Juliette’s gift,” Nick said, handing her what felt like a basket wrapped in paper.

Opening it up, it was full of little things for the kitchen like measuring cups and spoons, new spatulas and stirrers and strainers, and a beginner’s book on cooking. Sloane smiled wryly. “Is this your way of saying “Go easy on the take out” from now on?”

“Maybe a little…” he said delicately.

“But this book is really good, it’s the same one my mom got for me when first started living on my own,” Juliette said.

Sloane picked it up and flipped through. “This is pretty sweet…thank you.”

“I got you a tool kit,” Bud said, pulling out a black case with a bow on it. “I know we’re not, well…close, but everyone needs a good tool kit, especially homeowners.”

Sloane smiled, taking it and looking through. “It’s great, Bud, and I’m sure it’ll come in handy. Thank you.”

He grinned.

“Oh yeah, Renard sent this on,” Hank said, offering her a small box.

Taking it, she opened it up and blinked. “A…bar of soap.” She tipped it out, examining it. It was a swirl of mint green and dark blue and purple, with a piece of paper wrapped around it. The logo was a white flower with two crescent moons on either side, _Moonflower_ scrawled in cursive script beneath.

“Oh, hey, is that _Moonflower_?” Monroe asked. “I get that stuff all the time. It’s all natural, really high quality stuff.”

She arched her brow. “Really?”

“Hey, don’t write it off. After a couple of messy jobs with Nick, that stuff makes me clean as a whistle and smelling like a rose. And it keeps my skin soft.” He gave a smile to Rosalee who just smiled and nodded in agreement. “I usually get it online, but I heard they’ve opened a physical store too.”

Sloane looked at it a bit more considering, looking at the label. “‘Geranium oil, Bergamot oil, Lemon Oil, and Lavender. To de-stress your life.’ De-stress? Not sure that’s possible…” She sniffed it. “…It does smell nice though.”

\---------------------------------

Margo headed into her apartment, the little silver and white striped bag with the “magic” bath bomb in her purse and a container of Chinese take-out in her hand.

“Margo? That you?” Haylee called.

“Yeah,” she called, locking the door behind her.

“You weren’t working the whole time were you?”

“No, I ran a quick errand and then got dinner for me since you and John went out-John?!” She jumped when she saw the man on the couch with her sister. He grinned and got up.

“Margo! It’s great to see you in person again.”

Margo bit her tongue at saying how good it was to see him. John was tall, with dark skin stretched over a well-kept body and finely angled face. In their youth he’d kept his hair in a sort of wild afro style, but now it was closely cropped and groomed. Margo liked both looks, but then she’d like anything he did she was sure. When he wrapped his arms around her, she prayed he couldn’t hear her heart the way she could feel it. She almost brought the hand with her food in to hug him, but quickly switched to the other.

“You too! Sorry, I had thought you’d got back to your parents place after…”

“I wanted to at least say hi. I haven’t seen you in a while; I was missing my best girl.”

Margo tried not to get a sappy grin, but did smile widely.

“I thought I was your best girl?” Haylee said teasingly. That roused Margo back to the fact they weren’t alone.

“You’re both my best girls?” he tried with an apologetic smile. He looked back at Margo with a gentler look. “But no, seriously, you look good. How you holding up?”

Margo breathed and shrugged, knowing he was implying the divorce finalizing just a couple of weeks ago. “As well as I can be…”

He hugged her again. “Well, you’re a strong girl, I know you’ll get through it fine.” Letting go, he turned back to the couch. “Haylee and I were looking through some old pictures. Apparently Phoebe is doing a slide show.” He rolled his eyes and Margo grinned.

“I know. Knowing her it’s going to be a minimal effort PowerPoint, with all the cheesy transitions.”

“Oh, definitely. Want to make bets on the music to go with it? I’m betting on Green Day’s “Time of your Life”.”

“Oh god, that’s going to be like a memorial, not a reunion,” she groaned.

“Maybe it is, to the last time she actually had any sway with people. I’ve heard she’s between jobs, so that’s why she can devote so much time to this.”

Margo laughed, nearly cackled, at that.

“Okay, if I can interrupt the schadenfreude lovers meeting,” Haylee said, “Margo probably wants to eat before that gets cold, and you still need to find a picture where you don’t look like a sheepdog with your hair in your face.”

“Hey, I was an adorable sheepdog,” John said defensively, going back over. Margo went to sit across from them, looking at the pictures scattered over her coffee table while she unpacked her food to eat. She started eating her lo Mein and looking over photos with them. As they did though, she couldn’t help but watch John. And more specifically how John interacted with Haylee. They were always all friends, growing up together, but how close he sat to Haylee and how they leaned into each other made her gut twist. And then—thinking probably no one was looking—she saw the look John gave Haylee. Soft, warm, longing—everything she wanted. And once again, it was not for her. Every time, after she finished eating and kept trying to get his attention, it always felt like it went back to Haylee.

“I…I’m gonna take a bath and probably go to bed. I’m kind of tired.”

John looked up, his face going back to his normal friendly look, and smiled. “Okay. We’ll chat more tomorrow?”

“That’d be great. Goodnight.”

She put up what food was left and plucked the striped bag from her purse.

\-----------

In the end, the others ended up helping Sloane set up the streaming device. Monroe and Rosalee offered up their password to Netflix and Sloane started scrolling through the movies curiously. She’d paused when she got to the classics section, looking strangely nostalgic. And in the end they put on _Roman Holiday_ to watch as a group.

“Gregory Peck really was handsome…” Juliette sighed wistfully.

Nick arched his eyebrows at her where she was resting against her shoulder. “Oh? So what, he’s your type?” he asked teasingly.

Juliette rolled her eyes. “I’m not saying that necessarily…I had a thing for John Stamos growing up.”

“Oh, ouch…” he laughed.

“I liked Danny on _Full House_ ,” Rosalee said. “I like tall lanky guys.” She wiggled her eyebrows up at Monroe from where she rested on his shoulder. He grinned back and gave her a peck on the lips. “What about you?”

“Me? Um…Hm…Probably gotta say Kelly from _Saved By the Bell_ ,” he said, blushing and laughing.

“What about you?” Juliette asked Nick.

“Uh…Darryl Hanna from Splash comes to mind.”

“Her specifically or did you have a thing for mermaids? Because they are real competition now,” she pointed out.

“You have no competition,” he said.

“Aww…” she kissed him gently, smiling.

“I liked her too though,” Bud said. “And Drew Barrymore. And Mrs. Brady.” They all looked up at him. “What? She was pretty and nice!” They all chuckled but nodded, not disagreeing.

“What about you, Sloane?” Rosalee asked.

Sloane frowned. “Uh…I don’t really know…”

“No one stand out thinking back?” Hank asked, prodding gently.

“…Mr. Spock,” she said definitively.

Monroe choked a little on his tea in surprise, and the others were all equally surprised. “You watched Star Trek?” Juliette asked.

“Yeah, it was one of Oma’s favorite shows. Why?” she asked, honestly confused.

“Just…Surprising,” Nick said, smiling. “But Mr. Spock?”

She shrugged. “I always thought he’d be nice…He was smart and funny…And Oma liked him a lot too. But she liked Kirk more, said he reminded him of her husband.” They smiled a bit at that, glad for Sloane sharing so much. She looked at Hank. “What about you?”

“Ah…Well, to share a little too much, I remember sneaking looks at Victoria Secret shows and things like that. Iman, Tyra Banks…woof!” he laughed. “I used to look through fashion magazines more than my sisters, but for the wrong reasons.”

They laughed, watching Audrey Hepburn crowned queen and the movie wrap up before getting ready to go, some hitting the restroom before they leave. “Hey, Sloane, I noticed you don’t have a shower curtain yet?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to go shopping for that. And bath mats. And bed sheets. And bedding in general…and food” she said, smiling wanly. “I didn’t realize how much I needed till it kept coming up. But I’ll go tomorrow night. You guys got me started at least.”

Nick smiled and patted her shoulder. “You need anything else, just let us know.”

“Careful what you offer, Burkhardt, or I’ll be calling you asking how to put up that shower curtain.”

They smiled and headed out, Sloane sighing and smiling to herself even after they were gone.

\-----------

Margo looked at the mixture in the jar dubiously. It was a dark blue with swirls of silver inside. Setting it on her window ledge, she set her alarm for just before sunrise according to the internet.

When it went off, she groggily sat up. Looking at the jar, she froze for a second. In the night, it had turned completely silver, like liquid mercury. She took the jar, opening it and sniffing it. It smelled like blueberry muffins, which was even weirder. She hesitated but took a breath and shotgunned the liquid quickly. When she was done she licked her lips, surprised at how sweet it was. Like a fruit smoothie. Then she yawned and set the jar back down, turning over to sleep a little while longer.

When she woke up again thanks to her second alarm that she set for two hours before work, she was incredibly itchy. She groaned, wondering what she had done to herself, and scratched at her neck. She felt something shift when she did and with growing horror pulled a large piece of skin, the size of her hand. “Oh my-A little dry skin my ass!”

Quickly she got up, rushing to the bathroom. She nearly screamed when she saw herself. Her skin looked like crepe paper was pasted on, peeling and crumbling off. Even the worst sunburn she’d ever had couldn’t compare. Trying to keep calm and not break down crying, she ran a hot shower and jumped in, scrubbing her whole body with a luffa. She tried not to gag at all the bits of skin that flaked off, practically clogging the drain. But under the dry skin, she was surprised to see smooth and supple skin beneath. She even scrubbed through her hair, getting rid of more skin, and felt no irritation she usually felt from dry scalp.

Stepping out when she was finally sure she had scrubbed over every inch of her body, she looked down in surprise. She was still a big girl, but her curves seemed more perfectly round. Lumpy, dimpled cellulite was now almost airbrush smooth, her skin soft and rich looking with a hint of a natural (could it be called natural if it was magic?) sun-kissed glow.

Swallowing, she quickly wiped down the fog filled mirror with one of her hand towels. She gasped when she saw her face and nearly covered her mouth, but stopped herself so she could stare at it. The acne scars were gone completely, leaving her skin smooth and fresh looking. While still full faced, she could see a hint of her cheekbones without using any make-up, and her lips were fuller with no fillers or lipstick. Even her eyes, as strange as it was to think, seemed a lighter brown.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. It wasn’t a dramatic change like in movies. She wasn’t skinny high fashion model worthy, but without any cosmetics or spanks she was now plus-size model worthy.

“Margo? You okay?” Haylee asked. “You were in the shower a while…”

“Y-yeah! Sorry, just…needed to exfoliate.”

“Okay…Well, it’s like 8:20-something...”

“Ah, crap!” Quickly she blow dried her hair, noting it was also shinier than it was before, and got dressed. While she wasn’t any smaller, her clothes did fit better she noted. A quick bit of foundation, powder and lipstick and she was ready quicker than she was on most days.

Coming out, Haylee was having a piece of toast at the counter. When she looked up she paused and blinked, sitting up straighter. “Hey…you look especially nice today.”

Margo smiled. “Yeah, I’m feeling good.”

Haylee smiled back. “Glad to hear that. John wants to try to do dinner again tonight, are you game?”

“Definitely. Since I did overtime yesterday, I can probably take off a little early too.”

“Sweet! Text me later we can figure out where to go.”

“Will do!” Heading out, she walked much more confidently than normal, heading for the bus stop. She noted a few people glance at her and give her a once over, much more appreciatively and less judging than they did before. It was the same at work, several people taking note and complimenting her. She smiled more than usual, feeling elated for the first time in years. This was the start of change, she promised herself.

Then Emma walked in.

“Whoa, what happened to you?”

Margo smiled. “Just a really good facial.”

“Well, good for you. I wanted to say something about those bumps, but I didn’t think it was nice.”

Margo wondered what made her think it was nice to bring it up now, but didn’t let it diminish her smile. “I’ll be taking off a little early today.”

“What? Why?” Emma asked, sounding annoyed.

Margo eyed her. “Because I stayed late finishing your work yesterday.”

“You agreed to. Besides, I still have a family thing—”

“Emma, don’t even try it,” Margo snapped. “I saw your Facebook. And if you don’t want me to go over your head about lying to get time off so you could go have a spa day, you’ll keep that big mouth of yours shut and do your work. All of it. Yourself.”

Emma stared and then narrowed her eyes in anger, probably not used to being told no. “Don’t get high and mighty just because you managed to clear up your skin. I can go over your head too!”

“About what?” Margo shot back. It felt good to stand up for herself.

“I’ll say you’re treating me unfairly!”

“Considering I vouched for you thinking you had a “family problem”, I doubt that will look good. And I took screenshots, so don’t try to delete them and lie.” _That’s a lie, but here’s hoping she doesn’t call my bluff._

Emma glared more and leaned in. “You think you’re hot shit now? Well think again. Just because you look “better” doesn’t mean you’re pretty. You’re still fat, you’re still short, and you still have a face like a pug. So ugly it’s cute.”

Margo blushed and tightened her hand. Inside she felt her teenage-self flinch and try to retreat, but she’d promised herself things would be different. Standing, she walked over to her manager’s office, the door with _Elliot Baker_ written on it. She pulled out her phone and went to Emma’s timeline. Emma stared, a moment, obviously not thinking she’d do it, but then blanched and tried to grab her phone to log on. It was too late though. “Sir, I have an issue with Emma Withers. It seems she lied to me yesterday about her family situation to take time off for manicure and pedicure at a spa with friends.” She held out the phone.

He looked at it and frowned. Baker was a thin, reedy man with a big nose and no chin, and dark stringy hair. “Well, that’s disappointing—”

“Sir, I can explain!” Emma said quickly coming in. “I’ve just been overworked so I needed some time to myself-”

“With all due respect, you could wait till the weekend, given its Friday today,” Margo said. She turned back to her manager.

Emma glared and then walked to the desk, leaning over the desk in what Margo damn-well knew was a provocative manner. “Sir…Please, it was a mistake. I just didn’t want to disappoint my friends…”

Mr. Baker cleared his throat, pointedly looking away from her partially open shirt. Margo frowned at him. “Regardless, that isn’t what we expect here at Applebrook. I’m afraid there will be discipline. You, um…You are demoted back down to staff accountant level, and your raise is suspended as such.”

“But-” she started.

“Sir, she should be fired,” Margo said, folding her arms.

“Now, now, Curtis-”

“It’s Barnett now, sir.”

“Right, sorry…Barnett, I understand. But she’s young, she made a mistake. I’m willing to let her work her way up again.”

Margo narrowed her eyes. “If she was so young, I wonder how she ended up as a senior accountant so quickly…”

He blushed and then glared as he stood. “I’d be careful or you may be demoted too.”

Margo tensed a bit. “Sir, I have been a senior accountant for three years with no incidents…”

“Yes, well, I’m still your manager, and as such you shouldn’t tell me how to discipline others.”

Margo tightened her hand but breathed in. “…Sorry, sir.”

“Good. Now, both of you get to work. And I don’t want any other problems.”

Both women hesitated but then turned to leave. Outside, Emma sneered at her. “If you’d looked half as good as me, maybe you’d have gotten your way with the old lech. I’ll be able to smooth things over in a few days when he forgets all about this, pugly. Then I’ll start climbing the ladder till I can have _you_ fired.”

Margo blushed again but narrowed her eyes. “Were you like this in high school?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Emma said innocently.

“Uh huh. Well, this isn’t high school anymore,” she said, as much to herself as to Emma. “Girls like you only get so far before people stop putting up with your bullshit. One misstep and I promise you, you’ll be gone. Now go do your work, and I do mean that because if I find out you’re convincing anyone to do it for you, I’m going to keep a log and see how long they keep you around for your incompetence.”

Emma just snorted. “You should lighten up. Glaring gives you wrinkles, and you already have so little going for you obviously…”

Margo tried not to look affected and stalked back to her computer. She alerted everyone not to cover or do anything for Emma, or they would be disciplined as well. She tried not to let Emma’s words get to her. She was a dumb, childish woman she reminded herself.

And she messaged Haylee and John that she probably won’t be getting off early after all.

She paused in texting John and looked around before quickly heading to the bathroom. She’d never really been one for selfies—or photos in general—but she snapped a picture with a bright smile and looked good on her first try. And her second. And third. She managed stop after her sixth and shook her head at how engrossed she’d gotten. Choosing the best one, she attached it to the next text and after trying to think of something to say managed:

**_Margo:_ ** _At least I’m looking good today._

It felt a little full of herself, but it was true. She waited a few moments and then told herself he was probably not going to respond that quickly. She started back for her desk but then felt her phone buzz.

**_John:_ ** _Whoa!!! Looking good! Did you get your hair done or something?_

She smiled widely. Getting a response that quickly must be a good sign. John was liking her new look, and so was she.

**_Margo:_ ** _Or something. I found a great makeover place. You like?_

**_John:_ ** _Heck yeah! Looking forward to dinner with you two tonight even more now ;D_

Margo smiled even more. Emma wasn’t going to bring her down. Heck, if she played her cards right, maybe John would get the idea she wanted more from him. At least she felt like she had a chance now.

\---------------------

It was late in the afternoon when Margo finally headed home. She’d taken some time to renew her make-up and fix her hair in the mirror, knowing that John would be waiting. It was a short walk to the bus stop, one bus trip, and another quick walk over to her apartment. Opening the door, she walked in and then froze. From the front door you could see all the way into the living room.

And she could see John and Haylee on the couch. They were cuddled up and they looked like a cute, happy couple. John’s arm was even around her shoulders, his thumb gently stroking over her skin and she had her head on his shoulder. They suited each other: Handsome and Beautiful, embracing like a painting of domestic, romantic bliss.

Margo couldn’t quite take in a breath. It felt like someone had punched her in the gut. Swallowing, she almost ran, but instead slowly closed the door quietly. Swallowing, she walked a few feet down the sidewalk while pulling out her phone.

**_Margo_ : ** _Hey, I have something I need to do. I’ll be back later._

**_Haylee:_ ** _What? Why? We’ve been waiting all afternoon : <_

**_Margo:_ ** _It’s just something I need to do. I’ll see you guys later._

Putting her phone away, she went back to the bus stop and took the next one to the shopping area from the other day. Finding _Moonflower_ again, she went inside.

“Welcome, how may I-Oh. Hello again,” Angela smiled. “I almost didn’t recognize you. Margo, right?”

“Yes,” she nodded. She eyed a few more customers in the store, tense

Angela frowned. “You seem agitated again. What’s the matter? Are you not happy?”

“No. I mean, I was, but then…It’s not enough.”

Angela frowned more. “…Let’s talk over here.” She led her to the back room she’d walked into the other day, nodding to the lady at the register, and shut the door. The room was a work room of some kind, filled with herbs and flowers and vats of mixtures. And a book, Margo noted, open to what looked like a recipe. Angela quickly shut the book, keeping her hand on it. “Now, what is wrong?”

Margo looked at her, taking a breath. “This, it isn’t enough! It’s better, a-and I was happy, but now I know I’m not where I need to be. Is there more you can do?”

Angela sighed and shook her head. “I was afraid of this…”

“I’ll pay,” she said quickly.

“Payment is not the problem,” Angela said seriously. “This is the best I can do for you.”

Margo frowned back. “No, I’m almost certain you said what you gave me was a “small dose” of whatever you did.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I will make or give you a bigger one. Even if you can pay.”

“Why not?!”

“Because of this attitude! I did what I did to make you happier with how you are now. Getting rid of scars and blemishes and smoothing cellulite is one thing, but now you want to look completely different, don’t you?”

“Yes! And what’s wrong with that?”

“Everything. But most of all, then you won’t be _you_ ,” Angela said meaningfully.

“I don’t want to be me! I don’t want to be the sad, frumpy divorcee! I want to be hot! I want…I want to be wanted!” she gasped, trying not to raise her voice. “Ever since puberty I’ve had to play second fiddle to my sister even at home, and I was everyone’s favorite joke! We used to be equal, and it’s not my fault my body betrayed me! So what’s wrong with wanting to be the kind of woman everyone wants?”

Angela shook her head sadly. “I am sorry the world has made you feel that way, Margo. But I am not going to give you more help. It’s too dangerous. Any other changes you need to work for yourself the natural way or look into surgery. If you wish to buy anything else like soaps or lotion, let me know, but for now I think it better you leave and go think things over properly.”

Margo breathed rapidly and then turned, heading out the door. She marched across the shop, tempted to knock over a display of soaps, but decided not to be that petty. But then she remembered the book in the back room. That must be where the recipe was, and it must say how to make it more powerful. There was no telling if the book was always there, so she couldn’t wait till night, she needed a distraction now. Swallowing, she went outside and looked around.

And tied up nearby was a large dog, gnawing on a tennis ball. She hesitated but approached slowly. “Hey fella…wanna play fetch?” The dog woofed, tail wagging. She undid the leash from the bike rack it was knotted around and grabbed the ball. “Wanna play?” He woofed again, excitedly going for the ball. She pulled him along and took a breath before quickly opening the door and throwing the ball in, aiming for the far part of the store away from the workroom door. The dog barked and rushed inside, causing several of the customers to screamed in shock.

She saw Angela rush for the dog, which was crashing and knocking down tables trying to get the ball. A bowl of water for testing soaps and bath bombs was knocked over, causing a sudsy mess as it collided with the fizzy balls. The customers were trying to help or going out the door and Margo slipped in. She rushed to the workroom and found it thankfully unlocked. Slipping in, she grabbed the book, shoved it in her purse, and as an afterthought grabbed a bag of similar looking bath bombs just in case. Rushing back out, she shut the door and headed quickly back outside. A man was looking around near the bike rack. “Lose a dog?”

“Yeah!”

“He’s in there I think…” she pointed at the shop and the man cursed and rushed over. Margo hurried for the nearby bus stop, climbing on the one there without looking to see which line it was.

Breathing deeply, she told herself she’d return the book when she was done. She pulled the book out, fingering the leather cover. It was the size of a diary. It looked old, the pages more fabric than paper. Undoing the knot at the side, she began flipping through the pages. Her face paled slightly at what she saw—diagrams for cutting up plants, but also animals and people. She closed the book, trying to think about this rationally. Opening it again, she flipped through again more slowly, but still reading through quickly to find the right recipe, and hoping it wasn’t going to force her to do something awful.

\---------------------

Shopping was not something Sloane enjoyed really, but she had to admit getting things to decorate her own space was nice. She’d spent almost two hours at Target just on her household items alone. She had towels, a shower curtain, and a bathroom rug all in a gray blue for her bathroom, and even a little stand for her toothbrush that looked like it was made out of pewter and blue glass. The comforter set she chose was black and white and blue with scroll work going over it with solid blue sheets. She also had another cart filled with various groceries, mostly things she could make quickly on her own with minimal effort or skill. The cookbook would have to wait until she was confident enough she wasn’t going to burn the house down. Everything was horribly overpriced for her taste but at least she had a pay check now and she knew it was better than eating out all the time.

The sun had already set and it was dark outside, but she didn’t mind. She stood skimming the _National Enquirer_ curiously. It may be a rag of a news source by most people’s standards, but the “weird” news of the world was sometimes a ping on her radar as far as wesen activity. Bigfoot, Batboy, mermaids—all real as far as wesen were concerned. It was a weird world. Though being at a Target late at night was a weird world on its own. The average soccer moms’ were gone and replaced by zombie-like college students, workaholic professionals, service workers with odd schedules and—

“Are you incompetent or just stupid?!” the man in front of her yelled at the cashier.

Assholes. Assholes apparently like to come in at night. That or Sloane was just lucky to be stuck behind this guy. He was on the tail end of middle aged, wearing a suit, and buying a coffee machine and coffee beans. Sloane rather thought he needed to tone down the caffeine if this was how he acted.

The man behind the counter—an older, grandfatherly type—blushed dark red. “I-I’m sorry, sir, but that card was declined, I can’t do anything about it. Do you have another card-”

“This card is perfectly good! Your machine is obviously a piece of junk, like you! Honestly, why would they hire some doddering old fart?! And why would you work here? Can’t cut it anywhere else?”

The old man hunched in a little more, his face burning with shame.

Sloane put the magazine down, glaring at the red faced office worker. “Hey. Settle down. The man’s doing his job, it’s not his fault the card was rejected.”

The man turned to her and sneered. “Stay out of this, sugar, and don’t worry your pretty little head. This is my business.”

Sloane’s eyebrows quirked. “Considering you’re hollering like a toddler throwing a tantrum, you’ve made it everyone in earshot’s business.”

It was the businessman’s turn to blush deeply and the cashier tried not to laugh. “I-You can’t talk to me like that!”

“Why not?” she asked blandly.

“I’m-” he started, squaring himself up to seem imposing.

“Let me stop you there,” she said, holding a finger up. He blinked in surprise, not expecting to be shot down so suddenly. “Because whatever you are about to say, my answer is the same: I don’t care. I don’t care about you, or your job, and I’m not emotionally invested in your purchase either. I just find you loud and annoying. Now get out another card or whatever you got to pay for your stuff and get out. Or just get out, no sweat of my back if you don’t get coffee. I’d consider decaff by the way, you seem a little tense.”

The man turned as red as a beet and got close to her. Sloane didn’t even flinch as he got in her face, just grimaced at having to have that close of a view of him. The cashier looked close to panicking, coming around the side and motioning quickly towards security. “Who do you think you are, you little bitch?” he ground out. “You want to get your pert little ass beaten, there are easier ways to get a spanking.”

Sloane stared at him and coolly asked. “Is that a threat?”

He smirked and reached up to push her shoulder. “Yeah. What about it?”

Taking a deep breath, Sloane reached up, grasped his hand and wrenched it hard to the side. The man gave a loud shout of surprise and pain, moving with his hand to try and alleviate the harsh pressure on his wrist. “Not too long ago, I’d settle this outside. But I have to be a professional, so right now I’d say “Congratulations, you just threatened a police detective and have won a trip downtown!” I would handcuff you but I’m off duty, so you get the pleasure,” she wrenched his hand again a little, making him yelp. “Of my restraining you like this while I call my station. It will probably take like…half an hour? But if you’d rather deal with the security team here and let them take care of your punishment…”

“Yes!” he gasped, still frozen with pain.

“Yes what?” she demanded.

“Yes, _please, miss!_ ” he begged. “Please, I’m sorry!”

Sloane let go then and he backed away, cradling his hand. He glared and opened his mouth. “I can still arrest you if you say one more word to me, I’m sure whoever you work for or your big important position will love that.”

He closed his mouth and glared petulantly, going with the security guards when they came over. Sloane didn’t miss one of them giving her a thumbs up behind the guy’s back. Smirking, she turned back as the clerk came back behind the counter. “Thank you, miss,” he said with a grateful smile. “I’m used to dealing with irate customers, but that man was…”

“An ass,” Sloane supplied. “I’ve dealt with worse, believe it or not.” She looked at what he left on the counter. “…Y’know what, I’ll take the coffee maker too.”

The clerk smiled more as he rang everything up, subtly slipping her some coupons that put everything on sale. She smiled as she bagged it all up.

Heading out to the car, she paused when her phone went off and looked to see it was Renard calling. That worried her given it was after hours. She opened the line and held it up to her ear as she started putting her bags in the car. “Captain?”

“Not at the moment,” Renard said. “I’m calling as Sean Renard.”

“Okay…what does Sean Renard want?” she asked suspiciously.

“A favor. Off the books, I have something that needs the Grimm look over. I’ve already called Nick and Hank because I want you all working on it. Can you get to my place?”

Sloane sighed, but knew Renard wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t an emergency. “I just got done shopping; can I drop my stuff off and meet you? I got frozen stuff I’d rather not thaw right this moment…”

“Alright, but hurry.”

“Is that permission to run red lights? Cause that’s what it sounds like.”

Renard huffed a laugh. “No, don’t go speeding, we can still get tickets if the officers so choose.”

“Seriously? Does this job have any fun benefits? …On that note, I can arrest people for threatening an officer, right? Even when I’m off duty?”

“I’m a little worried why you’re asking that…” he said slowly.

“Jackass yelling at the cashier, told him to shut up, he turned on me so I literally twisted his arm and told him I’d arrest him for threatening me if he didn’t go with security,” she summed up.

He paused and she wondered if he was laughing. “Okay…it’s not generally encouraged, but I think that’s fine.”

“Good to know. See you soon.”

Sloane managed to make it home and put her things away in good time, and then back over to the address Renard texted her. Nick and Hank were waiting out front for her when she parked and walked up. “Hey…Any idea what this is about?”

“Not a clue,” Nick admitted. “But Renard made it sound pretty bad.”

“Yeah, which probably means it is,” Hank added.

Sloane sighed and they all headed up to Renard’s apartment. He opened the door when they knocked and stood aside to let them in. “Thank you all for coming.”

“No problem,” Nick said. “But it sounds like you have one?”

“Not me personally, a friend of mine. But it sounds like it might be a bigger problem than just we can handle.” He gestured for them to follow and led them to the living room. A lovely woman stood when they entered, standing straight and proud but also a touch anxious. “This is Angela Tien, an old friend of mine.”

“Old friend?” Sloane asked. When they looked back, Angela was looking at them as well. Then suddenly she woged into a hexenbeast, hissing at them, her jaw creaking like bone on bone. Sloane was immediately ready for a fight and Nick put a hand out in front of a confused Hank.

Hank looked at both of them and then back at her. “Okay, what is she?”

“Hexenbeast,” the answered together.

Angela stayed where she was, looking at them, before woging back. “Two Grimms and a Kiersheite. You weren’t lying,” she said, glancing to Renard.

“I wouldn’t in this matter. You can all relax. Angela is a hexenbeast, but she’s not as…traditional as some. Not anymore at least.”

“He means I’m softer than most,” she supplied. “I got tired of the cut-throat business world, so I followed my passion and went into making artisan beauty products. I own _Moonflower Beauty Co._ ”

Sloane blinked and glanced at Renard. “She made the soap you gave me?”

Renard smiled. “She’s very good at what she does.”

“Okay, so she’s not like Adalind?” Hank clarified, eyeing the woman suspiciously.

“Schade? Hardly,” Angela said, crossing her arms. “Though admittedly, it was more her mother I took issue with. Bad to speak ill of the dead I know, but she was not a nice lady. Truly a wicked witch…”

“Yes, well, we’re not here to discuss Adalind,” Renard said, quickly changing the subject. “Angela has a much different problem. And she needs your help.”

“What kind of problem does she need help with?” Nick asked, still on guard.

Angela sighed, looking haggard. “I was robbed. But not of the sort of thing I can report. My book of shadows has been taken. My main spell book.”

“That does sound bad,” Hank agreed. “But if you’re not a bad witch, is it a really big problem?”

“That book isn’t just mine, it’s a family heirloom. My family’s specialty has always been body modification and alteration. There’s a lot of spells in there for that, and some of them are dark magic. Not the ones I use,” she added quickly.

“Use?” Sloane asked warily.

She shrugged. “I do put a little magic in my goods. Nothing extreme, but things like clearer skin, healthy hair, body hair minimizers. Others I utilize mood helpers—relaxation, happiness, sleep aids. Harmless things to make customers feel good. It’s truly amazing how much little nudges can help get things started.”

“But these darker spells aren’t harmless nudges,” Nick guessed.

She shook her head, her expression grave. “No. And unfortunately, I’m fairly sure what the person who stole it is after, and it is cruel and dangerous.”

“So you know who took it?” Sloane asked.

“Yes, but I don’t know much about her.” Sighing, she gestured for them all to sit together. They did so, the detectives grouping up and Angela sitting on the table in front of them. “Yesterday, this woman returned my wallet to my new brick and mortar store I’ve opened, and helped me keep from dropping some of my inventory. I’ve cultivated an aura about me that makes people comfortable talking—it came in handy when I worked business. And now, I find it easier to get what they want if they aren’t feeling awkward about it. So we talked and she wanted to be “beautiful”. As a thank you, I gave her a special bath bomb-”

“A what now?” Sloane interrupted.

“Uh…it’s a ball of dry ingredients infused with different oils and the like, packed with a bicarbonate and a weak acid. You take a bath with them and they react by fizzing and releasing the ingredients into the water. It makes the bath fizzy and smell nice and other cute effects and can be good for skin,” Angela explained.

“But this one did something else?” Nick clarified.

“Nothing extreme, but it would make her the “best version” of current self. I find beauty standards a bit unkind nowadays, so I prefer people learning to like who they are and just nudging things with nicer skin and such.”

“Did it not work?” Hank asked.

“No, it worked well. She came to my shop again earlier today and I could see that she was still herself, but just a little…touched up. However it wasn’t enough for her. I had worried about that. For some, the initial taste just invites more temptation. A temptation that can bring out the worst in people. Similar to how people can become addicted to plastic surgery, they have this idea of how they’re “supposed” to look and they just keep going and going. In the same way, she asked for more.”

“And you refused?” Nick asked.

“Of course. Because to do more would be dangerous for her, but more than that, I would need…unwholesome ingredients.”

“Uh oh…” Hank said. “I don’t like the sound of that…”

Angela nodded. “I told her as much and I hoped that was the end and she would learn to be happy as she was, but I underestimated her. She let loose a dog in my shop! Threw a ball in and let it wreak havoc!” She sighed, trying to calm down. “It would’ve been just a funny incident if it wasn’t for what she did while I was distracted. While I was trying to get things under control, she ran into my workshop, which I stupidly left unlocked, took the book and a couple of prepared bath bombs and just waltzed out. I know it was her, she’s the only one who knew my book was there because she must’ve seen it when I tried to warn her off.”

“But can she even do these spells?” Sloane asked. “If she’s not a hexenbeast?”

She sighed and nodded with resignation. “Unfortunately, with the bath bombs I’d prepared, it’s likely she can pull off a _kind_ of magic. They’re blanks, but they have power in them. She’ll just need to infuse them according to the recipe inside, and there’s not a similar spell so she’ll likely find it by the description. The version I did was harmless. But she wants it more powerful. To do that, she’ll need to…take pieces of what she wants from other people.”

“Pardon?” Nick asked, hoping he heard wrong.

Angela leaned forward and Sloane tensed when she gently picked up her hand. “If say, I wanted skin like yours, I would need a piece of it. Or at the very least your blood or fat, if I wanted your shape. And I would mix it in with the spell and consume it. Hair, lips, eyes…the spell lets you take a hodgepodge of features and absorb them at will.” Angela tilted her head, looking at Sloane. “You have beautiful bone structure…”

“Yeah, I don’t want to know what you’d need to get that,” Sloane said, taking her hand back. “But we get the point. People are in danger so she can get magic plastic surgery.”

Angela didn’t seem phased by Sloane moving back. “Essentially, yes. Even worse, they won’t be stable with her trying to do them. She might get lucky, or things might go horribly wrong for her. I have the spells I need memorized, but I don’t want her using my book like this…I realize it’s my fault for tempting her and being stupid enough to not lock my door, but please, help me find it.”

The all glanced at one another before sighing. “Alright,” Nick said. “We need a name, a description of what she looks like now, and anything else you can remember.”

\----------------------------------

Margo breathed deeply, dressed in black with a black ski mask on and her body padded up to look even bigger. Picking up the book again, she read over the page she’d marked to make sure one more time it was right.

_The base spell requires no sacrifices to be made. It will boost your natural look, getting rid of scars and imperfections of the skin. The end result will turn the concoction dark blue. When it is ready by morning, it will be liquid silver._

_To go farther, the spell requires the sacrifice of pain. Select another who’s looks you covet, and take from them a piece of their body—their nails, their hair, their blood will give you a start. It must be taken with the pain, from the living. For a greater effect however, the greater the pain. Their flesh, their eyes, their tongue, their nose, all will give an even greater effect. The greatest however would be to carve out their heart-_

Margo slammed the book closed and breathed deeply. She didn’t want to go that far. She didn’t want to take anyone’s life or eyes or anything. Something smaller, something that would grow back, that was fine. Her phone chimed and she picked it up, noting another update from Facebook. Breathing deep again, she put the book aside and pulled the mask down and exited the car. She was parked near the club scene downtown, in a deserted parking area behind some buildings. She hoped she’d be quick and her car wouldn’t get stolen. She went to the alley near a certain club and watched the door. She swallowed, trying to calm down. She wasn’t going to kill anyone, she told herself. No one was going to die. A moment of pain, and they’d be giving it to help her. It was charity, even if it was forced charity. And she knew just who she wanted to take it from.

She straightened when she saw her quarry step out finally and Margo shrank back deeper into the shadows. Emma was alone, like she’d predicted from her Facebook posts, teetering just slightly as she walked down the street in some rather unconventional heels. She was looking on her phone, probably trying to find a ride. She’d blocked Margo on Facebook, but she’d made a dummy account easily enough and seen her plans to go out to “blow off steam because of a bitch at work”. That didn’t make her too sympathetic again.

Making her way over behind the alleyways, she managed to get on the other side without her noticing. Back through another, she waited. She could hear Emma arguing with someone on the phone about where to be picked up. It wasn’t ideal, but it was now or never. When Emma moved into view of the alley, she struck out like a flash. Her hand enclosed around a thick lock of her hair— _thank you for wearing it down, Emma—_ and Emma shouted when she was pulled back with it. “What the hell-”

She had her mouth stuffed with a gloved hand and she started flailing more, trying to scream. This was not good, she hadn't anticipated how hard it was to pull a good chunk of hair out. But she couldn’t just cut it, the book said it had to be pulled, that there needed to be pain. Gritting her teeth, Margo braced herself and yanked. _Hard._

Emma screamed in pain and seemed in shock a moment, but Margo was already letting go of her mouth and making a run for it, the lock of hair with wound around her fingers. She tried not to hear Emma crying on the ground and screaming for help. It followed her, but she reminded herself of all the times Emma had made work hell, made her life hard, all the cruel words, and booked it to her car. She put the hair in into a jar with the bath bomb already liquefied, gagging at the bit of blood and tissue at the end. Shaking it up, she watched as the hair seemed to dissolve into the mixture, turning it more of a purple color than the midnight blue. Setting it on the floorboard, she backed out of the parking spot she’d chosen and headed for home, and a bath.

\-------------------------

“So, in case we all forgot, we’re looking for a Margaret, aka Margo,” Hank said. It was early the next morning at the station, and they were getting started on the search. “No last name, and besides a description that we don’t even know is correct now, we got nothing…”

Nick sighed. “It would be helpful if Angela had her security cameras installed, but she hadn’t gotten around to it yet.”

“My question is why would she go through all this? Potentially really hurt someone like this? All to look like someone from one of those magazines?” Sloane sighed.

“Bit easy for you to say, you already look like them,” Hank pointed out.

She shrugged, not denying it. “I guess I got lucky with my face? Plus, I work out every day.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t always matter how hard you work. My cousin was always dieting and exercising, from the time she was in middle school, trying to look like that. It was tough, her body didn’t lose weight easily. She broke down a lot because none of the clothes she tried on fit her the way they looked on mannequins and models. And even when she did get thinner, she still saw herself as fat.” Hank sighed and shook his head. “We thought she was great the way she was but she had everything else telling her she wasn’t. A handful of voices get real hard to hear over a slew of movies and magazines and even her own classmates saying she had to be thinner to be pretty. She got an eating disorder because of it, started throwing up and eating less and less. She was almost afraid of food at one point. It took her years to get over, and she nearly died once.”

Sloane frowned sympathetically, looking down a bit chagrined at her statement. “That’s awful…”

“Yeah, Hank, I had no idea,” Nick said.

Hank sighed and shrugged. “I admit, I often go for slimmer girls. But I remember what she went through a lot…What we went through with her. So I guess I get how this lady could reach a boiling point and see this as a miracle way out of the rat race of trying to be the perfect girl. Heck, I had my awkward years where I wanted to look more like Denzel Washington. Before I realized how good I already looked,” he added with a smile.

Nick and Sloane both smiled at the lighter tone he used now. “I wanted to be taller,” Nick said. “I tried out for basketball as a freshman and got laughed at because I was five-foot nothing…then I had a growth spurt. I made varsity Junior year. I guess not everyone gets to grow out of it though…”

“What about you, Sloane? Every get made fun of?”

“All the time,” Sloane shrugged. “I was the weird quiet new girl at like 6 different schools during high school alone.”

“Wow, 6?” Nick asked in surprise.

“Yeah. Deirdre moved us around a lot, even then.”

“I remember you mentioning that,” Hank said.

“Hey, made staying out of dumb teenage drama easy,” she said. “Annoying people or bullies would get left behind, anyone tried to mess with me I could fight them and be gone later. Heck, if it weren’t for social services I’d have likely just not bothered with school.”

“Must’ve made making friends hard though,” Nick said sympathetically.

Sloane didn’t say anything for a moment but then shrugged. “I did alright without them.”

Nick frowned and then suddenly put an arm around her. “Well, you got them now like it or not.”

“What he said,” Hank said, doing the same on her other side.

“…I appreciate the thought, guys, but we’re at work and people are staring.”

“I thought you didn’t care what they thought? Is that self-confidence just an act?” Nick teased, squeezing tighter.

“Still got some teenage awkwardness?” Hank teased as well, pinching her cheek. Sloane actually blushed and then smacked them both on the arms till they let go.

“God! You guys are so weird…” They just laughed and she couldn’t help but smile slightly.

Nick sighed and then sobered. “…Back to the task at hand: This woman is desperate enough to steal a book of magic. Magic that tells her to hurt people.”

“Yeah…who knows what she’ll do if she’s cornered,” Hank said as well.

Sloane then perked up. “If she’s already gotten started, then maybe we should check for assault reports. The Hexenbeast said she’d need bits of the person, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she killed them if it’s stuff like nails and blood, so let’s try those instead of murders first. Then we can ask the victim.”

“Good point,” Nick said, a little proud of her for making the connection.

“Our little detective is growing,” Hank said, reaching for her face as if to pinch her cheek again.

Sloane backed away from his hand, giving him a flat look. “Try it and you’re gonna need a beauty potion.”

“Oh, can’t have that, this is the money maker,” Hank said with a grin. “I told you I realized my worth. And why mess with perfection?”

Nick smiled and shook his head, starting his search.

\-----------------

Margo wiped the steam away from the mirror. There was another pile of dead skin in the tub, more than before. She’d woken up in a near chrysalis of skin, and she was now quite a bit thinner. She’d have to wash her sheets and find a way to throw out the dry skin left behind. But now half her fat was magically gone, with no sagging skin or stretch marks she’d been warned of time and again when trying to lose weight fast. It made it easier to see the bone structure of her face and body. Her hair was lighter, almost blonde now, with more luster and shine. “Wow…” Glancing at the pile in the tub, she grimaced and quickly scooped it up into a bag to toss out before anyone saw.

She got ready quickly, but struggled when her clothes hanged off her now. None of her pants or jeans would stay up, and neither would her skirts. Her blouses were like deflated balloons on her frame. “Damn…” She pulled on an old dress and cinched it tight, heading back down stairs.

“Margo?” She paused near the bottom, Haylee at the table eating breakfast. She was staring at her in shock, then stood and walked over. “I…Margo, you…”

“Look good?” she said, smiling.

“I…yes, I suppose…”

Margo frowned. “You suppose?”

Haylee frowned, reaching out to pat over her waist to feel for herself. “Margo, you…how did you lose weight this quickly? It’s like ten dress sizes in one night!”

She backed away, pushing her sister’s hands off. “Like you need to know. You’re already skinny.” She still wasn’t as thin as Haylee, but only just quite it felt. A little more…She tried to push that thought away. “You don’t need any help.”

“Margo, that’s not the issue! It’s not healthy to lose that much weight all of a sudden!”

She sniffed and crossed her arms. “I’m perfectly fine, thanks. In fact, I’ve never felt better.”

Haylee frowned more. “You’ve been acting strange the last couple of days…”

“I’m fine! Why can’t you just be happy for me?” she accused.

Haylee frowned but sighed. “Okay, okay…If you’re happy, then great.”

“I am,” she said defiantly. “But I need new clothes…”

Haylee smiled, trying to smooth things over. “Well, want to go shopping together?” Margo smiled back and nodded. “Oh, but uh…Phoebe wants me to drop those pictures by her place sometime today.”

The smile quickly faded again. “Seriously?”

“Look, I know how things were between you two. But it’s been ten years, she might’ve changed.”

“Not likely,” she snorted.

“I’m not saying she became the best person in the world, but at the very least she’s trying to make a nice slideshow for the reunion—which is tomorrow—and she needs a few more. I’d like for us to have a good time, so I’d rather not burn bridges suddenly beforehand.”

“By nice slideshow, I’m pretty sure she just wants to feature cool pics of her and the people she liked and embarrassing ones of everyone else…”

“Can’t say you’re wrong, but I put any like that away. Listen, you don’t have to see her. I’ll hand over the pictures, and then we’ll go shopping. Find you a snazzy new outfit for tomorrow at least.”

“Snazzy?”

“Hey, mom’s vocabulary rubbed off on me, sue me…”

Margo sighed but then smiled. “Okay, fine.”

“Great. Let me just go get ready.” She rushed upstairs. Margo went to eat something, settling on a pop tart without heating it. She did however look at her reflection in the toaster, smiling again. She put it down when Haylee came back and they went out the door.

Haylee had the photos in an envelope, and when they got to Phoebe’s house—a decent size place in a safe enough neighborhood—she knocked on the door. Margo couldn’t deny her curiosity enough to stand back on the porch and wait. The door opened and a woman in her thirties opened it. She was fairly good looking, with black hair and green eyes, dressed for a workout. “Yes?”

“Phoebe? Hi, it’s Haylee Barnett.”

“Oh, Haylee!” She smiled and stepped out. “Nice to see you again. My, you haven’t changed a bit, aside from the hair. I remember it being pink for graduation, to spite the faculty.”

Haylee smiled a bit and held up the envelope. “I think I have a picture of that in here.”

“Oh good! I can finish that this evening for tomorrow then, and Jen wanted to make some prints to put around the room too.”

“Jennifer Gracy? Wow, I haven’t seen her in years.”

“Yeah, she’s been living in Australia, can you believe?” she laughed. “Anyway, I’m glad you were quite the photographer back then.”

“Comes in handy. Cute house by the way.”

She smiled. “Yeah, it’s my aunt’s. She out of town and my parents moved to away years ago and I moved to San Diego after college. So I got the place to myself.”

“I heard that. Um, I also heard your job didn’t work out?”

“What? Oh, no,” she laughed. “I was working an office job and that was fine, but I’m actually going back to school. Decided I really wanted to go back and do what I wanted to do, study art, work in movies as a designer.”

“That’s nice-”

Margo couldn’t help herself any longer and cleared her throat slightly. Phoebe looked over and blinked. “Oh, uh…hi?”

“Hi, Phoebe,” she said, a little smug and a little annoyed just seeing her.

“…Sorry, have we met?”

Margo frowned. “Yes we have. We had most of the same classes.”

“What?”

“It’s me. Margo.”

She shook her head, not comprehending. “Margo…?”

“ _Barnett._ I’m Haylee’s twin sister,” she ground out.

Phoebe looked at Haylee, then back at Margo. “Twin…Oh, right! Sorry, I forgot about you for a second! You were…different then.” She laughed.

Margo stared at her. “Forgot…You forgot about me? You-you made my life hell for four years and you forgot-” She started forward, feeling her rage building.

“Margo!” Haylee said, quickly grabbing her around the middle and pulling her down to the street again. Phoebe was staring at them in confusion. “We’ll, uh, see you tomorrow then.”

“Okay…” Phoebe said, looking between them like they were crazy as she closed the door.

“Let me go,” Margo said.

“No, you’re not thinking straight.”

“She forgot about me! I’m not letting her forget again!” she said, trying to fight and get back there.

“Margo, chill!” She pushed her slightly. “For God’s sake, you aren’t in high school anymore! Stop letting everything she does or says get to you!”

Margo breathed deeply but then nodded. “You’re right…sorry. Just…seeing her makes me feel so…”

“I know,” Haylee said more gently. “So let’s just go shop, have a good time, and forget about her, alright?”

Margo glanced at the house a moment before nodding slowly. “Yeah…sure.”

\-------------------------

“I gotta hit,” Nick said. They’d been searching through different assault cases reported in the last 24 hours and it was late afternoon now. “Emma Withers was assaulted last night. Someone apparently grabbed her from behind, yanked a chunk of her hair out, and ran off after that. The hair was the only thing taken and the assailant didn’t do anything else to her.”

“Sounds promising,” Hank said. “Got an address?”

The ended up piling into the car and going to the hospital, where Emma was still after the shock of last night. Her head was bandaged up and she looked haggard. More so as they asked her questions.

“I told the police last night everything,” she said. “I didn’t see his face. It was a large guy, like fat, but short. Dressed in black, and he had a black ski mask on. After he pulled my hair out—taking a chunk of my goddamned scalp almost with it!” she added vehemently, her voice rising high enough it was nearly ultrasonic, “he let go and ran. He was probably some psycho stalker! Or one of those perverts! You police don’t keep these streets safe enough for people to walk down!”

Nick and Hank kept calm, and Nick put a hand on Sloane’s arm to keep her from saying what she obviously wanted to about that. “We understand you went through something awful, miss,” Nick said. “But we think it might be related to another case. Just a few more questions, please.”

“Oh fine,” she sighed.

“Do you know someone named “Margo”?” Hank asked.

She blinked and then frowned. “Yes…one person. My coworker-or I guess supervisor. Margo Barnett.”

Hank smiled. “And do you know where she lives? Or have her number?”

“Hell no,” she laughed, hollow and bitter. “We hate each other. She’s a busy body cow who thinks she’s smarter than everyone and doesn’t think other people should have be happy or have fun when she’s miserable. And she’s usually miserable. So I don’t associate with her, I don’t want her to bring me down.”

They sighed, Sloane pinching the bridge of her nose. “Where do you work then, we’ll ask them.”

“Applebrook Accounting,” she said. “Our manager is Mr. Baker. I do have his number. In case I ever need help. He sent those flowers when I called and told him I might not be in on Monday because of what happened.” She nodded to a nice bouquet of yellow flowers while she brought up the contact in her phone. “Why do you want to know about Margo anyway?”

“Just a line of inquiry,” Nick said. He leaned in and copied down the phone number.

“…You know, you’re pretty cute for a detective…” she said, flirty.

Nick tried not to look as uncomfortable as that was and stood. “Thank you. We’ll be in contact.” He turned to go, Sloane smirking a little as they followed.

“I don’t suppose you can get her to leave,” a nurse said quietly as they came out. “We cleared her for release this morning, but she demands we keep running tests, and harasses the nurses. We’re not a hotel or her body guards.”

Hank sighed. “Get security on her if she doesn’t leave soon.”

Nick was already dialing the number as they headed out. He sighed and mouthed voicemail at them. “Hello, this is Detective Nick Burkhardt with the Portland PD, looking for Mr. Elliot Baker. You’re not in any trouble Mr. Baker; we’re just hoping to talk with your employee, a Margo Barnett. If you can please contact me at this number as soon as possible we’d appreciate it.” He hanged up and sighed.

“Let’s go back and see if we can look up this name in the databases,” Hank said. “Can’t be too many Margaret Barnett’s in the city, right?”

\------------------------

Margo looked in the mirror, smiling to herself as she smoothed out the dress. It was more form fitting than anything she’d ever tried before, and it looked good with its deep red color. She was outside the dressing room, in the three part mirror just in front of the doorway, which was big for her because she’d usually stay in the dressing room proper the whole time.

“That looks great,” Haylee said, smiling brightly.

“Yeah…I like it. I think it’ll be good for tomorrow.”

“Definitely. You’re going to turn heads in that for sure.”

Margo smiled more. “Damn straight! I need shoes too…”

“Margo?”

Margo froze and turned around from mirrors. “…Dan?” The man near the doorway was short, rotund man with dark hair and eyes, sporting a nice beard. Nicer than she remembered. Her ex-husband had been pretty prone to just throwing things on and letting his hair get wild. Now though, his hair and his beard were well groomed and he looked put together. How dare he make an effort now?

“Dan,” Haylee said almost venomously. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh…well…Shopping …” he said hesitantly.

Margo glared and stepped down. “Well…Wish I could say it was good to see you.”

Dan flinched. “Yeah…look, I am sorry how all that turned out—”

“Save it,” Margo said, holding up a hand. Dan was surprised, flinching and blinking rapidly. It made him look like a shocked fat chicken, and suddenly Margo wondered what she ever saw in him. “You had an affair and left me for another woman.”

He bowed his head, not denying it and obviously shamed. “I know. That was…that was wrong of me, but I wasn’t happy, Maggie-”

“You do not get to call me that,” Margo said, anger rising. “You think I was happy?”

“No,” he said honestly, desperately. “You were never happy. Nothing I did ever made you happy. Nothing I said ever made you happy. I told you I thought you were beautiful as you were but you kept pushing yourself to lose weight and said that I was lying. And then you’d say I could stand to lose weight with you, and then you’d get pissed when I lost weight and you didn’t, and we’d both stress eat and just start over again…” He breathed a little, obviously exhausted pushing all that out.

Margo frowned, not looking sympathetic. “Well it wasn’t fair when I worked harder than you. And you still haven’t changed, aside from learning how to use a beard trimmer apparently.”

He sighed “But I guess you got the hang of it,” he said finally.

“Yeah, I did,” she said, standing up straighter. “Sad you missed out now that I’m looking this good?”

Dan frowned more. “Margo, I honestly thought you were beautiful before…I thought you were beautiful and amazing. And seeing how you took care of your mother and still worked so hard, I thought you were a superwoman. I wanted to be more like you. I didn’t cheat because I wasn’t happy with how you looked, I just…I felt like you were only with me because I loved you, but you didn’t love me…That you didn’t think I was good enough.”

Haylee blinked, surprised at how heartfelt and sad that sounded. He looked like he was tearing himself open to admit this to her, vulnerable and scared but trying hard to put on a brave face.

Margo set her jaw. “I did love you. I just wanted you to be the best version of yourself. But I don’t care anymore. And I’m supposed to feel sorry that you made yourself feel better by dating another woman? Where is she? This girl you couldn’t resist? Some skinny bimbo who thought you were easy pickings? Did she already drop you?”

“Pardon me…” Dan blanched and looked beside him. A plump, well dressed woman stepped over. She was dark skinned, with a close cropped hair, and the white top and sunflower skirt she wore were impeccably tailored to the large curves of her body. She was similarly built to Margo before she started her transformation, but carried her curves like armor or a regal gown. A way Margo never did, never even tried because it always just felt like an anchor. She regarded her coldly and Margo actually felt some part of her shrink back because it was a righteous coldness. “I’m Femi…Dan’s girlfriend. You must be Margo.”

Margo blinked. “I…You’re…”

“Fat? Yeah. Sorry to ruin your fantasy I guess,” she said. She reached over and took Dan’s hand. “Look, you put Dan through enough. Just stop. He came over to say sorry, because he still felt guilty. But I’m not gonna let you rehash all this toxic BS.”

“I-I’ve put him through enough? I’m-” she started, moving forward off the platform.

“Insecure,” she said simply, making Margo pause at how quickly she was smacked down from her high horse. “Which is one thing, but taking it out on him is another. We weren’t right to start things while he was married, but listening to you, I really get it now why he was so miserable when he was with you.” Margo felt herself flinch and looked at Dan. Dan looked down but didn’t deny it. Femi squeezed his hand. “Dan’s an amazing boyfriend. He’s kind, and caring, and he makes me feel beautiful every day. If he couldn’t do that for you, or get through to you, I’m real sorry. But I’m not letting you bring him down again. Not when I had to work to bring him back up and make him understand what he's worth.”

Margo breathed deeply and looked at her ex-husband. “…Well, I’m happier too. I’m finally on my way to where I want to be, and it’s no thanks to you. Maybe I did settle for you, but I’m not settling now like you are! Hiding behind nice clothes doesn’t change anything, you both are still just-just fat!”

Dan squeezed Femi’s hand and glared, apparently deciding it was enough. “I knew you wouldn’t listen. I’ll just say it again, I’m sorry I cheated, but that was my mistake. I should’ve just told you I was unhappy the moment I felt it and separated then. But I’m not sorry I left you. And I’m leaving again.” He turned and walked away, holding Femi’s hand still. She cast one last glance at Margo, this one pitying and almost sad, and it made her blood boil to have that look cast her way again when she was already _better_ than that woman!

“…Margo…” Haylee started.

“Don’t.” She breathed deeply and looked at herself in the mirror again. “Dan is an ass. Maybe he didn’t leave me for someone skinnier or prettier than me, but I settled for him because I thought he was as good as I could get.”

Haylee frowned. “Margo, you don’t mean that…”

“Yes, I do! Mom never liked Dan, and I get why now. He wasn’t the support I needed, the man I deserved, just like she said. But no more settling. I’m going to get what I want.”

“…Okay…I’m glad you’re more confident, but don’t go overboard, okay?” Haylee said slowly.

Margo looked at her sister’s concerned expression and sighed. “I won’t. Look, let me change and get the dress. I’ll meet you at checkout and we’ll go to the shoe place?”

Haylee nodded and walked off slowly, still worried.

Margo watched her go and then went over to the wrack with the dress she was wearing. Looking through, she selected a dress another six sizes smaller, and then grabbed another couple in that size.

\------------------------

“Someone stole this hexenbeast’s spell book?” Rosalee asked, aghast. They’d all gathered for a planning meeting, this time at Sloane’s house. Sloane had gotten Pizza for them since she hadn’t been to the store yet, and had begrudgingly ordered a vegan one for Monroe when Rosalee gave her a look. “And they’re using it?”

“Trying to,” Hank said, taking another bite of pepperoni and mushroom.

“So humans can use spells?” Juliette asked.

“Not easily,” Rosalee sighed. “My books move into that territory, usually in how to counteract them. But some magics can’t be reversed with herbs. And some spells and potions need whatever energy Hexenbeasts and Zauberbeasts are able to produce to have any effect at all.”

“Angela said she’d charged those bath bombs, they were just blanks that needed to be loaded up,” Nick said.

“That would probably do it,” Monroe said. “So any progress?”

“We think so. We got a name, Margo Barnett. But we can’t seem to find much on her. No past history, heck, we can’t find a driver’s license!” Sloane huffed.

“That is very weird…” Rosalee agreed.

“Our records go back about three years. We’ve put in a request for the longer records, but it’ll take some time. Until then, we got someone desperate to be pretty hunting down women…” Hank said.

“You’re not allowed to leave the house or the shop,” Monroe said to Rosalee. She smiled and rolled her eyes. “But, you know, it’s pretty sickening what beauty standards have done to some women,” Monroe said sagely.

“Do Blutbad follow such standards?” Sloane asked dubiously. “I’d think it hard with all the blood.” Monroe frowned at her and Rosalee pinched her. “Okay okay, sorry…But hey, plenty of women don’t assault others because of their low self-esteem.”

“Yeah, that is usually a guy thing,” Juliette said. The men looked mock affronted but Sloane and Rosalee both raised their drinks in a toast, mumbling “amen”.

“I’d say ouch, but then I can’t say you’re wrong…” Nick sighed.

“How off the deep end do you think she is?” Rosalee asked.

“Hard to say without talking to her. We still need to hear from her boss.”

“He’s being a bit slow to call us back…” Sloane said, a bit suspicious.

“And there’s only so much we can do since it’s not an official investigation,” Hank sighed.

Rosalee frowned. “I don’t think there’s much we can help you with this time,” she said regretfully.

“Yeah. I mean, she’s human for all we know, and reversing whatever she’s doing isn’t going to help,” Monroe said.

“Stopping it is what we need to do,” Sloane sighed.

\------------------------

Angela took a breath as she stirred the small cauldron on the floor of her kitchen. It wasn’t burning, fire wasn’t needed for this spell, usually she was boiling ingredients for soaps or lotions, but not that night. This was one of the first spells she’d been taught as a child, a scrying spell to locate someone. She remembered her mother hiding her dog somewhere and making her scry the location. It was no wonder she normally had trust issues, and now that felt all the more harsh after trying to help Margo and being betrayed. What was worse was without a piece of her intended target-hair, skin, blood, what have you-she couldn’t get a set target. Instead she had to do a general spell that could show her the past, present or future what-ifs, concentrating on what she did know about her.

Looking into the cauldron, she woged and focused her gaze, concentrating on what she could remember of Margo.

When the swirling water turned blood red, she woged back with a gasp and a sick feeling in her stomach.

\-----------------------

Getting into the house Phoebe was staying in was easier than Margo thought it would be. She’d come prepared with a crowbar, glass cutter, all kinds of things. But none of that was necessary. After looking up common ways homes were burgled, she’d on the off chance gone to the side gate and found it unlocked. She’d then gone to the back doors, French doors with lots of glass. She’d then just on the off chance started lifting up flower pots stacked near the door and lo and behold, a key was hidden underneath. Margo wanted to laugh at how stupid that was, whether it was Phoebe or her aunt that did it.

Margo had also looked up Phoebe online. She liked social media. No kids, which was good. No pets either. Boyfriend back in San Diego, but couldn’t come with her. Aunt was out for another week and she had no pets or anyone else in the house either. Phoebe was all alone for the night, and Margo counted on that.

Getting to the bedroom, Margo saw her asleep in the bed, turned on her side. It was impeccably decorated in blues and greens, oddly calming for what she had in mind. Breathing deeply, Margo moved towards the bed. She eyed her hair, but that wasn’t enough this time. Pulling out the handcuffs she brought, she took a breath and moved to grab her.

Phoebe jolted awake at the touch and screamed, flailing a little. She was trying to beat her off, her hands falling over Margo’s face and shoulders, but she managed to finally get her hands together behind her back and clicked the handcuffs around them, tightening them quickly. Her legs shot out, trying to buck her off. Then Margo fell to the floor and one foot swiped her mask up. Phoebe was move across the bed as best she could with her hands tied, breathing hard. “Who the hell are you?! You…You’re a woman?”

Margo growled and then pulled the mask off. “Still don’t remember me?”

“…Margo?” she asked, stunned a moment. “W…what the hell are you doing?” She struggled to get her hands out and found she couldn’t. “You-get these off me, you bitch!”

“Sorry, but I kind of need something from you.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, affronted. “This is how you ask for favors?”

“No, this is how I take what’s coming to me,” she growled. “Think of it as repayment for making my life hell when we were teens.”

“Made your life hell? You mean the pranks?” she asked, laughing a little.

“Pranks!? You nearly ruined my life, more than once! I went to college out of state to avoid you and everyone else because of how they treated me, and you were at the center!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she bit out. “We played pranks on a lot of people.”

“They weren’t funny,” Margo growled. “You would call me names, start rumors about me—you used to steal my clothes after gym and hide them! In the rafters, in toilets, outside hanging from the trees!”

Phoebe frowned but then sighed. “Okay, yes, we went overboard a couple of times. We were dumb kids. Sorry.”

Margo glared. “If you actually sounded sorry, I might believe you. Are you still too stupid to realize you’re not in control here? That everything you did lead to this moment, making me do this to you?”

Phoebe glared back and then straightened, giving her a look Margo remembered from high school well. The haughty look of condemnation and superiority. “You know, I bet you think we targeted you because you were fat, right?” Margo glared. “Well, that wasn’t it. Not all of it anyway, it was just the easiest thing to tease you about. The fact is, you loved playing the victim.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh please. Every time we so much as looked at you funny, you went to the teachers or your sister or John Zakey and did your whole “Oh, woe is me, please save me and make me feel special” routine. You kept trying to get us in trouble, even when we didn’t do anything. And then you’d do something to piss us off again, and we’d do something to you because we were dumb teenagers. But I moved on. You apparently still live in the past, and I’m betting it’s so you don’t have to admit it’s your personality that causes all your problems and not your looks.”

Margo stared and then tightened her fist. “You were still horrible! To me, and to Haylee and John!”

“I’m aware,” she said blandly. “You know what the sad thing is? We liked your sister. Haylee was so cool, and cute, and nice. And so was John. The times I got to talk to them alone, they were great! Yeah, we invited them places without you, and they would come sometimes. Probably sick of you too.”

Margo got quiet a moment before breathing deep. Phoebe was still trying to get out of the handcuffs; Margo could see her hands working behind her. Likely she was talking to buy herself time. “I’m done talking about this. You’re going to give me what I want.”

Phoebe looked uneasy. “What’s that?”

“You’re beauty.”

Phoebe paused, blinking in confusion. “…I’m flattered, but no?” She laughed, obviously thinking Margo was off the deep end.

“You don’t get a choice.” Margo reached into the bag she brought and pulled out a large knife.

Phoebe paled but a weaker laugh bubbled up as she tried to move further back on her bed. “What…? C’mon, Margo. You puked doing the frog dissection; I know you aren’t going to use that on me.”

“Maybe I’m not the same as I was back them after all,” she said. She moved forward and Phoebe screamed again, trying to roll off and away, but Margo dove after her, the knife raised and ready.

\---------------------

The next day, they spent most of the morning combing back through records without much luck. They also had to finish work on the last case they were on, taking turns working through them. It was the same after lunch as well, until Renard called them in.

“You wanted to see us, sir?” Hank asked, closing the door behind him when they were all in.

“Just hoping for an update on the unofficial case,” Renard said, eyeing them.

“We got nothing,” Sloane said with a sigh.

Nick rolled his eyes. “What she means is we’ve got a name. Margo Barnett. However, we can’t seem to find current records for a woman that matches the description Angela gave us by that name. We’re still waiting for the broader search to turn anything up.”

“I see,” Renard sighed.

“I was hoping for better news.” They all jumped slightly, except for Sloane, turning to see Angela in the corner of the room.

“…Didn’t see you there,” Hank said.

“I didn’t want to be seen. Though Detective Larson glanced my way I’m fairly sure…”

“I know that trick,” Sloane said idly.

Angela smiled then walked forward. “I’ve been trying to do a bit on my end. Unfortunately it’s hard without something of hers to track her down. However, I did have a vision…”

“Was it us tracking her down and no one else was hurt?” Hank asked hopefully.

She shook her head. “Unfortunately not. It was a vision wasn’t much but I know the main warning: blood.”

“Oh…that’s great,” Nick sighed.

“If I had something of hers, I could do a better reading.”

“If we had something of hers, we’d probably know who she is,” Sloane pointed out.

“True,” she sighed.

It was then Nick’s phone rang. He pulled it out and check them number. “Well, we might be in luck, this is her supposed manager.” He opened the call and held it to his ear. “This is Detective Burkhardt.”

“Yes, hello. This is Elliot Baker,” the man on the phone said, sounding a bit nervous. “I, uh, apologize for not calling back sooner, the family and I were out for the day and I had my phone on silent.”

“Its fine, Mr. Baker. You heard my message?”

“Yes, I did. But…I confess, I’m not sure what you need with Margo. She’s not someone I would ever imagine causing trouble.”

“It’s just a line of inquiry in a case.”

“…Is it something to do with what happened to Emma?” he asked, sounding worried.

Nick felt like he was making connections and leaned against the counter to take the weight off his feet to listen. “We’re not sure yet, but why do you ask that?”

He sighed. “Margo and Emma don’t get along very well. It came to a bit of a head yesterday, Emma had lied about a family emergency to take off work and Margo outed her because she got stuck with her work.”

Nick frowned, thinking on that. “Usually then wouldn’t Emma want revenge on Margo?”

“Yes, that’s true…” he amended.

“Look, we’re working another case and the witness mentioned a Margo that fit her description. Would you say she’s a larger woman with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and short stature?”

“Yes, that is true…though she looked a little different yesterday. Apparently she got a nice facial and a make-over.”

Nick smiled despite himself. “Well, we really need to talk to Ms. Barnett but we’re having trouble getting in contact with her. We can’t seem to find a proper phone number.”

“Really? That’s odd…Oh!” he said, sounding like he had an epiphany. “You know what, I bet it’s still in her old name.”

“Old name?” he asked in confusion, glancing at Sloane and Hank. Sloane was making notes based on what she could hear of the conversation.

“Yes. She got divorced recently, and while she says she’s going by her maiden name again, I think she hasn’t officially changed it yet. I keep slipping with it too.”

“What is it? Her married name?” he asked eagerly.

“Curtis. Margaret Curtis. I can give you her phone and address too, if you need it for the investigation.”

“That would be fantastic, thank you,” he said honestly. Nick had Sloane copy them down and bid Mr. Baker goodbye when they were done. “Well, that’s one step done.”

“Here’s hoping the next step goes more quickly,” Sloane said.

“If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know,” Angela said. “If you can get me a sample of her, I can use a spell to spy on her and let you know what she’s doing.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Nick nodded, nodding to Renard as well as they headed back out to their computers to look Margo Curtis _ne_ Barnett’s address immediately.

\-------------------------------

“Phoebe?” Jennifer called. “Phoebe, are you in there?” She knocked on the door again and huffed in frustration. “Phoebe, c’mon! It’s already 3:00! We need to go start making sure things are getting done! I’ve got the prints in my car and everything!” There was still no answer so she huffed and walked around back to where Phoebe had put an extra key. Jennifer had told her that was a bad idea given this was just a house she was renting, but Phoebe didn’t want to end up locked out after a bad experience in the past that resulted in the police being called. But when she lifted up the pots, there was no key.

That gave her a bad feeling. Straightening, she hesitantly reached out and pushed down on the handle. The door swung inwards.

Jennifer frowned, not liking how horror movie this was, but moved cautiously forward. “Phoebe? Pheebs? You here? I know you’re here, your car is outside. The back door was unlocked too, that’s so stupid you know? Just…answer me already!” Jennifer swallowed and moved inside. Nothing seemed too out of place in the kitchen just off the back door. Phoebe’s Aunt had sleek, modern tastes, all clean whites and grays. It’s what made the red on counter stick out more. Jennifer looked closely, hoping it was jam or tomato sauce, but it was too dark—too red.

“Phoebe!?” She turned, looking around desperately before moving towards the back. There was another smear of red on the bedroom door and she swallowed. Shaking, she pushed the door open slowly. The first thing she saw was a foot…

And then she screamed.

\-------------------------------

It was a nice townhouse in a quaint neighborhood, nothing out of the ordinary. Hank knocked on the door and a tall woman with blonde hair answered. She heavily resembled the woman in the driver’s license photo despite the disparity in size, but there was something that didn’t feel quite like she was the one. “Uh…hello?”

“Hi. We’re looking for Margo Barnett?”

“Or Curtis,” Sloane added.

“Um, I’m her sister, Haylee…can I ask what this is about?”

They all flashed their badges. “We have some questions for her, regarding a possible robbery she was witness to,” Nick said.

“Robbery?” she asked in confusion. “She didn’t mention anything about…Come on in. She’s just taking a shower, she’ll be done soon.” She stood aside, letting them come in.

“Do you live here too?” Sloane asked, glancing around. Nothing seemed odd or out of place.

“No, I live in New York. I’m down for our high school reunion. Which is actually tonight. And I have to help get things ready last minute now.”

“Why’s that?” Hank asked.

Haylee sighed. “The girl that was supposed to be helping get things in order, Phoebe, had a sudden emergency and can’t make it. Emailed everyone about it at like 2 last night. So now everyone’s running around trying to track down what she was working on and I have to finish a slide show. She sent over what she had super late last night asking to finish it, but it was pretty bad…Kind of surprising for her to be honest. Margo’s not really into that sort of stuff so she’s going to go ahead and go probably.”

Sloane tiled her head. “It’s her reunion too?”

“We’re twins,” Haylee said.

“Ah, that makes more sense. But Ms.…”

“Barnett. I never married,” she said.

“Well, Miss Barnett. I don’t suppose you know anything about your sister being out late or witnessing anything strange?” Sloane said.

Haylee shook her head slowly. “Not really…well…”

“Well what?” Nick asked, turning his attention completely to her.

She hesitated but sighed. “She’s been acting strange lately. She was always kind of…dramatic, but it’s worse since the divorce. I hoped she’d feel better having company, but…”

“Not really?”

“No. We’ve always had a complicated relationship. Well, not always, just since puberty. She’s always held things in, but I think she resented me for a few things. Especially our mom... She had thyroid cancer. Got diagnosed Margo’s senior year of college.”

“I’m sorry,” Hank said honestly. He paused before pointing to the picture of a beautiful woman, her hair in a very eighties style with a lot of corkscrew curls, thick blue eye makeup, but still glamorous with her hand near her face to show off a ring on it.

“Yeah, that’s mom,” she said with smile.

“Your mom was Diana Barnett?” he said, surprised.

Haylee smiled. “You recognize her?”

“I followed fashion a bit when I was younger,” he said wanly. Sloane remembered him talking about stealing his sister’s fashion magazines and pointedly looked away to avoid saying anything. “Your mom was definitely one of the ones I noticed. But then she suddenly stopped appearing.”

“Pregnancy will do that,” Haylee sighed. “Not sure who our dad is, but when she got pregnant with me and Margo she had to stop modeling, as much as she didn’t want to. Never really got back to where she was before…” she said quietly, seeming a bit resigned.

“And she got sick?” Nick asked sympathetically.

She nodded and sighed. “It was rough. Margo was the one to come back and take care of her. I took a year off before college, and Margo went right in, so she was finished first. I offered to put things on hold, but mom wanted me to finish. She passed away just after my graduation. It was an even rougher time for both of us. I moved to New York to try and be a writer. Try being the key word…”

“But you say she’s been through a lot recently too?” Nick pressed lightly. “A divorce?”

“Yeah. It’s not a secret if you look at her social media, he, uh…left her for another woman.”

“Ouch,” Hank said.

“Yeah. She was kind of in a rut for a bit. Now though…well…”

“Well what?”

She hesitated, looking unsure if she should voice her concerns. “The last few days she’s been…changing. Physically, I mean. Like freaky fast.” She looked down, her brow pinched. “I’m worried for her…She lost whole dress sizes in one night, more than one. But looks…okay? I mean, she looks great, but…It’s not normal. I did a lot of research on women’s health for my last article, and this is honestly strange and kind of terrifying. She’s got no excess skin, she’s not crashing...I’m relieved, but it’s not normal.”

Nick glanced at the others and then back to Haylee. “What about odd times to be out?”

Haylee bit her lip and sighed. “I…Last night and the night before, I heard her leave and come in late. And weirdly, I always here the bath running just after she gets in…But last night, I don’t think she got back till almost four. I think I heard her alarm go off near sunrise, but as far as I know she’s been asleep all day till she woke up to shower.” As if on que the shower upstairs stopped. “I should warn her you’re here, I’ll be right back.” She headed up the stairs.

“…Sounds like we have our thief.”

“Yeah. But if she assaulted Emma Friday night, what was she doing last night?” Nick asked, on edge now.

Haylee came back down. “She’ll be down in a moment. Can I make you guys some tea? Coffee?”

“I could go for some tea if you don’t mind,” Sloane said. “But first, if it’s not too much trouble, could I use the restroom?”

“Of course. There’s a half bath just down the hall here.”

“Thanks.” She waited till Haylee was heading for the kitchen before she nodded to the boys and stealthily made her way up the stairs instead. The door to the bathroom up there was wide open and letting steam dissipate with the fan on. One bedroom was open—the guest room where Haylee was staying if she had to guess—and the other was shut. She faintly heard movement inside, and figured that’s where Margo was at the moment. Moving silently down, she went into the bathroom. It was steamy, but she could tell something strange had happened. In the tub was a massive amount of dead skin, enough that Sloane almost gagged. She likely could’ve made a small child if she wanted out of that much tissue. So that confirmed to her that Margo was the one using magic means to alter her appearance.

Looking around through the cabinet and even in the toilet tank though, she didn’t see any other evidence. The book wasn’t there, and neither were the bath bombs. _Damn…_ Looking at the pile of skin, she grimaced before reaching into her pocket and pulling out an evidence bag and a pair of gloves she’d learned to keep on her after a couple of cases. She picked up a small handful of skin in her gloved hand and slipped it into the bag, putting the gloves inside too before sealing it and putting it in her pocket.

She stepped out, about to go back downstairs, when she heard a voice in the closed bedroom. Moving closer, she closed her eyes and focused her hearing. “…Hey John?” a feminine voice asked, sweet and perky sounding. Sloane knew that tone, it was the one some women used around people they were trying to flirt with. She’d imitated it fairly often. “Yeah, sorry, work was horrible this week. But I’m excited to see you at the reunion! Especially getting you to myself after Haylee got to spend time with you. …No, she’s still busy,” she said, her voice growing a little strained. Sloane arched her brow. “It’ll just be the two of us; she’ll meet us at the reunion. …Okay, great! See you soon. I promise you won’t believe your eyes when you see me.”

Sloane heard her moving around again and so turned to quietly go back down the stairs. She saw that Haylee was still in the kitchen and quickly made her way back over to Nick and Hank. “Definitely her.”

“What makes you so sure?” Hank asked hesitantly.

“Huge pile of dead skin in the tub. By that I mean it’s like she shed her skin six times over, as if she was a Russian nesting doll.”

“Gross,” Nick said, wrinkling his nose.

“Yeah, even better, I have some in my pocket for the hexenbeast.” Nick and Hank both backed up slightly and she rolled her eyes. “No book or bombs in there though. They’re probably in her bedroom.”

“Keep it close and secret,” Hank sighed.

“Yeah. I listened in on a phone call she was making in there though. She’s meeting someone at the reunion. Someone named John. From the sound of it I think she likes this guy a lot.”

“Might be good to follow them,” Nick nodded.

“What was that?” Haylee was walking over with five mugs of tea on a tray.

“Nothing. Thank you.” Hank took his, blowing on it and taking a sip. Nick and Sloane took theirs as well. Haylee set the tray on the table, taking one of the remaining mugs.

“…Is my sister in trouble?” she asked slowly.

The detectives looked at one another then back at her. “We don’t know exactly,” Sloane said honestly. “But her name has come up a couple of places in two investigations we believe to be related, so we just want to ask her a couple of questions.”

“Okay…I know she can be difficult sometimes, but she’s a good person. She…” Haylee looked up and her eyes widened, the mug of tea slipping from her fingers and crashing to the floor.

“Hey, what the heck?” Hank asked, backing away from the hot tea splashing on his pants. Haylee was still gaping behind them so they turned to look.

Margo was descending the stairs, dressed in a figure flattering dress in oranges and reds that showed an hour glass figure most models would die for. Her hair was blonde, but looked naturally so rather than dyed. And as she got closer, her eyes looked blue rather than brown. She looked absolutely nothing like her DMV photo. She smiled, her lips already red with lipstick. “Sorry to keep you waiting…”

“M…Margo?” Haylee asked, looking her up and down. “I…you’re even thinner than yesterday.”

“I know,” she smiled more. “I’m now a size 4!” She smoothed down the dress with a smile.

“Uh…well, congrats,” Hank said. Sloane had a feeling she would probably have been his type under different circumstances, and hoped that using hexenbeast curses was a deal breaker for him.

“Thank you. Oh geeze, Haylee! You broke a mug?” she said, sounding annoyed.

“I, sorry-” Haylee shook her head, kneeling and grabbing the pieces quickly. Margo didn’t move to help her, frowning instead.

“It’s okay, are you alright?” Nick asked, kneeling down to help.

“Yes, sorry, just…” her eyes flicked to Margo. “Surprised…” She carried the pieces to a nearby trashcan, bringing it over to pick up the rest and grabbing the roll of paper towels as well. “I got this.”

Nick nodded and stood again, turning to Margo with the others.

Margo straightened at their attention, smiling. “So, you all are detectives? What’s this about?”

Sloane noted she clasped her hands together in front of her, and it made her look uncomfortable, but she kept that nice peaceable smile on her face. She had a feeling why they were there. “We’re looking into a robbery at a small shop called _Moonflower Beauty Co._ We were told you might be a witness as you were nearby.”

“Me? No, I’m afraid not. I don’t know anything about a theft.”

“Really?” Nick asked, not believing her sweet-as-pie tone for a moment.

Her smile twitched but she shrugged. “No.”

“Alright…We are also inquiring about an assault on one of your coworkers, Emma Withers.”

“Oh, I heard! It’s awful. But I’m afraid I don’t know much about that. I wasn’t out that night, and I’m not one for the club scene.”

Hank arched his brow. “How’d you know it happened at a club?”

Margo fidgeted with her fingers, but smiled dazzlingly. “Oh, well, Emma posts everything on social media. I just sort of figured because she said she’d be going out that night…”

“I see…So you can’t shed light on either incident?”

“No, I’m afraid not. I don’t know anything about them. Was there anything else?” she asked slowly, looking between all of them. Sloane frowned. She was worried about something other than the two incidents they’d asked about.

“No, not at the moment,” Nick said slowly. “If you do think of anything, give us a call.” He handed her his card.

“Of course. But if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to head out.”

“Right, high school reunion?” Hank said. “Hope it goes well.”

“I’m certain it will.”

They all felt a little uneasy at the way she said that, but nodded and turned to go.

“…We all agree she’s lying right?” Hank asked once they were outside the door.

“Oh yeah.”

“Obviously. I’m tempted to make her eat that pile of skin in her bathroom,” Sloane said.

Hank grimaced at the thought. “Gross. But yeah, we gotta figure out how to nail her.”

“She’s done something else,” Nick said with a frown.

Sloane nodded. “If she had another ‘miraculous change’, she probably has another victim somewhere…”

“I’ll go back and do some searching. You two should follow her if she’s going to meet someone,” Hank said.

“If that’s the case, here,” she took out the bag of skin and offered it to him. “Give this to the hexenbeast and see if she can do something worthwhile with it.”

Hank wrinkled his nose, pinching the bag between his fingers. “I’m not taking any more extracurricular cases for Renard in the future…”

\--------------------

Haylee watched her sister admiring herself in the mirror in the hall while she got her shoes on. “…Margo…what have you done to yourself?”

Margo looked back at her and frowned. “What do you mean? I’m finally how I want to be.”

“You shouldn’t be able to change this much in three days! This can’t be healthy!” she said almost desperately.

Margo turned fully, glaring. “Healthy? I’m the weight everyone always pushed me, for my looks and supposedly my health. Mom was always pushing me to diet, now I’m finally the size she wanted. Heck, I’m prettier than her now, I wish she was here to see it. So I’m doing great.”

“You’re not! Margo, I know you wanted to lose weight, but whatever you’ve done can’t be good-”

“I’M FINE!!” she yelled, startling her sister. Margo was breathing hard from anger and stepped forward. “You…you’re just jealous. You’ve been the pretty one for years and finally I’m on even ground again for the first time since we were in middle school —no, scratch that, I’m prettier than you _and_ mom—and you can’t stand it.”

Haylee looked hurt a moment before stepping up as well and setting her hands on Margo’s shoulders. “Margo…You’re my sister. I want you to be happy. I love you no matter what, whether you’re thin or fat, tall or short. Being worried about you isn’t about how you look; it’s just how fast it came on. I think you’re awesome no matter what. I’m always grateful you took care of mom, and I’m envious how successful you are here.”

Margo blinked. “Envious? Of me?”

“Yes. I’m barely cutting it as a writer. I have to live with four roommates in a studio apartment! But you’ve got a good job and a place of your own and a life. You got to spend time with mom…I was jealous of that. I didn’t get to see her much before she died, and I put all that on you, I’m sorry. But I’m scared I’ll lose you too if this is hurting your body somehow.”

Margo was surprised, feeling a flinch of something in her before shaking her head. “Well, that’s nice, but that’s you. Now everyone else will shut up. Better yet, everyone will be fawning over me the way they always did for other girls. For you.”

Her sister frowned again. “And will that make you happy? That you had to change this much to get their approval?”

Margo flinched again but just tilted her head up and shrugged away from Haylee’s hands. “I’m happy.”

Haylee sighed. “I don’t want to fight…”

“Then stop trying to rain on my parade,” Margo snapped. She grabbed her purse from a nearby table. “I’m going now. Finish the slideshow or whatever and John and I will see you at the reunion. Better yet, take your time.”

Haylee frowned and sighed as she walked off, going to sit. It didn’t really occur to her she’d never told Margo about having to finish the slide show since she’d been asleep so long. At least not until she was gone and Haylee felt a small bit of dread in her stomach that she didn’t want to name.

\----------

Sloane and Nick were following Margo as inconspicuously as possible. Nick tailed her car expertly, but then she got out and started walking wherever she was going. That left them going on foot as well, keeping her insight but being as casual as possible. Wherever she was going through, she was too focused to notice she was being followed. It was getting late as well, the sun starting to go down though it was still above the horizon.

She then headed into a hotel, the banner above the entrance saying “Welcome Mardale Class of ‘02”. Lots of people were milling about. Many were wearing what must’ve been the school colors in blue and gold. It made Margo stand out in the red dress she was wearing all the more.

“Wanna see what a high school reunion looks like?” Nick asked.

“I’m game,” Sloane said, following him up to the door. They kept Margo in sight as she walked through the crowd. She seemed to be looking for someone.

“Hey there,” a man said. “Who are you? Someone’s date? Who’s the lucky guy?”

Margo glanced at him and sneered. “Sorry, Bobby, I’m not interested.”

“Huh? Wait, who-” She walked off before he could ask. A few more tried to make small talk, and a few girls looked at her curiously and enviously and Margo smiled to herself. She always wanted to be that kind of woman, the kind that could grab attention and make people admire her just at a glance. But there was another reason she was there, she just had to find it.

Nick and Sloane did their best to keep her in sight, milling around. The same guy that had tried to hit on Margo smiled at Sloane. “Hey there. I don’t think I remember you-”

“Tonight’s not your night, keep walking,” Sloane said tersely.

“Geeze, everyone’s testy,” he muttered, walking off.

Nick tried not to smile, watching Margo mill around the room. “She’s looking for someone…”

“I get that feeling too…hopefully it’s not another victim,” Sloane said.

They looked up when someone took the stage at the end of the room, going up to the mic. It was a girl who looked visibly upset, wiping at mascara. “E-excuse me, could I have everyone’s attention please? Please?” The chatter died down and they all looked towards her. “I’ve, um…I’ve just been informed of some tragic news. Phoebe Lafayette, who you all must remember or at least knew was helping set this reunion up with the planning committee, was…was found dead earlier today.” Everyone looked shocked, glancing at one another and murmuring. “We were worried when she didn’t show up and some of us went to check on her. I-I don’t know much, just that she was found dead in the house she was staying in. We’re going to hold an impromptu memorial soon for her and a few other members of our class that passed away since graduation, if you can join us outside in half an hour.”

Nick grabbed Sloane’s arm and pulled her closer to whisper as they kept moving to try and find their suspect. “Phoebe, that was the name of the girl Haylee mentioned.”

She nodded, remembering as well. “Coincidence?” Sloane asked dubiously.

Nick huffed. Knowing someone was dead now definitely put more pressure on grabbing Margo before anyone else got hurt.

Margo had paused when the announcement was made, feeling her gut roll that Phoebe had been found already. She’d thought it’d be at least another day, but one of her friends must’ve known where she was staying. She took a deep breath, calming her nerves. No one would suspect her, that she knew, and she’d been careful not to leave any bits of her behind. She’d come this far, no one else had to be hurt. She just needed to keep going.

Finally, Margo spotted her quarry. John was wearing a blue shirt and a charcoal and gold pinstriped vest, looking dashing even among the other decent looking men around him. They were murmuring still about Phoebe being found dead, all of them looking upset. “John?”

John looked up and blinked. “…Yes?”

“Sorry, have you been waiting long?” she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear coyly. “I tried to get here as soon as I could.”

“…Sorry, but, uh…I don’t think I know you?” he said uncertainly.

Margo just smiled. “John…it’s me, Margo.”

“…No you aren’t?” he said, laughing a little. A couple of the others he’d been chatting with murmured curiously.

“Yes, it’s me!” she laughed more at his disbelief. “I look good, right?”

“You aren’t Margo Barnett,” he said a bit more firmly. “I’ve known Margo since we were kids. I saw her two days ago. You aren’t Margo.” The others all looked shocked as well. “Not sure what kind of joke you’re playing but I’m not falling for it.”

Margo frowned, feeling hurt. “John…it’s me. Like…Okay, so remember when we were in middle school and you found your dad’s golf clubs? And you started hitting the balls and stuff, but you hit one too far and smashed your neighbor’s car window? How we scrambled to hide them, find that ball and then try to pin it on a bird instead by catching it and tossing it through the window, but gently as possible?”

John stared in shock. “I…Margo? How…?”

She grinned. “I found a cheat code I guess you could say…what do you think?”

“I…well, you look…great,” he said slowly, but he looked still confused and befuddled.

“I’ll say,” one guy—she remembered him vaguely being on the baseball team with John—said. “You’re hot, Margo!”

“I know, right?” she squealed.

“Yeah! Large Marge is no more. Ding dong, the fatty’s gone,” someone else said, making the others laugh.

Margo winced, feeling a little a little jolt of hurt still go through her even though that nickname shouldn’t hurt her now. Haylee’s words were in her head again. _They’ll only like you because you’re thinner…_

“Hey, not cool,” John frowned disapprovingly at the man who made the comment. Margo smiled at him defending her honor.

“Oh, so that hasn’t changed,” another chuckled. “Still playing the hero, Johnny?”

John sighed and then turned back to her. “…Let’s talk over here.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the side of the room reception area, near some pillars. Margo’s heartbeat ratcheted up and she put those negative thoughts behind her. She squeezed John’s hand excitedly. He let go then though and turned, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Margo…what did you do to yourself?”

Margo’s smile dimmed. “What?”

John looked her over again like he was looking at a stranger. “You…God, Margo, I didn’t recognize you. I’ve been friends with you since we were in grade school and I didn’t recognize you…your figure, your hair, even your eyes…they all look different…”

“I know…? I mean, that’s what a makeover is about,” she laughed.

“Margo, you were fine before,” he said, sounding exasperated.

“No I wasn’t! No one wanted me before!” she said. “You and Haylee keep saying things like that, but you don’t understand!”

John shook his head. “Margo, screw other people! You were fine as you were. I liked you as you were, I don’t know who this is.”

“It’s still me,” she said almost desperately. She took his hand from her shoulder and pressed it to her chest. “It’s still me inside, John.”

“…Margo, whatever you did isn’t natural…this isn’t right…It can’t be healthy-”

“It’s fine. I did it for me…I did it so I’d finally be able to stand in front of you and tell you something…”

“Margo-” he started, looking like he was bracing himself.

“John, I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids!” she said desperately, squeezing his hand hard as if to keep him tethered. John closed his eyes, looking a bit like she’d just ripped a band aid off of him. “John?”

“Margo…I don’t…feel that way about you,” he sighed.

This wasn’t how she saw this going. In her head she’d tell him and he’d say he felt the same and they’d be together, the envy of everyone there. It was a fantasy, but she thought it was finally attainable now that she was the kind of pretty they wanted. Now it was still slipping away; it felt like the floor was crumbling out from under her. “…What? But…But I’m pretty now…”

He shook his head. “That isn’t…that doesn’t matter. Margo, I knew…I knew how you felt.”

Margo felt a bit like someone had punched her in the gut, it was hard to breathe and her grip weakened. “You did?”

John took his hand back slowly. “Yeah…It was kind of…hard not to notice. But I saw you as a friend. Almost a sister-”

“Don’t say that!” she almost shouted. John flinched but sighed. “Why…why am I not good enough for you still? I’m beautiful, why do you still see me as nothing?”

“Margo, I told you, that’s not it…”

“You…you don’t treat Haylee like a sister…” she said bitterly.

“I do,” he said. “I don’t have feelings for either of you that way. Neither of you are my type.”

“What, are you gay?” she snapped.

He frowned. “Bi, actually.” Margo blinked in surprise and he sighed. “I’ve mentioned it before.”

“I…didn’t think you were serious…” she said quietly, her face burning.

John sighed and shook his head as though he expected that. He was disappointed in her, but before she could say anything he continued. Dan’s words were coming back to her, about how she didn’t love him, mixing with Phoebe’s about how she didn’t care about people. It wasn’t true though, she loved John! She always had! Why was he still not in love with her? “My point is, I’m not attracted to either of you. You’re like sisters to me, I like hanging out with you. But I've known you both long enough to know I'm not attracted to you guys that way.”

She shook her head, her fire stoking again. “That’s not what I see! Not the way you look at Haylee and touch her! I saw you two, cuddling on the couch the other night.”

“Cuddling on the-I was trying to comfort her,” he said, frustration boiling over. “Margo, not everything is about liking someone more than you. This isn’t high school anymore. Haylee was looking through pictures of your mom and broke down because she didn’t get to be there at the end and you did everything for her. I was trying to comfort her. She felt guilty.”

“Well she should!” she snarled. “I put my life on hold for a woman who put me second ever since we were kids! All because she wanted Haylee to be a model, and instead she wants to be a writer and I never heard the end of how she was “wasting her potential”. Haylee should feel guilty about me doing that for her, dealing with that all for her. Dealing with being second best--no, never even in the running with our mother and I _still_ had to take care of her! And she was as ungrateful and condescending and critical through it all and I _hated_ her as much as I did growing up! And Haylee too!”

“You don’t mean that-” he started, sounding exasperated.

“I do! Haylee had everything! The looks, the friends, all of it! And you…did both of you hang out with the people that picked on me?” she accused.

“What?” he asked, not prepared for the sudden shift.

“Phoebe told me. She said she’d invite you and Haylee, but no me, to parties and stuff and you’d go without me. Because sometimes you didn’t want to be around me.”

John flinched looked away awkwardly. "I...it wasn't that exactly..."

“…You did,” she said quietly. “You and my sister would go behind my back to hang out with and be friends with the people that made me miserable? Because you didn’t want to hang out with me?”

“It was just a couple of parties,” John sighed. “Our other friends were going and you were usually doing something else anyway or would’ve been miserable there.”

“Oh, I was invited?” she asked, spiteful.

John sighed. “It was high school, Margo, over ten years ago.”

“She said that too,” she sneered. “But I’ve felt like I’m trapped there this whole damn time, and it feels as fresh as ever just finding it out now, how everyone just pushed me out!”

“…I’m sorry. We didn’t want to hurt your feelings but we wanted to have fun,” he said honestly. But then he frowned. “Wait, when did Phoebe tell you this?”

“What does it matter?” she scoffed.

“You heard that announcement, she was found dead! You might’ve been the last person to see her-”

“Or I might’ve killed her. Is that what you’re thinking?” she asked a touch hysterical.

“What? No, I know you wouldn’t,” he laughed. "You wouldn't do anything like that."

“You don’t know anything about me. And I don’t know anything about you—not like I thought. You’re just like-like everyone else! You thought I was a fat, pathetic loser!”

“Margo, I-”

“And I changed everything about me! You’re supposed to love me now! After everything I did to become beautiful, all the pain I caused, I’m supposed to be beautiful and have my happy ending where everyone knows they should've treated me better! That's how this story goes! It’s my right, even if I had to take it by force! But you're ruining it! You're j-just as two faced as everyone else!”

John looked at her in shock. “Margo, what is wrong with you?”

“NOTHING! There is nothing wrong with me, why does everyone keep asking that?! What? I have to be the doormat forever? I’m not allowed to stand up for myself-”

He shook his head, the shock turning to horror. “No, Margo, there is something wrong, y-you’re face…it’s melting…”

Margo froze and realized the side of her face was heavier. She reached up and felt her cheek and her heart stopped when she could feel the almost putty like texture of her skin. Grabbing her purse she scoured inside and pulled out a compact mirror. Before John could stop her she snapped it open to look. The side of her face was beginning to droop like melting candle wax, leaving deep bags of skin around her cheekbones and eye. What skin was there was beginning to flare in in a red rash-like irritation that burned like fire where she touched, turning dry and flakey in some areas and started to ooze in others with white pustules. It was like the painful acne she had in her teens, but a hundred times worse and now spreading down her neck to her chest. “No…NO!!” She screamed, throwing the mirror down and rushing out of the room with her hands over her face.

“Margo?!”

Nick and Sloane saw her go and pushed through the crowd to follow, John trying to do so as well. Margo was weaving through them, her arms covering her face and trying to keep her head down, bumping into people roughly as she tried to get to the doors.

“Margo Barnett!” Nick called out.

Margo jerked when he did and smashed into a man and a woman who were walking the other way and all of them went sprawling to the ground.

“Hey, watch it!” the man said.

“What are you…oh…oh my god…” the woman said, backing up even on the floor. “What’s wrong with your face?”

Other people who had gathered, making it harder for Nick and Sloane to get through, though even they had slowed in shock when they saw her face. It was melting, sloughing off her bones, a rash spreading down her shoulders and one of her arms. Everyone was looking at Margo in confusion and a bit of revulsion. Margo felt like she was swimming in a rolling sea of faces, all of them now normal and better than hers, judging her—disgusted by her. “Stop…stop looking at me!” She stood and raced off again so hard both her heels came off so she could run faster barefoot towards the door.

“Dammit!” Sloane cursed, pushing her way through roughly and trying to catch up, Nick moving along the side of the room where there were less people. By the time they got out there though, they had no idea where Margo had gone.

“She got away,” Nick growled. “Did…did you see her face?”

Sloane swallowed but nodded. “I think she’s unstable, like Angela said.”

“Yeah…but she’s unstable in other ways too.”

“She can’t have gone far yet,” Sloane pointed out. “You go up the street, I’ll go down.”

“Right.” They split up, jogging down the sidewalk on either side. Down town on a Sunday night was crowded and busy though, with a lot of people milling about. Nick closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to see if he could focus his hearing. But there were too many people, cars, sirens, music—it was sensory overload. He grunted and shook his head, not even going pale in the effort. There was no way he was going to find anyone in all that noise.

His head was still throbbing a little when he felt his phone buzz and ring in his pocket. “Yeah?”

“Nick?” Hank asked.

“Hank?”

“And Sloane,” Sloane said. “He wanted us both on the line.”

“Yeah. I’ve been checking into murders from the last twenty-four hours, found one Phoebe Lafayette. She went to the same school as Margo and Haylee—”

“Sorry to interrupt Hank, but we actually figured that part out. They announced it at the reunion and added her to the memorium,” Nick said.

“Well, I doubt they knew what happened to her exactly,” he went on. “She was found without one eye, and mutilated pretty badly. The eye, some hair and some blood and skin are all missing from the scene.”

“Oh God,” Nick groaned, trying not to imagine that too graphically.

“She’s escalated a lot,” Sloane said. “And it hasn’t gone in her favor. The effects are turning on themselves, _bad._ I’ve seen acid attacks before; she’s almost looking like that.”

“I was afraid of that,” Angela’s voice came through. “I examined the skin sample you got. Her first try was successful and might not have turned, but trying to do this three times in three days and escalating each time, without a hexenbeast’s skill to stabilize the spell, is undoing her at the seams physically.”

“Well, she gave us the slip unfortunately,” Nick growled. “We’re not sure where she’s gone…”

“It’s only going to get progressively worse,” Angela said. “I’ve made an “antidote” essentially, but I need to be the one to administer it for it to work. It will keep her body from just completely degenerating into a blob.”

They were all quiet for a moment, trying to think, before Renard spoke up from his quiet contemplation at his desk. “Would she head home? She might think it’s safe there, alone.”

“She’s not alone; her sister is…there…” Sloane started, horror growing in her stomach. “Oh…You said she stole three of those bath things, if she’s only used two…”

“She could think that last one might fix her,” Nick finished. “We need to get to her place!”

“You think she’d hurt her sister?” Hank asked, though it sounded like they were already moving.

“I’m not putting much past her in her state of mind.”

\----------------

Margo stumbled through the alleys trying to keep her face covered. Her feet were cold and it hurt to walk on the bare ground in just her stockings—which were now shredded and had runs in them from her mad dash out of the hotel. Her lovely, sexy dress was feeling tighter by the minute and she gripped the side of her thigh when she felt a seam pop. Why? Why was it going so wrong now? She’d finally had the body and face she wanted, why was her body betraying her now? Why had John shot her down?

There was a vagrant in the alley that looked up and then cursed and backed away from her. Moving again, she got out and made her way to the parking garage where she parked her car. Climbing in, she caught a brief glimpse of her reflection and let out a keening, whining sob. Her eyes were blood shot, painful and red. So was her skin, large blemishes that were more like boils than pimples scattered like a splatter of white paint over the redness of her skin. The side of her face was still sagging like melting cheese, making it hard to even blink. With a shriek she grabbed the rearview mirror and actually ripped it off, throwing it behind her in an adrenaline fueled rage. Shaking, she breathed deeply before she grabbed her keys out of her purse and started the car.

She wasn’t even aware of driving really. It was second nature, even instinctual to make it back to her townhouse. She focused more on keeping others from seeing her face. Her right eye was burning from not being able to blink properly and she was having trouble seeing out of it now too. She managed to get to her parking space, though she jumped the curb with a harsh bump. Getting out, she lurched towards her door and scrambled to open it, teetering inside and slamming it closed. She threw her hand out and turned off the hall light nearby, not wanting to feel the light on her. “Why…why why why whywhywhy?” she sobbed over and over. After everything she’d done, why this? Karma? Punishment? The pain she caused was already passed, it was a waste to do this to her now!

She stumbled through the archway to the kitchen, sitting down at the small table there in the dark while her mind spiraled downward.

“Margo?” Margo tensed when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs nearby. The light was on and she could see her sister coming. Haylee was dressed in a blue-green dress, having been getting ready to go to the reunion. “Margo? Are you okay? Why are you back so soon? And why are you sitting in the dark?” She moved to the second switch near the hall.

“Don’t!” Margo practically yelled. “I don’t…want anyone to see me…”

“What? Why?” Haylee moved forward, her brow puckered in worry. “What happened?”

“I just wanted to be pretty,” she sobbed. “I just wanted people to like me…I just wanted to stop feeling so awful about myself…I wanted them to stop making me feel awful!”

“Who?”

“Everyone! Phoebe, Dan, John…mom…you…I was always compared to you, everyone always asking if we’re really twins, if we’re really sisters…Mom wanting me to be like you …”

Haylee frowned, her heart breaking a little at the sorrowful tone of her voice. “Margo…Mom loved you-”

“Don’t try and sell me that,” she spat through a sob. “Whatever she felt for me, it wasn’t as much as you.”

“You’re wrong! You took care of mom, you-”

“Yeah, because she thought you living out your life was more important than whatever I had going on,” she said, nearly choking on the venom in her voice. She stood abruptly enough to startle her sister and knock the chair she was sitting in over. “She had all these hopes for you to be a model, carry on her legacy or whatever—and nothing for me. “Oh, you’re going into accounting, Margie? Well, I guess that’ll be good then, better to put your brain to work since that's your best asset. Be sure to support your sister, I know she'll come around and go into modeling soon.” Nothing I did for her was ever good enough. She was no different from anyone else. Pushing me since we were kids to diet, to exercise, to wear make up and the right clothes...It wasn’t any better living with her, the snide comments about what I ate and wore and dating Dan, the "fat guy" who would just keep making me fatter…”

“I…Margo, I’m sorry, but mom wasn’t like that,” Haylee said, shaking her head.

“Not to you. You were the perfect sister, up until you said no to modeling. Even then she thought you’d come around. “Too pretty to be stuck behind a desk all day.” That’s what she’d say. And I tried so hard to get half that recognition from anyone. I just wanted someone to love me, but I had to change everything to do it. To get even a bit of that feeling. Wanna see what it did to me?” She stepped forward into the bit of light from the hall, letting it shine on her sagging face.

Haylee covered her mouth and backed up. “O-oh my god…Margo, what…”

Margo felt her eyes well up. “Pretty bad, huh? It’s okay though…I’m going to fix it…”

“F-fix it? Ho…how can you fix this, Margo?” Haylee said, stepping forward now. She looked close to tears for her.

“I need your help,” Margo said slowly.

“Yeah, of course…Whatever you need,” she said, nodding and moving to take her hand.

Margo smiled as best she could, squeezing her hand a moment. Then she let go, and with both hands, reached up to cup her face. One hand was starting to break out in the boil-like welts and bloat up and swell. “I always wanted to look just like you…” Her hands trailed down and then fitted around Haylee’s neck, squeezing hard.

Haylee grunted and then coughed reaching up to grab her wrists, confusion and fear clear on her face. “M…Margo…?”

Margo stared into her eyes with an eerie sort of resignation. “I’m sorry about this…But I need it.”

Haylee felt a chill drop like a stone to the pit of her stomach and then brought her arm up, twisting her body and bringing it down over Margo’s arms to break her hold. She’d taken plenty of self-defense courses living in New York, but she never thought she’d have to use them against her sister. She backed away, rubbing her throat. “What is wrong with you?!”

Margo didn’t react like she normally would, defensively, as Haylee expected. Instead she eyed her like an animal sizing up its prey. “Everyone keeps asking that…Nothing is wrong with me, I’m just taking what I’m owed. And from you, I need to take something from you to make this work…And it’s going to be painful…” She reached over to her block of knives and pulled out one of the larger, scarier ones. “I need your heart to make this work…To be just like you.”

Haylee swallowed and then turned to run for the back of the townhouse. Margo followed, still able to run easily despite her sore feet and blurring vision. She tackled Haylee to the ground, wrestling with her as her sister screamed for help.

Outside, Nick and the others had just arrived when they heard the commotion inside. He, Sloane and Hank rushed up the steps, Nick being the first to try the door and thankfully finding it unlocked. The barreled in, weapons drawn. “Portland PD!”

The struggle didn’t pause, Margo now and Haylee rolling across the ground. Margo got the upper hand, holding the knife above her head. She must not have even heard them through the adrenaline and blood rushing through her ears. “JUST HOLD STILL!!”

“Margo, please!” Haylee sobbed.

“Drop the knife!” Nick was yelling, holding up his gun. Margo looked up and Hank sucked in a breath at the sight of her face.

“Get out! Don’t look at me!” she yelled.

“Margo Barnett, you are under arrest for the murder of Phoebe Lafayette,” Sloane barked.

“What?” Haylee asked, shocked.

“GET OUT!!” she yelled again. “I need to fix this!”

“There is no fixing this, Margo,” Nick said seriously. Next to him, Angela was pulling something out of her purse that looked like a jar of liquid charcoal. “But you can stop now before you make a bigger mistake. Let Haylee up. She’s your sister, right? You don’t actually want to kill her.”

“I need to fix it…” she said again, crying. “I can’t…I can’t live like this…I just wanted someone to love me…to love me…I just…wanted to love me…” She screamed and turned to raise the knife up.

“Hey!” With a shout that distracted Margo for just the second she needed, Angela magicked the jar through the air at lightning speed and smashed it against Margo’s head as she was turning her wild-eyed gaze around. Margo screamed and dropped the knife as the black substance that was in the jar trailed down her head and her face. Plumes of acrid black smoke were leaving her skin as though she’d been lit on fire. Haylee watched in shock but Nick was grabbing her and pulling her out from under her sister as she writhed with her hands over her face.

“W…what did you do to her?” Haylee asked in a hoarse whisper. She had some cuts over her arms from trying to defend herself, but was still looking at her sister with a mix of worry and fear.

“It’s a stabilizer…” Angela said, coming closer to watch Margo as she curled up with her hands over her face. “It’s not going to completely reverse everything she’s done to herself, but it’ll help a little and keep her from getting worse.”

“Good…th-that’s good…but…you said she killed Phoebe? She wouldn’t…Phoebe isn’t…” Haylee said.

“She just tried to kill you,” Sloane pointed out, Hank going over to handcuff Margo as she cried on the floor.

“Let me go! What did you do to me?! Let me see my face,” she screamed, trying to struggle. Outside more sirens were coming, the flashing blue and red pulsing through the room.

“Margo, stop-stop fighting them! Don’t hurt her, please-” Haylee started.

“Stop that! Stop trying to play at being the good sister! I hate you!” she yelled. Her face was shrunken back, no longer melting, but it was still red all down that half of her face, like it was stained with blood. The eye on that side was back to being brown, but had a slight milky quality to it. “I hate you …why couldn’t you just stay away…” she sobbed.

Haylee was dumbfounded and numbly watched as Hank pulled Margo towards the door and out to the police officers. “I…I don’t understand…How did this happen? Why?” she asked, confused and lost.

Angela looked down with resigned guilt. “I…will explain some of what happened. A lot of this is my fault…But I also need to get something from your sister’s room. Something that belongs to me.” Haylee looked at her in confusion, starting to cry as she cradled her bleeding arm.

Nick sighed, glancing at Sloane. Sloane looked as resigned as he was, then they tensed as they heard a scream outside. Rushing to the door, Margo was collapsed on her knees, having broken from Hanks grip enough to look into the side mirror of one of the cars. After that one scream of pure terror and sorrow though, she quieted, staring at her reflection, everything just fading away as she stared, only seeing every new imperfection in her face.

\------------------------

“So, Margo’s in an institution?” Rosalee asked. They were meeting up at the spice shop to give a rundown of what happened while she and Monroe closed up.

“For now,” Nick sighed. “She just kind of…shut down when she saw her face.”

“She catatonic,” Sloane nodded. “She’s also under lockdown and suicide watch apparently. It’s kind of a debate if she’ll be fit to stand trial.”

“So they know she killed that girl?”

“Oh yeah. Angela managed to sneak her book out, but when they searched Margo’s room we found bloody clothes and…other bits,” Hank grimaced. “DNA will be a while, but it it’s obvious she killed _somebody_.”

“I’m still not sure we should’ve let her take that book…Angela, I mean,” Sloane huffed.

Nick shrugged. “Hey, she’s trying to make up for what happened and hasn’t used a spell like that.”

“That’s what she tells us,” she pointed out.

“Well, let’s believe her for now,” he said a bit more firmly. Sloane rolled her eyes but didn’t push the subject. “In any case, Haylee is sticking around to see the trial through, however long that takes, and try to get Margo some help. She’s ashamed she didn’t do more for her before now and blames herself.”

“And Angela is helping out by giving her a job at _Moonflower_.”

“Seriously?” Monroe asked.

“Yeah. Haylee doesn’t blame her; she says she knows this was probably brewing for a while.”

“Was that a pun?” Sloane asked, mock disgusted.

“Unintentional,” Nick said, wincing in regret. “But it’s got Haylee wanting to learn more about all of…this, so Angela is introducing her slowly.”

“I know she assaulted and murdered people, but I almost feel a little sorry for this Margo,” Monroe said. “I mean, a hard life is no excuse obviously, but to feel like you have to go that far just to be loved…”

“I get how it’s sad,” Rosalee agreed with a sigh. “We’ve all been through some tough things as well, but we were lucky to have other people…To tell us we weren’t crazy, or alone, or ugly.”

Nick was nodding, wondering what he’d have done if his powers had come when Aunt Marie was already gone and he’d had to deal with them alone. What he’d do if he had to deal with any of this alone. Even together, some things felt overwhelming sometimes. He still wasn’t sure what these heightened senses meant after all, his death-like states and almost inhuman moments of strength and reflexes.

Sloane was looking deep in thought inwards. “Sometimes that’s not enough...” They glanced at her, wondering what brought that thought on and she noticed and shook her head. “Sorry, just…It can be too little too late sometimes. Especially when it all hits close to home. Even I know that,” she said, trying to smile.

“Yeah…” Hank sighed. “…I’m gonna call my cousin tonight, see how she’s doing…We haven’t talked in a while.”

Nick smiled and patted his back, looking around and thinking how lucky they were in more ways than most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I did struggle a bit with this one. I liked the concept--based around stories like Diamonds and Toads and other archetypes with the good sister and the bad sister. But I worried it was coming across as fatphobic or mean. I tried to make it as obvious as I could that it was impossible beauty standards and Margo's upbringing that had these events go the way they did...I definitely understand the frustrations of not fitting into that box. I wanted to try and make sure the feeling was that no one should have to change and put themselves through all that, or take it out on others.
> 
> Well, back to the show story lines next time, with El Cucuy and Stories We Tell Our Young!


	7. Under the Influence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rewrites of "El Cucuy" and "Stories we Tell our Young"--but with more going on between, around, and during them as I think Canon missed a few opportunities!
> 
> In between trying to track down a vigilante killing criminals and help a boy who's apparently possessed; Sloane is trying to get back to training Nick in how to be a Grimm and general badass. But Nick is still feeling the effects of Baron Cemetere's toxin--and he's not always in control. Sloane might have more to worry about from him than the wesen around her if they can't figure out what's wrong.

_El Cucuy_

_\--------------------_

“So…did you get a message from my mom too?” Nick asked one day at work. It was late October now, with a fall chill in the air and they were walking from the car garage to the precinct. Things were back in a lull after the incident with Margo Barnett and the hexenbeast book, but lulls never lasted long.

Sloane looked up from sipping her coffee. “Message?”

“Yeah. I got an email from her and she mentioned “I hear you’ve met S and she’s staying for a while. I hope you two are getting along.” I figured that must be you.”

Sloane snorted. “I got a call from her last week.”

“Wait, she called you?” he asked, frowning a little.

“Don’t be jealous. You’re mom has call systems in place she probably didn’t get a chance to teach you, so email is safer.”

“Call system?”

She looked around a bit to make sure no one else was nearby before pulling out her phone. “We can’t always keep the same numbers, and it’s dangerous to have numbers in our directories sometimes. So we have a system. If a number I don’t recognize calls, I wait. If it calls again less than two minutes later, I pick up. Kelly does the same. It helps us know it’s safe to pick up. And since I don’t always have a computer or internet handy, it’s easier for her to call me while it’s better for her to email you.”

“Oh…that makes sense, yeah,” he said, nodding.

“She called me last month too. She’s taken to do it once a month to see how you’re doing. And me, but mostly you.” He smiled a little. “Last month she said whatever she’s doing wasn’t working out because of an assassination, and it’s still effecting her now. Apparently it was Renard’s brother that got offed, the one that tried to kidnap you.”

Nick was surprised again by that. “Really? Huh…can’t say I’m too disappointed he’s gone.”

“Only thing better would be if one of us did it after what he put you and those others through,” she said, sipping her coffee again.

Nick didn’t really argue with her on that one. “…I told Juliette about her. Which I hadn’t done before. Like me up until last year, she thought my mother died when I was a teenager…”

Sloane paused, having forgotten that bit. “And…how’d that go?”

“Good,” Nick said. “I mean, she was a little irate at first. I’d let her go into my email to look at the hospital results, and I think she thought the email was from another woman, since it ended “Love you, M”.”

“Ah…that sounds awkward?” she said delicately, unsure how to step around it.

“A bit, yeah. So I really had to make sure she understood the truth. I had to explain some other things that happened in the past before she knew too. But it’s out in the open now, so...I think we’re going to be okay.”

Sloane frowned a little. “…You’re pretty serious about her, huh?”

“Of course. I…actually asked her to marry me not to long ago.” Sloane’s eyebrows ticked up and he sighed. “But…She didn’t know I was a Grimm at the time and all the weird things that had been happening had taken a toll on us both, so she asked for time. I haven’t brought it up since, because…well, I don’t want to rush her.”

Sloane nodded a bit, looking tempted to say something but just sipped her coffee again.

“I’d like to get back to some training though,” Nick admitted.

She perked up. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know how often, what with the job and all, but I think it would come in handy. Especially with my occasional…problem…”

Her excitement dimmed back to a bit of worry. “You’re still going pale so to speak?”

“Yeah. But I want to learn more. Maybe it would help work it out?”

She nodded. “I’m fine with that. We’ll figure out a schedule then.”

“Yeah. Better be honest with Juliette too, don’t want her thinking we’re up to anything we shouldn’t be,” he laughed.

Sloane eyed him before sipping again. “You should be so lucky, string bean,” she said, smirking at Nick’s pout as they headed inside.

While the day was mostly quiet, that night they got a call to head out and met at a scene where two men had apparently been mauled by…something. Officer Franco met them at the scene and showed them around. One man was by a car up the street, the other several yards away near a fence, as if he were fleeing from something.

“No wallet,” Nick said after patting him down.

“Neighbor who heard the screams called it in,” Franco said.

“Where's the neighbor?” Hank asked.

“He's in the back of my car. Name's Martinez. He's pretty shook up. I thought he was gonna get sick. And to tell you the truth, I don't blame him.”

“Anybody else hear this?”

“He's the only one willing to talk.”

Sloane frowned. “Is this a rough neighborhood?”

“Well, we get called her more often than we’d like,” Franco said delicately. “There’s good people here, but the bad apples spoil the bunch.”

She nodded in understanding.

“All right, let's get some prints,” Hank said, motioning the crime techs to the car before they walked off towards the police cars. A rather stricken looking Hispanic man was sitting at the back of the car with the door open, rubbing over his beard on occasion and twitching as he tried to calm down. He was wearing a track suit and jacket with a cabbie’s cap on his head.

“Mr. Martinez?” Nick called, getting his attention. “We're Detectives Burkhardt, Larson, and Griffin. We understand you witnessed the attack.”

“No, I only heard it,” he said, shaking his head, trying to stay calm.

“Can you describe what you heard?” Hank asked.

“It was horrible, like they were being torn apart by dogs,” he said, shuddering.

“How long after you heard it did you come outside?”

“Couple of minutes. I just put on some sweats, came out, and saw what happened. The body I mean…”

“You see anybody running from the area?”

“No,” he said, but looked around like a spooked animal.

“Is everything alright?” Sloane asked. “You look a little…antsy still…”

“You worried about something?” Hank asked.

The man swallowed. “Actually, I don't know what I heard.” He quickly stood up, wiping his hands across his pants. “Can I go? I really didn't see anything. I just called 911.”

Sloane frowned but Nick answered first in an exasperated tone. “We may need to contact you later, but, yes, you're free to go.” They watched him march quickly back towards his house and narrowed his eyes. “He's scared.”

“Definitely.”

“Yeah, well, he just saw a guy with his throat ripped out,” Hank pointed out. “Bound to give you some indigestion.”

Nick snorted. “Let's go check out the car.”

They headed to the car near where one victim was killed, similarly bloody and gory like the others. Nick climbed in the passenger seat with gloves on and opened the glove compartment. “Got two wallets,” he said, tossing one out to Hank while he opened the other. “Eddie Otero.” He looked out the car window where one of the bodies laid. “Guessin' that's Eddie.”

“Alfredo Guzman,” Hank said. “Sort of looks like what's left of the other guy. Why put your wallet in the glove box?”

“Might have something to do with what’s back here,” Sloane said from the back seat. “We’ve got two very threatening looking masks.” She held up two masks decorated with painted skulls. “Two even more threatening 9 millimeters.” She gestured to two guns on the seats. “And what appears to be…” She pulled up an old duffle bag. “A bag... Full of money.” She held it open and Nick and Hank eyed it all.

“I'm going out on a limb here and say these boys were up to no good,” Hank said.

“I will join you on that limb,” Sloane agreed.

“So what took them down?” Nick asked.

“And left the money?” Hank queried.

They crawled out of the car as they tried to think things over. “Well, maybe the killer didn't know about the money,” Nick said.

“Why bother killing them then? The hell of it?” Sloane asked.

“He might have got run off before he could come back for it,” Hank pointed out. “Wesen?”

“Wesen like money just as much as anyone else,” Nick said.

“Feral dogs?”

Franco came up before they could continue sousing out the details, saying that a convenience store around the corner had been robbed recently and the call just came in. They quickly headed around the corner on foot, finding the scene wrapped by police tape and a crowd gathered.

“Look, more cops,” someone yelled, and Sloane looked over to see a man with a crew cut and a MARINES t-shirt butting up against the line. “You see what's going on here, right? I mean, you see it? Criminals are taking over the neighborhood and what the hell are you doing about it? Nothing.”

Sloane frowned. “Who's he?”

“David Florez,” an officer at the scene replied. “Local hothead. Whenever we show up, he shows up to tell us how badly we're screwing up.”

“So crime's our fault?” Nick asked, looking annoyed.

“Seems to be,” the officer sighed.

Wu came out of the shop then, having started processing the scene, motioning them through. “Typical stop and rob. Two guys came in waving guns, emptied the register. They wore masks so we're not getting much in the way of a description.”

“Were the masks skulls?” Sloane asked.

“Uhh…yeah,” he said, surprised she knew.

“Then we found them.”

“Wait, what? How?” he asked incredulously.

“We got two bodies around the corner,” Hank said. “Guns, masks, and a bag of money.”

“Somebody killed 'em?” Wu asked. “And left the money behind?”

“We’re confused too, don’t worry,” Sloane stage whispered.

“Who did it?”

“Don't know. It's what we call "a mystery,”” Nick said in a deadpan tone.

“Oh, that's what that is,” Wu said more sarcastically. Sloane’s lips twitched.

“Security cams up?” Hank asked.

“System's in back.”

He led them to the security room and they watched the footage. Sloane glared as she watched them threaten and push around the store clerks, acting cocky and violent. “Not too sympathetic to these guys right now…” she muttered.

“I don’t blame you,” Wu agreed.

“But they were murdered,” Nick sighed. “Which means they were victims and we have to figure out what happened to them.”

They picked out three possible witnesses from the footage: A large rotund man, an elderly woman, and a middle aged man who had all made purchases in the two minutes before the robbery and thus might’ve seen their victims/suspects mask-less outside the store.

Unfortunately the first two were a bust. The large man hadn’t seen anything, and neither had the old lady, who was a bit dramatic about how sorry she was. So it was on to the third.

“As soon as I left the store I got on a bus and headed home,” he said emphatically.

“What bus did you take?” Hank asked.

“The 72,” he said, confused how that made a difference.

“How far was the bus stop from the store?” Nick asked.

“It's just down the street.”

“And did you see anything?” Hank sighed.

“I'm sorry. No. I had to run for the bus.”

“I thought you lived in the neighborhood?” Sloane asked. “Why take the bus?”

“Well, yeah I do. It's only one stop, but I had groceries, so…” he said defensively.

“Did you see any loose dogs on the street?” Nick asked.

He recoiled a little with a frown. “No.”

“There are a lot of kids in the neighborhood and we've got two dead men,” Nick pressed.

“If there are any dangerous animals running around, you should help us do something about it,” Hank added.

The man hesitated before sighing a little. “There's this one guy, ray Bolton,” he said slowly. “He has dogs. I heard he fights 'em on weekends. I know they get out sometimes.” Nick nodded and Sloane copied down the name. “But, look, this guy is... You can't be saying I told you,” he said, obviously scared.

“We won't,” Nick said.

They finished up the interview and separated for the night. Sloane headed not to the motel, but now to the apartment she was now renting. Her things were still piled up in the living room and it was sparse and bare as far as decoration went, but she was for all intents and purposes moved in. She went to take a shower and go to bed, realizing too late she still didn’t have a shower curtain or any actual bedding. Sighing, she decided to deal with it and slept on the bare mattress. It was still more comfortable than her car after all.

In the morning she headed to the station about the same time as Nick, but Hank was already there and plugging away at his computer.

“What you got there?” Nick asked.

“Ray Bolton,” Hank said, still looking at the screen.

“The guy with the dogs?”

“Yeah. Professional bad guy. Convictions for assault, narcotics distribution, and illegal firearms.”

“Sounds like the real salt of the Earth,” Sloane said sarcastically.

“Oh, it gets better. Our two dead guys, Guzman and Otero, are known associates of Bolton,” Hank said with a smile.

“Are we thinking he killed them?” Nick asked.

“Got motive. Guzman testified against him on a narcotics charge last year. Could have turned his dogs on them and got Otero too.”

“Guess we'd better check 'em out,” Nick said.

“Let's get animal control to meet us out there in case Bolton's dogs killed those guys,” Hank added as they headed out to the car.

It was easy to guess which house was Bolton’s. Out front, in plain view, were several chain-link kennels with large dogs in them. The dogs were barking and snarling, jumping on the chain-link in pawing at it in an effort to break free and attack the trespassers. As they walked up with two animal control officers with catch poles, the front door opened and a man with wild hair sporting a snake tattoo on his neck came out. “Who are you?”

“Ray Bolton?” Nick asked. “We're investigating a possible murder. We need to check out your dogs.”

“My dogs didn't do nothing,” Bolton sneered.

“The two victims were old pals of yours, Eddie Otero and Alfredo guzman,” Hank said. “We have reason to believe they were killed by dogs.”

“And they need to be swabbed,” Nick said, motioning for animal control to go ahead.

“Hey, you ain't takin' my dogs,” Bolton said, moving towards them.

Sloane stepped in front of him first, putting a hand up to make him pause. “Yes, we are.”

“And if they weren't involved you get 'em back,” Nick added, though he was fairly certain that wouldn’t be the case.

“So please, step back from the dogs and we’ll talk more about you and your movements the other night,” Sloane said.

Bolton sneered again. “You think they’ll come quietly, bitch?”

Sloane glared, tempted to clock him. Nick had warned her multiple times about what not to do when dealing with suspects however, and striking first was number one. Instead she turned to face the still barking dogs, the Animal Control officers trying to slide a catchpole into one cage with little luck as the dog tried to maul it. Sloane glared at the dogs, gathering up her Grimm energies. She spoke with authority, her voice no more than a calm order. “ _Quiet._ ”

The dogs paused, looking at her, before settling down with soft whines and whimpers. The men present all paused, looking at her in shock, before the Animal Control Officers quickly looped the catchpoles around their necks.

“What the hell did you do to my dogs!?” Bolton roared, woging in front of them. His skin turned leathery, almost scaly, his face and nose becoming a pointed snout, his teeth sharpened into fangs, his eyes turned red, and his ears turned long and pointed near the back of his head like a dog. 

_Oh dammit, a Höllentier!_

His eyes widened when he looked at her. “Grimm!” He lunged and Sloane quick stepped back before grabbing his arm and twisted it hard behind his back. She then threw her weight onto him until he was sprawled on the ground. He woged back but still struggled. “You're not takin' my dogs!” He shouted.

“We're taking your dogs and we're taking you,” Nick said, helping Sloane handcuff him. They hauled him up and marched him towards the police car.

As they did, the man from the convenience store walked up to them. “Hell yeah. Hell yeah! It's about time you got this trash off the street.”

“Him again?” Hank asked as he pushed Bolton’s head down so he crawled into the car.

“Called you 100 times about this dude!” Florez shouted.

“Stay back, sir,” Nick said.

Florez barely listened, trying to weave around to see Bolton in the car. “That's right, lock his ass up.”

“You keep talking, bro. Keep talkin',” Bolton snarled.

Florez said something in Spanish Sloane didn’t catch as they climbed into their cars to head back to the station. Bolton arrived before them, was processed, and put in an interrogation room waiting for them. “So, he is wesen,” Hank said as they walked towards the rooms.

“Yep,” Nick and Sloane said.

“And he knows Sloane is a Grimm now.”

“Yeah. I don’t think he saw me,” Nick said. “I saw him though…”

“What is he?”

“It looked like a cross between a Hundjager and a Damonfeur,” Nick said.

“It’s called a Höllentier,” Sloane said. “If I didn’t see him woge the fact he’s aggressive, fearless, and dumb as a sack a hammers would’ve given it a way…”

“Yeah, he didn’t seem to bothered about you being a Grimm,” Nick recalled.

“They don’t fear anything. Mostly because they’re too stupid. Always jerks, usually career criminals, bottom of the bucket sorts but with nasty teeth and claws.”

“So, possible culprit?” Hank asked.

“Very possible,” she sighed. “We better question him ASAP.” They nodded, heading back to the car nearby.

They drove back to the station and were about to exit the car when Nick caught her shoulder gently.

“Uh, how’d you do the thing with the dogs…?”

“Yeah, I was wondering that too,” Hank said.

Sloane shrugged a little. “Dogs and most other animals are sensitive to wesen presence. Likely that’s how Bolton keeps them in line, or at least from attacking _him_. But that also means they can sense Grimms. Give into the Grimm side a little, they sense it.”

“That’s kind of cool,” Hank said.

“Certainly sounds handy,” Nick said considerately.

“Yeah, I only wish it was 100% effective. It works well on domesticated animals, but wild animals? Last time I tried it, I almost got mauled by a mountain lion…Like, a real mountain lion, not a wesen.”

“Okay, good to know,” Nick said, not sure he wanted to go down that route just yet. “Think you can do the same to him?”

“If he didn’t get scared off seeing me before I doubt it,” she asked blandly as they headed into the room.

Bolton was as defiant as ever, not giving in to any pressure and smiling maliciously as he talked about suing them and that his girlfriend would corroborate his alibi. Nick and Hank looked at each other in frustration and they headed outside.

“That went about as well as I expected with a hollentier,” she sighed.

“We got motive,” Hank said, trying to contain his irritation and failing.

“Yeah, but no evidence to tie him to it,” Nick said.

“If the girlfriend corroborates, and she will, we won't get a warrant.”

Wu walked up then, folder in hand. “Got your report from animal control. Don't think you're gonna like it. Hair and saliva from Bolton's dogs don't match what they found on the bodies. They'd like to take the dogs back, but you got the owner locked up. What do you want me to tell 'em?” he asked, looking between them.

“Tell them the owner assaulted a police officer and we're going to keep him for a while. They should do the same with the dogs,” Hank said.

Wu nodded, though looked a little put out. “Copy that.” He turned and walked away.

They walked over to a corner near the filing cabinets, Nick speaking quietly. “Bolton is more than capable of killing those guys the way that they were killed.” He looked at Sloane for confirmation.

“Definitely,” she nodded.

“Then he wouldn't have needed his dogs, but the dogs were good cover. We look at the dogs and not him. We should be swabbing him,” Hank said.

“Even if that comes up positive, how do we explain how he did what he did?” Nick asked.

“Let's swab the son of a bitch anyway. I want him to know that we know.”

Sloane smiled. “I like it when you two get fired up.”

“Oh, we’re fired up alright,” Nick said. “But we might need some extra input…”

\--------------------

“No dog did this,” Juliette said, looking over the photos. Sloane had to respect a woman who could look over grisly crime photos while they ate. A strong stomach was an asset she had to develop early on.

“How can you tell?” Nick asked.

“Usually when a dog or coyote or wolf bites down in attack it'll shake the victim and you'd see more tearing in the wounds,” she said.

“Makes sense,” Sloane said, accepting a little more caprese salad from Rosalee. For a dish made of just slices of tomatoes and mozzarella garnished with basil and vinegar, it was good.

“Definitely not a Blutbad, FYI. Too much general mangling. We're more of a throat first and ask questions later wesen. Plus...” He took the photos and flipped through them. “Yeah, there's no signs of going after the legs first to cripple the prey.” Sloane narrowed her eyes, gripping her fork a little tighter while Hank gave him more dubious look. “Sorry. Victim,” Monroe amended. “Which is what a canine would do, so, yeah, you're probably dealing with a wesen and powerful.”

“We know,” Sloane bit out. “It’s a Höllentier.”

“Really?” Rosalee asked. “Bigish eyes, snoutyish, brutish, neanderthalesque…Basically a jerkwad?”

Sloane smirked a little. “Oh yeah. Neighborhood asshole apparently.”

“A Hollentier could definitely do that,” Monroe said, nodding to the pictures.

“What does "hollentier" mean? Is it German?” Juliette asked.

Sloane opened her mouth but Monroe beat her to the punch. “Basically, it means "beast from hell." They actually have a really ancient lineage all the way back to the Egyptians.”

“How did he react to you two?”

“He didn’t see Nick,” Sloane said. “Just me, before I slammed his face in the ground with his arm around his back. As expected though, no fear.”

“Definitely a hollentier then,” Rosalee said, refilling Juliette’s wine. Sloane was drinking tea rather than anything alcoholic.

“This wesen wasn't afraid of you?” Juliette asked in surprise.

“Your basic hollentier is too stupid to know what to be afraid of,” Monroe said. Sloane frowned, not liking that she had said the same exact thing earlier that day. “Which is why the Egyptians used to entomb them with their pharaohs. They thought it was a promotion until, you know, they buried 'em alive.”

She did smile a little at that, enjoying the idea.

“Can somebody pass the, um, what do you call it?” Hank said, pointing at one of the dishes on the coffee table in front of them.

“The artichokes or the Edamame Tabouleh?” Rosalee asked.

“Uh... Both?” he said, shrugging.

Juliette smiled and passed him the bowls. “I have to admit, I don’t normally eat like this,” Sloane said, plucking an artichoke out of the bowl with her fork. “But…not bad.”

Rosalee smiled. “What do you normally eat?”

“A lot of fast food,” Sloane admitted. “I haven’t really cooked in…I guess since high school. Didn’t really have a kitchen since then. And that was more a matter of necessity, Valarie was out most of the time so I had to fend for myself.”

“Valarie?” Nick asked.

“My Grimm mentor. Or master I guess, if you want to go old school.”

“Is she as…intense as you?” Monroe asked.

Sloane gave him a flat look. “No. She’d kill you the second she saw you, Grimm interference or no. Every other wesen in this city too, “harmless” or not.”

“Oh…no offense, hope she doesn’t come here.”

“I hope so too because she’d beat me black and blue and probably break something on me for listening to you all,” she said nonchalantly. Everyone was quiet a moment and she looked up from eating. “…What?”

Rosalee looked at her worriedly. “Did…she do that often?”

“Well yeah. We sparred all the time. Plus the learning curve. I learned how to take a hit pretty early, which was necessary. I remember we had to leave in one night one time because a teacher called CPS when I was twelve and I kept showing up with bruises and a broken arm one time. I mean, heart in the right place, but having a small armory under my bed was going to be hard to explain…Had to learn to hide them better after that.” Everyone was quiet again and Sloane frowned, getting annoyed with the looks now. “What?”

“Um, so…” Juliette said, sensing the need for a new subject. “Where is this Höllentier now?”

“Uh, we've got him locked up,” Hank said, thankful.

“Hey, you put a pharaoh in there with him he'll stay forever,” Monroe said, snorting with laughter. “Just saying.”

Sloane rolled her eyes and looked at Rosalee in disbelief when she giggled. “You must love him…” she muttered, taking the gentle nudge with Rosalee’s elbow in stride.

It was only a few moments later they got a call about an attack similar to the two men yesterday. This time it was an attempted rape that ended with the assaulter dead. They rushed out, finding it near a road-work area with a lot of brightly colored pylons. The man was tall, with a shaved head, lying flat on his back with his throat ripped out.

“So the guy drags the woman here to assault her, then gets annihilated,” Hank said, looking confused.

“And Bolton's locked up. It wasn't him. We have to let him go,” Nick said in frustration.

“Can't say I'm happy about that.”

“Me neither, but not gonna lie, kind of glad this guy’s dead. Rapists are a special breed of evil in my book,” Sloane said. “I’m glad he didn’t get far this time.”

“Don’t disagree,” Nick said, leaning down to shine his flashlight closer on the victim’s face. “But now we got three vics in the same neighborhood.”

“All bad guys. Seems like we got a vigilante on our hands,” Hank said.

“Vigilante wesen,” Nick corrected.

“Hate to say it, but I’m kind of tempted to let this one go,” Sloane said.

“We can’t let people take justice into their own hands,” Nick said.

“Why? We do it all the time,” she pointed out.

Nick took a breath to argue but then paused, thinking. “That’s…different,” he said defensively.

“Not really. We’re just a little more subtle about it. Well, you are,” Sloane said, looking the victim over as well.

Nick frowned but Hank got between them. “Would the witness have seen him?”

“Possibly,” Nick said. “But even if she did, she wouldn't know what she saw.”

“Don't I know it…” Hank muttered.

Wu came over, getting their attention. “EMTs are through treating Miss Ramos. She's pretty shook up but she's got more to say.” The followed him back through the police tape. Hank looked towards the crowd on the other side of a chain link fence and gave a soft grunt. “Florez is back.”

“Not again,” Nick groaned. Sloane looked and saw the man in question on the other side of the fence glaring at them in chilly judgement.

“Is he doggin' us or does he get here before we do?” Hank asked.

“We should run him and make sure,” Nick suggested, looking to Wu. Wu agreed and walked off to do his thing while they rounded the ambulance to the back. A Hispanic woman sat at the back of the ambulance, a shock blanket over her shoulders. Nick put a hand on Hank’s shoulder to hold him back. “It might be good if Sloane does this one on her own.”

“Me?” Sloane asked.

“She might be more comfortable with a woman after what happened tonight,” Nick said. “You’ll do fine, we’ve been coaching you how to best deal with witnesses. We’ll be in earshot, we just need to know what happened and if she remembers seeing anything.”

“Okay…” she nodded. She turned and walked towards the ambulance. Miss Ramos looked up at her. “Hello. I’m Detective Larson. You’re Miss Ramos?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding slightly. She was calm, or at the very least emotionally drained.

“Do you feel up to answering a few questions?”

She nodded again. “I can.”

“Okay. Did you know your attacker?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Have you ever seen him around?”

“No.”

Sloane frowned, not sure she was doing well with the one word answers coming her way. She glanced at Nick and Hank but they motioned for her to go on. Turning back, she sighed. “I know this was a very scary night for you, but could you tell me what happened after you got off the bus?”

Ramos shifted, a little more uncomfortable now, but took a deep breath as she remembered. Her accent gave her words a rounded tone. Sloane had noted before this neighborhood had a lot of Hispanic and Latino residents. Bolton stood out as actual white trash among them to be honest. “I walked down the street. I heard someone following me and I turned to look, but he turned away and went down another street. I thought I was being paranoid. That's when he—another man I didn’t see following— attacked me. I tried to scream, but he hit me... And knocked me down and was going to...” She swallowed and blinked her eyes rapidly, moving on quickly. “I don't know what happened next. I'm sorry. It was horrible. Horrible...”

Sloane frowned a little, feeling sympathetic towards her. “Can you describe who killed the man that attacked you?” She looked up at her, a touch of defiance there but also worry. “Even just a small detail will help.” She looked down again and then murmured something softly. Sloane blinked. “I’m sorry, I didn't quite hear you…”

She looked up again. “El Cucuy,” she said a louder.

“I see…is El Cucuy someone’s name? Someone you know?”

“We all know him,” she said. Sloane blinked and tilted her head. “But you may not understand him,” she added, pulling the blanket tighter around her back.

Sloane had a feeling that was all they would get for a while and sighed. “…Do you like chocolate?” Ramos blinked and looked up at her in confusion. Sloane reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a chocolate chip flavored protein bar. “I don’t always get to eat, so I keep these stashed a lot of places. I know…what you went through was terrifying. Better than some. And you’re probably grateful to this El Cucuy, I definitely understand that. I’m glad it got him before he did anything more to you. We’re just looking for the truth is all, part of our jobs. But…well…sometimes after something goes sideways hard, which it often does for me, chocolate makes me at feel least a little better. So…” Sloane awkwardly offered the bar to her, not sure what else to say.

Ramos slowly reached up and took the bar, looking at it. “…Thank you. I don’t think I can stomach it right now, but…thank you.”

Sloane nodded and handed her a card too. “If you think of anything, or if you ever need help, call me.” She turned, heading the few steps over to Nick and Hank. Nick was looking at her oddly. “What?” she said.

“Nothing, just…that was a nice gesture,” Nick said, not having expected the gift to their victim’s victim.

“I can be nice,” she snapped.

Hank smiled and clapped her on the back as they got to moving back towards the car. “It’s good to see though. But what was that she said?”

“Something about “El Cucuy”,” Sloane said.

“We know what El Cucuy is?” he asked, looking between them as he opened the car doors.

“Not a clue,” Nick said.

“I’m afraid I’m kind of lost too. It sounds Spanish and my expertise in wesen names is German, French, Scandanavian, and a little bit of Japanese.”

“Japanese?” Nick asked.

“I got stranded there for a year when I was 23,” she shrugged. “Had a…falling out with someone and they took my passport and other papers so it took me a bit to get home.”

“That sounds…fun?” he asked curiously.

“Eh, not bad. Learned a lot, got to travel and see some cool stuff, fought some wesen yakuza. Usual tourist stuff.” Nick had to smile a little at the fake humble tone, and Hank looked mildly impressed as they climbed in. “She said everybody knows it,” Sloane continued, thoughtful.

“Everybody except us,” Nick said, back to his frustration.

“Juliette speaks fluent Spanish. Maybe she knows something,” Hank said.

They jumped when someone pounded on the roof of the car and Florez leaned down with a cocky grin on his face practically pressed against the window. “Now you see that? Somebody doing your job. Cleaning up the streets.”

“Hey! Hey, that's enough. Move on,” Wu said, grabbing him and pulling him from the car as Florez laughed. “Time to go home.”

“Mr. Florez is starting to get on my nerves,” Hank muttered. Sloane had to agree.

\----------------------------

The next day Nick texted her to meet at the trailer that afternoon. Juliette was there as well, and they gave a rundown of what they had found out from a woman named Madame Pilar about El Cucuy. About how her barrio was terrorized by evil men when she was a girl in Guadalajara, and the women crying out for help and justice from “El Cucuy” until the men started turning up dead. And about a woman seeing a creature with yellow eyes, sharp teeth, and fetid breath kill one of the men.

“Not gonna lie, I’m starting to like this creature,” Sloane said. “At the very least we see eye to eye on some things.”

“It’s still murdering people,” Nick reminded her, taking down the books to study.

“Again, so do we. Kind of what we do. Me more so than you, but we both do what we have to in order to make sure other people don’t suffer at the hands of dangerous wesen. This one seems to be making sure people don’t suffer at the hands of dangerous men. I can respect that.”

Nick sighed a little and handed books to her and Juliette to start looking for leads. They began flipping through them, Nick at the table, Sloane on the bed, and Juliette on the floor resting on her stomach. An hour later nick sighed. “I got nothing. You find anything?”

“Lots. This one is about a Grimm who tracked down and beheaded an entire family of Faeteo Fatalis in... whoa, in 1655, who were wreaking havoc in Vlatos on the island of crete,” she said, her eyes bright with interest.

Nick was looking at her fondly but Sloane just nodded a bit sarcastically. “Fun…not really what we’re looking for though.”

“Ah…right. I haven’t found anything that looks or sounds like El Cucuy, no…” she said, sighing as well. “It's a big world, maybe this is just one they haven't encountered yet.”

“Or maybe it's in a book that was never handed down to my relatives. Who knows how much is still out there?”

“I don’t have anything on it either, but considering I didn’t know much about a Volcanalis or a Cracher-Mortel, I can attest to there being surprises or gaps in family collections…” Sloane said.

“Maybe it isn't even wesen,” Juliette said thoughtfully.

“In which case, we are screwed…” Sloane muttered.

They went back to the station to brief Renard on what they’d found out. The would-be rapist, Stephen Stillman, was from Vancouver, WA and had no relation to Guzman, Otero or Bolton to their knowledge. David Florez however lived in the neighborhood with his mother. He was a former Marine who had served three tours in Afghanistan and was diagnosed with PTSD. It was possible he was tired of the rising crime in his neighborhood and decided to do something about it. Wu then came in and showed them footage of the bus the night of Miss Ramos’ attack. They saw Ramos, another man, and Sillman all get off around the same time. Just when they were talking about finding the other man to see if he saw anything, Wu noticed a more familiar face.

“Hey. Don't we know her?”

“Yeah, she was at the convenience store robbery,” Hank said, looking at the woman in the bright red coat and curly, wooly grey hair. “We brought her in for questioning.”

“Mrs. Garcia, right?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, that is her,” Sloane said, frowning a little.

“Same woman at two crime scenes?” Renard questioned.

“In the same area apparently,” Hank said.

“I think you need to talk to her again…”

That’s what brought them to apartment 305 in one of the apartment complexes in the neighborhood. Nick knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” a timid voice asked from inside.

“It's the police, Mrs. Garcia,” he said. “Detectives Burkhardt, Griffin, and Larson. We spoke with you the other night?”

The door opened and the old woman looked at them and then smiled. “Oh, yes. I remember. I-I'm always a little nervous about opening my door after dark. Would you like to come in? I can make you some tea.” She left the door open as she shuffled over to the small kitchenette.

“Actually, we'd like you to come down to the precinct with us,” Nick said, trying to sound as amiable as possible.

“Have I done something wrong?” she asked, nervously fiddling with her electric kettle.

“No, ma'am.”

“You were on the 75 bus last night,” Hank said.

“Yes, I was. How did you know?” she asked in surprise.

“There are surveillance cameras on the buses.”

“Oh…” She put the kettle pot back down. “Can... can I ask you what this is about?”

“We'd rather ask you a few questions at the precinct. There's some photos we'd like you to look at,” Nick said.

“Oh, yes. Well, of course, if you need me to. I'll just get my coat,” she said, smiling as she shuffled over to her coat rack.

“I’m not sure about this,” Sloane said. “I mean, she wasn’t much help the first time…”

The boys nodded in agreement, but it was their best lead at the moment. They headed out once she had her coat on and her purse over her shoulder. She took Nick’s arm with a smile after closing the door. “Oh. I hope you don't mind, but I don't get many handsome young men visitors anymore.” He smiled good natured, if a little awkwardly.

Sloane smirked a little and whispered. “I won’t tell Juliette, don’t worry.”

Nick shot her a glare as they headed down to the car. It started raining as they climbed in, Sloane sitting with Mrs. Garcia in back. They started right for the station.

“Oh. This is a nice car,” she said, admiring the interior. “I bet it's fast.”

“When it has to be,” Hank said, smiling a little at the review mirror when she chuckled.

Nick’s cellphone rang and he picked it up. “Burkhardt.” He listened to the other end, looking serious at the end. “Meet us there. We can try to intercept him.” He hanged up and looked at Hank and Sloane. “We got a problem with Florez. Apparently he's pretty upset that we let Bolton go.”

“I wasn’t too keen on the idea either,” Sloane said.

“His mom called it in, thinks he might be going after Bolton.”

“Then we better go,” Hank sighed. “Sorry, Mrs. Garcia. But we're gonna have to make a detour.”

“Oh, no problem,” she said, smiling kindly. “Whatever you need to do. It sounds very exciting.”

They raced to Bolton’s house as fast as the car could safely go in the misting rain. When they pulled up, they could see Bolton wailing on Florez in his front yard, the dogs going nuts in their kennels. Nick and Sloane were out of the car before it had completely stopped, rushing over.

“Stop! Police!” Nick yelled. He wrenched Bolton off of him and the man stood with his hands up.

“Hey, he came on my property with that knife. This is self-defense.”

“Get back in your house,” Nick said.

“Arrest him. I'm pressing charges, man. He tried to kill me!” he shouted.

“Get in the house or we'll arrest you.”

“I’d do worse than that,” Sloane said darkly. Bolton glared but turned to go back inside.

The dogs kept barking as they went over to a prone, bloody, but still conscious Florez. “Let's call an ambulance,” Nick said, helping him up with Hank on the other side.

“You shouldn't have let him go, man,” Florez slurred through a bruised and splotchy face. “Shouldn't have let him go.”

“I don’t disagree, but look where this got you and your mother,” Sloane said. They paused at the car when they saw they were missing one little old Hispanic woman in the back seat. “Where’d Mrs. Garcia go?”

“She’s not here,” Nick said, looking around wildly. Only her red coat was in the back seat. A beat later they heard a loud, terrified scream come from inside the house. Sloane was off and running with Nick close behind, shouting back to Hank to stay with Florez. Nick made Sloane pause at the door, drawing his flashlight and his gun. Sloane drew her knife and he opened the door, walking in with her at his side. They could see yellow eyes and sharp teeth, and bloody claws as they swiped at Bolton’s neck repeatedly. He was already dead, but the creature was unleashing a fury on him still. But then it paused, one ear ticking back their direction, knowing they were behind it.

“Back away,” Nick ordered.

The creature stood, looking at them. Sloane recognized the floral shirt and dusty pink cardigan immediately, even stained with blood, and sure enough the creature turned back into Mrs. Garcia with wide, shocked eyes. “Ay, Chihuahua. You're Grimms? I had no idea…”

Nick and Sloane gaped, glancing at each other, and then back to her. This was not how they saw this going, that was for sure.

It was a whirlwind of sound and lights afterwards—police cars, ambulances, neighbors freaking out, Florez’s mother crying and beating him with a sandal and yelling at him in Spanish while he cowered and said he was sorry—before they had a quiet moment. It was a tense quiet moment in the interrogation room. The three detectives sat across from Mrs. Garcia, who was still covered in blood and looking sheepishly between them.

“You're 77 years old,” Hank finally said after several minutes.

She smiled and chuckled. “Last month.”

“You killed Guzman and Otero,” Nick said, leveling an accusing finger at her.

“And Stillman, who attacked Ms. Ramos under the bridge,” Hank added.

“I know it looks bad, but do you really think anyone is going to believe that I could do such things?” she asked, shrugging innocently.

“You're El Cucuy,” Sloane said, the least worked up of the detectives.

“I've been called many things,” she said dismissively.

“You have Bolton's blood all over you,” Hank pointed out.

“Well, yes, you brought me to Mr. Bolton's house. And I heard the terrible screaming, I went in to help. Oh, I must have gotten all bloody when I tried to save him,” she said, dabbing at the blood with mock concern.

“"Save him"? Really?” Nick asked incredulously.

“Oh, you don't need to worry about me anymore,” she said in exasperation. “I have done what I came to do. The neighborhood is safe again. And I-I really should be moving on.”

“You really think we can just let you go?” Nick asked, shocked at her strangely innocent brazenness.

“Well, I don't think you have any choice,” she said, laughing gently.

The detectives looked at one another, Nick and Hank floundering a moment before they all rose and headed to the observation room. Renard looked at them equally askance. “Are you kidding me?” Nick and Hank shrugged helplessly. It was true, they had no way to prove she did it. And who would believe a 77 year old woman killed a fit, thirty something man with her bare hands with that much blood? Sloane looked through the glass, noting how her eyes seemed to glow and her head was cocked as if she was listening to something. It seemed by move on, she had more work to do.

An hour later, Mrs. Garcia was heading down the steps of the station in a clean, borrowed shirt. Sloane was leaning against the side, looking at her as she came down. “Ah, the Lady Grimm,” she said. “Have you come to try and hunt me?” She looked more amused than anything, though there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes.

Sloane regarded her a moment before reaching into her pocket and holding out another protein bar. “You like chocolate? Little snack for the road.”

Mrs. Garcia blinked before smiling and taking the offered treat. “You have killed many…”

“I had to,” she said.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Yet, I see what you don’t wish to acknowledge deep down.”

Sloane frowned, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “And what’s that?”

“Doubt,” she answered simply.

“What would I doubt?” she snapped.

“That’s what you have to figure out for yourself. But I know, deep down, you have done what you’ve done out of your own sense of justice and because you wanted to protect others from the pain you have felt…there is vengeance there too, but, I cannot fault that all things considered,” she smiled. “In all, while not innocent, I don’t see you as someone who must be…pushed out from this world.”

Sloane narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “And how do you figure all that?”

She gestured to herself as if it were obvious. “I am “El Cucuy”. I don’t just catch people as they commit evil acts. It is an aroma, a feeling I get when I see others. I see much of their inner most parts. It’s how I knew to follow that would-be rapist. I could sense his intent.”

Sloane eased back a little but folded her arms. “I have no reason to have doubts. I just happen to think that as far as wesen go…you’re one I could maybe stand to let go.”

“Ah, a Grimm’s approval? Now that is rare…” she chuckled.

Sloane shrugged. “At the very least you have a sense of justice.”

Mrs. Garcia smiled, putting the protein bar in her purse. “That is, at times, all I have. I must always be on the move. You were much the same, I sense…but perhaps not anymore.”

“Not by choice,” Sloane huffed.

“I wonder about that…” She tottered down the remaining steps, glancing back at Sloane. “I hope you figure out what you really want soon, _mija_.” She then headed on down the street and Sloane frowned after her but didn’t follow.

\--------------------------

_Stories we Tell our Young_

\--------------------------

Nick should’ve realize “be careful what you wish for” was a lesson he should learn. It’d been quite a while since they’d done some Grimm training together, and he’d asked for this. But he should’ve realized Sloane had a long memory.

Nick met Sloane at the usual place in the woods one afternoon after work, thinking he had an idea what was going to happen. It was now November, and it was chilly, but Sloane was dressed just in a long sleeve thermal shirt and jeans. Her jacket was sitting on top of a box nearby.

“Okay. What’s today? Clubs? Hide and Seek?” he said, rubbing his hands together.

She smiled, amused it seemed and anticipating his reaction. “Knife throwing,” she said.

Nick blinked and faltered. “Kn-Knife throwing?!”

She smiled at his dropped jaw. “Hey, you said last time you wanted to kick it up a notch. So—” She pulled out a rolled up bit of material and unfurled it, revealing several nasty looking knives. “I’ll show you how to throw knives. That is if you don’t know already.”

Nick tried not to look nervous. “Um…no, actually, not really. You, uh, took me seriously.”

“Considering it was something we argued over, yes. Now you’ll learn something then.” She handed him the roll of knives for him to look at while she set other things up. They looked very sharp, and also plain. All metal, no wood, their handles having several holes in them that he supposed were for handling. “Now…My mentor taught me this using animal carcasses and then later live wesen on hunts-”

“Oh my God, no,” he said immediately, ready to fight her even as his mind was trying to process that.

“…But I figured your delicate sensibilities wouldn’t like that. So here.” She flipped up a large piece of thick wood nailed to a stand by putting her foot on the stand. “I made you a practice target that won’t move or bleed.”

“Oh…that’s…Sloane…” he finished in an exasperated groan when he saw what the target looked like.

She grinned. “Yes?”

“Did you draw the target?” he asked, though he already knew she must have.

“I did. Why? You don’t like it?” she asked innocently.

Nick sighed. The target was a very detailed sketch of a blutbad in black paint. Bullseyes were painted over the head, neck, heart, stomach, hands, knees and groin in red, as well as a pair of red eyes. Perhaps he could forgive that, but also painted on was—“Was the plaid shirt necessary?”

“I think it lends an air of authenticity…though I admit, plaid is really hard to draw, especially with all the wrinkles on the shirt. But I think I did okay—”

“Next time, don’t bother with that much detail,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me your bleeding heart won’t let you attack a generic blutbad on a piece of wood? Just remember it’s not your friend and just a stranger trying to rip your throat.” She walked over and took the knives back. “These are in fact throwing knives. Aerodynamic, light, and simple. That is pine,” she pointed to the target. “Soft wood, best to practice with. More like normal skin and flesh. What we’re looking for is accuracy. I’ll teach you basic stance, hold, and release and we’ll tweak it until you’re hitting more than missing. Then you can learn some fancier tricks.”

He nodded slowly. He forgot that while headstrong and quick tempered, Sloane wasn’t a bad teacher. She did take time to explain things to him.

“Great. So, basic stance.” She pulled a knife out to demonstrate. “Relax your body. This isn’t brain surgery. Stress comes later, if you’re actually trying to hit a moving and breathing target. For now…think of it as stress relief. It’s meditative and you do it till its second nature. Stand up straight for a better, more accurate, throw. Place your right foot forward with the left foot slightly behind-”

“That’s not what you’re doing.”

“I’m left handed dominantly, though I can use both pretty well, so I go the other way. You’re right handed. Now pay attention. There are two ways to throw a knife: by the handle or by the blade. And the technique is decided by the knife. You’ll want to throw the heavy end first to achieve more force going into your target. These you throw by the handle. Hunting knives by the blade. Now there are different grips I’ll teach you, but I favor the pinch grip because I don’t want to cut my own fingers off in the heat of the moment, though you lose a little power.” She pinched the end between her thumb and curved forefinger. “Now…ever play baseball?”

“Uh, a little when I was younger,” he said with a bit of surprise.

“It’s a lot like pitching, or so I’m told. Square your shoulders toward your target, and assume your stance. Grip your knife and raise it as if you are about to hammer a nail into a wall at eye level in front of you. Reach back, and step into a moderate throw. Don’t try to throw it as hard as you can. Simply release the knife when it’s out in front of you. Don’t snap your wrist either. Follow through as you would on a baseball throw.” She demonstrated slowly and Nick nodded as he watched. “So when you release…” She suddenly did it quickly and Nick jumped when he hear the thunk and looked to see the knife in the target’s chest yards away. “You strike them out.”

“Ah…”

“Want to give it a shot?”

“Sure…” He took one of the knives, looking it over critically.

“Don’t worry, you can’t do as bad as I did my first time”

“Really? I would’ve thought you were a natural at all things lethal,” he said mostly seriously.

“Eh, most Grimms are. I expect you’ll adapt to this pretty fast. But my first time I ended up fumbling the knife and cut up my fingers…then the knife slipped and I nearly struck my mentor when I tried throwing it because of the blood.”

Nick grimaced. “Yeesh…”

“Yeah…so, um, I’ll be standing behind you and to the side. Give it a shot.”

Nick had to snort a little laugh at that. He took a stance, Sloane helping make a few minor adjustments and reminding him to relax, before he gave it a try. It managed to land just to the side of the target, still in the wood but not a direct hit.

“Not bad. No blood on either end,” she said.

Nick pulled another knife and looked at it. “You really kept practicing the first day with bloody, cut up fingers?”

“My mentor insisted. Gotta learn to deal with pain and keep fighting somehow, might as well do it when you’re ten,” she said matter-of-factly.

Nick looked at her in surprise, lowering the knife a little. “Ten? You started this when you were ten?”

“Uh…yeah. I started seeing wesen when I was nine. Few months of initial training, hand to hand techniques and such, and then weapons training. That’s how my mentor did it. I figured you were ready for it now.”

He was still reeling a bit, staring at her. _Ten years old and she was learning how to throw knives…possibly at living targets…So this is all just normal for her…_

“What? Keep going, give it a few more tries before you quit,” she said, looking for the entire world like nothing was wrong.

“Not quitting, just…Nothing.” He had no idea how to talk about that and decided to let it drop for now. He continued giving throws with Sloane occasionally correcting him or giving tips, before stopping when I started getting dark. “I think we should probably stop.”

“Agreed. Training in the dark is another lesson.” Nick helped retrieve the knives from the board as Sloane put them in their pack. He hissed when his finger skirted over one blade and put his finger to his mouth. He turned when he heard a bark of laughter. “You throw the knives with no injuries, but manage to cut yourself in the last inning.”

Nick blushed a bit, having been rather proud he hadn’t cut himself as well. He grabbed the knife properly and took it out as he walked out. “I wasn’t doing terribly at least…got a couple of hits.”

“No killing blows, but I admit you had some good blows to the knees that would cripple them and a good shot to the groin at one point that made me chuckle. Here, little act of mercy I never got.” He was surprised when she held out a Band-Aid to him.

“Oh…uh, thanks.” He moved to take it, but she shook her head.

“Wait a second,” she ordered and he paused. She took his hand and ran water from her water bottle over it to wash off the cascading blood, then fitted an old handkerchief over it. “Hold that for thirty seconds.” He blinked but did so, waiting for the blood to clot. She grabbed a jar out of her bag and opened it in the meantime. When he took the cloth away, she smeared a little of the concoction inside on his finger. “This is that old Grimm salve recipe I think I mentioned. …I actually showed Rosalee how to make it, and I’ll show you too if you want. It’ll heal a little cut like this by tomorrow if you keep it covered.”

Nick was surprised and finished opening the Band-Aid to fit around his finger. “Thanks…”

“Always be prepared, the Grimm motto.”

“I…think that’s the Boy Scouts actually,” he said slowly, not sure if he was supposed to laugh.

“They are little plagiarists and if we could sue them, we would,” Sloane said mock seriously. Nick had to snort a laugh again at that. She finished putting up the knives, rolled up the cloth case and tied it. “Mind if we leave the target for now?”

“I guess not, this area is usually pretty secluded.”

“I had a feeling. Glad I chose it then.” They hiked back towards their cars. “I’ll call you later about the next lesson.”

“Okay. Uh, Sloane?”

“Yeah?”

“That…was actually kind of fun. And, um…so are the “Grimm Games”. Sorry if I didn’t seem appreciative or like I enjoyed them, I know you’re trying to make sure I’m prepared.”

Sloane looked surprised now before nodding a little. “I admit, it was a little… disappointing. I was trying to do things in a way I thought you’d prefer since you don’t want to actively hunt down a wesen. This was also…well, how my grandmother started training me.”

“Really? So…was she your mentor at first?”

She shook her head. “No, not exactly. I didn’t know I was a Grimm when we started training, or that she was one. I didn’t know anything about wesen. We owned a lot of land and…I just thought they were games. Hide and seek in the forest, capture the flag, dueling…They were…fun. I guess I wanted to try and revisit those first for basic skills…” She looked at the throwing knives. “Deidre was…more efficient. She didn’t really approve of games, said I need to toughen up because life wasn’t going to be a game anymore…” She frowned. “I guess…they are a waste of time really. We’re grown, games aren’t necessary to learn things anymore.”

Nick frowned. “Sloane, I didn’t mean-”

“No, really, it’s true. I’ll think up more hands on lessons like this.” She opened her car door. “Talk to you later.”

“Sloane-”

She closed the door and started the car and Nick sighed as she drove off.

\--------------------------

The next day, Nick was trying to think how to talk to Sloane at the station. They’d been having a good time, actually getting along, and he felt like he’d stepped on that. Or really, that he’d stepped on a land mine. He forgot, with how she liked the hunt and seemed to not let anything effect her, she was still a person who had been through a lot of traumatizing things since she was a child. Hank seemed to sense the odd atmosphere between them, though Sloane herself seemed perfectly fine. Before he could get his thoughts together though, Renard messaged them that he wanted to see them. All three rose and headed to his office, seeing him packing up his briefcase.

“You wanted to see us?” Hank asked.

“Yeah. I’m going to be leaving town for a little while,” Renard said.

“Vacation?” Nick asked.

“That's what I'd like everyone to think. Captain Harden will take over while I'm away.”

“Is he…?” Sloane started.

“No, he’s not in with the whole Grimm thing as far as I know, so best keep that under wraps.”

She sighed but nodded.

“Does this have to do with your brother's death?” Nick asked.

“Maybe. Now if you receive any communication from me while I'm away... text, email, otherwise... just ignore it. It won't be me. If I do need to contact you, I'll do it indirectly through Rosalee.”

“Rosalee?” Sloane asked, confused and maybe a little wary of him using her.

“No one would be aware of her as a contact of mine, and she agreed when I asked. Don’t worry, I’ve covered the tracks and I’ll be careful if I do need to contact her.”

“You in some kind of danger?” Hank asked, a little worried.

“I would assume so,” Renard sighed, heading past them towards the door.

“Is there anything we can do here?” Nick asked.

He paused at the door and nodded. “Yeah, if anyone asks, I'm having a wonderful time in Tahiti.”

He left and the three detectives looked at one another doubtfully before returning to their desks. Sloane looked at the time and sighed. “You guys want some coffee from that place on the corner? I think I need a caffeine boost.”

“Oh, that sounds awesome,” Hank sighed, grabbing his wallet and handing her cash.

“The usual?”

“Yes please,” Nick did the same and she headed off for the door. Nick thought about catching up to her to talk but sighed, still uncertain what to say. Hank noticed and frowned.

“Did you want something different?”

“What? No, it’s not like that…I just…I think I hurt Sloane’s feelings yesterday…” he said slowly.

Hank blinked, tilting his head slightly. “How? I mean, I know she must have them, but she seems pretty tough…”

“We started training again,” Nick explained. “And before it was…kind of like games. I mean, we did regular sparring sort of things with hand to hand and weapons, but then we’d do these things to practice tracking and hunting. Like she’d give me a padded bat, she’d have another, we’d walk fifty paces in the opposite direction and then we’d have to work on hunting each other while staying hidden. Or we’d each have a flag or something and we’d have to hide it somewhere and then go find the other person’s flag before they got ours.”

“Sounds fun,” Hank said. “Kind of like team building exercises they make us do at those retreats.”

“Yeah. But I…guess it’s not what I expected from her. I commented on that before the whole Zombie thing. It…started an argument. I thought she was going soft on me, she said it was to ease me into it. She remembered that and so this time, so she started teaching me knife throwing.”

“Knife throwing?” he asked, a bit incredulously.

“Yeah. It was pretty interesting actually. She’s…not bad at teaching that sort of stuff. But then I said some stuff after about it, about the games again and she…talked about how she was trained.” Nick frowned a little. “She talked about learning to throw knives when she was _ten._ ”

“Ten?” Hank asked even more incredulously.

“And about how she cut up her fingers but her mentor, this…Deidre made her keep practicing with bleeding fingers. Didn’t even let her put a Band-Aid on it, at least that’s what she said when she gave me one...”

“Damn…”

“Yeah. So…I kind of get why she’s the way she is a bit more now…She had to stop being a kid really abruptly, and then she was having fun I think playing these old-school games that apparently her grandmother did with her. And then I put my foot in my mouth and made her doubt them so now she says we’ll just forget about them and do more “hands on” stuff.”

“And you feel like a jerk for interrupting her happier trip down memory lane?” Hank surmised.

“Yeah…”

“Well, talk to her about it,” Hank said honestly. “You aren’t going to get anywhere tiptoeing around, especially with her I think.”

“Yeah…I just wish she was easier to talk to…”

“Hey, I’ve thought that in some of my marriages,” Hank chuckled. “All I know is it wasn’t them stopping me from talking to them, it was me.”

Nick sighed and nodded a bit, starting to think over what he had to say.

He didn’t really get the chance to say anything until later in the afternoon. Sloane brought the coffee and they sat to continue their paperwork from their last few cases. It was only as they were moving to leave for the day he caught up to her near the garage. “Hey, Sloane? Uh…do you want to um…do some training?”

Sloane quirked her eyebrows. “Now?”

“Yeah, I mean…a little afternoon and evening training wouldn’t be bad, right?” He said lamely.

“…Okay, sure. Meet you at the same place?” she said, shrugging.

Nick smiled. “Yeah, see you there.”

They headed to their cars and drove over to the spot in the woods. They walked down to the small clearing and Sloane sighed as she looked up at the waning sun. “It’s getting a bit too dark to practice with the knives again…I guess we can do some hand to hand?”

“Oh, uh…” Nick realized he hadn’t specified he wanted to do some of the other exercises, the kind she’d done as a kid. She was looking at him, waiting for a response and getting impatient, and he wasn’t sure what to say still after the last time. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

She nodded, taking off her jacket and tossing it over a nearby branch. Nick took off his as well, the November chill sharp against his skin, giving him goose-flesh. But they took their places in the middle of the clearing. “Go easy on me.”

“You won’t learn anything if I do,” she said, bringing her arms up. Nick brought his up as well and they eyed each other for a moment.

Sloane made the first move, throwing a punch toward him, which he managed to deflect, but she was already following through from the other hand. He managed to dodge back and tried to bring his own fist up to get out of the defensive, but she side stepped him and threw him off balance with a foot to his instep.

Things went like that for several moments, Sloane keeping him mostly, frustratingly, on the defensive. Now he got an idea of how she hunted—any openings she had felt short and taunting. If he moved for them she was already closing them and moving to strike. If he hesitated to think, she moved in at just the moment. They were avoiding the head and face, unlike a real fight, but he was getting hit fairly good in the chest and abdomen.

“You can do better than this,” Sloane said, eyeing him.

“I thought this was just a friendly match?” he said.

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to win. Do I need to get more serious?”

“Uh, well-” He gasped when she moved to hit his shoulder and tried to dodge back. “Sloane, whoa, hold up-”

“Not letting up. Show me what you got!” She struck him harder then in the stomach and he oofed and doubled over. Staring down at the ground, he felt his mind go blank.

“…Nick? Hey, I didn’t hit that hard…” She said, moving towards him. She paused when he groaned—not in pain, but in something more guttural and primal. “Nick?” He looked up and Sloane felt a bit of dread creep up her spine. Nick was pale as a corpse, with dark eyes ringed in red. She hadn’t seen him like this since the zombie incident. Growling at her, he lunged and Sloane tried to back away quickly. “Nick! Whoa, stop!”

He growled again, making a swipe for her. There was enough force behind it he’d take her down if she got hit, and she had to drop down to avoid it completely. Sliding over the lives a little, she stood and backpedaled quickly as he kept coming for her. He kept moving for her, his footfalls hard and angry. She deflected one swipe, but he wasn’t hesitating now and before she could duck again he had his hands around her throat. “Nick!” she gasped. He squeezed and she fought for breath. He was lifting her as he tightened his grip, her feet barely touching the ground as she gasped tried to pry his hands off. “S-stop…Nick…” Her words were barely more than air leaving her lips. Her vision was starting to darken. It was just with her last bit of strength she managed to clap her hands over his ears as hard as she could; a move meant to disorient by applying sudden pressure to the eardrums.

Nick gasped and let go. Sloane couldn’t even land on her feet, she dropped to her knees as she coughed from her chest and took deep gulps of air. Nick blinked, his color coming back and his eyes clearing. “…Sloane?”

She looked up at him, glaring slightly as she stood. “In you’re right mind now?” she croaked.

“I…oh God…what did I do?” he said, eyeing her with wide, frightened eyes.

“You…had your hands around my neck for a good bit there,” she said, trying to calm down.

“I-I had my—I tried to choke you?!” he gaped.

“Strangle I think is the appropriate word,” she sighed, rubbing over her neck. “Almost succeeded…”

“Oh my God…Sloane, I am so…so sorry, I swear I didn’t…

She looked at him again and sighed. “No…it’s pretty obvious you weren’t in control…it was like before, when you were drugged by the Cracher Mortel.”

Nick looked down slightly, his brow knit in concern. “That’s…what Juliette said was happening too…and…It’s happened other times. Like underwater with Ellie…or during fights.”

“…Let’s go sit for a bit and talk.” Sloane grabbed her jacket and Nicks’ to toss to him. They hiked back up to their cars, both quiet and thinking. Nick climbed into Sloane’s passenger seat while she sat in the drivers, turning on the car to get the heater going. The radio came on to a classic rock station, but she turned it down immediately. Taking a deep breath she looked at him. “So…this keeps happening?”

“Yeah…” Nick nodded. “It’s…random. Like, I’m guessing that self-preservation is a big factor, but…then it happens when I sleep sometimes according to Juliette.”

“You mentioned that…she says you look “dead”?” Sloane said delicately.

“Yeah. Not really breathing, pale…”

Sloane took a deep breath. “…I don’t know what this is. But I know where I can get some information. Here in Portland.”

Nick looked up hopefully. “Really?”

“Yeah. I can’t guarantee anything though, but at least I can put the question out there and we can see if we get anything in.

“I’d really appreciate it…” he said honestly.

Sloane sighed and looked thoughtful. “I might bring you with me, but since you’ve never been before I gotta kind of…warn the people in charge. Give me a couple of days and I’ll see if we can make an appointment.”

“Okay…” Nick glanced to her neck and frowned. “Y…you’re going to have bruises…”

She patted her neck softly and sighed. “Probably…The cream doesn’t work on bruises, just open wounds. I’ll wear a scarf for a bit, no big deal. Not the first time.”

“I…I could’ve killed you, Sloane…” he said quietly.

“…I wasn’t going to let you. Boxing your ears was my first choice, my second was significantly lower,” she said with a smirk, trying to break the tension.

Nick tried to smile, but it wasn’t quite there. “Well…thanks for going easy on me after all?”

“Yeah. But we should probably end for tonight.”

“Yeah…” he agreed. “I…this isn’t really what I intended when I asked for training.”

“I would hope you weren’t intending it,” she said honestly and a little cooly. “I thought we were starting to get along.”

“No, we are,” he said quickly. “I just…” He sighed. “I wanted to do the training we did before. The games you started with.”

Sloane blinked and arched her eyebrow. “Really? Why?”

“I…they were fun?” he said lamely.

She still looked unsure and then shook her head. “This isn’t about fun. It’s about training. But we should put that all on hold for a bit…”

“Yeah…right, probably good with all this going on,” he said, nodding.

“You head out, I’m going to make some calls.”

He nodded, opening up the door and heading to his own car, guilt, worry and disappointment warring inside him. He headed home, the sun setting below the horizon as he drove in quiet. When he got to his house, he walked in quietly as he could. He wasn’t sure he was up to talking just yet.

“Nick?”

He sighed quietly, and looked over towards the kitchen. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Everything okay? I thought you and Sloane were doing some training?” She stepped out to look at him, smiling happily but a little confused.

“Yeah, we did. But we, uh…decided daylight was better.” It wasn’t technically a lie.

“Okay…Well, I just started dinner, it’ll be just a bit.”

He nodded, not quite looking at her. “Thanks. I’m gonna go clean up.”

“Sounds good,” she said with a smile, turning to head back in. Nick headed to their bathroom to wash his hands. He paused watching the water wash over them and turned them slowly. He couldn’t remember it clearly, but he could almost feel the column of a throat between them. He felt bile come up in his throat and he quickly cupped his hands and splashed his face with water to try and reset his brain. Breathing deeply, he shut the water off and patted down his face with a towel while he tried to think about what to do.

\--------------------------

Sloane headed back to her own house, not trusting the signal out in the woods completely. She also wanted to grab food on the way home, though she wasn’t terribly hungry. She ate fairly quickly, just a simple sandwich and some water. After that she paced for a bit as she tried to think on what to do exactly. Contacting Kelly was an option—but not one she favored. Wherever she was it was doing something important. Distracting her could have fatal consequences.

So her real option, that she also didn’t want to do, was another call. She went to the rolodex in her office and flipped through to an unmarked list of contacts—just numbers and last names, with state abbreviations next to them. Sitting at the desk she took a breath and dialed the number.

“Yes?”

“Gallin?” Sloane asked, trying not to sound unsure.

“Sloane Larson?” The voice was feminine but husky. “What prompts this call? More odd weapons?”

“No, not exactly. I have…or rather, I know someone that has an issue. Another Grimm.”

They chuckled. “Of course, I don’t handle much else.”

“ But they haven’t been introduced to this side of things yet,” she added.

“Oh, he’s green?”

“He’s…had to figure a lot out on his own. He’s Marie Kessler’s nephew. Kelly’s son.”

“Oh,” they gasped. “That’s quite a legacy then.”

“Yeah. I’m helping to get him a bit more settled into our world, Marie didn’t really get a chance to and Kelly…”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I know the story there, mostly. Is the a local?”

“Right, rooted here in Portland.”

“And he’s the one that had some kind of fire wesen you needed those extinguishing grenades for?”

“Yes He gets into…interesting situations,” she sighed.

“I take it he’s in another?” Gallin said amused.

“Yes. There was an incident with another wesen last month. He was poisoned. He lived but there’s some adverse side effects that are not doing us any favors…”

“What kind of wesen?”

“A Cracher Mortal.”

“Wow, that is not something we see over this side of the states often. They tend to prefer more water locked, humid climes,” they said, surprised.

“Well, I’m glad you know what it is because I had no damn clue when it came up. Has this happened before?”

“To a Grimm? Mmm, more than likely, but I’m not sure. I’ll have to search the records and ask around. It’ll take me at least a week, maybe two to get it all.”

“Well, we’d appreciate that.”

“It would be best if you brought him in so I can take some samples. If it is new, we’ll need to look into it.”

“He’s a cop, I’ll see about when I can bring him to you.”

“Alright. Until then try to stay safe.”

“Don’t I always?” She ended the call and sighed a bit. It was earlier than she wanted to show Nick this side of things, but she supposed there was no real harm in it.

When her phone rang in her hand she jumped a little and looked at the screen. Frowning, she answered it. “Hank?”

“Hey. Sorry to disturb you, but we got a case,” he said.

“No disturbance, I could use the distraction I think,” she sighed.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah…fine, just trying to work something out. Did you call Nick?”

“Yeah, he’s on his way. The Church of the Blessed Sacrament.”

That got her attention. “Someone got offed in a church?”

“Little blunt, but yeah…The priest.”

“Yikes,” she muttered. “Okay, I’ll be there soon. Blasted Sacrement.”

“ _Blessed,_ Blessed Sacrament,” he said meaningfully.

Sloane smirked. “Just kidding. See you there.” She shut off the phone and sighed before touching her neck. It was sore, and she knew it would be bruising soon. Going to her closet, she grabbed the gray and blue scarf and wrapped it around her neck. As cold as it was, no one would question it.

Sloane pulled up to the church, flashed her badge and walked in. Wu nodded and gestured her over from the doorway near the back. Nick and Hank were inside looking over the scene and nodded to her when she walked up. Nick glanced at the scarf and got a guilty look over his face, but didn’t point it out. “Hey. Sorry to call you back in,” Hank said.

“Not a problem, really. Catch me up?”

“Dead priest, Monsignor Paul,” he nodded to the body of an old man lying prone on the floor. “His seminary student was injured, taken to a hospital. And we have a missing child, Daniel Keary.”

“Missing child?” Sloane asked in surprise and a touch of worry. “What in the heck was going on?”

“According to the parents…an exorcism.”

“…This town is freaking weird…” she muttered, walking into the room. “Any idea what really happened?”

“Still trying to figure that out,” Hank said. “We-”

“Wait, do you hear that?” Nick interrupted, looking around the room. Sloane frowned, not hearing anything immediately, but she tapped into her Grimm senses quickly enough and listened intently. She could hear what sounded like shuffling and breathing coming from…the altar? She looked at Nick and nodded to it, Nick nodding back as he walked over to it. He examined the altar slowly, moving his hand over a panel until he pushed in at one point and it popped open. Opening it slowly, he looked both relived and worried inside of it. “Daniel...? I'm Detective Burkhardt. You okay?” Sloane moved around so she could peak inside. A boy, dark haired with pale skin that stood out even more with the dark navy and red of his sweater and the gold of a tasseled rope wrapped around his wrist, looked back at them with wide eyes. Sloane felt cold a moment, her mind going back involuntarily to being just about his age and hiding in a cupboard while she heard growls and screams and smelled blood…shaking her head, she focused back on the present. “You're safe now,” Nick was saying. “You wanna come out?” Daniel shook his head. “Your parents are in the other room. You want them to come in here?” Nick asked, still gentle. Daniel nodded and Nick looked to Hank.

“I'll get them,” he said, going back out of the room.

Nick looked back to Daniel. “You wanna tell me what happened?” More head shaking. “Did those men hurt you?” Still more head shaking. “All right, I'm gonna untie that rope from around your wrist, okay? Okay.” Nick unwound the rope and Wu handed him an evidence bag for it. Just after it was bagged, a blonde woman and a tall man walked in.

“Mom!” Daniel said, scrambling out of the altar and over to her, hugging her. She hugged him back, shocked but relieved.

Nick glanced over to the body on the floor and Sloane was already moving as he spoke. “I wanna make sure that he doesn't see that.”

Sloane put herself between the body and the family as Wu took off his jacket to help shield them and lead them out. She glanced back at the body and frowned sympathetically.

“You okay?” Nick asked quietly, drawing her attention back.

“Yeah…of course.” She turned back. “We should probably go with them while they go over the scene, right?”

“Yeah...Hey, I-” She turned to head out before he managed to put his words together and he sighed.

They went to the hospital, where Daniel was sedated and a few blood tests were run. His immune system was apparently on high alert and he was stressed, but nothing showing there was any reason he’d be capable of violence. So they went to talk to his father.

Daniel’s father, Tom, described how a year ago Daniel seemed to change overnight from a sweet child to a child with violent, abusive mood swings, with no memory of these incidents. No doctor, psychiatrist, or specialist was able to do anything for him or even diagnose him. Taking him to the church to see Monsignor Paul and try an exorcism was a last resort.

“Is Daniel your biological son?” Nick asked carefully.

Tom looked confused and a little affronted by the question, looking to Hank and Sloane to see how that had any relevance. They nodded but he still seemed put off. “Of course he's ours.”

“Do you see a physical change in Daniel?” Nick went on.

Now he seemed a little more in line with the questioning. “Sometimes.”

“Can you describe it?” Hank asked.

He hesitated, trying to find the words. “A change comes over his face, like... like there is something inside of him that is trying to control him,” he said, sounding desperate to be understood.

“Have you ever seen anyone else change like this?” Nick asked.

“No. I just know there is something...horrible happening inside my son.” He sighed raggedly before walking off back towards the hospital room.

“So we know what we're dealing with here, right?” Hank asked hopefully as they started walking back to the entrance.

“I don't know.”

“I can’t be sure either,” Sloane agreed. “Too little information…Aggression can be common in a lot of wesen species.”

“He said he saw something in Daniel,” Hank pointed out.

“If Daniel were wesen, then the dad would have to be,” Nick said. “Or the mom,” he amended. “Or both. At least one would have to be, I think.”

“I don’t know much about wesen breeding, sorry,” Sloane said, trying to make it clear it was not a subject she had interest in.

“All right, what if one is, the other's hiding it?” Hank asked.

“Oh, I think that'd be hard to hide for long,” Nick said.

“I can’t try and make them woge in the hospital, too many witnesses,” Sloane said.

“Well, someone else might be able to give us a clearer picture on wesen family planning…”

They planned to meet up at the spice shop the next day. Sloane went home and took a shower, trying to drench her neck in hot water to try and sooth it. Then she went to bed.

Going to the shop tomorrow, it was rather amusing to watch Nick try to delicately ask about how the wesen genes were passed on to Monroe and Rosalee. She still had the scarf around her neck, and gloves around her hands.

“So if one parent is wesen and the other one isn't, what would the child be?” he finally asked.

Rosalee paused in moving ingredients from the back room to the front and looked at him. “You mean a wesen and a kehrseite?”

“Yeah,” Hank said, shrugging slightly.

Monroe was locking up, expecting to council them for some time, and rubbed his hands together. “So I guess it's time for the whole birds and the bienen-wesen talk,” he said with a smile. Rosalee chuckled and Sloane rolled her eyes. The puns were getting out of hand. He cleared his throat as he sat back with Rosalee. “Okay. If both parents are wesen, then the child will be too.”

“Or if one parent is wesen and the other is kehrseite, then there's a 50/50 chance that the child will be wesen,” Rosalee said.

“Unless the kehrseite is a Kehrseite-Gentrager,” Monroe quickly interjected. Rosalee nodded, not having thought of that apparently but knowing he was right. “Then you're definitely getting a wesen.”

“Let's pretend I understood what you just said…” Hank said slowly.

“Two wesen parents, definitely wesen. One wesen one human, fifty-fifty chance. A gentrager is a child who isn’t wesen but has a wesen family member close enough the gene could be passed on, like a non-wesen child from the other pairing,” Sloane said.

“I thought you didn’t know much about this?” Nick asked.

“I don’t, but Gentrager literally means “Gene carrier”, so…kinda obvious?” she said practically.

Rosalee smiled and nodded. “That’s right.”

“Okay…What if both parents are wesen, but different kinds?” Hank asked.

“You mean like a Grundverschiedene situation like us?” Rosalee asked, gesturing between her and Monroe a little awkwardly.

“Well, we don't mean to pry,” Nick said, trying to feign understanding.

“Yeah, we do,” Hank said Hank said, not even embarrassed.

“Yep,” Sloane agreed.

“Well, then you're looking at a Vorherrscher, But... As long as it's healthy, we don't care,” Monroe said, putting an arm around Rosalee. His eye was probably cast towards the future given the happy smile. Nick and Hank glanced to Sloane, who shrugged helplessly, her eyes saying ‘they lost me’.

Nick’s phone started ringing then and he quickly picked up. “Burkhardt. …We are on our way,” he said, already moving towards the door as he hanged up. “Seminary student's conscious,” he told Hank and Sloane, who quickly followed him. “Thank you for your help... I think.”

“Hey, don't expect to just get it all in one talk,” Monroe called after them.

They went and spoke the seminary student, who broke down why they went through with the exorcism and how it went wrong. How Daniel started fighting them, and how his face changed into “the face of a demon”. They left him to keep getting some rest and headed back down the hospital corridors.

“So what are we dealing with? Is the kid wesen, or is he, and I hesitate to say this... possessed by some demon?” Hank asked quietly.

“I don't think he's wesen,” Nick said. “Even if one parent was, they would know and they wouldn't put their child through this.”

“I agree. Unless the mom had a fling with something on the literal wild side,” Sloane said.

“Looked into that, they did blood tests as part of some of his past medical trials,” Hank said. “Definitely his parents’ son.”

“Well, then definitely not wesen. Unless they don’t know, but most wesen will have woged by now at least once I would think,” she said.

“So that leaves demon,” Hank sighed.

“I got nothing else,” Nick sighed.

“I wish you hadn't said that.”

Sloane gave them both a sly look. “Wait, did you guys think we only had to worry about wesen?”

The two men paused and gave her incredulous looks. Before they could ask for any clarification though, they heard a scream coming from down the hall. Rushing towards the commotion, a nurse practically threw herself out of Daniel’s room, screaming still. She grabbed for Hank, shaking with terror. “I saw it! I saw it! Some kind of monster in that boy!”

“Ma'am, I need you to relax and just calm down. Breathe,” Hank said gently. Sloane and Nick both slowly went to the door of the room.

Daniel was sitting up in bed, his head bent down. Slowly Nick went over, gently putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Daniel?” The boy looked up and suddenly his face morphed, turning gray and stone-like, with veins of black like marble running through it. He opened his mouth and snarled at him. Nick backed up quickly and practically pulled Sloane to his side.

“Holy crap,” she muttered. “This is like…” She glanced up at Nick, who was pointedly not looking at her.

Hank came in at that moment, sucking in a breath when he saw him. “What the hell is this?”

“I don't know…” Nick breathed.

“Yeah, that’s…new,” Sloane finally settled on, taking Nick’s que he didn’t want to talk about his own condition.

“Well, I know what it looks like,” Hank said. “How do we handle it?”

“I think we just stay back,” Nick said.

They watched warily until Daniel’s face suddenly morphed back and he collapsed, near catatonic, back on the bed. “That was really weird,” Hank said.

“I consider most of what you think is weird normal and even I say, _that_ was weird,” Sloane agreed.

“I think it reacts to confrontation,” Nick said.

They all paused when they heard him say, “I wanna go home,” like any normal kid would. Sloane frowned, remember that feeling suddenly very viscerally, being in a hospital room much like this one.

“We need to put a guard on this room,” Nick said.

“I need to make a call, see what another source I have might know,” Sloane said. She glanced at Nick. “I don’t think they’re ready for you yet though,” she said more quietly.

“…Okay. Focus on this for now, Daniel comes first,” he said back. “We’ll go to the spice shop again, maybe Rosalee or Monroe know something,” Nick said. They split up, Nick having to speak with Daniel’s doctor quickly to keep her from going inside.

Sloane rushed home and started speed reading her index cards for anything that might stand out while calling her contact again. Nothing stood out among her notes though. She only had twenty books when she traveled, a fraction of what her family had, and she had to admit after staying in Portland for a few weeks she was beginning to see how limited her knowledge was relying on just these books.

Finally she called the Portland number again.

“Sloane? Two calls in two days?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” she sighed, rubbing over her face.

“You know I said I wouldn’t have anything for a week at least, remember?” Gallin said, a bit skeptical of the call.

“No, I remember, but this isn’t about Nick. Not exactly. We got a case that has similar symptoms. This kid…he’s becoming pail, aggressive, no memory of what’s going on. But it’s been going on for a year or more, no contact with a Cracher Mortal. No wesen heritage either. And now someone is dead. …”

Gallin was more alert. “A Keirsheite child is…Hmmm…Was the killing intentional?”

“No, I don’t think so, it was an older man—not in the most fit condition—and this kid is like 8. It was a priest trying to perform an exorcism.”

“…I’m sorry?”

“You heard me,” Sloane said definitvely. “They think he’s possessed by something. His subordinate is traumatized, says the kid was like a demon.”

“…Do you think he is?”

She sighed again. No, I don’t think so. I mean demons?” she laughed. Gallin was oddly quiet and Sloane frowned. “…Do you know something I don’t?”

“You know as well as I do, wesen are not the only thing to worry about in the world.”

“ …Yes,” she sighed. “I know. But do you know anything that acts like this? Black veins and aggression and mindlessness?”

“It sounds familiar, but its on the fringe of my mind,” Gallin sighed. “Something that doesn’t come up often. Something about the 17th century…But I’m just one person here, and again it’ll take me a bit to inquire elsewhere.”

“No…it’s okay, we have other sources possibly.”

“Oh? You wound me, Sloane. Trying to make me jealous?” Gallin joked.

“Just using what I got,” Sloane said matter-of-factly. “If you find anything out, let me know. We’re going to keep working on it.”

“Very well. You know I would appreciate sharing what you find as well.”

“Of course. But I better go.”

“Alright. Stay safe,” Gallin said gently.

“I’ll try.” Sloane hanged up and fell back on the daybed in her study heavily. That boy was scared. She knew he was. His wasn’t just some wesen problem. There had to be information somewhere.

Her phone rang after she was again going over some forms of mind controlling wesen and picked it up. “Nick?”

“Yeah, hey. Any luck?”

“No…I started reading through some of the journals again, but nothing is sticking out. My contact isn’t sure either. I’m not sure what an actual possession would look like.”

“…We’ll talk about this “actual possession” thing later. Monroe and Rosalee think they have something. I’m going to put you on speaker so you can hear.” There was a beep and then the sound of Nick putting his phone down on what she assumed was a table.

“Okay, well,” Rosalee said. “Every generation has heard stories about Grausens. They go way back.”

“Grausens?” Sloane asked, frowning.

“It’s not a wesen, or at least we don’t think it is,” Rosalee said.

“They used to think they were a wesen spirit that would invade a child,” Monroe said.

“But never a wesen child,” Rosalee added.

“Right, Kehrseite kids only.”

“But the thinking has changed since medicine and science has advanced. Now, some believe it's... A mutation,” she said seriously.

“So which is it?” Nick asked.

“Nick, these are incredibly rare occurrences,” Monroe said, clearly a bit shocked about this turn of events.

“I mean... It doesn't really matter because they've always been dealt with the same way,” Rosalee added.

“How is it dealt with?”

There was a pause and then Rosalee sighed. “They would disappear. The wesen council is responsible for dealing with them. Sometime in the 1600s, the council communicated for the first time with royals and Grimms. They forged an alliance. For the safety of all of them.”

“Excuse me?” Sloane asked, shocked now as well.

“Supposedly, Grausens, if left to grow to maturity, become some of the world's most notorious psychopaths, wreaking havoc on like whole continents sometimes,” Monroe said.

“Historically, wesen were to blame for what Grausens have done.”

“All of it?” Sloane asked dubiously.

“Well, no, we’ve done our fair share of…morally dubious things. I mean not us specifically, but wesen…” Monroe amended. “But still, Grausens are a whole other problem, for both sides!”

“That's why the council steps in,” Rosalee agreed.

“Who is this council anyway?” Hank asked.

“They enforce wesen law,” Rosalee clarified.

“You guys have your own laws?”

“Oh, baby,” Monroe huffed.

“If this is indeed a Grausen, we have no choice but to inform the council,” Rosalee said darkly.

“Inform them means what? Daniel disappears?”

“Basically. Yeah. It's a death sentence for the kid,” Monroe said.

“It's a death sentence for us if we don't,” Rosalee bit back. Sloane a bit of shock at that, not expecting Rosalee to toss a kid under the bus.

“How do we even know he is Grausen?” Nick said.

“The law is clear. Even if it's a possibility, we have to inform the council,” Rosalee said.

“That's why we shouldn't even be having this conversation,” Monroe stage whispered.

“Now you tell us?” Hank asked.

“Well, look. If we knew you were gonna talk about Grausens, we would’ve said "don't... Talk about Grausens”,” He finished lamely.

“We're not worried about the council, we're worried about the kid,” Hank said.

“Now we get to worry about both…” Nick said. He glanced at the phone. “…Sloane? You still there?”

She was quiet a second more before speaking with cold rigidity to the phone. “No, we aren’t going to just let them take that kid.”

“Sloane-” Rosalee started.

“No, you listen up. I may not be the nicest Grimm out there, but I do have a set of goddamn morals. And one of those morals is “No killing kids.” They can grow up and seek revenge if they want, but I don’t kill them when they’re not even old enough to shave. Handing kids over to wesen death squads or whatever? Counts in my book. We’re finding another way.”

Nick was surprised by the conviction in her voice and smiled a little, picking up his phone. “You heard the lady. Thanks for the info, but we’re not giving up just yet.”

Sloane smiled as well, though couldn’t deny she was at a loss as to how they were going to do that exactly. Nick took her off speaker and held the phone up to his ear. “Hey, we’re leaving the shop now. I’m going to go to the trailer, try to see if any books have something on this Grausen. You coming?”

“Normally I would, but I get the feeling I should keep a close eye on the kid now.”

“Didn’t know you had such a soft spot for children.”

“To be honest, I hate children,” Sloane said. Nick wasn’t all that surprised she’d say that but somehow doubted that was completely true. “But again, don’t want them dead. So I’ll keep an eye on him, look out for trouble. Besides, you’re pretty good at researching. Though you should let me organize the books some time, index cards make it a lot easier.”

“There are a lot of books to index,” he pointed out.

“Sounds like a fun weekend to me,” she said honestly.

“Also didn’t take you for a nerd…Although you did say you watch Star Trek, so not that surprising?” he said, teasing.

She rolled her eyes, but felt her lips twitch. Nick had been so awkward around her, it was nice he was actually doing that again. “Whatever. If you do find something, let me know.”

“Will do.”

They hanged up and Sloane went back to the hospital, heading inside to keep a look out near Daniel’s room. She brought with her a spiral notebook and a sketch book, doing a few sketches of passing people and even a vague rendition of a “Grausen” that she could use for her own entry later. She waited with half an eye on the doorway and the officer there. And also dodging Daniel’s parents, who were not allowed inside and were rather irate about it. A few hours into her wait, her phone buzzed and she saw it was Nick. Standing, she answered it and headed for the front door. “Hey.”

“Hey. We’re on our way to the hospital.”

“Why, you got something?” she asked hopefully.

“Maybe. Apparently, a couple of my ancestors did encounter Grausens in the past. But they did turn them over to the council because it not being wesen, it wasn’t their problem.”

“I…guess I see the logic there, but still…” she said, disappointed.

“Yeah,” he sighed, not too proud of them either. “Anyway, one had a theory that it was the result of a disease, not a spirit or a demon or a mutation.”

“A disease? Really?” she asked. It made sense she supposed, but what an illness.

“Yeah. Juliette read it with me, and she thinks he might have a point. Apparently, diseases can do a lot to people and their brains.”

“Okay…but do we have a cure?”

Nick sighed. “Not yet, no. That’s why we’re coming to the hospital. Juliette thinks if we can find out what exactly the family was doing a year ago before his symptoms started, it might help us understand what it is.”

“Okay…Do you want me to ask then?”

“No, we’re already on our way and Juliette knows more about this kind of stuff than either of us.”

“Point taken. The police guard is doing his job and not letting anyone in, so I’ll just meet you outside.”

“Right, be there soon.”

They hanged up and Sloane sighed and reclined back against the entrance. Luckily she didn’t have long to wait, Nick and Juliette arrived minutes later and they all headed inside together. Daniel’s parents were once again trying to get into their son’s room, but having no luck.

“Excuse me,” Tom said to Nick, shooting Sloane an annoyed glare because she wouldn’t help earlier and had successfully eluded them. “There is a policeman that is standing in front of our son's room, and he is not letting us in.”

“We're very sorry, sir. We can't take any chances on anybody else getting hurt.”

“Told you,” Sloane said.

“They're not helping him here,” his wife, Nancy, said.

“We don't know if they can,” Nick said honestly. “This is Juliette Silverton. She's been working with me on the case.”

“I'm sorry, but we're gonna have to ask you guys just a few more questions,” Juliette said gently.

“More questions is not gonna help our son!” Tom shouted.

“We are trying to do that,” Sloane said as patiently as possible.

“We need to know exactly what happened a year ago when you first started noticing a change in Daniel's behavior,” Juliette said.

“Nothing happened,” Tom said, getting more impatient. “Nothing happened. This... look, this all came out of nowhere, and it's just kept getting worse.”

“What about before that, say, a month or two?”

“Well, we were on vacation,” Nancy said slowly, remembering.

“Where did you go?” Nick asked.

“Egypt. Israel, Jordan. With a tour group.”

“And how was Daniel on the trip?” Sloane asked.

“He was fine,” Tom snapped.

“But no...” Nancy said, shaking her head.

“He was... he was fine,” he repeated, as if trying to make it true.

“No, he got the flu,” she said more earnestly. “He was sick... For about three days. They gave him antibiotics and then he was fine.”

“Did they happen to do anything like a culture?” Juliette asked.

“No, they just said it was the flu, and that he could've gotten it anywhere. He was swimming in the Jordan river, we were in the dead sea, we were hiking…”

“I'm sorry, I just don't see what this could possibly have to do with anything,” Tom said again.

“Look, we’re trying to help,” Sloane said. “We want to know what’s affecting your son, and unless it’s an avenue you’ve tried already, why don’t you at least hear us out instead of deciding it’s a stupid round of questions?”

He glared at her but Sloane didn’t back down. Nick patted her shoulder to silently tell her to relax. “We don't know if it will help. We're just running down all leads.”

“When can we see our son?” Nancy asked more desperately.

“Let me check,” Nick said, tugging Sloane along as he and Juliette went down the hall. When they were far enough away he spoke quietly to Juliette. “So it's possible that he could've been infected while they were on vacation.”

“Whenever any pathogen is introduced, the body has an immunological response,” Juliette confirmed.

“The flu-like symptoms?”

“Yes.”

“All the way in Egypt too…” Sloane said. “It’s already rare, not something we see in the America’s often I’m guessing.”

Nick nodded, walking up to the officer at the door. “Any problems?”

“No, sir. It's been quiet. Detective Larson checked in earlier too and I had the same answer.”

“So nobody in or out?”

“Tell you the truth, they've been kinda staying away,” the officer said with a sigh.

“He looks so young,” Juliette said sadly. Sloane looked in as well, at the small body lying under the sheets on the hospital bed, and couldn’t deny a twinge of sympathy. She remembered what it was like to be that small in a bed like that…

They ended up parting ways again and Sloane went home for the evening. She sat at her desk in her study, writing down some of the things they suspected, looking up certain words on her phone for spelling. At the end she wrote down questions that came to mind. _Disease? Virus? Mutation? Effects kids. Only keirsheite. Wesen council usually takes care of them._ She paused there, her mind flashing back to a day she’d rather forget. A rough, gravely voice snarling _“Find the damn kid, we need to take care of her too!”_ She shook her head a little, not wanting to relive that moment.

She was about to get ready for bed when her phone went off and she picked it up. “Larson.”

“Sloane, its me,” Nick said urgently. “I just got a call from Monroe, someone from the council is here looking for Daniel.”

“What?” she gasped. “How…whatever, on my way to the hospital!” She hanged up and redressed quickly, remembering the scarf when she glanced in the mirror and saw the purpled, finger-like bruises, and rushed out the door. She met Nick and Juliette just as they were entering and rushed to the room with them. They were intercepted by the Doctor, who explained Daniel was released half an hour ago to his parents.

“Why?” Nick asked.

“Because we don't know what to treat him for,” The doctor said simply. “His parents took him home.”

“You didn't think to notify us?”

“The police were notified. The officer standing by knew what we were doing,” she said primly. “This hospital needs beds for patients we can treat.”

“Glad to know you give up so easily when it’s a sick kid!” Sloane spat.

The doctor bristled, about to say something, when Hank pushed his way through and practically blocked her. “Sorry, I got here as soon as I could.”

“They released Daniel,” Nick said.

“I know, I just got the message.”

“We have to get to his house.” They all quickly filed back out, condensing into one car for the ride.

At the Keary house, they were able to get his parents to listen, though Tom was still a bit reticent. They were able to come in and take a look at Daniel, who was sleeping peacefully in his bed, even with a growing thunderstorm outside. Afterwards, Juliette spoke to the parents about getting him tested. Sloane, Hank and Nick stood in the hallway.

“What do we know about this council guy?” Hank asked.

“Only that he's here. Definitely wesen, definitely dangerous,” Sloane sighed.

“We can run a check with the airlines. He must've gotten in sometime af...” Nick started. They all jumped when they heard a loud clatter and crash come from Daniel’s room. They rushed for the door, throwing it open in time to see a man—no, a wesen of some sort—dive out the open window with an animal like growl.

Hank looked to the bed immediately. “The boy's gone.”

“I'm going after them,” Nick said. “Stay in the house.”

“You must be talking to them,” Sloane said, following him out the window. Outside it was dark and cold, the family living on land butting up to the forests. Sloane and Nick stuck close as they rushed through the trees, looking for signs of a kid running scared.

“I think I hear something up ahead!”

Sloane paused and let her Grimm side take over a little, focusing on her vision so she could see better in the dark punctuated by only brief moments of lightning from the coming storm. She didn’t have the keen focus of an eagle or a telescoping lens, but she could just make out a form in the distance. “I see him! And the wesen!” She took off at a sprint, Nick close behind. He could hear snarls as the wesen found the boy, taking swipes at him. Luckily they missed, Daniel able to duck around him to get away just as Sloane drop kicked the wesen—a Pflichttreue now that she could see him—away from his trail. He rose and roared at her, but Nick had come around the other way and punched him in the back. Sloane kicked him again in the gut, both Grimms ducked at a couple of furious swipes of his claws. One hand caught her scarf and pulled it, but she ducked out and away, letting him take it before booting him right up into the armpit. And then a hard hit from Nick sent him back into a tree. He woged back into a man with sharp cheekbones and an aquiline nose who glared at the two of them.

Hank came up a second later, gun drawn with his flashlight trained on the man. “You want me to shoot him?” he asked.

“Actually, I do.”

“Oh thank god,” Sloane sighed.

“But not yet.”

She glared a little at him. “Getting my hopes up, how dare you…”

“Can you handle him?” Nick asked Hank.

Hank nodded readily. “Go.”

Both Grimms took off again in the direction Daniel had gone. It was getting harder to navigate the woods with the darkness and the wind picking up. Nick paused at one point however, his head cocked to one angle. Sloane tensed slightly when his skin paled, but he still seemed in his right mind. “I think I hear him…Daniel! You don't have to be afraid. We're trying to help you!” He started off again and Sloane followed. “Daniel!”

“Daniel!” Sloane shouted, trying to see through the dark but the trees were just too thick now.

“Nick! Sloane!” They paused, looking back the way they came to see Tom and Juliette rushing for them holding electric lanterns.

“I think I know where he's gone,” Tom panted. “We built a fort together. This way,” He turned to keep heading into the woods.

“It is really cold,” Juliette said. “If he's out here much longer he could die.”

“Then we better hurry!” Sloane said, picking up the pace.

They kept winding through the woods along a simple trail until they found a very basic structure made of bits of scrap wood and a camouflage tarp and tree branches. “This is it! Daniel!” He quickly rushed in and his panic ramped up another notch. “Daniel!” They all crowded in, finding the boy curled up and deathly pale.

Juliette knelt down, taking off her glove to feel his cheek. “He's freezing.”

“Oh, wait, wait. You gotta be careful when you wake him up,” Tom said, obviously fearing one of Daniel’s outbursts. Daniel didn’t respond to the touch however, limp and practically lifeless.

“He's really cold. I think he's hypothermic,” Juliette said, trying to stay calm despite the direness of the situation.

“Oh, my God, look! It's happening again,” Tom said, grabbing them back as black veins spread briefly over Daniel’s face like cracks of lightning. They didn’t stay however.

“We have to get him back to the house and get him warmed up,” Juliette said, moving to pick him up.

Nick made her stop. “Wait…If this thing needs a human body to live in, isn't it dependent on the temperature of the body?”

Juliette looked at him and gave a hesitant, “Yeah…?”

Sloane blinked but then straightened. “Wait…you mean…”

“What happens if the body's too cold to support it?” Nick said, glad that she caught on.

“It would die,” Juliette said, catching on as well.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Tom asked.

“Certain organisms can only survive within a narrow temperature range. The drop in his body temperature could kill whatever's inside him,” Juliette said, looking excited.

“Well, wait, how do we know that's not gonna kill Daniel too?” Tom said.

They all paused, knowing that was a huge risk. “If his body temperature were to drop too far too fast...” Juliette said ominously.

“How do we know that hasn't happened already?” Tom snapped. They all looked to the prone, pale child in front of them. He was looking far too much like a corpse.

“Nick, we can't do this,” Juliette said.

“This could be Daniel's only chance,” Nick said seriously.

“We try this or he ends up either with the council or crazed the rest of his life…” Sloane said.

“He's my son!” Tom shouted.

Nick gave him a steady, assessing look. “Then you make the decision.”

Tom was taken aback and then swallowed, looking back down at Daniel. He hesitated a few moments but then looked closer at him. “Oh, my God…something's happening.”

Sloane looked closer as well and then recoiled when she saw an oozing, yellow substance leaking out of Daniel’s ears and nose. “What is that?”

“It worked,” Juliette breathed. “The parasite's dying.” They watched the yellow ooze turn black and chipped away like dried blood. “We have to get him back now,” Juliette said. “Come on. Nick, get a sample.” Nick took her rubber glove, carefully taking a sample of the dried ooze and bagging it while Tom picked Daniel up and rushed him outside. They sprinted all the way back to the house and quickly got him out of his wet clothes and under some warm blankets on the couch.

“Is he going to be alright?” Nancy asked.

“I think so…” Juliette said.

Sloane sighed in relief quietly.

“…Sloane, what happened to your neck?”

Sloane blinked and then felt over her neck, remembering that her scarf was gone. Nick looked at her guiltiy but she shrugged. “Fighting, got some bruises. It’s okay.” She glanced at Nick. “I’ll be fine.”

Nick breathed deeply, trying to tell himself that as well. “I think we have someone we need to help Hank deal with back out there…”

She nodded and they went back out to the woods, getting the Pflichttreue into custody and back down to the station. They let him stay there overnight while Daniel was taken back to the hospital for tests. The next afternoon, they had him brought to an interrogation room.

“I don’t like this plan,” Sloane said.

“That’s why you’ll be in the observation room,” Nick said patiently. “The plan is this way so that he can take this information back with him and any other “Grausen” in the future can be cured.”

“The fact I can’t call it a bad plan isn’t the issue, I just don’t like it because I don’t get to hurt him,” she said.

Nick rolled his eyes. “I got this…Hey, um…About…what happened the other day.” He glanced at her neck.

She sighed. “Nick, it’s fine, it wasn’t you—”

“It was,” he said sharply. “It was me…I wasn’t in control, but it was me. And I’m sorry. But…I still want to train with you. Maybe not sparring, but other things. Things to sharpen my abilities because…whatever this is, it’s doing that for me at least. And I want to learn to control it. And get better at other skills. My knife throwing still sucks,” he said, trying to smile. “Not something I can really practice at home. If you’re not um…put off by me.”

Sloane eyed him for a second before smiling. “Okay. No sparring, but we can work on that stuff. You know, I wondered if anything was going to leak out of your nose last night…”

“Is it weird to say I’m disappointed it didn’t?” he said.

“Eh…I’ll give it pass.”

He smiled as they split off and he went into the interrogation room. He presented the man—Alexander was all they got from him as far as a name—with the hospital reports. Sloane leaned against the side of the wall while she watched from behind the two-way mirror.

“Those are the medical reports run on Daniel Keary after we took him in,” Nick said.

“What does this prove?” Alexander asked, not impressed by the small file.

“Daniel was infected by a _parasite_ that caused him to be what you and the council call a Grausen.” He perked up at that, looking at the file with more interests. “It's not possession by demon, it's not mutation, and Daniel has been cured.”

Alexander looked at him again more shrewdly. “You're a Grimm. You should know better. I need to see the boy.”

“No, you don't.” Sloane had to smile a bit at the matter-of-fact way Nick shot him down. “And you need to take my word for it, because of what my ancestors and the council agreed to at the charter of Wittenberg in 1682.” Alexander looked surprised and Sloane had to snort out a laugh. She supposed that was one way to get the point across. “Take the report with you when you go. I want the council to read it.”

“You're letting me go?” he asked, somewhat surprised. Sloane sighed a bit but knew Nick was right, so there would be no tracking Alexander down to finish him off. And in this case it was better that way.

Nick smiled a little. “I like to think we live in an enlightened age... Where fear does not drive belief. That we find the truth behind the fear.”

“Fear is not an easy thing to change,” Alexander said sagely. Sloane tried not to sympathize with that sentiment too much. It felt like Nick was talking to her with his last, singular word to him though.

“Try.”

\-------------------------

It was the weekend when they met up again for training. Sloane arrived to see Nick’s car already there, so she headed down to meet him at the usual spot. No one was there however. “Nick?” She looked around, frowning when she didn’t spot him. “Nick, you here?”

There was a tense moment when it felt very quiet, before Sloane quickly leapt forward, turning to confront whoever had the balls to sneak up on her.

It happened to be Nick, holding padded bats very similar to the one she brought to train with in both hands, one slightly raised as if he was going to tap her with it. He smiled. “Should’ve known I couldn’t actually sneak up on you…”

“Yes…you should have,” she said slowly. “What’s the deal with the bat? I thought we were going to do more knife throwing.”

“We can do that later. I thought maybe to warm up with, we could do a little…Grimm bat challenge?” he said, unsure of the name.

Sloane frowned. “Nick, that’s just a kids game, we—”

“Hear me out, please,” he said, holding up a hand, the bat dangling between his thumb and palm. “Look, the truth is…I like the games. I like learning from you too with knife throwing and sparring isn’t too bad either—When I’m not turning into a zombie. But the games…it’s a way to kind of cut loose while still training. And get to know you. So maybe they aren’t just for kids. And even if they are…I don’t think it’s terrible to do stuff you enjoyed as a kid even when you’re grown. I still enjoy the occasional kid movie I remember from when I was young. I make chocolate and banana pancakes on my birthday like my dad did still. It brings back nice memories…But then…we both had to kind of grow up quick after losing people important to us. You even more so than me.” He flipped the bat and offered the handle to her. “Going back to your roots, to something you enjoyed, even if you can’t enjoy them with the people you used to, isn’t a bad thing now and then. I think your grandmother would like you to have fun training me. Because that’s what parents and caregivers want for their kids, is to grow up but still be happy and have fun when they can. I think we both deserve a little bit of fun disguised as training now and then in order to do that.”

Sloane hesitated a moment before she reached up and grabbed the handle. “…You are annoyingly persuasive sometimes.”

Nick smiled and held up his bat like a sword. “Fifty paces?”

“Fifty paces…and then I kick your ass as usual, Burkhardt,” she said with a smirk.

Nick smirked back. “Bring it on, Larson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's we we start diverging a tiny bit from canon--as it always frustrated me that Nick's transformation kind of just...petered off and no one brought them up again. More on this next chapter!


	8. Support Your Local Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 8 of The Casebook of Sloane Larson
> 
> Episode redos for Cold Blooded and 12 Days of Krampus! But the main focus is on Nick trying to find out why Sloane doesn't like guns, and Sloane introducing Nick to some additional resources for Grimms to try and find out what's wrong with Nick. But giant alligators in the sewers and a wesen that likes to kidnap and eat naughty children around Christmastime are also big problems to deal with...

**_Cold Blooded_ **

\----------------------

“Nick, what are we doing here?” Sloane asked, eyeing the shooting range Nick had asked her to come meet him at. It had been more than a week since the case with Daniel Keary and things were quieting down. Sloane hadn’t heard back from Gallin yet regarding taking Nick in about the lingering effects of the Cracher Mortal, so they were cooling their heels as far as that. But Nick, one morning, had suddenly called and asked to meet her at this address.

“Well, you’ve been helping to teach me so much lately, I thought I could teach you something,” he said brightly.

Sloane arched her eyebrows. “Um…okay, not for nothing, but…what are you possibly going to teach me here?”

He opened the door without answering and gestured for her to enter. Sloane rolled her eyes but went through the door. Nick quickly headed towards the front desk. “I noticed that despite being with us for more than six months, you never draw your gun.”

Sloane paused just behind him. “Yes. Because I don’t want to,” she said evenly.

“Yeah, but we can work on it today,” he said. He turned to the clerk and smiled that boyish grin. “Hi, I’m Detective Burkhardt, I called ahead earlier.”

“Right, we have a lane already for you, detective,” the man said. “Just sign here.”

“Nick-” she started.

“It’ll be fine, come on.” He signed his name and then pushed on her shoulder towards a door.

She huffed, glaring back at him. “I’m telling you Nick, this isn’t necessary. I know how to use a gun, I just don’t want to.”

“But it’ll a lot easier if you learn,” he said, leading her to the door that went to the ranges.

“I said I know how!” she said, glaring as he led her to one particular range. “And what do you mean “easier?”

“When we do our job _._ ” He grabbed a target sheet, setting it up for her. Sloane shifted, looking uncomfortable as she stared at the faceless silhouette with targets over his chest.

“Nick, I told you, this isn’t necessary.”

“How long has it been since you’ve fired a gun?” he asked, fixing up the target.

“A few years,” she said evasively.

“Then you’re probably out of practice.” He sent the target back to the edge of the range using the automated pulley.

“I’m sure it’s like riding a bike.”

“Uh, not quite so much, considering it’s lethal…”

“I’m well aware of that,” she bit out.

Nick got his own gun ready. “It is fairly simple though. A lot like a cross bow, but much easier to reload and more shots.”

“You sound like a used car salesman trying to sway me to the latest model,” she said snidely.

Nick chuckled as he finished. “Maybe. Here.” He picked up a set of head phones and put them over her ears before she could stop him. “Got to protect the Grimm ears.”

“Nick…” she said darkly.

She glared at him more as he put a pair of safety glasses over her eyes. “And safety first.” He put another pair over his own ears and eyes and then pulled her into position. “Go on, show me what you can do then,” he said, gently setting the gun in front of her.

“Nick, I really don’t want-”

“Come on, you’ve never been this hesitant before!” he laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a gun.”

“Nick,” she said in warning, her patience waning.

“Are you?” he asked in surprise, taking his headphones down. “You’re scared of a gun?”

“I’m not scared of guns. I just don’t like them,” she said more emphatically.

“I didn’t think you were scared of anything. Except the deep water thing.”

“Idiots fear nothing,” she said bluntly. “But I’m not scared of a gun!”

“Then what’s the problem.”

“I don’t like them!” she almost shouted, losing patience.

“Or you can’t actually use them? Were you bluffing before? You don’t have to. Like I said, I can teach you-” Sloane growled low and grabbed the gun off the counter suddenly, aiming and firing in only a couple of seconds before Nick could put his head phones back on. She unloaded the whole clip, all 13 rounds of his Glock 22, at the target. At the end, Nick looked at the target and couldn’t deny her grouping was all near the center, several in the red and the others just around the outer ring. “Whoa…okay, yeah, you…still know what you’re doing…” He frowned when there was no immediate response and glanced to Sloane. She was breathing a little hard, staring at the gun in her hand. It was shaking just minutely. “Sloane…?”

She slapped the gun down and wrenched the headphones off before practically rushing out the door. Nick was shocked a moment. “Sloane!?” He moved to go after her, but then quickly turned and holstered his gun again. He then followed her back to the lobby and out the door, where she was sitting near a bench nearby, hunched over and breathing deep. “Sloane…what…”

She looked up, her eyes suddenly haggard. “…I don’t like guns…Not because I’m scared of them, but because I’m scared of what _I_ do with them…”

“You?” Nick asked, sitting down next to her. He hadn’t seen her this _raw_ before.

Sloane looked at her hand. “They’re too fast…too easy. I used to use one regularly on hunts. Deidre got one for me when I was fifteen. I stopped using it at twenty one.”

Nick was surprised. “…Why?”

She was quiet, rubbing over her hands a little. The silence stretched but Nick didn’t prod her. She shook her head a little, not sure about talking. “I don’t think you wanna know…”

Nick frowned. “I can be the judge of that. You know about some of what I regret…”

“Bit different, I wasn’t a zombie at the time…” she murmured. “I just…it’s not something I like to remember either…”

Nick frowned more and was about to say something when his phone rang. Sloane’s rang at the same time and they glanced at one another, knowing it was likely work.

“Later?”

“…We’ll see,” she said, grabbing her phone.

\------------------------------

They ended up being called to a homicide in a very nice residential area, inside a very nice house, where there was a very grisly murder. The man’s arm had been torn clean off. Very large foot prints were found near the body in the blood as well.

“This look like their size fifteen…or bigger,” Nick said, trying to judge the prints.

“Bigger,” Hank said.

“Well, size does matter,” Sloane said. The both looked at her and she looked back before pulling a face. “To figure out what did this!”

“Suuure, that’s what you meant,” Hank said.

“She’s right though. We might be dealing with a Siegbarste again,” Nick said, looking anxious at the thought.

“Again?”

“You remember Oleg Stark?”

Hank looked spooked for a moment before nodding. “Siegbarste…right, I remember. He could pull somebody’s arm off…”

“You did tell me about that escapade,” Sloane agreed. “They would definitely have the power to do this...Not sure they’d stop at an arm though.”

Nick couldn’t disagree. They went back to go ahead and start investigating at the station, finding out about a string of robberies in the area. No one was home at the time in the first two, but this time their victim, Scott Himber, had the bad luck to come home suddenly and likely catch whoever or whatever it was in the act.

“So can we tie these three together?” Nick asked.

“We can check the pawn shops. If the same guy's fencing stuff from all three robberies…” Hank suggested. “It's a long shot.”

“Sounds like our best shot at the moment,” Sloane said as Nick’s phone was ringing.

He answered it quickly. “Burkhardt. …Be right there.” He hanged up and looked at them. “M.E.'s ready for us.”

“I'll take the pawn shops, you two take the M.E.,” Hank said.

Nick tried not to hesitate and smiled. “Wonder what she thinks tore this guy’s arm off, not something they must see in a B and E very often.”

“Let’s find out because I’m still thinking too. Believe it or not, I know about five wesen capable of such things…”

“I kind of believe it,” Hank said.

Nick and Sloane stood to head to the M.E.’s office. Occasionally Nick glanced at Sloane, a habit he’d had all afternoon. She seemed fine now, but he couldn’t forget the haunted look on her face and the slight tremor in her hand at the gun range. _What could’ve made guns so traumatic for her…?_

They listened to Harper describe the what their Victim, Scott Himber must’ve gone through: His cause of death was apparently being grabbed and violently shaken hard enough to break his neck and several other fractures through his long bones, and a subdermal hematoma that bled out. Likely his arm coming lose was just an after-effect. Leaving, Nick paused and looked at Sloane. “Does that help narrow it down?”

“A little,” Sloane sighed. “Siegbarste is still possible, but…doesn’t feel right. I can rule out a couple of others based on geographic location too. Something is bugging me though…Like I should know this…”

“It’s okay, we’ll figure it out,” Nick said, patting her shoulder.

“I know, but it’d be nice to do so before someone else dies…”

Nick conceded that she was right about that. But he also knew more bodies were likely to be added to the list before they could solve anything.

And sure enough, the next day they were called to check out a sewer worker who died on the job. It wasn’t an ordinary work-place accident either. Like Mr. Himber, this poor soul lost a limb—his leg—to some mysterious force while he was trekking through the sewers looking for a blockage in the system.

“Only time I've ever seen something like this was when I was called out by the forest service. A hiker was ripped apart by a bear,” The deputy M.E. said as they looked over the body. “Looks like the same kind of tear.”

“If you ask me, it's an alligator,” Wu said suddenly. They all turned to look at him. “I know it sounds crazy, but when I was a kid my uncle who lived in New York told me that alligators lived in the sewers. I was so scared; I peed in the bathtub the whole time I was there.” Hank wrinkled his nose at him. “Oh, like you wouldn't do the same.”

“Alligator…” Sloane was saying quietly, looking thoughtful. She glanced back at the sewer opening.

Nick looked back over to the sewer workers. “Charlie, is there someone who can take us down there?”

“That'd be me,” the foreman said. Quickly they were outfitted with hardhats and vests while Charlie ran down all the steps and regulations and dangers to look out for. “And there's always the danger of suffocation. Sammy will be here in case anything goes wrong.”

“We're good to go.”

“Uh…you sure you want the lady to come down?” he said, looking at Sloane.

Sloane arched her brow. “I’m a homicide detective. You think a little sewer water is going to put me off?”

“Sorry, just…doesn’t seem like something you’d do?”

She shrugged. “Look, I’ve seen worst. I see dead bodies practically every day. And no offense, sometimes worse off than your friend there. You ever seen a disemboweling? I’ve seen three in the last year. I’ve stepped in worse.”

Charlie quickly put his hands up. “Point taken…just haven’t had a female crew member in a couple of years, sorry for any offense miss. Stay close,” he started for the hole.

Wu had Nick pause a moment with a hand on his chest, looking antsy. “Not claustrophobic, are you?”

“Not really,” Nick said, finishing putting on a pair of work gloves. Wu looked tightlipped and nervous and he smiled. “Look, you don't have to go down there.”

Wu scoffed. “No problemo, I got this,” he laughed, though it sounded forced. Nick nodded indulgently and followed the others down into the sewers.

“We'll be in some confined spaces, especially as we move in,” Charlie said as they hit the bottom and started walking.

“Uh, how confined?” Wu asked.

“These tunnels, up to 10 feet. Small pipes may be only 3 feet wide.”

“Fun times…” Sloane muttered, though it echoed slightly.

“Blockage is down this main shaft and up a feeder tunnel.”

There was a sudden loud, metallic clang from above them, making them all jump but Wu extra tense. “What the hell?”

“Just a car running over a manhole,” Charlie explained. “It echoes pretty loudly here.”

Wu breathed and quickly caught up with them. “This…doesn’t really freak you out, Sloane?” he asked quietly.

Sloane glanced at him. “Not really. I mean, I don’t like tight spaces, but at the very least this looks solid and it’s not going to cave in or anything.”

“Wow…I hadn’t thought about a cave in, thanks…” Wu said sarcastically. Nick’s lips twitched and Sloane just shrugged. Coming around a corner, the tunnel narrowed by about half, though still tall and wide enough for all of them to move through comfortably. “Oh. So it gets smaller. Isn't that interesting?”

“He did say that happens,” Sloane pointed out.

“That's the blockage up ahead,” Charlie said, pointing towards a huge mound of what appeared to be tree branches and even a trunk. “Jimmy said he heard something in this area and went to check it out.”

“And that’s the last time you heard from him?” Sloane asked.

“I think he went farther in.”

“Looks like blood on the wall here,” Hank said, pointing his flashlight at a red stain on the wall.

“There's some more over there,” Nick said, stepping over the blockage. Sloane followed, keeping her guard up.

“I'm sure whatever got him is probably long gone,” Wu said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than anyone else.

“Huh. Got something,” Hank said, looking among the debris around the blockage. “Looks like a backpack.”

“Looks like there's more,” Wu said.

Hank pulled the pack out, groaning at the murky water dripping off of it. “We should take everything back with us.”

“And by "we" you mean…?” Wu asked, knowing the answer even as Hank held the backpack out to him. He sighed and took it with a grimace.

“You'd be surprised at what we find down here,” Charlie said. “Usually it ends up in the river unless there's a blockage.”

“How many more miles of tunnel are there?” Nick asked, looking down the path ahead.

“We got 456 miles of storm pipe, 878 miles of combined sewer pipe, and 58,000 catch basins,” Charlie said.

“That is a lot of sewer,” Sloane said. “Please tell me we don’t have to search all of it?”

“I hope not…”

“Anybody else been down here recently?” Hank asked.

“Unless there's a problem, we don't come down.”

Nick looked back up the path and glanced at Sloane. “Ladies first?”

Sloane smirked and rolled her eyes before starting deeper into the tunnels, Nick and Hank behind her. “Hold on, I gotta go with you,” Charlie called, quickly clamoring back over. Wu stayed behind and continued trying to sort through the trash around the debris pile.

“This is South section...” Charlie started after a turn, but Nick held up a hand.

“Shh!” He tried to concentrate and open up his Grimm hearing, but all he could get were the sounds of traffic: engines, breaks, bangs, etc. Nothing that could help him. It was grating, like hearing five o-clock traffic on speaker.

“What you got?” Hank asked quietly.

“Too much,” he grunted.

“Agreed,” Sloane said, rubbing her temple. Apparently she’d tried as well with similar results. They were about to continue on when Wu’s voice echoed to them from back down near the blockage. “Hey, I think I found something else!” They turned, heading back, when suddenly they heard a large splash and Wu started screaming. Rushing faster back through the water, they found Wu soaked and pressed against the side of the tunnel, staring in horror at whatever he’d found. “I didn't expect that...” He said weakly. Looking closer, it was easy to see why it spooked him.

“It's Jimmy's leg!” Charlie gasped, looking at the severed limb still clad in half his workman’s pants and thick souled boot floating in the murky water.

\----------------------

Deciding that was enough spelunking in the sewers for Wu, they gathered what he’d found and a few other things they sifted through and took them back to the precinct. No one was impressed with their “au de sewer” cologne, so they were made to go home and shower and change while their evidence was bagged up. Once back, Nick had just been idly looking at the “sewer trash” as most were calling it, when something caught his eye.

“Hey, Sloane…look at this ID.”

Sloane took the offered wallet, opened to the ID page, and read over it. “Amanda Bishop…What, you know her?”

“No, the address,” he said.

She looked again and then her eyebrows ticked up. “Hey…isn’t this close to where our first victim lived?”

“Yeah. And they reported a robbery a couple of months ago too, it’s one Hank mentioned.”

“…Did someone named Amanda by chance lose their wallet in this robbery?” she asked, though she was obviously making the connection as well.

“I think it might be good to find out…”

Calling in Hank and Wu, they started going through each bit of evidence for names or addresses, Nick grabbing a board with a map on it to pin point the locations.

“A medical alert bracelet belonging to a Michelle Fenton,” Wu said. He’d calmed down quite a bit after the sewer when he was able to shower and change. Going through harmless objects helped to center him again.

“Ah, I got a Michelle Fenton reporting a robbery November 27. Home location: Sellwood Park,” Hank said, waving a file around.

“That is the third in Sellwood Park,” Nick said, putting a flag pin in the board at the location.

“Mr. Darren Gifford's briefcase,” Wu said.

“Oh, I saw that name,” Sloane said, looking through her own papers. “Aaaa…here! House was robbed three weeks ago in... Homestead.”

“Homestead has five break-ins reported, all within a few days,” Nick said, putting another pin in.

“Got a gym card on a key ring,” Wu said, holding it up. “I’ll call the gym; try to see who it belongs to.” He sauntered off to go make the call.

Nick was looking at the map, and then at his clip board. “So this guy targets certain neighborhoods until things get hot, then he moves on. I don't see how this connects to the attack in the tunnel. It's worthless stuff. Why keep it? Guy could’ve just dumped this stuff in the gutter.”

“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure?” Sloane suggested.

“Maybe, but then it’s pretty trashed being down in the sewer.”

“Well, maybe there's something else down there,” Hank said.

“So how do we explain the similarities between the attacks? We got two severed limbs, one above ground, one below…”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” Sloane muttered. “I know I have an idea about this...I’ve read something!”

“So it might be in one of your books?” Nick asked hopefully.

Sloane sighed and shook her head. “Not the ones I have with me…I’ve read those front, back, and sideways, and I have my quick reference cards. The majority of my family’s journals are locked away at a secure location, I only took a handful with me, things I thought I’d come across most often…” She was very perturbed by this. Constantly being surprised by what found its way to Portland was beginning to take a toll on her.

Wu came back in then, looking a bit triumphant. “Gym card belongs to our murder victim, Scott Himber,” he declared.

“I'd say that's a connection,” Hank said.

Nicks phone was ringing and he quickly answered it while Sloane looked at the map a little closer. “Yeah? …Thanks for the update,” he said, though he looked a little shocked and perturbed. He hanged up and looked at the others. “Closest match to the bite mark on the severed leg?”

“Don't tell me,” Wu grimaced. “Alligator.” Nick didn’t correct him and Sloane hummed to herself as she thought that over. “Problem is, alligators don't rob houses,” Wu pointed out.

“It would make our job a lot tougher if they did,” Sloane muttered.

\------------------

“If you're talking about what I think you're talking about,” Monroe said, taking something out of the oven. “A wesen that hides underground and can rip limbs like Taffy?” he clarified again.

“That what we're talking about,” Hank said.

“Not a gator. That's the "no" part.”

“A Siegbarste,” Nick guessed.

“Still no. Tight spaces make them irritable.”

“Blutbad,” Sloane said. Nick and Monroe both gave her a dry, irritated look. “What? I know you have the strength to do it if you so wanted.”

“Yes…but again, not likely. Blutbader like woods, not sewers. Delicate noses. So no.”

“What's the "yes" part?” Hank asked.

“A Gelumcaedus.”

Sloane suddenly clapped her hands. “That’s it! Ugh…I hate it when you’re right, but I know you must be…” Monroe smiled and preened a little.

“So you’ve faced one before?” Nick asked. 

“Yes and no. Deirdre did once, while I was in middle school. She came back pretty badly beaten up and the other Grimm she’d gone down with had his arm…removed. She told me about it, showed me a journal with one…Which again, I don’t have with me,” she sighed. “And I read that over a decade ago, the details are fuzzy…I just remember the guys arm coming off. And the part of a story in the book about one of my ancestors in the 1800s tracking one down in the Parisian sewers following a slew of robberies and a couple of homicides and Deirdre smelling like an outhouse and that other Grimm almost bleeding out…” She shook her head a little, trying to collect her thoughts. “But that’s why this sounded so familiar, because I thought to myself “this thing likes sewers”. And I think I did mention it to you once…”

“Maybe, but you do kind of mention a lot of wesen I’ve never seen,” Nick pointed out.

“I've never even seen one either,” Monroe said. “But I'm telling you, if you got a Gelumcaedus in the storm drain, you better be damn sure you know what you're up against.”

“Trailer?” Nick suggested.

“Would be my suggestion, but I can't go right now. I'm in the middle of making dinner here.” He gestured to the ingredients all around him still being put together.

Nick and Hank frowned and looked at one another and Sloane sighed at the looks. “No problem,” Hank said breezily.

“No, don't worry about it. I'm sure we'll have no problem finding a Gelum... what is it?”

“Gelumcaed-” Sloane started, not in the mood for this or having Monroe along. Nick suddenly put a hand over her mouth. She looked up at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Well, at least we know it starts with a "G."”

“I think it was a "K."” Hank said. Sloane was glaring daggers at them.

“All right, all right. Here, look, I'll write it down for you,” Monroe sighed, going over to a pen and pad on his kitchen counter. “And you know, there's plenty of food. So, look, why don't you just go get the books, bring 'em back, and what the hell? Invite Juliette. We'll make a party of it, figure this one out together.”

Hank took the paper. “It was a "G."”

“Told you. Ow!” He took his hand from Sloane’s mouth, waving it out. “Did you just bite me?!”

“Yes. And if any of you put your hand over my mouth like that again, I will bite off a finger before the Gelumcaedus can,” she with (mostly) mock severity, baring her teeth.

“We’ll be sure to remember that,” Hank said, trying not to laugh as they headed to the door.

“I do think we could’ve done this on our own as well,” Sloane said as they headed out to the cars.

“Yeah…but then we wouldn’t get free food and some extra eyes,” Nick said.

Sloane just grunted as they climbed into the car and headed to the trailer. They gathered as many books as they could manage, trying to narrow them down to the most likely to be helpful. As they did, Nick noticed that while she still had her knife, Sloane’s gun holster was empty. “Sloane…where’s your gun?”

“Locked up at precinct,” she said simply, though didn’t turn to face him. “I don’t want to carry it off duty.”

Nick sighed a little, wondering if their trip to the gun range had anything to do with her trying to distance herself from firearms like this. Hank looked curious but didn’t comment, gathering up the books and heading back to Monroe. By the time they picked up Juliette and arrived back at Monroe’s, dinner was ready and they all sat around the couch as they ate and carefully went through the books.

“This one's from London, 1916,” Rosalee said, having found something. They were lucky in that it appeared Nick’s ancestors had confronted Gelumcaeduses a few times in the past or at least wrote about them. “"Having ventured further into the sewers, we were almost overcome by the fumes. It is easy to see why Gelumcaedus chose this place to live. Without the breathing apparatus Anna invented, we could never have survived the fetid conditions."”

“Whoa, it looks like something out of a Jules Verne novel,” Juliette said with a smile.

“"We were finally confronted by the Gelumcaedus beneath Farrington road. The Gelumcaedus had just emerged from a dormant period common for them, during which they retreat into the hellholes they fashion for themselves, living off their plunder,”” She finished, looking a little perplexed. Juliette silently asked to see the book and Rosalee passed it over so she could flip through it herself.

“I don't think our guy's in a dormant period,” Nick said.

“I’m wondering how they live off the plunder…do they eat the things they steal?” Sloane asked. “I mean it sounds dumb, but I’ve heard of wesen that eat things like teeth, animal fat, tree bark, and yeah, even metal, so…”

“Doesn’t specify,” Rosalee said.

“I got something,” Monroe said. “It says here Gelumcaedus is one of the oldest known wesen. Served in the Praetorian Guard under Caligula's reign and they were hired to protect the newly-built aqueducts.”

“Probably why they like storm drains,” Hank guessed.

“Exactly. It says when Rome fell, they retreated to the underground waterways to avoid execution,” he said, passing the book to Hank so he could read it.

“Hey, hold on. There's more here,” Juliette said. Sloane leaned over from her perch on the couch’s armrest to look at her book. “"I regret to report that Reginald, one of our hunters we took with us, perished in the fight, his upper limbs torn from their sockets.”

“They do tend to do that…” Sloane muttered.

“Escaping this wesen's grip is virtually impossible. As a result, I have procured a vambrace should I ever do battle with a Gelumcaedus again.”

“What's a vambrace?” Hank asked.

“It’s an forearm guard,” Sloane said, gently taking the book from Juliette and turning it to show a rather nasty looking piece of armor with a dagger coming out from it. “Like this, though the blade is optional. Usually. For this it’s probably recommended. It would protect and block the weapon—or in this case to keep the teeth from getting a grip.”

“Whoa,” Hank said, looking at it with a bit of admiration.

“I think I have one of those in the trailer,” Nick said as he scrutinized the drawing.

“Well, of course you do,” Hank said lightly.

“I just didn't know what it was for,” Nick clarified.

“Well, now you do.”

“And I hope you have more than one by some chance,” Sloane said. “Because I don’t have anything quite like that with me…”

“I’ll double check when we go get it.” Nick sipped his beer and then looked thoughtful. “So if the homeowner and the sewer worker were killed by Gelumcaedus, he's still gotta be down in the tunnels.”

“We have to go back in,” Hank said.

“And not as cops.”

“Now we’re talking,” Sloane said with a smile.

\----------------------

Despite their plan to go in vigilante style, Hank convinced them to go visit city planning first and get a better idea about the layout of the sewer. The woman who helped organize the workers and the systems laid out maps of Portland and it’s sewer system, pointing out some of the cross points and what she called the outfalls. Looking out the outfalls, which she said were big enough for possibly a car to drive through, Nick actually figured out they were all near where the robberies were taking place. They determined that meant the gelumcaedus must be close to one of the intersections, likely the one where the sewer worker had been killed.

Immediately after that they went to the trailer to find their secret weapon. They were already suiting up in Kevlar vests they borrowed from the precinct along with a few other toys like a night-vision scope and a couple of radios in case they got separated. Nick opened the Armory-Armoire and looked it over before reaching in back. He pulled out a gauntlet looking piece that looked like it was made from alligator-skin stretched over metal. “This is it... The vambrace. Even has the head of a Gelumcaedus on it.”

“Yeah. And these look like teeth marks,” Hank said, pointing to a few scratches in the metal and the skin.

“Wow…” Sloane said, admiring it in Nick’s hand.

“Either of you wanna wear it?” he asked.

“Ah, no way. I'm going 21st century,” Hank said, picking up a shotgun he’d brought with him.

Sloane looked sorely tempted but then shook her head with a disappointed sigh. “This one was made for a man, I can tell. It’d be too loose on me, even on the smallest setting. I’d rather it not slip in the heat of battle, you know?”

“Yeah…” Nick tried not to think about what would happen if it did.

“However…Let me borrow it after. Maybe I can look into getting another couple made, just in case,” she said with an eager glint in her eyes.

“What will you use then?”

“I got my knife if I’m desperate, but I’m going to rely more on a halberd.”

“Halberd?” Hank asked in confusion.

“It’s a long range melee weapon, kind of a cross between an axe and a spear. Keeping him far enough away he can’t bite me or grab me.”

“I learn so many new words hanging out with you…But good idea. Better idea though, why not bring your gun?”

Sloane glared automatically and Nick quickly shook his head behind her, not wanting Hank to open up that box again. “I prefer the halberd,” she said, like she was stacking stones in a wall with every word.

“Uh…right, okay then, sounds good,” he said, nodding.

“That leaves you with the vambrace,” Sloane said, looking to Nick.

Nick smiled a little. “Well... In honor of my ancestors...” He slipped it on and tightened the straps. He couldn’t deny it fit like a glove. Looking at the spring load that rested on the underside of his arm, he pressed the release and gasped as dagger with serrated edges popped out with a metallic ‘shing’.

“Whoa,” Hank said, looking closer in admiration.

“I can see about getting you one too,” Sloane teased. Hank smirked, gently touching the blade. They both then noticed Nick was staring at it with a haunted look.

“Nick?” Sloane said. He didn’t respond. He was turning slightly pale though and Sloane immediately tensed, thinking he was about to have an episode.

“Nick!” Hank said a little louder. That seemed to jar him and he looked at them. Both Sloane and Hank were giving him worried looks. “Where'd you go?” Hank asked softly. Nick hesitated and then shook his head.

“We should go then,” Sloane said, patting his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he agreed, putting the knife back down without looking at either of them.

They loaded into Nick’s car and headed for the outfall closest to where the murder had taken place. Once there, they found some very large foot prints leading inside and followed suit. They had a map they’d copied from city planning to help point the way. It was a bit of walking until they came close to where they were yesterday.

Nick made them pause suddenly. “I hear something. Sounds like breathing.” He took out his night vision scope and held it up to one eye, looking into the gloom. Sloane opened her hearing as well and tried to sharpen her eye sight. She could hear the breathing, and then the sound of footsteps as a dark shape ran down a perpendicular path up ahead. “Got him.” They quickly headed down the tunnel towards where he ran, coming out into a larger area where several tunnels radiated outward. Nick and Sloane both listened carefully. “…Are you hearing this Sloane? It sounds like he's in two... Maybe three places.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, getting a bad feeling.

“It's the echo,” Hank said reasonably. “So where is he?”

“No idea,” Nick said.

“Same, I can’t pinpoint the tunnel…” Sloane said.

“Shouldn't be a problem. We only have 450 miles of tunnel we have to check,” Hank said sarcastically.

“We need to retrace our steps,” Nick said, turning to head back. They followed, Sloane keeping her guard up in the rear with her halberd ready. They walked carefully through the tunnel, trying another route.

“Wait,” Nick said again. “Do you hear that?”

“What?”

“Ticking.”

Sloane frowned and listened more carefully. “Yeah…”

“It's my watch,” Hank said, holding up his wristwatch.

“No. It’s deeper than that,” Sloane said.

“And lot of ticking,” Nick said.

“Hope you're not talking about a bomb,” Hank said seriously.

“It's coming from behind this wall,” Nick said. Sloane moved closer and nodded. The sound was definitely coming from behind the tunnel wall that was covered in slime and mold or moss and…

“Is that blood?” Hank asked, looking closer as well. “Could Jimmy make it down this far?” Nick didn’t answer, running his hand over a plate of metal just to the side. Then he paused when his hand found a handle under some of the moss. “A door,” he said. He glanced at Sloane who nodded to him.

“Guys,” Hank started, but Nick was already opening the door. It groaned on rusty hinges as they pushed it open. The other side was just as dark, and just as dank and wet, but they moved through and followed the sound of clocks. Hank hesitated a moment before going through after them. After a small bit of tunnel, they came out into a large open area where an old bit of metal scaffolding and stairs were against the back wall. They headed up the stairs. Walking past what looked like a row of industrial sub pumps, they came to another area off to the side filled boxes upon boxes of perfectly good items that had no place in a sewer: silverware, candlesticks, expensive looking luggage, jewelry. Anything that was shiny or somewhat valuable seemed to be there. Including several clocks.

“Ticktock,” Nick said.

“Whoa,” Hank said, walking further in to see even more stuff was stored, all around an air mattress with messy blankets. “What do you know? He does live in the sewer.”

“This guy's been busy.”

“Gotta be a couple hundred thousand dollars’ worth of stuff down here,” Hank said.

“It’s going to suck cataloguing this stuff after this…” Sloane muttered. “He’s like a hoarder…”

“Stocking up for that dormant period,” Nick said.

“I wonder how many other cities he's hit,” Hank mused.

“How many bodies he's left behind,” Nick added.

“Too many,” Sloane said with finality. She paused, hearing something moving in the shadows, and tightened her grip on the halberd.

“I bet we can match this stuff to every robbery we've had…” Nick said, just as Sloane heard a low snarl behind her and Hank. Whipping around, she brought the halberd around and tried to strike the leathery faced, sharp toothed monster behind them. It snarled louder, just managing to move so she sliced his cheek just barely, and then brought his long arm around to smack Hank into a shelf and advance on her with his mouth open. She jumped back quickly before he could get to her and Nick was in front of her in a blink, his arm raised with the vambrace attached. The teeth clacked over the metallic brace and he tried to shake but only managed in shaking the metal. Realizing this, he grabbed Nick and threw him into a bunch of boxes. With his back turned, Hank rose to his feet and together he and Sloane struck the Gelumcaedus in the back, Hank with the butt of his rifle and Sloane stabbing him with the spear-like protrusion at the top of her halberd. He yelled as he fell forward, Nick quickly scrambling out of the way. He turned to look at them, Sloane ready to cut his throat, Nick with his Vambrace ready, and Hank pointing his cocked gun right at him. “You move, and you'll never move again,” he said darkly.

“You okay?” Sloane panted, looking at both of them.

“I’m good but pissed,” Hank said.

“It worked,” Nick said, looking gratefully at the vambrace. He looked back at the man, now de-woged but just as huge and intimidating, staring back up at them. “Gelumcaedus,” he greeted.

The man’s eyes widened just slightly and then narrowed again. “Decapitare.”

“I’m afraid so.” Sloane raised up the halberd, ready to stab him again, but Nick quickly put a hand on her arm.

“No.”

“What? Are you serious?” she snapped, not taking her eyes off the prone man.

“We got him; we might as well take him in instead of killing him.”

“Nick, I swear to whatever higher being is out there…” she muttered.

“Please,” he said again.

She glared at him before sighing and pulling the weapon back. “You make a move I don’t like, I slice off your favorite appendage,” she said to the Gelumcaedus. At least Nick hoped she was talking to him.  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------

At the precinct, they ran their suspects prints and found a match relatively quickly to a Marcin, Gregorek. He had a record for breaking and entering, however had been acquitted both times due to lack of evidence. Nick asked Sloane to just observe this time. He was rather sure having the woman that stabbed him with medieval weaponry in the room wouldn’t go over well. Luckily the wound wasn’t serious and they were able to explain it as an accident when he attacked them. Sloane was not happy but she eventually relented and went to the observation room.

Nick hit Gregorek with what they had, but by the end he was just chuckling. “Go home. Have a drink... Or whatever it is that you two do. You're wasting my time.”

Nick and Hank frowned but walked out soon after and Sloane met them in the hall. “That went well,” she said sarcastically.

“This guy really thinks he has a chance,” Hank said, shaking his head.

“Probably thinks we can't tie the murders to him 'cause of the way they were killed,” Nick said.

“I don't know what this idiot's thinking. Boot prints place him at both crime scenes. We got him nailed.”

“And yet he laughed at you two…which gives me a bad feeling,” Sloane said.

The boys both sighed and shook their heads. “I'll see you in the morning. I'm calling it,” Hank said as he grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair.

“Goodnight, Hank,” Sloane said.

“Yeah, we’re probably right behind you, goodnight,” Nick said. Hank waved as he headed off and Nick sighed. “…Hey, Sloane? What Gregorek called us…?”

“Decapatare?” she asked, not looking up from going over notes again.

“Yeah, what is that? You apparently recognized it…”

She did look up now. “It’s an old term for Grimms, before we were known more commonly as Grimms,” she said. “Latin. It means “one who decapitates”.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t like it?”

“It’s…graphic?”

She snorted and smiled a little. “Well, it is descriptive of what we typically do. Or used to do, more of an ‘any means necessary’ method now.”

Nick nodded, but was still troubled.

“You okay?”

“Just…this case is still bugging me.”

She nodded. “Yeah…me too actually.”

“Maybe look into those robberies again for a bit?”

She smiled and handed him some of the files. “You take the first half, I take the second?”

He smiled and they started going through the cases. After about an hour he realized something very important and ran it by Sloane before quickly calling Hank.

“If you two are still at work, maybe you two should just pair up together and I’ll find another partner,” Hank said.

“Gregorek wasn't working alone,” Nick said quickly, having him on speaker phone.

“What?”

“Nick figured it out. The times on the crime reports are impossible for one man to do on his own,” Sloane said.

“On the 17th, a break-in in Sellwood Park happened just minutes before the first robbery was reported in the northwest. Then on the 29th, a northwest robbery overlapped a break-in in Homestead,” Nick said, smiling at the break.

“All that stuff in the sewer was found together so we gotta assume it was dumped by our suspect,” Sloane went on.

“Well, he can't be in two places at once,” Hank said.

“He’s not. Remember, Nick and I heard multiple footsteps down in the sewers. It wasn’t an echo.”

“If there's another Gelumcaedus, it's still down there,” Hank sighed. “Do you want me to come back?”

“No. Let us cross-reference these reports. If we find anything, we’ll come over. I'm assuming you'll still be awake?”

“I will be now,” he said dryly.

“All right, see you soon,” Sloane said. They hanged up and kept going over information before packing up and heading for Hank’s in their cars with Sloane right behind Nick. They parked at practically the same time. Nick waited for her to catch up and they both went to Hank’s door together. Nick knocked, but there was no answer. “Hank, it's us.” There was still no answer and Sloane arched an eyebrow and Nick who looked perplexed as well. A moment later his cell phone rang and he pulled it out. “Ah, it’s him.” He answered and held it to his ear. “Hey, we’re outside. Open up the door.” Nick listened with a frown for a moment before his eyes widened. “Let me talk to him,” he said with a bit of desperation in his voice that made Sloane stand straighter. “…I wanna talk to Hank!” he said louder before pulling the phone away with a frustrated growl.

“Someone took Hank?” Sloane asked, her hand tightening into a fist.

“Yeah…and they want to trade him for Gregorek.”

“The other Gelumcaedus,” she said knowingly. “What do we do?”

“…I’m supposed to come alone with Gregorek to the Sheridan outfall. So that’s what I’ll do.”

“The hell you will,” she growled. “We don’t negotiate with these things!”

“Hear me out…” he said calmly. “You’re quieter than I am, you do stealth stuff all the time…I’ll go get Gregorek, and you go gear up and get to the outfall. Follow us in, stay out of sight…and then do whatever you have to do to get us out of there alive.”

Sloane stared at him for a few moments before nodding. “Okay. I’ll see you there. You won’t see me right away, just trust I’m behind you.”

He nodded and Sloane raced to her car and drove back to her house. From a case in the spare bedroom she grabbed a black body suit and pulled it on. Nick wanted stealth, he’d get it. Over that she put a pair of sturdy but flexible boots, the Kevlar vest she still had, and a pair of tough black pants. She pulled a separate hood over her hair because platinum blonde was nice, but not stealthy. It also had a flap she pulled up over her nose and mouth, so that only the skin around her eyes was visible. Around those she painted on some camouflage grease paint to keep them from standing out. The halberd was unfortunately too cumbersome to take with her on a stealth mission so she enlisted a mini-harpoon gun, a collapsible metal baton, and her knife. Once finished, she was back in her car and drove to the outfall, parking a ways away and finding a place to lay low and wait for Nick while watching the lights play over the water.

It was only maybe fifteen minutes later Nick arrived, Gregorek in his back seat. There was a pause and she zeroed in on him with her eyes to see he was talking to someone on the phone and pointing a gun to Gregorek. _Proof of life,_ she thought to herself.

He then put the gun down and apparently left it behind as he stepped out. He paused and looked around, but Sloane was deep in the shadows and staying perfectly still so she should hopefully be camouflaged. He turned and opened up the back door. “Get out.”

Gregorek stepped out awkwardly, his hands still handcuffed. Nick nudged him towards the tunnel. He breathed in deeply as they entered. “Ahh... Smells just like home.” Nick didn’t say anything. Sloane counted about twenty steps for both of them before she quickly and silently followed them; sticking close to the darkness and stepping along the driest portion she could find to keep her foot-steps from making too much noise.

“I have great respect for decapitare,” Gregorek said lightly. “My grandfather, he used to scare us when we were children about your kind.” He paused and looked at Nick with a smile. “You don't look so scary anymore.”

Sloane glared as Nick got him moving again. _He’s not the one you should be afraid of._

They made their way to one of the connecting tunnel rooms. Sloane paused in a crouch a few feet behind them, barely able to see through their legs where Hank was tied to a pipe with tape over his mouth. Another very large man was standing next to him, a knife very similar to Sloane’s in his hand.

“Marcin, you are good?” the big man now.

“Better now, Andre.”

“Take the handcuffs off my brother or watch me cut his throat,” Andre said, pressing the knife close to Hank. Sloane glared and began loading the small harpoon gun.

Nick un-cuffed Gregorek and held up the cuffs for Andre to see. “Now step away from my partner.” Andre hesitated but then took the knife away from Hank’s throat and slowly walked over toward Gregorek. Nick rushed over to Hank to cut him loose.

“Brother... He's decapitare,” Gregorek said.

“He knows what we are,” Andre surmised.

“Yes, I do.”

“You also have a female decapitare …where is she?” Gregorek asked.

“I didn’t tell her you had Hank…I knew she’d come with me,” Nick said as he kept working at Hank’s tied hands.

“That's too bad. We’ll have to track her down now. A woman shouldn’t be too hard to take care of though. Their necks are much softer.” Sloane took aim with a glare.

“For now my brother and I are gonna kill you,” Andre said.

“I think he meant brothers,” Gregorek said.

Hank was freed right then and wrenched the tape off his mouth. “There's three of them! Behind you!” Sloane breathed as another Gelumcaedus came out from a tunnel behind Nick, but he had the vambrace up in an instant to take the attack. Andre was woging, ready to attack as well. Using that for a distraction, she pulled the harpoon trigger and Andre gasped as it went through the back of his neck, likely severing a vertebrae. He stumbled, blood coming up through his mouth as he tried to yell through broken vocal chords. He changed back to his human form as quickly as he had changed to his reptilian and then collapsed. Gregorek turned, woged, and roared at her in outrage. Sloane was already running and then took a leap, tackling him into the room and rolling off of him before he could catch her. Nick had let the dagger out of the vambrace and brought it up under the jaw of the third brother, who collapsed dead. Sloane kicked and struck at Gregorek, dodging out of his reach and then back in to quickly deliver a blow or two before dodging back. Nick came over and kicked him hard enough in the back of the knee to send him down, while Hank grabbed a pipe and crowned him over the top of the head. Gregorek went down and rolled on his back painting, looking up at them. He woged back and then looked at the bodies around him. “You killed my brothers!” he yelled.

“Yeah. We did,” Sloane said. She leaned in and whatever Gregorek saw made him actually shrink back from the smaller woman. “You want to join them now? Because I can send you to them.”

“And this time, I’ll let her,” Nick said. “Trust me. She’s a decapitare you should fear. And I’m starting to like that name...”

Hank nodded and Sloane smiled.

Gregorek swallowed and, unfortunately, cooperated. Sloane knew Nick would be in trouble if they didn’t get him back so they made up a story about going back to investigate and finding the brothers, who unfortunately put up a serious fight. Sloane set the scene to hide the odd weaponry used while Nick took Hank and Gregorek to the car and went back to the precinct for medical attention and to tell the story. Gregorek could hardly tell the truth, so their version of events went forward and they were thankfully able to convince them that Gregorek had been in questioning the rest of the time to “sweat it out” some more. Sloane was on scene when back up was called—changed since she’d brought her other clothes with her and scrubbed off her face—and they saw nothing questionable when they arrived after stowing her gear in her car. She’d used Nick’s gun to mask the wounds so they wouldn’t look immediately like a blade slice or a harpoon shot.

It was late by then and they all went home to rest and took the next day off. So Sloane was surprised when there was a knock at the door in the afternoon. She was just cleaning off her equipment in the bathroom, trying to get sewer smell out of it, so she shut the bathroom door and went to the front. It was surprising Nick was there. “Hey…”

“Hey. How are you doing?”

“Alright.” She stood aside and offered him to come in. “You?”

“Little sore, but I’ve had worse.” He came inside and then offered a bag to her. “You said you’d like to look at the vambrace. Figured I would hopefully not need it for a while.”

She smiled and took it. “Thanks. I’ll see about getting some others made.”

“Here?”

“Not exactly, I know a guy in another state who’ll do it better than me. He’ll get a kick out of this; probably give us a good deal.”

“Cool…” he said, seeming awkward.

“…Was there something else?”

“…I think I get why you don’t like guns…” She arched her brow. “For a second when I first used the vambrace, I remembered…what I did at that bar. I mean, it was just a hazy kind of flash, but…it gave me a real bad feeling.”

Sloane regarded him for a second before giving a quiet sigh. “You want some tea?”

“Uh…sure.” She nodded and set the vambrace on her kitchen counter as she went about making tea. She got two mugs, tea bags, and filled them up with water from the electric kettle, bringing them back over. “…You’re not exactly wrong, but you still used the vambrace, right? And you like it now?”

“…yeah. It kind of saved my life.”

“I still hate guns. I don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable with them again.” She took a sip and deep breath. “I told you before; I’ve killed non-wesen. Most were hostiles, gang members who weren’t too happy when I offed their wesen friends and the like. And that’s more your situation. Renard let me watch that footage, Nick. That guy was going to attack you back. Yeah, you came in swinging, but he was ready to kill you.” Nick was quiet but didn’t argue this time. “The one that made me wary of guns…was an accident.” She looked at her hands again. “I was twenty one. I was looking for leads on possible wesen activity. I found a news clipping in a weird news magazine about a girl claiming werewolves kidnapped her sister down near the Mexican border. I went down and asked her about it. Her story said they’d come at night and taken her sister, and she swore up and down that they “turned into werewolves”. I showed her a few sketches and she picked out both a coyotl and a hundjager pretty definitively. And even though it meant no one believed her, she stuck by her story and was begging for help. So I figured it was wesen related and looking into it, I was right. A group of coyotls and hundjagers and even a couple of other kinds working together in human trafficking. At the time I was still traveling with a couple of other Grimms about my age and I let them know about the tip. We planned a raid on them. We went in, split up, killed anything with fangs that threatened us, rescued who we could…kind of mission we lived for. Things were going fine…”

“Until…?” Nick asked, a bad feeling in his stomach.

She sipped her tea again, collecting her thoughts. “Their base was this old military airport out in the middle of nowhere that was abandoned, and they used one of the offices to keep actual records. Organized crime, literally. I found records of where some of the “goods” were sent, I thought we could use them to find some of the other victims, maybe the girl’s sister if she wasn’t there and others. Or at least get them answers. We’d drop the info off at the police with maybe one survivor or something, see if they could help get them back. Then I heard someone coming up the stairs. I had already killed all the guards I came across, but it was possible someone had come in and seen the carnage and was looking for me. We had signals in place in our hunting party so I knew it wasn’t one of us. I drew my gun and waited, facing the closed door. I’d locked it but they started banging on it, trying really hard to get in. Determined, maybe angry. The door was rusted to hell, it wasn’t going to hold under a wesen onslaught, so I aimed. I was ready to take them out before they even saw me. Then I decided “just fire through it, the bullets will go through that thin bit of metal and into whatever is on the other side”. So I did. Four shots, and the sound of a body falling back down the stairs. Threat neutralized. I opened the door and looked down…and saw Maria Mancillo, the girl that asked me to save her sister…” Nick gasped quietly and Sloane took a deep breath. “She’d followed us, wanting to help, even though I told her to stay put.” Sloane looked down at her glass of tea. “She was fourteen years old…seven years younger than me but kind and sweet and stupidly brave, just wanting her sister. And I fired without a thought through that door. She died because of me.”

Nick leaned back, a little shell shocked by the story. “I…Sloane, it was an accident…You couldn’t have known.”

She shook her head, blinking rapidly. “It was unfortunate it was Maria behind that door, but I meant to kill whoever was there. I could’ve waited and seen who it was, or called out, which was the smart thing to do. But I was impatient and fired any way. That’s my problem with guns…they make me impatient. The speed, the relative accuracy, the killing force…I don’t take the time to think…So I prefer anything but guns. Crossbows, harpoon guns, things like that I can do. Even if they take longer to reload and I have to do it more often, at least they make me value each shot and strike too much to use it without thinking.” She pressed the heel of her palm into one eye, breathing deep. “So yeah…I don’t like to use guns.”

Nick nodded slowly. “I understand…I’m sorry then, about the firing range…”

Sloane sighed but shrugged. “You didn’t know...you were trying to help, like usual.”

“Still…I should’ve taken the whole “I don’t like it” as a que to let go, not push you…”

“…Well, you are supposed to be the nice Grimm…” she said a tiny bit lighter.

Nick smiled back and they felt a little more relaxed in each other’s presence than they ever had before.

“…You’re still worried about your “condition”?” Sloane said.

“…yeah.”

Sloane sighed and drained her cup. “Well, come on. I think we better go ahead and go see someone for that, even if I haven’t heard back.”

“What, now?” Nick asked.

“It’s been almost two weeks, we need to check in either way and get you introduced.” She stood and went to get her jacket. “And we don’t know when something else might come up.”

Nick nodded slowly and then drained his own cup before standing. “So, where are we going?”

“…The local library.”

\-------------------------

Nick had honestly thought she was joking, but they found themselves outside a public library—one of the larger ones in the city, build around the 1970s in a very modern style, with green sloping glass and rounded edges, with a roof like a pie plate twisted between someone’s hands.

It was late afternoon on a Friday, so there were a few people in but it wasn’t crowded. The inside was a bit more updated—but still valued function over form. The huge front desk had two librarians at it. Sloane walked up to the older librarian. “Pardon me; I’m looking for a book by Cynthia Gallin.”

The woman smiled. “Do you have a library card?”

Sloane pulled out her wallet and pulled a card that at first glanced looked like a generic library card. The librarian took it and put it under a blacklight scanner that was used to check other kinds of stamps, and Nick saw a scrollwork G hidden in black light ink. The librarian handed it back and looked at him. “And you sir?”

“Um…”

“He needs to sign up for one, that’s part of why we’re here.”

“I see. Well, Gallin’s books are in our rare books section, but they should be in. Please follow me.” She stood, nodding to the other librarian and leading them to another door where she scanned her ID badge to unlock it. They went inside with her behind them to close the door and lock it once again. She turned on the lights—the room was interior only and had no windows to provide light. The lights themselves were rather dim, some overhead and some in sconces on the wall and some even along the floor. There were tables set up with lights on them for extra reading, but the room stayed rather dimly lit. The tables were old, made of solid wood with scroll work carved into them.

The librarian moved past them to one of the tables. She felt over the edge before pushing in on one part of the scroll work that in no way stood out or would brushed against by accident, then another. There was a whirring noise and Nick jumped slightly when the table and the floor it was attached to popped up and slid backward to but up against the other table. A large opening with a staircase big enough for two people was revealed.

“Whoa…” he said, staring in awe.

Sloane smiled. “Welcome to your local Grimm Library. We try to have one in most major cities. Not always in actual library though.”

“This is really cool,” he said.

“This is just the entrance,” she chuckled.

The librarian smiled as well. “Most people enjoy seeing it for the first time. I will return to the front. Gallin will be down there.”

Sloane nodded and started down the stairs. They were wide, and there were three flights down below the ground wrapping around one another. Above them the entrance closed and Nick was worried, but the steps had lights embedded in them to make sure they could see. At the bottom was another door, this one heavy metal. Sloane knocked three times, paused, and then knocked twice. The sound echoed eerily around them and Nick felt under other circumstances this cloak and dagger routine would be creepy.

Then the door opened and very tall woman smiled. She was taller than Nick, with pale skin and dark brown hair pulled back into a bun and a suit in a flattering jewel-like shade of teal. Not what he was expecting to say the least. “Sloane. It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too, Gallin.” She gestured to Nick. “This is Nick Burkhardt.”

Gallin smiled even more. “Oh…you remind me of Kelly.”

Nick blinked in surprise. “You know my mother?”

“Of course, though she worked more with my predecessor. Here, come in.” She stood aside and gestured for them to come inside. The inside was what looked like a compound/bunker buried underground, but made homey by being made of stone with bright lights above their head compared to the gloom of the room and the stairwell—but it wasn’t as huge as the library above. Maybe about a two thousand square feet. But all of it was taken up by weapons—both modern and ancient. Shelves and wracks and chests were everywhere. There were no books like Nick’s trailer, but there was what appeared to be a whole line of filing cabinets along one wall.

“Wow,” Nick said, looking around. “This is…impressive.”

“Thank you,” Gallin said, going over to a large desk with a computer much more state of the art than the ones used above. “We’ve undergone some renovations recently, a bit more with the times. I don’t have a phone switch board anymore, which is nice.”

Nick nodded, trying to imagine that. “So…what is this exactly? I mean, what does a Grimm Library do?” Nick asked, looking at a display of crossbows nearby.

“We trade information and goods for Grimms to use on hunts,” Gallin said. “We understand not every Grimm can carry everything they need with them, so we do our best to stock things and copy down references. But even we aren’t always fully equipped no matter how hard we try,” she sighed.

“So…you have books?” Nick asked.

“Oh no,” she shook her head. “Not that sort of library I’m afraid. Books are family heirlooms; they aren’t something Grimms just give away. Sometimes they’re guarded even from other families unless there are no heirs. No, we ask for references—things people may have found out or found interesting in their hunts—and we copy it down so if another Grimm asks, we can check. Such as your Volcanalis—Sloane was kind enough to send over notes on that, not everyone does. The solitary life makes it hard trust and do that I think…”

“I see…so it’s like an information tree and armory?” Nick asked.

She smiled and nodded. “A bit. However, our methods are not the fastest, as it’s us asking each other what we know and there are many locations all over the world. And this isn’t our full time job. I have to do something else to pay the bills.”

Nick looked at her curiously. “Then…why do it?”

Gallin smiled rather sadly. “I…my family were Grimm. But I’m not.” She sighed. “The Grimm abilities are getting rarer and rarer lately. My father was a Grimm and so was my brother, but I didn’t inherit. It was disappointing for everyone…I wanted to help somehow though, so I became a Librarian. At least this way I can try to help other Grimms.”

“Oh…Well, I mean, it sounds like an important job,” he said, trying to be comforting after bringing up the sore subject.

“It is,” Sloane said. “Rare weapons are more Gallin’s specialty. Which is why I brought you a gift.” She held up the bag with the vambrace. “Well, a loaner. Nick had a vambrace used for hunting Gelumcaedus.”

Gallin’s face lit up and she strode over to take the bag. “Really? I haven’t seen one of those except in pictures! No one’s been able to find the plans for them.”

“I was thinking you could send it to Leon, get him to study and make some more. Could be handy to have,” Sloane said with a smile.

“Of course! You want me to measure you for one?” she asked knowingly.

“If you don’t mind.” They walked back to the desk and Nick followed, still looking around curiously. He saw some diagrams of wesen hanging in frames on the wall that went into some rather disturbing detail as far as organs and weaknesses. Many of the weapons were behind cages with locks, ammo separate, labels under them—all very organized and secure. It reminded him of the precinct a little.

Gallin opened a drawer and pulled out a measuring tape while Sloane took off her jacket. Gallin started measuring her arm and noting things down but spoke to Nick as she did.

“Sloane told me about your problem. I’ve messaged around about Grimms effected by Cracher Mortal venom, but I haven’t heard anything back yet.”

“Oh…” Nick said, frowning.

Gallin put the measuring tape down and tried to smile reassuringly. “It can take time as I said to someone.” She eyed Sloane.

“He needs a library card, I figured it was better to come over now,” Sloane said, shrugging her jacket back on.

Gallin hummed, putting the measuring tape away and the note with sizes in the bag with the vambrace. “True I suppose. I can take some samples as well for further research.”

“Samples?” Nick asked warily.

“We have some members whose day jobs are in medical labs. They’ll be able to research your blood with modern technology.”

Nick eyed the room, noting the many sharp objects. “You take blood here?”

Gallin opened another drawer in her desk and pulled out a large medical kit. “I have the necessary equipment and I’m trained, don’t worry your handsome little head.”

Nick arched his brow and glanced to Sloane. She smiled. “She knows what she’s doing.”

He sighed but took his own jacket off. “The doctors already checked my blood though.”

“They wouldn’t know what to look for,” Gallin said, bringing him over to sit on an extra chair behind the desk. “We have our own branch of researchers behind the scenes. Not all Grimms are old school—or at least they know how to mix the old and the new for the good of the hunt. _‘Science can help kill wesen, it must not be all bad,’_ someone said once,” she laughed.

“Oh…cool.” He swallowed a bit when she pulled out the needle and prepped his arm with a rubber tourniquet and an alcohol swab. He hissed when it when the needle when it, but Gallin expertly put the vacuum tube to the system to start collecting.

“We’ll need a couple to be sure I think.”

“Right…” Nick looked away from watching his blood fill up the test tube. “So…you know my mom?”

“Of course. Kelly is infamous. And so was Marie…She worked as a Librarian sometimes as well.”

Nick’s head snapped up and then he groaned. “That’s why she told me she was a librarian…”

She smiled a bit wanly. “I worked with her for a bit and yeah...I always liked her. But she did have her critics, even among the Grimm…”

Nick nodded a bit, remembering everything he’d found out about her. “Yeah…”

“But she was always kind to me. Being the family disappointment, I didn’t get a lot of that sometimes…” Gallin said wistfully.

Nick looked at her, surprised. “…Being a Grimm was that important to your family?”

“That and…other things.” Nick hadn’t even realized she’d already gotten two phials when she was removing the needle, putting pressure on a cotton ball. “Let’s call that good for now, don’t want to make you anemic.” Nick nodded, letting her undo the tourniquet and wrap the area in with a bandage to keep the cotton ball down. “I’m still waiting to hear back from quite a few of our other branches. If I find anything out I’ll let you know. Same for the blood tests.”

“Thanks,” he said, pulling his jacket back on.

“And here is your Library card,” she said, handing him a card. “I’ve copied down the number and will enter it the system here in bit, but any time you want to browse our wares you can come here and ask for me.”

Nick smiled, looking at the innocuous card in his hand. “Double thanks. But I uh…did inherit Marie’s trailer. It’s pretty well equipped.”

“Oh, of course,” she nodded. “Marie was always prepared, more so than most Grimms. I’m sure she has most of what you need, but if you ever need something you can’t find check with me.”

He nodded, putting the card in his wallet like Sloane did.

“Thanks Gallin,” Sloane said, shaking her hand.

“I’m always happy to help and learn more,” Gallin said brightly. “Makes the drudgery of my day job worth it.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a mortician,” she said brightly.

Nick stared but then nodded. “Oh….neat.”

Sloane hid a smile as she pulled him back towards the door. They headed up, the hidden door closing eerily quiet behind them once they were back in the antique book room.

“That’s…really neat,” Nick said. “I had no idea Grimms had this whole network.”

“We try,” Sloane said “But like Gallin said, we’re still usually solitary by nature, unless we’re part of a big hunting family. Even then we’re supposed to move off on our own and just come together if we need back up. I stayed with others longer than most and we still ended up parting ways…” she said almost wistfully.

“…I like working with others better,” Nick said. “I think I’d still rather go to Monroe and Rosalee for this stuff first.”

“Yeah, I admit, they do help a lot. The information is much faster than going to Gallin’s route…But if we need weird weapons she’s best to check with.”

“I’ll keep that in mind…Thanks by the way. I know you’re trying to help with the whole…zombie thing. After what I almost did to you…I’m still sorry…”

“You’re not the first person or thing to try and choke the life out of me,” she said, and he worried she was so blasé about it. “You’re forgiven, so stop apologizing. I only hold grudges when it counts.”

Nick smiled. “Okay then…” They headed back to the car and she drove the short distance back to her house.

She sighed, standing in front of his car. “I better go finish cleaning my gear. It still smells like sewer water.”

“Yeah, Not sure I’m getting that out of my shoes,” Nick winced.

“Dish soap and baking soda,” she said wisely. “Takes a little scrubbing and rinsing but it gets the smell out.”

“Really?” he said, smiling in surprise. “I didn’t take you for a cleaning expert.”

Sloane smiled back. “I’ve had to learn to get a lot of gross stuff out of clothes and hair. I can get blood out of _anything._ ”

He tried not to think why she would do that, nodding in approval instead. “Impressive…Well, I’ll give that a try then. I am learning much from you,” he said, mock formally with a slight bow.

Sloane smirked, putting her hands on her hips proudly. “My laundry secrets are just some of the many things I will teach you. Next I’ll teach you how to grill food on a car engine block.”

Nick laughed. “I think I’ll pass for now, but thanks. See you later.”

“See you,” she smiled, heading to her door. Nick watched her head in and sighed a bit, shaking his head. It was strange sometimes, how she could seem so harsh and then it felt like he’d known her for years instead of months when they joked together. If someone had said, back when she first arrived, they’d banter like old friends instead of try to kill each other he wouldn’t believe it. He should really learn the world was full of surprises.

\------------------------

_Twelve Days of Krampus_

Sloane sighed at the chill in the air, wrapped up in a thicker jacket than she normally wore. It was December in Portland, less than two weeks before Christmas. Considering it was spring when she arrived, this was the longest she had spent in any one place since she was a teenager. It was a weird feeling and though she tried to keep the phrase “settling down” or “putting up roots” out of her vocabulary, couldn’t deny she was…acclimating to living there. Her house was nice, she had a steady paycheck, and…friends? That was odd to think about as well. Friends were a luxury in her world that she denied herself more often than indulged. What few people she might call “friends” were really more colleagues or allies that she rarely saw in person or contacted unless she needed something in recent years. Having regular contact with Rosalee, Nick, Hank, Juliette, Wu, and Bud was an indulgence to her she supposed. Monroe…Monroe she tried to be civil with, for everyone else’s sake, but her distrust of Blutbader wasn’t going to go away as far as she was concerned. The past taught her it was well founded. At the same time she couldn’t deny, he was a huge help to Nick and by extension herself. So she supposed he was an ally. Really, it was surprising enough she was willing to call Rosalee a friend, maybe her best friend, despite her being a Fuchsbau.

Sometimes she caught herself thinking about it and feeling guilty. If her mentor, Deirdre, saw her like this, Sloane would probably be black and blue by the time she was done. But more worrying was how her guilt was decreasing day by day. Why was that? Was it having a home? Friends? A job? What was making her feel so good lately?

But, this wasn’t the time to be philosophical. She had to put all that to the back of her mind when she arrived on the scene of a reported body in a car under a bridge. The scene was odd—presents broken on the ground, a lump of coal, a jacket with “QB” on the tag, and a thorny stick with blood on it—and the body was wedged into the back seat of a convertible with a collapsed roof. Wu climbed in, being the most compact of them, to check for a wallet on the victim. Only the victim wasn’t dead since he started screaming, surprising everyone with the commotion. They quickly got an ambulance on scene and took the living victim, named Derrick Bryce, to the hospital. When they went to check on him a few hours later, his father was there and though obviously worried, he was honest with them that his son had some problems with the law. He was certain he’d stolen the presents that they’d found at the scene and wrecked them, and that wasn’t his first act of vandalism or theft. And the jacket with the initials QB he supposed belonged to Derrick’s friend, Quinn. They’d promised to alert juvenile court about the theft since Derrick was still 17 and moved on to question Derrick directly. He had some nasty, deep scratches in his left cheek and still seemed a bit shell shocked. But he was responsive. He was still hesitant to say exactly what happened, but acknowledged that Quinn was with him. He said that someone took him. They started to try and get more details from him when Derrick began screaming. Through the doorway they could see a man dressed as Santa Claus. He was terrified the Santa was going to “get him too”.

“So…I’m gonna go out on a limb and say our perp was dressed as…Santa?” Sloane said as they headed back to the station. They were fairly sure it wasn’t the hospital Santa since he was a plumber who came to the hospital in his off time as Santa this time of year.

“Apparently…” Nick said, just as perplexed.

“That’s gonna be a lot of therapy for the kid…” Hank sighed. “Hopefully it might put some things in perspective though; I’d like to hope he’ll do better in life after going through this crap…”

“Yeah…” Sloane muttered. She sighed. “Why is Christmas always so…?”

“Hectic?” Hank supplied.

“Eh…more weird. I don’t even celebrate it.”

“Oh, are you a Grinch?” Nick said with a smile.

Sloane gave him an indulgent smirk. “I’m not the one stealing Christmas presents. Or stealing Christmas thieves…Also-” She paused when her phone rang and pulled it out. “Rosalee?” Nick was curious as well and Sloane clicked the call button and held it up to her ear. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, Sloane,” Rosalee said. “Are you busy?”

“Kind of. Murder case downgraded to abduction, so…good news?” She asked, glancing at Nick and Hank who were nodding in hesitant agreement. “But yeah, we got a missing teenager.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding a little disappointed.

“…Did you need something?”

“Kind of…I mean, it can wait, I just thought you might have a sometime today to do me a favor,” she said hesitantly.

Sloane shrugged. “What is it? I got my lunch hour coming up; I could grab food and do you a favor.”

“Really? That’d be great! A package I was waiting for got delivered to our house and it’s a gift for Monroe, so I don’t want him peeking or accidently opening it. Normally I’d just wait, but he was acting kind of funny this morning…I think he’s planning a surprise or went shopping too or was expecting something. I don’t want to ruin his plans by going over early…”

“So you want me to stop by and grab the package to bring back to you at the shop?” she guessed. “…At your house with Monroe there?” she added, not sure about that part.

“If you don’t mind,” Rosalee said, already grateful. “I worried you were on a murder case or something and tried Juliette, but she didn’t pick up. I’ll order you lunch here if you do this.”

“Well, how can I say no?” Sloane said with a smile, temporarily forgetting her reservations. “I’m in the mood for a burger and fries.”

“Got it, and thanks, I’ll see you in a bit.”

“See you.” She ended the call. “So, I’m going to run an errand for Rosalee during lunch. That okay?”

“Yeah, we’ll be doing some back ground checks on Derrick and looking to see if we can find this “Quinn” person.”

“Alright, I promise I’ll pull my weight when I get back.”

They got to the station and Sloane headed to her own car and over to Monroe’s house. There was no package on the porch when she pulled up so she sighed and knocked on the door. _Just get the box and get out, don’t have to stay with him long or kill him. Don’t kill him, that would be bad…_ She was surprised at who answered. “Juliette?”

“Sloane!” she said in surprise. “Uh, hi…what are you doing here?”

“Rosalee asked me to pick up a package that got delivered here and bring it by the shop…What are you doing here?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Um…helping Monroe with a bit of a Christmas surprise…” She motioned for her to come in and Sloane did. She had to pause at the entrance to the living room though and gape.

“Oh my God…”

“Yeah…” Juliette agreed, though she was smiling. The entire room was decked out. There was a very robust tree in the corner, already covered by dozens of ornaments and tinsel and lights. Stockings and garlands were hung on the walls and even the ceiling. And Monroe was in the middle of the room, setting up a train set of all things on two large tables, complete with bridges and tunnels.

Monroe looked up and smiled. “Hey, Sloane! What brings you by?”

“Um…package…for Rosalee…Are you two setting this all up?” she asked.

“Yeah, awesome isn’t it?” he grinned.

“That’s one word for it…”

“What, you don’t like?” he pouted now.

“No, I just…I’ve honestly seen department store Christmas displays more subtle than this,” she finally said honestly. Juliette tried not to smile.

“Oh c’mon! Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

Sloane rolled her eyes. “Up in my grandmother’s attic…with our menorah.”

Both Monroe and Juliette were surprised, Monroe pausing in setting up the train table. “You’re Jewish?” Juliette asked.

“Yeah. Well, Jewish descent. My grandmother was Jewish. Grandfather wasn’t, mother…stopped practicing a long time ago I think. I also haven’t practiced anything Jewish traditions since I was young.” _Before my grandmother died_ , was implied but unsaid. “I also just don’t really get into the whole Christmas thing given I’m usually traveling at the time and…” _Alone. I didn’t have friends before I came here._ That was something she wasn’t going to imply or say.

“Oh…well, um…” Monroe started.

She held up her hand. “It’s fine, really. I’m on lunch though, I’m just here to grab a package Rosalee wanted at the shop and grab lunch real quick.”

“Oh, right! Uh, something came a little while ago…” He ducked under the tables and walked over. “I didn’t put it in one of the boxes I think…I hope…It could be lost forever if I did…”

“We started with 42 boxes,” Juliette whispered. “I don’t think we’re quite at half done yet…”

“Wow…good luck with that.”

“It’s fun really, he’s got some interesting stuff. I just hope Rosalee likes it.”

“I hope so too!” Monroe said, coming up with a large box in hand. “Speaking of which, don’t tell her about any of this, okay? I want to surprise her.”

“I don’t think I could describe it in a way she wouldn’t still be surprised,” she said honestly. She took the box, keeping her hands well away from him. “But I’ll keep it to myself.”

“Thanks,” he smiled. Sloane nodded and nodded to Juliette as she headed out again and to the spice shop.

Rosalee smiled, finishing up with a customer just as Sloane walked in. “Hey! Thanks. Was Monroe there when you picked it up?”

“Yeah…he was working on a project. Very hush hush about it.”

“Really?” she asked, taking the box.

“Yeah. I can definitely say he has a surprise for you.”

Rosalee blushed and smiled. “I hope he likes my surprise for him.”

“Is it a clock? Because even I can tell he really likes clocks,” she said sarcastically.

Rosalee chuckled. “Little different than that.” She leaned in with a smile. “I found a Reinhold Hanke Beer Stein for a great price online. Really beautiful, good condition and it has a wolf on it.”

Sloane smiled. “I’m going to guess that’s all a good thing…”

“I think he’ll like it,” she said, fairly confident. There was a tinge of something else in her worlds and Sloane tilted her head slightly.

“You okay?”

Rosalee looked up and hesitated before sighing. “I’m…not much of a Christmas person.”

“Really?” Sloane asked in surprise. “I mean, I’m not either, but I get the feeling my reason is different than yours…”

“Yeah…it’s just not a very happy time for me. But, making the people I love happy with nice gifts makes it a little better. Speaking of which, I know you’ll like this.” She reached under and pulled out a paper bag and a large cup. “One double cheese burger and an order of curly fries, with a soda.”

Sloane grinned. “Oh, well, you definitely know me pretty well.” She sat and started pulling things out.

“I’d like to hope so. You’ve…really become a good friend,” she said honestly.

Sloane paused after having taken a large bite of the burger and looked at her funny. “…yeah?” she asked uncertainly around the food in her mouth.

Rosalee snorted. “Yes. You help me out around the shop on your days off, talk to me when I need it, even risk ruining your lunch break to help me out. You’re a good friend.”

Sloane blushed and swallowed, looking a little awkward. “…you are too. A good friend I mean.”

“Because I got you lunch?”

“No. I mean yes, but…you always look out for me. And Nick. You help us, you…make me smile and laugh, which I didn’t do a lot I guess before…I’m a Grimm, and it should be natural for us to be enemies, but…” She looked down. “…I don’t want to be enemies with you. Maybe you’re the exception…and I guess Monroe by extension,” she added, knowing it would make her happy to hear. “The point is…I haven’t had a friend in a long time, and suddenly I’m here for months and…you’re probably the best friend I’ve ever had…” she finished quietly, a little embarrassed.

Rosalee smiled at her warmly. “Awww, Sloane.” She came around and gave her a hug around the shoulders. Sloane had started growing used to the hugs she’d get from Rosalee and smiled a bit more. She supposed this was the nice thing about this time of year, between the stress and the annoying music people could really get close.

\--------------------

Returning to work, she endured a bit of ribbing from Nick and Hank about taking a long lunch out and not bringing them anything. Rolling her eyes, she sat down and got to looking into the abduction case more with them. They found Derrick’s rap sheet, which was impressive for his age. Then Hank found a Quinn in the database, Quinn Baxter.

“That must be QB,” Sloane said.

“I’d make that leap,” Hank said, nodding. “He’s got the same Juvie officer as Derrick.”

“We got an address?” Nick asked.

“I do,” he smiled. They got up to head out. It was already getting dark out and was practically night by the time they got to the house that was simply decorated for the holiday season with rainbow lights and a wreath on the door. When they got to the door, everyone was surprised at who answered.

“Bud?” Nick asked in confusion.

“Nick? Hank? Sloane! That was fast. They said we had to wait 24 hours,” Bud said with his usual fast chatter.

“What are you doing here?” Sloane asked.

“Uh, well, Jerry is a good friend of mine. Here, come in, come in,” he said, ushering them inside. “He and his wife... well... well, she died. Anyway, when he told me about Quinn, I-I came right over, and we called the police. You gotta talk to him. He's worried sick.” He was leading them through the house, towards the back door and out. There was a small greenhouse with a man inside talking on his cellphone. “Jerry! Jerry. Nick, Hank and Sloane are here. I mean, the... the police. They're... they're here.”

“Wait, so…Is Quinn not here?” Sloane said.

“Quinn? Why would you look for Quinn at home? If he was home, he wouldn't be missing, which is why we called. Isn't that why you're here?” The detectives all looked at one another in confusion. The man in the greenhouse hanged up and stepped out. He was middle aged and a little thick around the middle, lines of worry already etched into his face.

“Jerry, Jerry, this is Nick Burkhardt, Sloane Larson, and Hank Griffin. They're detectives. I know them really well. Well, I mean I know Nick and Hank really well, I’d like to get to know Sloane better-”

“Bud, focus,” Nick said.

“Did you find my son?” Jerry Baxter asked hopefully.

“No, sir. We were hoping he was here,” Hank said.

“I haven't seen him since yesterday. He said he was gonna do some Christmas shopping. That's the last I saw him. That's why I called the police. Isn't that why they're here?” he asked to Bud, getting worked up.

“Do you know a Derek Bryce?” Nick asked calmly.

Jerry paused but nodded slowly. “Yeah, that's Quinn's friend. I wish he wasn't. He's not a good kid. I mean, he's pulled Quinn into some pretty bad situations.”

“What does this Derek kid have to do with Quinn missing?” Bud asked.

“We found Derek with some stolen goods, and we believe he was attacked by someone,” Sloane said. “He's in the hospital now, pretty shaken up.”

“Well, what about Quinn?” Jerry asked anxiously.

“We found a jacket at the scene with the initials "QB" inside,” Nick said, pulling the picture up on his phone. He took it to look at it and paled.

“Oh, my God. That's Quinn's,” he breathed.

Hank’s phone rang and he excused himself to answer it. Nick quickly pulled Jerry’s attention back. “Do you have a photo of your son?”

“Yeah, sure.” He quickly pulled out his wallet and took a school portrait out of his card holder to hand him. “Here you go.”

Nick nodded. “Mind if we take this with us?”

“No, no, take it,” he said, nodding. “I just…want it back.”

“Nick, Sloane, we got a call. We need to go,” Hank called.

“Well, now, wait a minute. What about my son?”

“We think it’s related to our current case, sir,” Sloane said. “But we just began, we don’t have much to go on yet.”

“Well, what do you have?” he asked a bit more desperately.

“Just his jacket and some coal. Would there be any reason he had coal?”

Jerry shook his head slowly, looking confused. Bud mouthed the word coal, looking confused.

“We’ll let you know as soon as we get something,” Nick said. Bud comforted Jerry as they turned to go, heading back through the house and out the front door. “What did we get?” Nick asked Hank.

“Didn't want to say it in front of the dad. Just got a report of abduction. Got an eyewitness.”

“That’s good, what did they see?” Sloane asked.

Hank gave a huff and said with mock solemnity. “Santa stuffing a kid into a bag.” Nick and Sloane paused as Hank headed to the car, neither quite sure what to believe when it came to that.

They went to the scene of the crime, which resembled the one they found Derrick at pretty remarkably: wrecked presents, a bloody thorny stick, and a lump of coal. The eyewitness said they saw a man in a Santa suit kidnap the kid who stole a bunch of presents, but he got away. He also apparently, to quote the witness, looked like “the worst thing from my drug-crazed, acid induced nightmare.” Sloane was certainly looking forward to seeing that.

They went to the nearby shopping plaza where the victim had stolen the presents and began asking around. Sloane split off from the boys to search the area. As such, she really didn’t know what set off a Santa at a nearby food cart to running from Nick and Hank, but the next thing she knew there was a huge commotion as Nick tackled him to the ground. He was yelling to the Santa to tell him where the kids were and as the Santa denied knowing anything, Nick punched him. She saw him woge into a schakal and growl loudly at him. _That explains it._ Sloane rushed over to help detain the guy, and didn’t miss some of the kids asking why they were punching Santa. _This is going to go over well…_

\-----------------

Sloane sighed when she saw the news footage once again playing about them “assaulting Santa Clause” at the coffee shop she was getting breakfast at that morning. She had to admit it didn’t exactly look fair to have three police officers gang up on one man. She tried not to look at anyone in case they recognized her and gave her hell. Some people took this holiday way too seriously.

As she headed for her car again, her phone rang and she saw it was Rosalee. Answering it, she climbed in. “Hey, Rosalee.”

“Hey…” she said, sounding like she was trying to fight back tears.

“Rosalee? What’s wrong?” Sloane asked. She felt an odd clench in her stomach at hearing Rosalee upset.

“I just…its Monroe…” she said, trying to organize a sentence.

“What’d he do? Do I need to kill him?” she asked darkly. “I will kill him for you if he made you cry.”

“No! No no,” Rosalee said, torn between laughter and alarm now. “I just…can you come by the shop? I mean I know you probably have work, I just…Juliette is coming but I really want to talk to you too and just get some ideas on how to fix something I messed up.”

Sloane was surprised. Anyone coming to her on advice was odd. Maybe how to kill something, or hunt wesen, but never how to “fix” something. “I…yeah, I think I can take an hour or two off. I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Thanks,” Rosalee sighed. “I’m actually at the shop right now…”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.” She hanged up and then quickly called the station, saying she needed a little personal time. As an extra measure she called Nick’s phone.

“Burkhardt,” he said, his usual greeting on his work phone.

“It’s me, Nick.”

“Sloane? What’s up?”

“I…am not entirely sure,” she said honestly. “Rosalee called and she wants to talk to me about something. She’s pretty upset. So I’m taking a half day. That okay?”

“Uh…yeah, should be okay. We’re just going over what we have and…trying to keep our heads low.”

“Ah, the news coverage?” she said knowingly.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Just to let you know, I already talked to Captain Harden, I took full responsibility for last night.”

Sloane was surprised again. “Nick, you didn’t have-”

“It was my fault,” he said firmly. “Schakal or no, I was there as a cop, not as a Grimm. I went too far, got too violent. I explained I was worried about our missing victims and a little on edge that spiked when he ran, so Harden is going easy on me. Kind of wish Renard was back…”

She was quiet a moment before sighing. Nick’s noble streak was hard to argue with sometimes, especially because it ran right beside his stubborn streak. “Okay…fair enough. But just remember we are with you, okay?”

“Hard to forget,” Nick said, and it sounded like he was smiling. “I’ll see you later and let you know about any updates we get.”

“Okay. I’ll see you around lunch.” She hanged up and drove off towards the spice shop. She got there just a little after Juliette, who was helping make some tea. Sitting down, Sloane picked at the muffin she got while Rosalee explained about what happened the night before: Coming home to the decorations but feeling horribly dejected because Christmas was her least favorite holiday. She’d lost her favorite Aunt and Uncle in a terrible accident on Christmas as a child and the loss never really healed for her.

“I feel horrible,” Rosalee moaned. “It's our first official Christmas as a couple, and I've ruined it.”

“You didn't ruin it,” Juliette said.

“Yeah, I mean…it’s just decorations, right?” Sloane said.

Rosalee shook her head. “You should've seen his face. Out of all the people Monroe could be with, he picks the one person who hates Christmas,” Rosalee sighed. “Everything out there is... Red and green and... I just... I just feel so blue.” She sighed as she poured herself more tea. “I just want it all to be over.”

“I feel you on that to be honest,” Sloane said. “But then…I never really celebrated it.”

“Even as a kid?” she asked.

“Jewish,” Sloane said simply.

“Oh!” Rosalee was surprised and Sloane smiled wryly.

“Why does everyone find that so surprising…?”

“You never talked about it before,” Juliette said.

“Never came up, and I guess it’s been a long time since I did anything…Jewish, it slips my mind too. But yeah, I’m pretty indifferent to Christmas so…” She shrugged.

Rosalee nodded but sighed again. “Monroe loves this holiday,” she said, looking at the tea with a fond smile as she remembered. “He's so cute…I don't know what to do. I'm sorry, I didn't really wanna drag you into this, but I didn't know who else I could drag into it.”

“It’s fine.”

“It's okay,” Juliette agreed. “I'm already dragged in. I kinda helped him set it all up.”

“He called you for help?” Rosalee asked in surprise.

“Yeah. And that is a big job, let me just say,” she said, giving a huff at the memory.

“I caught a glimpse of those forty something boxes when I picked up that package, so yeah, I don’t envy you a bit,” Sloane said with a smirk. The girls both laughed and the mood lightened considerably. As the laughter petered off, Juliette looked at Rosalee.

“I'm not trying to convince you of anything. This is really between you and Monroe, and I don't wanna get in the middle, but maybe you guys need to find a tradition that means something to both of you.”

“You mean I should bury the past?” Rosalee said, as if expecting that suggestion.

“No! No, I'm just thinking of what Nick and I did. He didn't have much of a Christmas tradition, because he was always moving from place to place, so... He got stuck with mine, and we kinda figured out a way to make it ours,” she said, smiling. Sloane looked down at the crumbs of her breakfast, wondering for a moment what that felt like. She shook her head, knowing that was a stupid thought to have.

“I don't know. Just... it's been so long since I celebrated,” Rosalee said. “The only thing I really... Remember is beer and cigars.”

Both Juliette and Sloane gave her a quizzical look. “Beer and cigars?” Juliette asked.

“My aunt used to leave Santa a cigar and a beer, instead of milk and cookies,” Rosalee explained with a smile.

Sloane suddenly barked out a laugh that took all of them by surprise. But it was out, and it was still going, making her shoulders shake. “Wha-what the heck?” she laughed.

Rosalee looked at her in surprise but then smiled. “You don’t laugh like that often…”

Sloane cleared her throat, blushing a little, but the smile wasn’t going away. “Well you try imagining Santa smoking a stogie and drinking a beer in the middle of someone’s house for the very first time and see if it doesn’t make you laugh at how weird it is…”

Juliette snorted a laugh again and Rosalee chuckled more and then shook her head. “I don’t know if that’s much of a tradition though…”

“…We used to make cookies,” Sloane said slowly. “Oma and I…”

“Oma? Your grandmother?” Rosalee asked.

“Yeah. Being the only Jewish kid in your very small school can feel…like you’re being left out around this time of year,” Sloane said. “Oma was proud to be Jewish, so we weren’t going to get a tree or do presents that way. I asked once because everyone else had them. But she’d make sugar cookies in different Christmasy colors and shapes, every year on Christmas Eve while we watched movies. And our neighbors, who were like my aunts, would give me little gift, saying it was a “Winter Solstice” present. Not much of a tradition either but…when the memories are nice, why not enjoy it?” she shrugged. It was as sentimental as she had ever gotten in front of anyone in a long time. It felt weird, nauseating in a way, to talk so fondly about the past. But strangely it was also nice to remember those once tender memories. “That’s the last nice memory I have of this time of year…after that I spent pretty much every Christmas alone. Deidre would be out or just not care about any holidays and I didn’t have any friends so there wasn’t anyone to celebrate anything with. And then I was on my own traveling so…”

“Oh, Sloane,” Juliette said softly. “That…sounds so lonely.”

“Yeah, well…What I’m saying is, even if they got a little sadness around them, the happy memories are better than nothing. Might as well use them for inspiration.”

Rosalee smiled and gave her a small hug around the shoulders. “You’re right…thanks.”

Juliette smiled as well and Sloane felt the nauseous feeling leave.

\----------------

She returned to the station a little before lunch with some food for herself, and some brownies from the deli for Nick and Hank so they wouldn’t complain. Nick informed her of the results Wu had found.

“Coal from…the north pole?” she asked. “You’re serious?”

“That’s what we have,” Hank said.

“This is so…ugh, I don’t even celebrate Christmas and this is getting to me…” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “Like I’m in one of those cheesy movies…”

“Everything okay?” Nick asked, a little worried.

“Yeah, just…Rosalee having some problems. Don’t know if I should talk about them here…”

“Okay…”

“…I didn’t get you anything for Christmas,” Sloane said suddenly.

“What?”

“Either of you…or anyone. Does that…make me a bad…?” She hesitated, never having said the next word to them before.

“Friend?” Hank supplied.

“Yeah…”

Nick smiled reassuringly. “It’s fine, really.”

“Yeah,” Hank agreed.

“You said so yourself, you’re not much of a Christmas person. And, uh…Juliette mentioned you were raised Jewish,” Nick admitted.

“You were?” Hank asked in surprise.

“Yeah. So…Christmas is a weird, foreign concept for a lot of reasons,” she said.

“Well, we’re going to go to Monroe’s later to see if he knows a kind of wesen that might be doing this,” Nick said with a teasing smile. “I’m sure he’d love to explain the spirit of Christmas to you.”

“Oh…good,” she said dryly.

In the evening when they went though, they were surprised to find Monroe’s place bare of any decorations now. Monroe admitted he’d taken them all down, wanting to make things better for Rosalee. Nick glanced at Sloane when he mentioned the death of her Aunt and Uncle and she nodded a bit solemnly.

“Anyway, what do you guys need?” Monroe said, trying to put that all out of his mind again.

“Well, remember a couple of years ago, I came over here. You said you liked to dress up as Santa, and I said, "A Blutbad as Santa?" And you said you were no...”

“Gefrieren Geber.”

“What?” Sloane asked.

“Why?” Monroe asked at the same time.

“We've got two missing kids. And one witness describes the kidnapper as dressing up as Santa with a terrifying mask. Witness saw Santa stuff a kid in his bag and take off. Could that be the gefrieren... Whatever?”

“Oh, God, no,” Monroe said, shaking his head.

“We've got nothing then,” Hank sighed.

“Sorry to bother you,” Nick agreed, ready to head back out.

“Oh, wait a minute. There wasn't any coal left behind, was there?” Monroe said, stopping them and looking worried.

Sloane frowned. “Yeah, both times. Fancy coal.”

“Does the Fefrieren Geber do that?” Nick asked

“Forget the Gefrieren Geber, 'cause... This could be...” Monroe was suddenly looking very pale and worried.

“What?”

“I hope I'm wrong. But if I'm not, you guys could be dealing with something really awful,” he said ominously.

“Well that narrows it down,” Sloane muttered.

“These kids that were taken, were they doing anything that could be described or discerned as "naughty"?” Monroe asked, going over to his bookshelf.

Sloane and Nick shared a look but it was Hank that spoke up. “Well... Yeah. Stole a bunch of presents, and we think one kid that got away was attacked by him.”

“Okay,” he took a breath. “Did he have any kind of lash marks on his face or body?”

“Yeah. How'd you know?” Hank asked.

“Oh, boy,” he sighed. “That's gotta be Krampus. He carries a switch and he beats the kids mercilessly with it.”

“Wesen?” Nick asked, glancing to Sloane. She shrugged, looking just as confused.

“Actually, I'm not really sure,” he said, looking confused. He moved towards the next room and a shelf there. “Krampus is like Santa's evil twin. He shows up before Christmas to punish the bad kids. Here we go.” He took a small book from the shelf. “The word Krampus derives from German for "claw." And on the days leading up to Christmas, Krampus grabs naughty kids, beats them with his switch, throws them in his sack, takes them deep into the woods and hangs them from the tallest tree.”

Nick, Sloane, and Hank all gaped at him. “Hangs them?” Nick asked.

“Like with a noose?” she asked more worriedly.

“No no, just like suspends them from the tree. Not to kill them. He just hangs 'em till he's ready to eat them,” Monroe said easily.

“He eats the kids?” Hank clarified.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“You just said he doesn’t kill them!” Sloane gritted out.

“No, he doesn’t hang them to kill them—look, he puts them in baskets and hangs them from the tree until he’s ready to eat them,” Monroe said impatiently.

“That’s worse!” she barked.

“He doesn’t eat them until the Eve of the winter solstice, the 21st,” he said, trying to calm them.

“Which is today,” Nick said patiently.

Monroe looked up in shock and then at his watch with as if to make sure he was right. “Which means tonight is the night he feasts,” he said slowly. He held out the book to them, showing an illustration of a horned, devil-like being about to consume a little boy. “And according to the stories, Krampus always disappears just after midnight on the winter solstice... After all the children have been... Consumed,” he finished awkwardly.

“So if he eats these kids before midnight, we don't have a lot of time to stop him,” Nick said worriedly.

“Finding a tree in Portland is like finding a needle in a thousand haystacks,” Hank said in frustration.

“Didn't you say it was the tallest tree?” Nick asked.

“Not just the tallest tree, but the tallest tree in the tallest spot.”

“Well how do we figure that out?” Sloane said.

“I got some maps with typography on it!” Monroe said, rushing to another room.

“What doesn’t he have,” Sloane muttered, Nick elbowing her slightly. Monroe brought out the maps and they sat to start going over them, arguing about what the most likely highest spot was. Sloane felt a bit useless as she had no idea what any of these places were still even after eight months in Portland. They were interrupted by a knock at the door and Monroe got up to answer it. He sighed as he did.

“Look, Bud...” he started.

“Monroe. I need to talk to you about...” Bud looked in, saw them, and pushed his way inside. “Nick! Look, Jerry's going crazy. I've been telling him that you're doing everything you could possibly do. But something you said bothered me. You said two lumps of coal. And... Well, that can only mean one thing.”

“Krampus,” they all said, already knowing the answer.

“Don't say that! He's not real!” Bud said, looking panicked.

“We think we know where he's taking the kids,” Nick said calmly.

Bud looked at them in astonishment. “Oh, my God, you do believe he's real. Kids? What do you mean kids?”

“There's more than just Quinn,” Hank said.

“And Krampus always takes the kids to the tallest tree in the tallest spot,” Monroe finished.

“Council crest?” Bud said immediately. Monroe looked at them as if to say _I told you_ , before grabbing his jacket. “Well, at least I think it is.”

“Let's do it,” Nick said.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait, wait, wait, wait. Do what? Do what? Uh, hey, Krampus is not real, you guys. Come on! He's not real! You can't go after something that doesn't exist.” Sloane rolled her eyes as they headed out to the car, Monroe taking up the rear to close the door with or without Bud. “I mean, yeah. Sure, maybe when I was a kid... I thought he was real. But... but... but... I don't... but not now!”

They drove as fast as possible out to the large park, getting out to trek through the woods and try and track the kids or the Krampus.

“You picking anything up?” Nick asked Monroe after several minutes of hiking.

“I got nothing. Except the smell of fear... On Bud.”

Bud looked indignant but still anxious. “Hey, I wanna save those kids just as much as the rest of you. I'm just not entirely comfortable with the idea that we might encounter the most hideous beast nobody's ever seen.”

“I’ve seen and killed worse more than likely,” Sloane said.

Hank suddenly paused, shining his flash light on the ground. “Hold on…” They all stopped and looked to see large boot prints in the soft ground between the undergrowth. “Tracks.” They quickly followed, Bud groaning in fear. The tracks were all over the ground, some coming and some going, all in different directions.

“We’re running out of time, guys. It's getting late,” Monroe said.

“All right, spread out,” Nick ordered.

“Hey, guys, wait, wait,” Bud stammered. “Shouldn't we be spreading out closer together?”

Sloane took a breath and closed her eyes, opening her other senses to see if she could make anything out. She paused when she heard the faint sound of someone crying. “Nick…open your ears,” she said. Nick paused, looking unsure. She looked at him again and nodded. “You can do it, go on. You have control.”

He took a breath and closed his eyes to concentrate. The sound of young voices crying for help was growing easier to hear. “Got it…This way.” He started back through the woods as the others quickly caught up. They came upon a huge tree several feet ahead, and hanging from it were large wicker orbs. They wiggled and the voices rose from it in cries for help, a hand poking out of one as someone tried to escape.

“Oh, my God! It's... it’s real!” Bud breathed.

“We made it. They're still alive,” Monroe said, walking faster towards the tree. Sloane was about to go too when Nick put a hand on her arm.

“You hear that?” Sloane paused and opened her senses again, hear a deep, raspy growl coming from somewhere behind them. She glared on reflex and nodded. They looked up and nodded to Hank when he was staring at them knowingly before turning to head into the woods while they got the kids down.

Down a path in the woods, they saw the Krampus: Tall, stocky, with large horns rounding back from his skull and wearing the fur lined red suit. He had a squirming sack over his shoulder, with someone inside begging to be let out.

“You get the sack, I’ll start on him!” Sloane whispered. Nick didn’t argue and they quickly rushed from the side. Nick grabbed the sack before it could be pulled away and Sloane struck the Krampus hard across the face. He reeled but whipped back around and bellowed a guttural roar at them. Nick dragged the sack away as Sloane went on the defensive, the Krampus trying hard to bring her down. She managed to get a few blows in and dodge most of his. At one point he dropped his head and rushed her like a ram, but she managed to jump out of the way at the last moment so he hit a tree. The Krampus shook his head at the impact, dazed a moment. Nick meanwhile got the sack open so the kid inside could climb out. When the Krampus looked up to see them, he roared again, this time flicking a long forked tongue out at them. He rushed for Nick and the kid, who took off running while Nick tossed the sack over the Krampus’ head and struck him on the back when he passed. Sloane rushed over and they began taking turns striking, dodging, and generally trying to survive. Sloane yelped when he back handed her at one point, but she immediately turned and kicked him in the stomach before backing away to try and get a better idea of what to do. Nick however stayed in close and kept fighting. When the Krampus’ hand suddenly closed around his throat and began choking him, Nick began to turn pale as marble. It was a reverse of what happened to her with Nick, but it was no less dangerous. Sloane felt a sudden surge of panic and rushed in again and grabbed the Krampus by the horns, wrenching his head back.

“Let go of him!” She brought her knee up, landing square in the middle of his spine and making him roar. Nick then suddenly punched him, hard and square in his face, and Sloane quickly let go and back away as he went down like a fallen tree. Both of them were panting and Nick looked at Sloane gratefully, turning back to normal. “Thanks,” he rasped.

Sloane panted and smirked. “I don’t owe you anything for Christmas now…” Nick snorted and smiled a little.

The others ran up just then and Hank looked taken aback as he stared at the prone demonic figure on the ground. “What is he?”

“That's Krampus. You can see him?” Monroe asked, surprised.

“Yeah…sure wish I couldn't.” He looked up at Nick. “We can't take him in looking like this.”

“I think you're gonna have to holster your badge on this one, Nick,” Monroe agreed.

Nick looked at them askance. “We can't just kill him on the ground.”

“He kidnapped six kids,” Hank reminded him.

“And if we hadn't gotten there in time, they would've been Christmas dinner.”

Nick frowned and looked to Sloane. She sighed and reached under her jacket to pull out her knife. “I think you know what I’m going to say…”

Nick frowned, still resistant, but they all tensed when the Krampus started groaning and moving groggily.

“He's waking up,” Hank said. “We need to handle this.”

“If you try to take Krampus in, you'll have a hell of a time explaining it,” Monroe pointed out, going over to his side. Nick slowly drew his gun. “Come on, Nick. This is what your ancestors did, okay, sometimes for the good of all of us.”

“We can't arrest him and we can't let him go,” Hank said. “This is not an innocent man, Nick. He's bad wesen. If you don't wanna do this, I will,” he said, drawing his gun and aiming.

They all paused when Monroe’s phone suddenly went off and he flushed. “Sorry!” He pulled it out and then paused. “It’s midnight…”

As he spoke, the horns on the Krampus’ head seemed to melt back into his skin, and his features smoothed out into a more human looking face with a bald head. He groaned and opened his eyes, then looked at the trees and the sky in confusion. “Where am I? What's going on?” He looked over at them—two men holding guns towards him and a woman with a very large knife—and blanched, trying to get up and back away like a crab scuttling on the ground. “Oh! What are you doing? How did I get here?” He breathed a bit and then seemed to realize something. “Oh, no. It happened again. It happened again! No!” He cried, laying back down in despair. The hunting party all shared a look of disbelief and confusion, before looking back at the prone man on the ground crying.

“Well…that’s a turn,” Sloane said, not meaning to make a pun.

In the end they discovered the mystery of the Krampus: They don’t know they are Krampus. That is to say, when they woge, they woge solidly for three weeks out of the year in December, near the solstice, to do their hunting and their feasting and then they return back to a human state, with no memory of what happened. But then, waking up from a three week black out in the woods, covered in blood, isn’t exactly calming. The man—a freelance photographer from Salt Lake City—had no idea what happened, what he did, or even what a wesen was. In effect, he was a Jekyll and Hyde or so Monroe said. Knowing they were never going to get a conviction for his kidnapping and assaults this way, Nick suggested they let the wesen council take care of it. Sloane had to agree. While he was a danger, she didn’t feel right just killing a man who had no idea what he’d done. She and Nick both wrote their own separate entries in their own journals about it, hoping it might help future Grimms who had to deal with this.

\-----------------------------

“So, you set it all back up? Even the train set?” Sloane asked the next day as she talked with Rosalee on the phone during lunch.

“Yep. And I left a cigar and a mug of beer near the fire place.”

“I thought that was for Christmas Eve?”

“I wanted to explain it to Monroe…but I fell asleep before he got home.”

“Yeah, we had kind of a late night…Did you talk to the council?”

“Right after Monroe told me what happened. They said they’re going to observe for a while, and next year they might have to…persuade him to come with them for a few weeks around Christmas.”

“I guess that’s the most humane thing right now,” Sloane agreed. “Um…Rosalee?”

“Yeah?”

“D…do you know how to make sugar cookies?” Sloane asked quietly, feeling suddenly embarrassed.

Rosalee was quiet a moment before she replied warmly. “I do indeed. Do you want some?”

“I wanna make some,” she said. “I don’t really have time to get anyone gifts but…maybe some cookies would be okay at least?”

Rosalee chuckled warmly at how awkwardly hopeful she sounded. It was so different from how Sloane used to be, even Sloane knew that. But she was being truthful. She wanted to do something for the people she had begrudgingly come to care for since she came to Portland. Just something to show that at the very least, she’d come to be alright with them in her life. And that, deep down, she was thankful she wouldn’t be spending Christmas alone like she did every year since she was 9.

“I think that sounds great. But…you have to make some for Monroe too. And they’ll have to be vegan.”

“Ugh…you drive a hard bargain,” Sloane said half-seriously.

“I’ll let you know what you need and you can grab the ingredients on the way to our house.”

“Sure it won’t catch fire if we bake something? I’m not convinced 20 pounds of tinsel on the ceiling isn’t a fire hazard.”

Rosalee laughed and Sloane smiled. For the first time in almost 20 years, both of them were rather looking forward to Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I thought that Grimms would have some kind network to help each other out, and decades to set them up. So, the Librarians are born! I hope to incorporate them more as things go on. And develop Gallin more. Let me know what y'all think or any suggestions!


	9. Homesick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PART 9 OF THE CASEBOOK OF SLOANE LARSON!
> 
> Sloane decides it would be good to go back to the house she grew up in to retrieve some additional books and other resources--and Nick has managed to tag along. But you can never really go home again, can you? Something is up in her quaint old home town, as it's being developed as a high priced get away and pushing the residents out. And Nick is surprised to find out more and more about Sloane as a child--with the help of her "aunts".

**_“I will feel no guilt on shutting my door to those who didn't listen.”_ **

**\-----------**

**Homesick  
**

**\--------------**

  
A couple of days after Christmas, Sloane arrived early to her shift and knocked at the door frame of Renard’s office—still occupied by Captain Harden. The captain waved her in. Harden was older than Renard, with silvering hair and more lines around his face. He’d been a detective for years before being promoted after being injured, so he struck many as being all business. He intimidated some, but of course, Sloane wasn’t easily intimidated. “Larson. Everything alright?”

“No problems, sir, just a request.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping to get a few days off. I’d like to go visit family out of state.”

“Oh? Didn’t want to do it before Christmas?”

“I’m Jewish,” she said, trying not to get annoyed at having to say that so much lately. “Or was. But also we had that kidnapping case, I didn’t want to leave until I knew we’d done all we could.”

“Yes, still an odd one that…I mean its best we got all those kids back safely, but they talk like a monster kidnapped them. And it’s… unusual to say the least, kidnap almost twelve children in rapid succession, hang them in baskets, and then just…disappear. That still baffles me...”

“Very strange sir,” she agreed. He didn’t know they knew who did all of it, but he didn’t need to know. The wesen council will keep track of that. “But despite our best efforts we’ve not found a probable culprit and as you say, the kids have been able to return home safely. The case is on the backburner until we have a lead and I’d like to get this done and be back in time for the next case.”

“Nose to the grindstone, I can respect that,” he said, nodding in approval. “Let me take a look at your file.” He turned to the computer and typed a bit. “Looks like…you’ve been here eight months and haven’t taken more than a couple of days of voluntary time off. Mostly the recommended days after a rough case…which you do seem to find often.”

Sloane gave a tight lipped smile. “Luck of the draw, sir. At least I’m never bored.”

He gave a knowing smile. “How many were you looking for?”

“Um…how many could I take?” she asked uncertainly.

“You have up to two weeks left.”

“I don’t think I need quite that long. A week would be fine.”

He laughed a bit. “That kind of family visit, huh? Alright then, I think that can be arranged easily enough. Send in the written request and I’ll get you a confirmation by this afternoon.”

Sloane nodded. She’d gotten used to learning how to speak to the brass to get what she wanted on previous cases—though Renard was usually too sharp to fall for it. Harden respected hard work, going that route and saying as little as possible was the best. “Thank you, sir.”

He smiled and went back to work as Sloane exited and went to sit back down and get ready for her shift. Nick and Hank came in a few minutes later, coffee in hand. Nick set an extra cup he was holding down on Sloane’s desk, surprising her.

“What’s this?”

“Little treat. Gingerbread latte,” Nick said with a smile.

Sloane arched her eyebrows and picked up the cup, sniffing it. “I don’t usually get flavored coffee…”

“Give it a try. You liked Monroe’s gingerbread cookies. I saw you kept taking them all during the Christmas get together,” Nick smiled.

Sloane blushed and gave him an annoyed look. “I’d like you to keep that to yourself…”

He chuckled. “Hey, everyone liked your sugar cookies.”

Sloane blushed more and Hank gave her a smile too. Sloane didn’t say anything and instead took a sip of the drink. “…Not bad.” They smiled more as they logged in to work. “Oh, um…I’m looking at taking next week off.”

“Really? Why?” Nick asked, confused at the suddenness.

She glanced around before leaning in and speaking more quietly. “I’m going to go get some more of my family’s collection. Since I guess I’m here for the foreseeable future, it’d be good to have whatever I can get to reference in the long run along with the trailer, in case there are any gaps. You’re right, the Library and Gallin might not be fast enough for most cases. And because we’re getting the weird stuff here that keeps throwing me for a loop. And I say that as a Grimm who’s hunted things all over the world and the country. This place is a hub of weird wesen shit.”

The boys smiled a little at the annoyed finish. “Well, can’t deny that some extra resources might help,” Hank said.

“Yeah…where are you heading?” Nick asked curiously.

“Northern California. A little town near Eureka, that’s why Renard chose it as where I used to work. Gonna drive down hopefully this weekend, load everything up and be back in a few days.”

“You need any help?”

“Eh, it’d be nice but I think I can handle it. It’s just going to be a pain going through everything...”

They nodded, but Nick still looked thoughtful.

After a couple of hours of paper work, Sloane received a confirmation she had next week off starting day after tomorrow, as she’d asked. No new cases cropped up luckily and she set some out of office messages on her work email and phone line before they clocked out. Heading home, Sloane started packing things and then paused when she looked at her phone on the desk. _Should I let Rosalee know I’m going to be gone for a while?_ She warred with herself a small bit before sighing and picking the phone up and pacing. The study was coming together and she was rather proud of it. There was an old day bed to lounge on, just in case she needed to sit and read for a long time. A hodgepodge of shelves she’d rescued from thrifts stores and the side of the roads around Portland were set up to hold her books, several of them still empty as she anticipated getting things to fill them. The old desk she’d bought in a bundle from Rosalee was still in the corner, triangular in shape with a corner hutch for more things. On top of it was a scrapbook. That might seem strange to those that had spoken to Sloane, but it was open to a page where Sloane had pasted a newspaper clipping about the Krampus (or _The Santa Snatcher_ as the newspaper called him). Sloane glanced at it as the phone still rang and smoothed down a corner that still wouldn’t stay down. The book was bulky with other articles, some yellowed with age, and even pieces of things she’d kept from hunts. It was another kind of journal really, one of her accomplishments.

Rosalee picked up just as she opened the closet door, showing a few heavy duty clothes hanging up but mostly weapons and boxes of Grimm knew what. “Sloane?”

“Hey. Um…what’s up?” she asked, not used to greeting people on the phone in a friendly manner.

Rosalee sounded amused. “Nothing much, just mixing a few things at the shop. You?”

“Um, I’m packing up to leave.”

“What?” she barked.

“No, not permanently,” Sloane said quickly, feeling stupid. “I just mean that I’m going to go get some more of my family’s stuff, bring it back here.”

“Oh,” Rosalee sighed. “Scared me for a minute, I thought we’d been doing so well…”

Sloane smiled a little, looking over her things to see if she wanted to bring more than just her knife. “Yeah, sorry. You’re usually the one calling me and when I’m on the phone it’s short and sweet so…conversations aren’t my strong suit.”

“I can tell, but that’s fine,” Rosalee said. “So you’ll be back?”

“Yeah. I’ve got the week off and it may take me that long to decide what to bring and get back. It’s about seven hours by car, but with my car empty for the first time in years, I can load up a bunch of stuff and drive back in a few days I’m sure. I’m just finishing packing now; I’ll probably leave early in the morning day after tomorrow.”

“Alright, text me when you get back and drive safe.”

Sloane paused, not used to someone saying that to her. It made her feel oddly flustered. “Uh…yeah, will do.”

“Alright. Talk to you later.”

“Right, later.”

Sloane hanged up and got back to packing, putting a few weapons in a bag just to be safe.

\------------

Nick had arrived home the usual time, just a little after Juliette. After months of living apart, it was still a great feeling to come back to his own house, and even better knowing she was there. Even after a few months back together it was still a good feeling. However, something was on his mind and it must’ve shown.

“Everything okay?” Juliette asked as she finished plating dinner. It was simple fair of baked chicken, vegetables and rolls but they cooked it together so it felt special

“Hm? Yeah, fine. Just thinking on some stuff.”

“What stuff? A case?” she asked, maybe a little excited.

“No, nothing like that. Sloane is going away for the week to get some of her family’s old stuff is all.”

“Oh? That sounds cool.”

“Yeah. She says it’s going to be a chore but she can handle it…”

“You wonder about that?”

“More like I wonder about her,” he admitted. “I mean, she’s really held to her promises about how she hunts here in Portland, but I guess I’m worried about…”

“Temptation to fall off the wagon?” she supplied.

“Yeah. I mean I think she’s going to come back, she’s leaving her stuff at her apartment, but I just wonder if she’s not going to go back to her old ways.”

“Well…you’re typically an action sort of guy, so what are you thinking.”

“…I thought about offering to come with her to help and just kind of keep an eye on her,” he said slowly, not sure how Juliette would react.

Juliette pursed her lips but looked thoughtful. “Hm…I don’t think she’d be too happy, but if it worries you that much you could ask.”

Nick blinked and frowned. “You aren’t upset about the idea? You’re boyfriend traveling with another woman and staying with her for a week? Alone?”

Juliette smiled. “Well, I admit it doesn’t _sound_ good. But, I trust you. I’m getting my memories and all that back slowly but surely and I know I’m falling back in love with you. I also know that your feelings for me literally broke some kind of drugged mind control spell over you. Kind of puts a girl’s mind at ease as far as a wandering eye.” Nick smiled and kissed her cheek, making her smile more. “Also…I don’t think you’re Sloane’s type, not sorry to say, because she treats you more like a little brother. Even though I’m pretty sure she’s younger than you…”

Nick laughed and gave her a peck on the lips. “You definitely have nothing to worry about as far as a wandering eye. I only have eyes for you.” He fluttered his eyelashes at her comically and she laughed and kissed him again.

\-------------------

Sloane went into work the next day to finish up some paperwork. Nick arrived a few minutes after her and set down another coffee cup. “Two days in a row?” Sloane asked, sniffing the gingerbread scent with a small smile.

“Yeah. It’s, uh, kind of a bribe today…” he said slowly with an awkwardly polite smile.

She paused in taking a sip, arching her brow suspiciously. “Bribe?”

“Yeah…”

“For what?”

“I’d, uh…like to come with you and help.”

Sloane’s eyebrows shot up. “Come with me…to California?”

“Yeah. I mean, another set of hands and eyes might help?”

She gave him a flat look and moved to put the cup on his desk. “Pass.”

Nick blocked her hand and frowned. “C’mon. I have vacation saved up too, I can help you.”

“Help her with what?” Hank asked, walking over to sit with them with his own cup of coffee.

“Nick wants to tag along with me because he thinks I need help going through my own stuff,” she said snidely.

Nick sighed but he’d learned by now to be patient with Sloane and her pride. “I’m not offering because I think you need it, I’m offering because I want to help my friend.”

She paused and gave him an odd look that he didn’t really recognize. She looked baffled but also…flattered? “…It’s going to be an almost 7 hour car ride.”

“Sounds like fun. I’ve done longer than that in a road trip.”

“7 hours with me,” she clarified. “We have not spent that long cooped up in a small space together. And then we will be alone together in a house. ”

“I could follow you in my car,” he offered. “You still get alone time and extra space if there’s more you want to bring back. And an extra set of eyes to help you decide what you might need.”

Sloane looked thoughtful but still hesitant. She then looked to Hank. “What about you? I’m guessing you’d have to stay.”

Hank held up his hands. “Week off from you two bickering like an old married couple while I get to take it easy thanks to physical therapy and catch up on paperwork? Sounds great.”

Sloane rolled her eyes. “Well, at least you don’t want to come too; I have no idea where I’d keep two of you…”

Nick smirked a little. “So you’re saying I can come?”

“I’m saying I will think about it,” she clarified. “Are you going to actually ask for your time off?”

“Eh, I think I might be coming down with something,” he said. He faked coughed delicately and cleared his throat. “Should’ve gotten a flu shot.”

Sloane smiled, rolled her eyes, and shook her head a little as she went back to finishing some of her paperwork. “Well then. Hope you’re ready to leave by 6.”

“In the morning?” Nick gaped.

“Yep. I’ll send you directions.”

Nick huffed, knowing she was just trying to discourage him, and went back to working as well.

\-------------

Sure enough, Sloane was outside his house waiting for him at 5:30 in the morning. She texted him when she arrived and Nick groaned but got up. He’d gotten up earlier for cases before, but voluntarily getting up early was different. Juliette stirred but he kissed her temple and told her goodbye and to go back to sleep. He went down and unlocked the door, then texted her to come in and have something to eat while he got ready and surprised him by taking him up on it. He came down to her munching on one of Juliette’s blueberry bagels.

“I was going to suggest we stop for breakfast, but I guess we can save that for lunch,” Sloane said.

“Sounds good.” Nick poured himself some coffee and grabbed a breakfast sandwich from the freezer to heat up. “How long has it been since you’ve been down there?”

Sloane turned thoughtful and gazed up at the ceiling. “Um…I guess last time would be three years ago?”

“That long?”

She shrugged. “I usually made due with what I had. Speaking of which, here.” She reached into her jacket and handed him a rather expensive looking walkie-talkie and a couple of sheets of paper. “Map and directions I’ll be taking, just in case you lose sight of my car. And if we need to stay in contact on the road, this will be easier than our phones,” she gestured to the walkie-talkie. “They’re fully charged, set to a private frequency, and have a range of 50 miles.”

“Wow…Nice,” he said, unfolding the directions to glance over them.

She smiled and finished the bagel, dusting her hands of the crumbs. “Hit the yellow button on the side if you need to talk to me. But don’t do it unnecessarily, these still count as handheld devices and California has that law about driving with them…”

“Right, got it.” Nick put the walkie-talkie in his own pocket and grabbed his breakfast sandwich and coffee. “So…what’s this place like? Is it just a storage facility?”

Sloane frowned and then sighed, figuring she should go ahead and say this now. “No. It’s my, uh…childhood home I guess you’d say.”

Nick paused in eating and looked up in surprise. “Your…home?”

“Old home,” she clarified. “The house my grandmother lived in. She kept all her Grimm stuff in the basement—kept it locked when I was a kid. Told me monsters were down there. She wasn’t exactly lying I guess…”

“But…that’s where…” he started, unsure how to phrase it delicately.

“She was murdered. Yeah,” Sloane nodded.

“…I can understand why you don’t return often,” he said gently. “And why you maybe didn’t want company.”

She shrugged and nodded to him. “Eat up, might not eat again till around noon.”

Nick nodded and ate the breakfast sandwich, then grabbed the small suitcase he’d packed up from the bottom of the stairs. “Ready when you are.”

“Been ready, Detective,” she said, heading out the door.

They were out on the road just a little after 6, heading out the I-5 to US-199. Nick had to admit, driving for 6+ hours was not great fun, but he’d done longer road trips over the years. Admittedly, it was more for fun and with better, and actual, company, but a part of him was excited to see some of the new items Sloane’s old home was sure to have. He had music playing as he drove, some Elvis and Aerosmith and other classic rock that helped pass the time.

It was about three and a half hours in as they were driving that the walking talk clicked and crackled with Sloane’s voice. “Nick, you read me?”

Nick picked up the walkie-talkie from the front passenger seat were he’d set it. “Yeah, loud and clear.”

“Got some traffic up ahead, looks like someone had a wreck. I’m going to move to the far left lane, try to keep me in sight if you can.”

He could see the cars slowing down just as she was speaking, piling up a little. “Right, will do.”

“…Is that Queen?” she asked.

Nick was surprised and smirked a little, since he had been listening to “ _We Will Rock You_ ”. “Yeah. Surprised you recognized it.”

“Hey, I don’t live in a cave,” she responded, though she sounded amused. “Guess I can’t fault your taste in music at least. Over and out.”

Nick smiled and set the walkie down, keeping Sloane’s big black Subaru Outback in sight as she changed lanes. They passed by the wreck and he had to admit it looked pretty bad. Someone had crashed through the median coming the opposite direction and nearly gone through the guardrail on the other side. They could’ve gone over the small hill and into the residential area below if they hadn’t gotten caught on the rail. It reminded him of the accident that had taken his parents—well, his father’s life and he felt a twinge inside. He often thought that when passing car wrecks. He knew now it was a bomb, but at the time it had been written off as an accident. It was still a pain he felt even now, almost twenty years later. He wondered then how Sloane felt, returning to the site of her worst memory like this.

They drove all the way through Oregon and into California, making good time. At around noon they rolled into a small town called Wildred. It had a pretty hand carved sign that looked at home among Monroe’s European cuckoo clocks. The town itself looked rather old fashioned, with a downtown reminiscent of the 1950s. It still had modern chains of stores and restaurants, like a Walmart on the outskirts of town, but for the most part it was still pretty small town feeling. Around them were also miles of forest land. Not the giant, ancient redwoods further south but some tall evergreens that made the hills around them feel somehow more sheltered.

He grabbed the walkie-talkie as they were about to hit the town proper. “So…this is your hometown?”

“I grew up here, yes,” Sloane answered.

“It’s cute.”

“It’s quaint,” she corrected, sounding a bit resigned. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, actually, kind of starving…”

“There’s a diner up ahead…I remember it being good. Turn left on Redwood.”

“Got it.” Nick followed her down what must’ve been Main Street, and then left down Redwood Lane. The diner was fairly easy to spot as it also looked straight out of the 50s sat in a huge lot. It was a good size, long train-car like building painted red and white blue with chrome trim with a black and white checkerboard pattern around the lower third below the large windows. A red and white neon sign, off during the day, gave its name as _The Redline Diner_. Nick pulled up to a spot next to Sloane’s car and they both got out to stretch. “This is nice.”

“They must’ve given it a face lift recently; it was more rundown last time…” Sloane said. “Hopefully they didn’t change much else, the burgers were always good.”

“What about their fries?”

She smiled a little. “Also good and they come in curly or straight.”

“Nice,” Nick said as they headed for the door. Inside was still a blast from the past, though it looked like it must’ve been worked on as well. The walls were a pale turquoise-blue with white trim, making the white and bright red pleather booths and barstools pop. The floor was the black and white checkerboard while the counter was wrapped in white and pale blue tiles in the same pattern. On the far wall was a jukebox, but it appeared to be an MP3 model instead of records and there were signs about being able to select with your phone instead of having to go up. It was surprisingly crowded, possibly with groups of late lunches.

“…Weird…it’s almost the same, and yet really different…” Sloane said. “How could they afford this?”

“You from around here, honey?” the hostess asked, having heard her as she walked up.

Sloane hesitated a second but nodded. “Used to be, when I was a kid…”

“Well, things have been changing the last couple of years, so it’s fine if you don’t quite recognize it. Table for two? Or you two want to sit at the counter?”

Sloane said “Counter” at the same moment Nick said “Table”. They looked at one another in confusion and the hostess arched her eyebrows. “…A booth would be fine,” Sloane said.

She nodded and led them over to one of the booths near a window, setting down some menus. “Can I get you two something to drink? We have sodas, milkshakes, and beers both bottled and on tap.”

Sloane blinked and looked up at her. “Beer? At the Redline?”

She smiled a little tightly. “New management’s idea…”

“What happened to Mr. Morrison?”

She frowned sadly. “He passed away about a year and a half ago…”

“Oh…I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. Nick noted she sounded sincere. “Who’s running the diner now though? His son? Grandson?”

“Ah…no. They sold it earlier this year.”

She looked confused, maybe even affronted. “Sold it? But…”

“Yeah…” she sighed, probably thinking the same things she was. “But can’t stop progress. Anyway, I should keep working. My manager can get real impatient if I talk too long…”

“Right…Um, I’ll just take a coke.”

“Same for me,” Nick said. She nodded and walked off. Sloane looked around again, frowning slightly. “Don’t like the changes?”

“It’s just…weird,” she said slowly. “I came to this place all the time as a kid with…with my grandmother. She was friends with the owner, Mr. Morrison. He was a teetotaler, never let alcohol in here. The jukebox was old and coin operated. Lots of stuff from the forties to the eighties in there. In recent years some of the booths were mostly duct tape but it was still a good place. Now Mr. Morrison is dead and his family sold it and…whoever bought it just gave it this huge facelift instead of doing their own thing?”

“Maybe they’re nostalgic for it too?” Nick supplied.

“Maybe…The town seemed different in some places too. More developed…That Walmart is new, and so are a lot of other businesses and developments we passed on the way in. I mean I get that progress happens but…” She sighed. “I guess it’s just weird. For so long it felt like it was frozen in time, like it wouldn’t change in any really noticeable way. Now it feels like it’s been pushed forward really suddenly.”

Nick felt a bit sympathetic at how wistful she sounded. “You haven’t been here for three years. A lot can change in that time.”

“A lot can change in three days,” Sloane pointed out. Nick nodded, knowing how true that was given what he’d experienced. Sloane opened the menu. “Hm…menu’s mostly the same, though it’s got some fancier stuff on here too…and the prices are all a lot higher than I remember from last time.”

“Eh, I’m hungry enough I don’t mind. What would you recommend from the good old days?” Nick said with a smile.

Sloane smiled indulgently. “The burgers were always really good, Mr. Morrison had a secret recipe for them, they’re kind of smoky and chargrilled. Grilled the onions with them. He has a special seasoning for the curly fries too. …Or had.”

“Sounds good to me.”

A waitress brought over their drinks and took their orders. Sloane sat quietly for a bit, looking out the window thoughtfully. Nick wasn’t sure they were happy thoughts but he wasn’t sure about asking her to divulge them either. Likely she’d just tell him it was nothing. “So, uh…got any friends to visit here?”

Sloane looked at him and then shook her head. “Not really…most of my generation moved away I think, and even then I moved away at nine and didn’t really come back till I was eighteen. A few people recognized me, but it was kind of awkward being the girl whose grandmother was murdered…”

He grimaced. “Yeah…I guess I can see that…”

A few minutes later their food was brought out, two very gourmet looking burgers and a pile of curly fries on heavy plates.

“Wow, Mr. Morrison would call this excessive…” Sloane muttered after she’d gone. “He just used baskets and paper placemats.”

“Still looks good,” Nick said. He picked up the burger and took a bite, humming and talking around the bite. “Yeah, tastes good too.”

Sloane’s lips thinned out but he could swear it was an attempt not to smile. “Couldn’t tell by the huge bite you already made in yours.” She picked hers up and took a bite as well. She chewed but then paused and looked disappointed.

“Not good?” Nick asked around his second bite.

Sloane swallowed and sighed. “No, it’s fine…”

“Just not like before,” he guessed.

She smiled wanly. “Am I a broken record?”

He smiled reassuringly. “I get it. Adapting to change is one thing, but suddenly being confronted with it is another.”

She smiled a little and took another bite. “It’s not bad, really. I guess Mr. Morrison took his recipe with him.”

The waitress, who had been walking up to see how they liked their food, paused and looked at her curiously. “You knew Mr. Morrison?”

Sloane looked up, noting her nametag as “Emily”, and nodded. “Yeah. I used to eat here with my grandmother every Saturday as a kid…”

“Are you here to visit her?” she asked with a smile.

“No, she passed away a while ago. Just a visit.”

“Oh, I’m sorry…” she said.

“It’s alright. Who bought this place though, the hostess didn’t’ say.”

Emily shifted nervously, looking around, before leaning in. “This company called Summer Bridge. They moved here a couple of years ago and started buying up property to renovate. Rumor is they want to turn this place into a resort town if you can believe it.”

“A resort town?” Nick asked.

“Yeah. Like a fancy tourist trap for yuppies basically. They brought in the Walmart and those other chains outside, and now they started in town. Buying the old shops and getting higher end names to move in. They made one of those camps companies can come to for their team building out by the lake and cabins and motels and stuff. And it’s actually working! People are coming up here for it.”

“I see…that explains a lot,” Sloane said.

“Is it a bad thing?” Nick asked.

“Depends on who you ask,” Emily said. “It’s great that people are coming and spending money some places, but Summer Bridge is putting a lot of the locals out of business doing it. Families that have been here for years have had to move away because they can’t make a living anymore. And sometimes, well…things seem to work out for them a little too conveniently I think.”

“What do you mean?” Nick asked, finishing his burger and wiping his mouth. It might be the detective in him, but the way she said that sounded like she suspected something.

“Mr. Morrison…he wasn’t young by any means, and I freely admit he didn’t take good care of himself. But it wasn’t his heart or any other body problems that took him down. He had an accident in the kitchen. Slipped on a puddle of grease.”

Sloane looked shocked a moment before narrowing her eyes. “Jacob Morrison was a neat freak in that kitchen; he’d never leave a puddle of grease on the floor because he knew something like that could happen. I remember he laid into a line cook for not emptying the grease traps on time because they’d fill up and splash over.”

“Exactly, so did I!” she hissed. “He was burned real badly too…”

“Burned?”

“He was apparently moving a pot of boiling water around…scalded him real bad,” she said sadly. “It was ruled an accident. But then his son and grandson, who both had shares in the restaurant, just sell out at what I heard was a super low offer and suddenly move away without hardly a word to anyone. Mr. Morrison had no intention of selling, but they did awfully quick. Very next day after the sale went through the company started renovations on this place and…well, it’s nice but the locals don’t exactly feel welcome… The prices are a lot higher and I can only really eat here because I work here. I am lucky they hired me back I suppose, but the whole thing still feels weird.”

Sloane nodded a bit, understanding. “That is…very odd.”

Nick shook his head. While part of his detective sense was tingling, his rationality was still in charge. “It _sounds_ off from what you say, but wouldn’t the police investigate if they really had any cause for suspicion? And would this place really be that important?”

The waitress snorted. “You overestimate our town police. We got a Sherriff who’s in his sixties and prefers fishing for catfish rather than criminals. And probably gets some kickbacks from the town because hey, tourists mean money. As for why, they want to make this place as upscale as they can. They want to build something out in the woods too I hear. Never mind they’ll destroy probably half the forest to do it…”

Sloane frowned. “Well their going to have a hard time doing that…”

“Oh, they have. A few people with a little land at the edge have said they might, but most of the actual land they want belongs to two people. One of them isn’t selling, and the other died real tragically a loooong time ago and left it to her granddaughter that no one has hardly seen in the last fifteen years.” She paused and then looked at Sloane again. “You…are you…?”

Sloane gave Nick a glance before nodding slowly. “Sloane Larson. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh…um…” She looked incredibly awkward now. “We’ve…met. You were in my first grade class and, um...Sorry, id didn’t recognize you. You’re, uh…hair is different.”

“S’okay, I didn’t recognize you either…” She glanced behind her. “Your manager is giving you a rather heated look,” Sloane said. “You should probably make your rounds again.”

“Right! Right,” she quickly walked off again.

Nick looked back at Sloane. “She got really nervous when she found out who you are…”

Sloane took another bite of her burger, chewing it more like a robot as her feelings warred inside her. “The circumstances of my grandmother’s death are kind of local lore at this point given how murder doesn’t happen too often around here. And the fact her nine year old granddaughter witnessed it is also kind of well known.”

“Oh…”

“It’s why I don’t normally advertise who I am when I come visit. It tends to make people…shy.”

Nick nodded in understanding. Certainly he wasn’t sure how to approach the subject most of the time either.

They ended up splitting the check and Sloane stood to head out with him. They got back out to the road that led out of town and up towards the forest, the trees dusted in white. Nick thought to himself that this place was lovely around Christmas, like something straight from a Thomas Kinkaid panting. He was grateful for four wheel drive as they headed up a frozen dirt road through the trees. Then they came to a large fence weaving between the trees. Sloane parked the car but left it idling as she got out and unlocked the gate before getting back in to continue the drive.

It wasn’t long after the gate they pulled up to a surprisingly big house. It was about the size of his house back home, but rather than a craftsman style it was more like a farmhouse. It looked old, more than fifty years if he had to guess. It was two stories, made of white washed wood siding with a big wrap around porch and a red shingled roof. It looked like it could use a new coat of paint on the outside but otherwise appeared to be in good shape. Sloane drove up and parked just outside of the detached matching garage and Nick parked next to her.

“This is nice…” he said as he climbed out and took a closer look.

“Yeah…” Sloane said, staring at it for a couple of seconds. She rubbed her hands together to warm them after a moment. “C’mon, it’s going to be cold inside too if we don’t get the heater started.”

Nick nodded and followed her up to the door and she unlocked it to head inside. There was a beep and she turned to a keypad next to the door and input a code quickly. It was a bit analogous, a security system in an older house like this. “That new?”

“Newish,” Sloane said. “We had an older version growing up. I had this installed a few years ago to deter uninvited guests. Makes a huge racket if you don’t punch in the code and deadbolts the basement door.”

“Basement door?”

“Where the stuff we’re looking for is. Don’t want trespassers finding that. The system runs on solar power if you can believe that, there’s a panel on the roof, so I don’t have to keep the electricity running all year. Still subscribe but it’s a super low bill without anything really draining it and I keep most parts shut off. There’s a sensor on the fence which goes all around the house, though we technically own a most of the land around here.” She headed further inside and it was chilly even inside. Sloane went and turned on the thermostat while Nick walked further in to explore. Directly to the side of the entry way was the dining room, an office on the other side. Stairs led up to the second floor around the corner, and across that way was the kitchen and family room. Every bit of furniture was covered with old sheets and in the pale light coming through the old, faded curtains it looked like a ghosts congregating. “Sorry it’s kind of musty…”

“It’s okay, it’ll air out.”

“We’ll need to head back to town for something for dinner too, there’s no food here.”

“We could hit a grocery store.”

“I don’t really cook,” Sloane said, starting to take some of the sheets of the furniture.

“I can. A little at least.”

“I’m fine eating out; it’s what I usually do. I can’t guarantee if much in the kitchen actually still works.”

“Alright…Is there anything I can do right now?”

“I guess help take the sheets off some of the furniture. Might as well wash them while I’m here. I’ll need get the electricity started again if we want the heater on so I need to go check the box in the basement.”

“I’ll get the sheets; you do that I wouldn’t mind a little heat.”

“There should be firewood in the mudroom too, just in case. In the cold it might take me a bit to get it going.” Sloane went over to a door that must’ve been to the basement. It looked like a normal interior door, but when she unlocked it with another key on her ring, it took some effort to open. Nick realized it was super reinforced, like a bomb shelter. She disappeared down the stairs and Nick was tempted to follow, but he started pulling sheets off. The dust wafted off like ocean sprays as the sheets rippled and waved and he tried to keep from breathing it in. Rolling them up, he set them aside on a chair. They fell over after the fourth one and he hummed in annoyance as he stooped to pick them up. Then he heard the sound of a shotgun cocking.

“Put your hands where I can see them,” a voice behind him said. It wasn’t a man’s voice, more of a low, gravely woman’s voice. Nick slowly put his hands up and straightened. “Turn around. Slow.” He did, keeping his hands up. He tried to keep his face perfectly innocent, though he was taken aback by who was threatening him. The woman who had entered the house was older, about the age of his mother, with graying black hair and deep tan skin with a few wrinkles around her nose and mouth. Her hair was braided and pinned up and she was wearing a long pea-green coat. He was also head and shoulders taller than her, but that didn’t matter much to the large double barrel shotgun she had aimed at his chest. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m…a visitor?” Nick said, not sure how else to phrase it.

“Yeah? Well you ain’t got permission.”

“Yes I do,” he said slowly. “I’m a friend of Sloane’s, her guest.”

That got her attention and she lowered the gun a couple of inches. “Sloane? You know Sloane?”

“Yeah…so could you maybe put the gun down?”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “How do I know you’re not some asshole from Summer Bridge? Trying to find the deed or something? This ain’t some western, kid, that won’t do you hell of a lot of good and we don’t keep things like that here.”

“What? No, I-”

Finally he could hear footsteps on the basement stairs and Sloane came back through the door. “Alright, heater should come one soon-" She paused when she saw the scene, gaping a little before smiling. “Aunt Mim!”

The shotgun went down to the woman’s side and she smiled back, taking quick steps over. “Sloane!” They embraced and Sloane looked the happiest he’d seen all day, maybe since they’d met. They pulled back and the woman cupped the side of her face. “God, it’s been three years, girl! Where have you been?”

“Working. I, uh…changed careers,” she said with a wane smile.

“Oh? Not a flight attendant anymore?”

“Flight attendant?” Nick asked in confusion. Sloane shot him a warning look and he quickly shut up.

“Yes. I went into law enforcement. I’m a police officer now. Detective actually. I climbed the ladder very fast.”

“Wow! That is quite a change!” she laughed. “You were always a bright girl though, and can handle your own. Oh, so do you know this kid?” she gestured at Nick with the gun again, making him tense, but Sloane quickly pulled the barrel away and took it from her hands.

“Yes, this is Detective Nick Burkhardt. My coworker. I brought him along to help move some stuff.” She sent Nick an apologetic look.

“Move some stuff?”

“Yes…there’s a few things of Oma’s I’d like to have. To remember her by. Now I have the space for it.”

“Hm. So you finally settled down some place? But not here?” she said, looking torn between relief and disappointment.

“Yeah…I-”

“Wait, hold on. You two come down to our place to warm up while this place gets going, tell us there,” she said, patting Sloane’s shoulder and then looking at Nick.

“Us?” Nick asked.

“Mim, I don’t want to impose—”

“Oh no you don’t, we hardly seen you these last few years, you’re coming,” she all but ordered. “And you’re staying for dinner.”

“…Yes ma’am,” she sighed, but she looked fine with it. “But we need to go get some food for later in town, so can we come around dinner time?”

The lady pursed her lips but finally nodded. “I’ll accept that. Now, I’d best get back. Mind returning my gun?”

“Uh, I don’t know if I’m comfortable with someone walking around with a loaded shotgun,” Nick said delicately.

Sloane huffed a laugh and smiled. “Don’t worry, she never loads it, see?” She cracked the shot gun open and then blanched at the two shells inside. “Oh my God, Mim?! What the hell?!”

“…Been a lot of pests around lately. Needed to be prepared,” she said evasively.

Sloane gave her disbelieving look before pulling the shells out. “Keep them in your pocket till you need them, please, I don’t want you shooting off your foot like Old Chad did when I was a kid. Running the metal detector over his foot for the buckshot they didn’t get out and seeing his missing toes was creepy enough as a kid…”

Nick wondered who that was but Mim was frowning at her. “I’m not drunk trying to shoot raccoons…” She took the gun and put the shells in her pocket. “Tonight. 7.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Sloane said, easing up a little.

“Good.” She moved for the door again but paused right next to Nick, looking him up and down speculatively before moving on again.

“…And that was…?” Nick asked once she was gone.

“Myriam Garcia. A friend of my grandmother, she lives up the main road in another part of the woods. I tend to call her Mim.”

“Aunt Mim I think was what you first called her…”

Sloane blushed just slightly but nodded. “Yeah, well…she’s like family so.”

Nick smiled a little. “I guess we’re expected to visit then?”

“Yeah. I mean, I was going to, I just didn’t expect to see her so soon. I’ll turn up the heater, get it a bit more livable in here, and we can head back to town.” She went over to the thermostat to get the heat going. As she did they heard a commotion of yelling and cursing outside and she glanced at Nick before rushing out.

Myriam was pointing her gun at another man who had come on the property. He was middle aged, dark haired, dressed in a suit with a long trench coat and briefcase he was holding up like a shield. “I’m not here for you, Miss Garcia!”

“I know what you’re here for you and can go back to town, you parasite!” she yelled, moving as if to stab him with the gun. “You get out of here before I turn you into Swiss cheese!”

“Mim, what the heck is going on?!” Sloane said, coming down the front steps. She slid a little on the icy walk but stayed upright and actually used the momentum to get to the older woman quicker, pushing the gun down. Nick was right behind her. “Quit pointing guns at people, what’s gotten into you?”

She snorted, keeping her eyes on the man in the suit. “You don’t know this guy, Sloane. You don’t want him here.”

The man put his briefcase back down to the side and straightened his coat. “I think that’s something she can decide, Miss Garcia. Not everyone is as…stubborn as you and Miss Oberto.”

“I guarantee you she’s more,” Nick said. “She’s just not armed.”

Sloane frowned at him but turned her attention to the stranger. “What do you want, Mister…”

He put on a friendly smile and extended his hand. “Midgley. George Midgley. I’m from Summer Bridge Development.”

Nick’s eyebrows ticked up. “I heard that name in town…”

Sloane eyed the hand but instead crossed her arms. “I only just got into town. Why are you coming up to my house?”

“Ah, well, we’ve been trying to get into contact with the owner of this property for some time. I had thought it was Miss Garcia at first…”

Sloane nodded slowly. “She held it in trust till I turned 18 and it became mine.”

“As it should and as it will stay,” Mim nodded.

“I know all that after a lot of research, but we were never able to get ahold of you, Miss Larson. You see, we want to buy your property. All of it.”

Sloane arched her eyebrows. “All of it? Why would you want to buy a thousand hundred acres of forest?”

“A thousand acres?” Nick asked in surprise. “You have that much land here?”

“Yes, and combined with Miss Garcia’s thousand acres, that’s quite a bit of land that really that you’re doing nothing with-”

“We’re protecting it from the likes of you,” Mim said. “It’s got hiking trails and nature trails and that’s all it needs. And I’ll be getting it named a nature reserve or a national park or something before you can get your hands on it.”

“But it could be so much more!” He looked opened his briefcase and pulled out some papers. “We want to build a recreation center up here; a place locals and visitors can come and have fun.” He eagerly pushed the papers to Sloane, apparently missing her narrowed eyes of suspicion.

“Ha! You’re so full of—” Mim started.

“Okay, okay,” Nick walked over. “Look, Mr. Midgley, we just got in after driving all morning. I think it’s a bit soon for this, and I think coming up here suddenly a bit overwhelming.”

“And overeager,” Sloane muttered.

The man seemed annoyed but nodded slowly. “I see, yes…I apologize for the inconvenience, I just wanted to at least let you know our interest right away.” He pulled out a card and handed it to Sloane. “Please, contact us are your next convenience, we’d like to discuss this further.”

“Right…If you don’t mind, we’re gonna lock up and head out, so…”

“Yes, of course. Have a good day,” he smiled and walked carefully back towards his black luxury car.

“Burn that card and that proposal,” Mim said.

Sloane looked at her and frowned more. “Aunt Mim, what has been going on here while I’ve been gone?”

The older woman huffed and cracked the shotgun back open as a precaution. It was still unloaded Nick noted. She’d just wanted to scare the man apparently. “You two come down to the house now instead of later and we’ll explain, alright? Jean will want to see you.”

Sloane nodded. “Okay, we’ll see you there…” She watched Mim head to her car, a bright orange Subaru even older than Sloane’s. “Something is wrong here. She’s not usually so…combative. I mean, she can be crabby, but this is overkill.”

“So threatening strangers with a shotgun is new?” Nick asked. “Or is it just that it was loaded was a surprise?”

She gave a huff of a laugh awkwardly. “Yeah, sorry…I didn’t think she’d be here this quick, I set up alerts on her phone for the security system, but she’d usually just call me first, not show up armed like a cantankerous hillbilly…”

“So she’s like a caretaker?”

“Something like that. She’s like…and adoptive daughter of my grandmother’s. Her and Jean Oberto who lives with Mim. They live close by and have been looking out for me for years. That’s why I call them my Aunts…Like I said, the house was left to them in trust until I was old enough to inherit, so they took care of it for years before I finally came back. And then they kept taking care of it when I left again.”

“I see…I get the feeling she really doesn’t like this “Summer Bridge” company,” he pointed out.

“I didn’t get a great feeling from them either…Something in my gut.” She thumped on her chest with a frown. “That or it’s those blasphemous curly fries…How’d he know I was in town though?”

Nick nodded, remembering the conversation with the waitress. He hoped that this company wasn’t as shady as she thought, but there was definitely something going on.

“Let’s follow Mim down. Oh, but…nothing about wesen or Grimms,” she said seriously. “They don’t know anything about them. Oma managed to keep them away from it.”

“Got it. Mim’s the word,” he said with a grin.

“…Maybe just don’t talk,” she said, turning to head to the car.

They hopped into Sloane’s car and went back down through the gate after Mim and Midgley were out of the vicinity. Once out of the gate she got out and locked it again to make sure no one got to the house while they were gone. When she got back in and buckled up she said, “Remind me to lock that when we get back too. I’d like to keep the sudden visits down to a minimum.”

“Will do.”

They drove down to the main road only to make the very next turn and head back into the woods. They didn’t notice the black car parked a ways away watching them. Midgley pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number, tapping on his steering wheel in irritation. “It’s me. …Yes, she’s here, but I think she’s going to be as stubborn as the two old bats. …Right, I understand. I’ll wear her down. I think I’m close with Garcia too, she’s getting paranoid. …I’d rather not resort to that. It was hard enough to cover up the last time. The Sherriff is getting to be a pain. Him and a certain gossipy waitress apparently...What?” He barked. “I just said I don’t want-…No, I understand. If it’s her orders, I’ll see to it.” He hanged up the phone and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. With a hiss he felt his face morph, turning red and hard like a shell, with two mandibles and two antennae wiggling in agitation.

\----------------

Sloane drove up to a house similar to her grandmother’s, but painted a sage green and with a red metal roof. Mim’s truck was already in front of the house and as they pulled up, another older woman stepped out. She had red-brown hair with streaks of silver in it pulled into a messy ponytail, a large nose, high cheek bones etched with lines and wide gray eyes. She broke out into a smile when Sloane stepped out and rushed over. “Sloane!”

Sloane smiled and accepted the hug. “Aunt Jean!”

Nick was surprised but smiled as the woman hugged Sloane like she’d missed her dearly. She pulled back and eyed her up and down. “Look at you!”

“I haven’t changed that much…”

“You look good though! You seem much more relaxed than last time.” Sloane looked surprised but she didn’t have a moment to comment before she was being ushered towards the door. “I just put on some water for coffee and tea.” She glanced back and paused when she finally noticed Nick as he was coming around the car. “Oh! Oh my, Mim wasn’t lying…” She looked suddenly giddy and grabbed Nick’s arm. “Hello there!”

“Um, hello…”

She smiled and walked with him towards the door, Sloane rolling her eyes and following. “I’m Jean Oberto. And you are…?”

“Jean! Leave the boy alone!” Mim shouted from inside.

“I’m just getting to know Sloane’s young man!”

Nick and Sloane both paused in the entryway as the door closed behind them. “What?” Nick asked.

“No, Aunties, he’s not ‘mine’,” Sloane sighed, actually blushing. “He’s my guest, my coworker…My friend I guess you’d say…”

“Gee, don’t get all warm and fuzzy on me,” Nick muttered. Sloane rolled her eyes.

Jean pouted. “Oh…I was hoping you’d brought home someone special.”

Sloane shook her head. “Nope, no one special I’m afraid.”

“Seriously feeling that way too,” Nick said.

Mim came to the living room, wiping her hands from washing them. “You know Jean is just a hopeless romantic, hon. She’s hoping you’ll find someone to spend your life with.”

“We can’t all be as lucky as you two,” Sloane said gently.

Nick blinked glancing from her back to Mim and Jean. They both smiled and put their arms around each other. “No, I suppose not,” Jean said, turning to give Mim a hearty kiss on the cheek. Mim grinned and didn’t quite giggle but looked close to it.

Nick blushed in surprise, not having seen that coming. Mim gave him a smile. “Cat got your tongue, kiddo?”

“Uh, no. I mean, I have no problem, I, um…Sloane didn’t mention…”

“Oh…Should I have?” she asked, honestly confused.

Mim and Jean both laughed. “It’s fine, really. Been a while since we could surprise someone like this,” Mim said. “Most people know us in town as the Gay Grannies nowadays since we were finally officially able to come out about ten years ago. Sloane’s known since she was little though.”

“Well yeah, you didn’t exactly hide in front of me…I walked in on you two making out like teenagers more times than I like to remember.”

“You still might too!” Mim said, laughing as Jean batted her shoulder in embarrassment.

Nick smiled, seeing how close they were. “You two have been together a long time then?”

“Longer than Sloane’s been alive,” Jean said. There was a shrill whistle and she ducked out of Mim’s arms to hustle to the kitchen. “Oh, that’s the kettle!”

Nick blushed when Mim goosed her in passing, Jean smacking the offending hand playfully away from her butt. Sloane just sighed and shook her head, though he thought he saw a fond smile in her lips. “C’mon, let’s sit down and you can catch us up on things. You said you’re a detective now?”

“Yeah. I, uh…got tired of the travel and decided to stay in one place for a while.” Nick kept his mouth shut despite knowing that wasn’t quite as true as it could be.

“And that place is…?”

“…Portland.”

“Oregon?” she asked, surprised. Sloane nodded. “Well, we expect you to visit more then!”

Sloane winced, looking guilty. “Sorry…Just…”

Mim’s smile dimmed and she reached out to take her hand. “I know, I understand. We just miss you, hon…At least call. Or shoot us an email!”

“…You have email now? You? The lady that thought the internet was just a fad as close as five years ago?” Sloane asked with a teasing smile.

Mim snorted and actually pinched her cheek; surprising Nick that Sloane let anyone do that. “Oh hush. It was Jean’s idea. She can sell her work easier.”

“Her work?” Nick asked.

“I’m jewelry maker,” Jean said, coming over with a tray of mugs. “I make various works out of clay, glass, wood, and most of all metal. I used to sell them in town…though mostly through the internet now.” She looked disappointed as she sat down next to Mim. “The little shop I always sold at is...”

“Green Grass?” Sloane asked in surprise. “But that place is almost as old as the town…”

“It’s that damn company,” Mim spat. “Summer Bridge. They brought in a bunch of big name, mass producing places that have cheap price tags and they couldn’t compete…Oh, but it’s still there. They just won’t sell Jean’s work, even though they were the best sellers.”

“Why would they do that?” Nick asked.

“To try and make us sell the land!”

“Myriam, calm down. Your blood pressure,” Jean said gently. Mim snorted but took a sip of her tea. Jean looked at Nick and Sloane. “She is right though…they’ve been putting pressure on us since the moment they started developing Wildred.”

“They said they want to build a rec center up here?” Nick asked.

“Rec center? Ha!” Mim retorted. “They want to build a luxury hotel. They got that camp where yuppies can come to do trust falls and paintball, but they want a place people can come to get away from the city and still be pampered like babies.”

Sloane frowned and pulled the documents Midgley had given her out of her jacket pocket, flipping through. “…It does look more like a really high end lodge…”

“That’s part one. Someone got ahold of part 2 and put it around the town, showing they want to build a sprawling, twenty story hotel just behind the lodge, like a big monolith on the hills,” Jean said. “That’s put a bad taste in a lot of the locals’ mouths. I heard it was Mr. Morrison who outed it…and he had his accident soon after.”

Nick frowned, little alarms going off. “This is starting to sound a bit…”

“Conspiracy theory?” Mim guessed snidely. “You think we’re a couple of batty old ladies that watch too much _Murder She Wrote_?”

“Never said that,” Nick said quickly, holding up his hands.

“We know how it sounds,” Jean said. “But we also know what we’ve seen. Our friends, the oldies of the town, have been all but driven out or are gone, and this company is profiting by driving them away. And we refuse and...”

“And what?” Sloane asked worriedly.

“We’ve been having some issues,” Mim said. “People sneaking onto our property. Jeanie’s work shop was ransacked a few weeks ago.”

“Ransacked?” Nick asked in surprise.

“Yes. Several of my projects were destroyed, and some of my tools were broken or damaged. Before that though I had a complaint filed against me for noise, but there are no nearby neighbors, and I make hardly any noise unless I’m hammering metal…When my workshop was broken in to, nothing valuable was taken, just destroyed.”

Nick frowned and glanced at Sloane, who was looking both worried and upset. “…You haven’t gone to the police?” he asked.

“We filed a report, but Sheriff Grover isn’t exactly up to snuff,” Mim said.

“So we heard. I don’t know much about him,” Sloane said.

“You haven’t had to deal with him,” Jean said. “He became Sherriff after you…left.”

Sloane winced but nodded.

It was quiet a moment before Mim put her cup down. “C’mon, detective hot shot. See if you can figure some stuff out looking around.”

“Huh?”

“What? C’mon, I used to take you through these woods as often as your gran.”

Sloane hesitated, glancing at Nick and Jean. “Go on,” Nick said. “If you find something you can tell me.”

She nodded slowly and stood, following Mim to the door. Jean watched them go and sighed. “I think Mim just wants some time with her. We miss her whenever she’s gone…”

Nick smiled, sipping his own tea. It was an oddly fruity variety. “You’ve known her since she was a kid?”

“I’ve known her all her life,” Jean said. “Both of us. Rebecca , her grandmother, was like our second mother…Sloane’s mother was a traveler too and one day came home 7 months pregnant. Stayed till the baby was born, then up and left again a few months later.” She pursed her lips. “Can’t say I care for her, leaving her mother to raise Sloane alone…but then again, Rebecca probably did a better job in the long run in this nine years than she would have. And she was the closest thing we had to a child too…Then Rebecca …”

Nick looked at her sympathetically. “I’m…sorry about…Sloane told me what happened.”

Jean looked at him in shock. “She did? Huh…here I thought she’d never talk about it again…” She sighed. “You’ll probably notice she doesn’t want anything to do with the kitchen in the house. That’s where it happened…”

Nick remembered how she practically vetoed doing anything in the kitchen and frowned. “The kitchen…?”

“Yes. Those…monsters broke in around dinner time,” she hissed, getting emotional. “They knew they were home, they knew Sloane was just a child, but they still broke in. Rebecca hid her in a crawl space in the kitchen when they started trying to break down both the front and back doors…they didn’t find her thankfully, but she saw…” A few tears escaped and she wiped at them quickly.

Nick looked into his mug of tea, trying to imagine what that was like for a nine year old girl. “…What was her grandmother like?”

Jean smiled. “Rebecca ? Oh, she was a spitfire. Stubborn but thoughtful, ready to fight but compassionate. And witty too, always able to crack a joke. I miss that the most, she always had us laughing even at the darkest times. It was how she coped I think… It’s because of her I met Myriam too.”

“Really?”

“Yep. She used to travel a lot for work you see, and I…well, I got into a bit of trouble. My family wasn’t great. Lucky for me she got me out of it, and brought me back here to Wildred to start over. I stayed with her for a bit, met Mim and…well, there was an attraction from the start. Even when I tried to live on my own, I wanted to be with Mim…”

Nick smiled. “You’re lucky to have been together so long…”

“Luck has nothing to do with it. It’s a lot of work. That woman drives me crazy sometimes, good and bad. But it’s all worth it.” She sipped her tea and eyed him. “Are you sure you and Sloane aren’t…?”

He blushed and shook his head. “No, definitely not. I have a girlfriend I love very much back home. I’m just here to help Sloane out because she’s been a big help to me and…well, I want to be her friend,” he said honestly. “I’ve known her almost a year now, after she, uh, transferred to our department but…she’s not the easiest person to get close to.”

Jean nodded sadly. “The first time we even saw her after she left was when she was 16…It was the first time she’d been back. We were so happy to see her but…she was changed. I suppose you can’t go through something like that and not change. It’s still hard to keep in touch, but we love her like our child…” She sipped her tea again and then smiled as if struck by a brilliant idea and stood. “In fact, let me show you…ah!” She pulled a photo album off of a shelf and walked over, sitting next to Nick. “You may not be her boyfriend, but this might be my only chance to embarrass her with pictures.”

Nick felt the smile cut his face in half. “Oh, I’m up for that.”

\--------------

Sloane followed Mim out to the large shed that was Jean’s studio, about ten minutes from the house through the woods. She could see there was plywood screwed over one of the windows. “They broke the window?”

“Yeah. Busted the door too though. And the heater! Just seemed like they wanted to cause as much damage as they could. I don’t like Jeanie working out here in the cold like this…”

“When did this happen?” Sloane asked, looking the building over.

“Last month. Like we said, it came after a lot of little incidents and complaints against us.” She unlocked the newer lock at the door, pulling it open for Sloane.

She hummed and paused when she noticed what looked like melted metal on the door frame before stepping in. “D…did they melt the lock somehow?”

“Something like that,” Mim said. “Of course, I had to point that out to the Sheriff…” Sloane frowned before walking in. It was a nice spacious shed model with windows big enough for the average person to crawl through with a squeeze. She noted it was pretty bare inside now, but she remembered there being wracks of tools for working glass and metal as well as supplies set up along the walls before. “We cleaned it out since nothing was being done,” Mim said.

Sloane sighed and turned back to her. “What do you want me to do exactly?”

Mim shrugged. “I just figured as a detective now you might have some ideas.”

Sloane sighed and straightened. “I can put together some ideas, but this crime scene is old, not like it was, and I don’t have any authority out here. You’ll have to make the locals listen if I find anything.”

Mim smirked. “Oh, you know how persuasive I am, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Sloane smiled and looked around. “…I know things have changed, but somehow the trees still look the same…”

“Nice thing about forests sometimes. It’s always changing, but usually so slowly you don’t see it,” Mim agreed. They stood in silence for a bit, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Sloane could remember just walking with Mim through the woods as a child. They talked when something of interest came up, but sometimes it was just about enjoying nature and the quiet. “You and your man should stay for dinner.”

Sloane flushed and sighed. “Not my man, Aunt Mim. He’s got a girlfriend and it’s not me. He’s just…a friend.”

“Well, that’s nice in and of itself!” She patted Sloane on the back. “You never talk about friends, was starting to think you didn’t have any!”

Sloane smiled at the tease, trying not to let on how close she was to the truth. “Yeah, well…staying in one place I admit has its benefits.”

“How many you got?”

“How many?”

“I want to know if you finally got to being a social butterfly, like when you were little and we had to watch you or you’d introduce yourself to everyone you laid eyes on.”

Sloane blushed but rolled her eyes. “I’ve got…a few. Um, Rosalee is probably the one I’m closest to, she’s cool. Hank is my other partner at the department, and Wu is there too. My boss is…okay. Bud I suppose. Oh, and Juliette, Nick’s girlfriend…” _Not counting Monroe, but I at least can be in the same room as him now…_

Mim smiled and put an arm around her. “I’m glad…I always worried who you were with, if you were alone…I don’t want you to be alone. I know what that’s like.”

Sloane leaned against her and sighed again. Mim still smelled like the woods, like pine and dirt. It was a comforting smell. She felt her press a kiss to her temple and then pull back. “C’mon. Colder than a polar bear’s ass out here.”

Sloane snorted. They turned to head back towards the house, but she paused when she heard something. Stretching her senses, she looked back and scanned the woods for any signs of being watched. Nothing stood out to her and she turned to keep heading along the trail with Mim.

Walking inside, she heard Nick and Jean laughing and frowned. Then she realized there was a photo album open between them. “Oh God…”

Nick grinned. “You never told me you did ballet,” he said, holding up a picture of a very young Sloane grinning with her arms above her head in a pink tutu.

“Oh, she was great!” Jean said. “So graceful, up until she got dizzy spinning and vomited all over the dance room. But she got much better after that.”

“I bet! And so cute! Look at that smile,” he held up another where her two front teeth were missing as she grinned. Mim laughed and went to sit next to Jean.

Sloane narrowed her eyes in warning. “Nick…”

“Oh, it’s just a little fun!” Jean said.

Sloane sighed and went to sit down, knowing this was going to be her evening now. Jean tapped a photo on her arm and she took it. She smiled sadly when she saw her Grandmother smiling next to her at one of her birthday parties. She was in her sixties but her hair still had the dark wave she always remembered, with a streak of white in her forelock, and the same wide, gray-green eyes Sloane saw in the mirror. She glanced up and saw Nick watching her. He quickly looked down again and Sloane sighed. This was more than she’d shared with anyone in years. She was getting the usual feeling when people got too close, the feeling that she needed to run. She’d felt it with Rosalee, and now she was feeling it with Nick. Except there was nowhere to really run to. Jean or Mim would probably stop her; she wasn’t going to get the opportunity to be alone for a while.

\--------

Emily sighed as she was heading home from the Redline Diner. It was almost 10 and she was tired after a long shift, being on the floor since noon. Her shift was supposed to be over two hours ago, but she had gotten asked to come back and help close because one of the other girls was sick. It was dark and cold and she didn’t have a car so she was walking home alone. Wildred was a safe enough town after all, or so she thought.

“Emily Fielding?”

She jumped and turned, grimacing when she saw who it was that had snuck up on her. “Mr. Midgely…Good evening.”

“Good evening. I wanted to thank you for the information earlier,” he said, loosening his tie.

“What? What information?”

“That Sloane Larson was back in town.”

“What? I only mentioned that to my manager…” she said in confusion.

“Yes, but he passed along that information. It was a valuable tip off.”

Emily shifted uncomfortably. “Well…you’re welcome?”

“However, being a gossip is also rather unbecoming,” he said. “Especially when you make certain…allegations against us.”

Emily swallowed and backed up a step. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your manager also overheard you speaking to Miss Larson about certain theories regarding the unfortunate death of Mr. Morrison.”

Emily took a sharp breath and bit her lip. “I…didn’t mean anything by it, I was just making talk.”

“Well, I think you’ve done enough of that. You should come with me. Perhaps we can clear up this misunderstanding at our offices.”

He reached for Emily but he hadn’t noticed her hand going into her purse. She pulled out a can of mace and held it out to him, making him pause. “I-I would rather not.”

Midgely arched his eyebrows at the mace. “Really? A bit dramatic. I don’t think you’ve ever even used that.”

“I will! I’m serious! I’m not going with you! J-just let me go home.”

“Why so scared? Do you really believe we killed Mr. Morrison? You’ve been watching too many mysteries, Emily. I’m just here to talk to you.” He took a step forward and Emily squealed and triggered the can, sending a shot right into his eyes. Midgley shouted, hands going to his face, and Emily turned to run. Just around the corner however someone grabbed her and pulled her into a restraining bear hug, a hand going over her mouth so she couldn’t scream.

“Not too smart, missy,” a voice said. He was a big man, a construction worker she guessed. Lots of them were in town while it was being developed. “None of us are alone here.”

Another man stepped out of the shadows, also in construction from the look of his clothes. “What should we do? I don’t think she’s going to cooperate.”

“Same as the old man,” Midgley spat, still wiping at his eyes.

“You sure? You and the boss normally try to avoid that type of solution.”

“I don’t normally get maced by a paranoid bitch,” he growled. “Let’s see how she likes it.” He woged suddenly, his skin turning red and hard like an exoskeleton, his eyes big and black, a pair of pincers and antennae wiggling about near his mouth. Emily screamed behind the man’s hand, trying to get away, but Midgley’s pincers went around her throat the moment the other man took his hand away. A deluge of acid leaked from his mouth and the scream she started ended in a gurgle of pain as it moved down her neck and over her body, burning her skin. Midgley threw her down and the other two men woged into the same bug-like creatures, more acid dripping from their mandibles.

Emily never made it home.

\--------------

Nick and Sloane walked back through the door to her grandmother’s house later that evening. It was thankfully a good temperature inside now and Nick and Sloane were able to hang up their jackets on the hooks by the door rather than keep them on. “Man, your Aunt Mim knows how to cook…that chicken was fantastic.”

Sloane smiled. “Yeah, she knows some stuff.” She glanced at the basement door and sighed. “It’s already past eleven...You want to start sorting through stuff tomorrow?”

“Sounds good to me. I’d like to call Juliette before we sleep.”

Nodding she gestured towards the stairs. “I’ll show you where you can sleep then.” They headed up and Sloane opened one door in the middle of the hall. It was apparently a guest room, painted a soft grey-blue with wooden floors and a full sized bed. The bed was bare, but Sloane went to the closet and pulled out a plastic bin. She pulled a whole sheet set out of the bin and tossed it to the bed. “They’re a little musty, but no dust. You good making it on your own?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Great. I’ll be in the room at the end of the hall if you need me. The bathroom is across from you, and the hot water should be ready if you want a shower or something. Oh, and there’s an extra quilt on the shelf in the closet if you want. I’ll wake you up about 8 so we can go get something for breakfast.”

“Okay, sounds good. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she waved, heading towards the room at the end of the hall.

Nick sat down on the bed and pulled out his phone. He dialed Juliette’s number, pulling off his shoes and setting them near the end of the bed. She picked up fairly quick and sounded happy. “Hey there stranger.”

“Hey, sorry. Been a long day.”

“Long as in a lot to do or long as in you wish you hadn’t gone?”

“Eh, neither really. Long car ride, but then we got to town and it’s…nice. Kind of a small town feel, but starting to get developed. Not sure how Sloane feels about that…But I met her Aunts.”

“She has Aunts?”

“Well, two older women who were friends of her grandmother,” he amended. “I guess she called them “Aunt Mim” and “Aunt Jean” since she was a kid.”

“Aww, that’s actually sweet.”

“I know, it’s surprising. Also, she did ballet as a kid!”

“Wait, seriously?” she asked, not believing him.

“I saw the pictures. There was a pink tutu,” he laughed. “She was cute…”

“I don’t have to be worried, do I?” Juliette teased.

He chuckled, but had sobered a bit as he remembered the pictures of a little girl in the tutu, and playing with frogs, and doing all the things normal children do. And how it ended. “No, it’s just…Seeing those pictures…how happy she was as a kid…”

“Makes you think, huh?” she asked, understanding.

“Yeah.” He sighed and rubbed through his hair. “We should probably head to bed though. You got work and we’re doing our organizing tomorrow. I just wanted to call and say I love you.”

He liked to imagine Juliette was smiling lovingly on the other side of the phone. “Yeah…Love you too.”

He grinned and hanged up, getting the bed set up and then changing into his sleeping clothes.

Sloane meanwhile had dressed in her warm flannels for bed in the master bedroom. She paused in getting in bed however. While she had replaced the mattress and sheets years ago, the frame was still her Grandmother’s old wooden four post bed. It felt wrong to sleep there, it always did. The only time she did when she was younger was when she had nightmares and climbed in bed with her. Frustrated at herself, she pushed all that aside and climbed in, turning off the old tiffany knock-off lamp on the bedside table.

In the morning, Sloane woke even before the sun. She did her usual morning exercises of 100 pushups, 100 sit ups, and standard stretches to get her body limber. She then padded down the hall and knocked on Nick’s door. “Hey, Nick? Get up so we can go grab breakfast and maybe some easy groceries, then we can get to work.”

“Mmm…should’ve known you were a morning person,” he called from inside, addled with sleep.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m really not, I’ve just been up for a while. You want a shower because I’m going to jump in and the water heater isn’t going to handle two at once.”

“Go ahead,” he yawned. Nick sat up and stretched, climbing out of bed. He padded back down stairs, fuzzy thoughts of coffee in his brain, but then paused at the kitchen when he remembered they had nothing to make coffee with. He looked over the kitchen, which was still stuck in the 80s, and sobered a little. Wooden cabinets, white laminate counters, and black appliances. The fridge was newer, maybe bought five years ago, but everything else looked like it hadn’t been used in a decade or more. He tried to imagine a brutal murder taking place there. There was no blood, the room long since cleaned obviously, but he saw a set of deep scratches on the edge of one of the laminate counters. Not long, just glancing blows right on the very edge. They’d be hard to notice usually but he was used to looking for the littlest details. Lining up his fingers, he realized they were claw marks. He took his hand back with a sigh and glanced around. He then saw there was a slight warp in the wall near a door. Opening the door, he saw it was a mudroom that had a back door leading to the back porch. Right next to the door in the mud room was a wall. Looking at the warp again, he pressed his hand against it and felt it give, but then it swung open. It was a hidden space in the wall, not very large though. He’d barely be able to fit inside. He remembered Jean talked about Sloane’s grandmother hiding her in a crawl space and his skin crawled as he thought about a nine year old girl hiding there while listening as her grandmother was killed just feet away.

“Jean told you?”

Nick jumped and turned to see Sloane at the entrance to the kitchen. She was dressed, but there was a towel around her shoulders to catch water from her still damp hair. He realized he must have been staring at the space for longer than he thought. She was looking at the crawl space with a stony expression. “I…Yeah. Sorry…”

“Nothing to apologize for,” she said, her tone overly light to his ears. She still wasn’t setting foot in the kitchen. “Shower’s free if you want.”

He had a feeling that was her way of ending that topic and nodded, pushing the hidden door shut and moving to go back upstairs. Sloane watched him head up and then looked back towards the hidden crawlspace. The door had apparently warped over the years and wasn’t shutting properly, it was still open. Sloane took a deep breath and walked over, intent to shut it. Just looking at the darkened space inside though she had a visceral memory come to the surface. She remembered sitting at the dining table, eating, when her Grandmother seemed to sense something. She’d gotten up and gone to look out the front door. Whatever she saw, she slammed the door shut and bolted it before running back through to the kitchen. She moved to unlock the basement when there was a loud bang from the back of the house, startling Sloane.

“Oma?” she called, looking out the window. She could see the shapes of some human-like creature coming from the woods towards the house. She thought she saw red eyes in the darkness of the night. One of them was already on the porch though, trying to get the door open.

“Sloane, get over here!” she’d hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her from her chair.

“Oma? What’s wrong?” she’d asked.

She shushed her and then opened the hidden door, surprising Sloane who hadn’t even known it was there despite living in this house since she was a baby. Inside There were dried flowers hanging up. She knew now it was wolfs bane and other wesen-warding herbs, but it had only confused her more as her grandmother ushered her inside. There was another loud bang, this time from the backdoor past the mudroom. “Stay here, and don’t make a sound. No matter what you hear, you stay inside and stay quiet!”

“What? Why-”

“Sloane,” she’d said, holding onto her face. “Do this. I’m going to protect you, but you have to stay quiet.”

“Protect me? From wh-” There was a slam against the door to the mudroom then and she gasped and shrank back in fear.

Her grandmother quickly pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, sweetheart. Whatever happens, remember that. I will love you always.” She pushed her in and closed the door, pulling the rolling butcher-block island they’d had in front to keep it closed and hidden. There was another loud bang-

Sloane slammed the door shut and sighed.

Nick was down a few minutes later and found her leaning against the column of the front porch. “Hey? Ready?”

She nodded and headed with him to the car, still rather quiet and subdued. Nick wasn’t sure what to say exactly, tapping his fingers against the door as they drove towards town. They had to slow however when there was a large crowd gathered near a side street, which was cordoned off with police tape. “What’s going on?”

“No idea…” Sloane said, frowning. She pulled into a parking space down the street and they got out to investigate. She walked over and wormed her way through to the front, Nick following her. She froze when she saw there was a tarp draped over what appeared to be a body near the dumpster in the alley. “What the hell? What happened?”

“A body was found early this morning…” an older woman said, looking anxious.

“A body? Here?” Sloane asked.

“I know!” she hissed. “Oh, God, I knew this would happen when they started developing this town. The crime rates starting to go up…”

Sloane glanced to Nick, who looked similarly surprised. “So…It wasn’t an accident?”

“Mr. Andrews said she was burned, but nothing around here was on fire…” one woman said. “Tim is still looking it all over.”

“Tim?”

“That would be Tim Grover,” a gruff voice said. They looked up to see a tall, thin, reedy man in a sheriff’s uniform walking over. He was older, with hair that was nearly completely gray and lines through his face. “Sheriff Tim Grover. Are you Sloane Larson?”

Sloane’s eyebrows ticked up but she nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“I’d like to talk to you. And your friend here.”

Nick frowned. “What about?”

“Just routine,” he said. “Can you come by the station?”

“Can we have breakfast first?” Sloane asked.

Grover smiled tightly but nodded. “Of course. Meet me at the station in an hour…Or I’ll come find you.”

Sloane stared him down until Nick gently tugged on her wrist to get her to move away with him. “I get the feeling murder doesn’t really happen here often…”

“Since what happened to my grandmother, I think there have only been maybe 3 suspicious deaths here in twenty years. And one of those, a body found where they thought someone tried to dump him in the lake, ended up being a guy who drank too much on New Year’s and thought he could swim it in subzero temperatures.”

“So someone showing up burned in an alley is definitely not normal…” She gave him a curious look and he shrugged. “I’d say it’s never normal, but it’s been a weird couple of years since I became a Grimm.”

She snorted a small laugh and led him down the sidewalk. “Yes, well, you learn all things are possible the longer you live sometimes…” She paused and glanced back. “…This could be wesen related I suppose too.”

“Here?”

“They are everywhere. I know there here because several who came the night my grandmother died used to live here. I knew most of them…”

That was surprising. He wondered how that felt, to have people in the town you grew up in kill someone you love and probably try to kill you too for no reason other than being what you were. “Oh…Well, um…I told you about that Daemonfeur I faced, do you think one is here?”

She shook her head, clearing it of the bad memories. “No…The area around the body would’ve been burned too. And even if the body was moved, the smell of burning flesh tends to linger.”

Nick grimaced. “Thanks for reminding me right before we eat…what else could do it then? I mean, it couldn’t be another Volcanalis right? Because I don’t know if we can get any liquid nitrogen here.”

“No, again, no burn smell or marks. So it’s possibly more of a chemical reaction.”

“Like…acid?” he asked, worried now.

She nodded slowly, not enthused by the idea either. “Yeah. I wish I could say that narrows it down as far as wesen…” She went into a little coffee shop, grabbing coffee and a Danish for herself and Nick got coffee and a large blueberry muffin. They ate quietly, not wanting to bring up Grimm things in close quarters where people could hear.

“Why do you think the sheriff wants to see us?” Nick asked once they were outside again.

“Not sure…But he let us go get food so I’m guessing it’s not pressing. I also want to know why he knew who I was.”

“Yeah, me too…I’m guessing word travels fast given that guy yesterday knew you too.”

Sloane hummed and headed through the down town till they got to a small, squat building with a sheriff decal over the large window in front. They walked inside, noting how small it really was. It looked like the station had about four police officers besides the sheriff at any one time, though most of the desks were empty. The receptionist at the front desk looked up when they walked in. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“The Sheriff asked us to come by. I’m Sloane Larson.”

“Oh yes, he just has a few questions for you…You can wait in his office, he should be back soon.” She pointed to the door to the side behind her and they walked in. It was a small office, lacking some of the charm of Renard’s big wooden desk and many windows out into the station. Just a simple desk, computer, a few bookshelves and files and a coffee machine on top of the bookshelf. And two chairs facing the desk, which they sat down in. There was a radio on the desk as well that was tuned into some country/bluegrass fiddling music.

“Our station looks like the pentagon compared to this,” Sloane said just loud enough for Nick to hear.

“Small town I guess. They’ll have to get more people than this if they want to expand though…”

“That’s part of the plan,” Sheriff Grover said behind them, making them both sit up straight. He came around and sat in his desk with a sigh. “Though I’ll probably be retired by then. I hope so at least, I don’t want to have to deal with all this anymore...”

“Has the crime rate gone up?” Sloane asked.

“No, not precisely. I just don’t want to be the one who has to keep the yuppies from doing stupid things when they come up.”

Sloane arched her eyebrows and glanced to Nick who didn’t know quite what to say either. “Um…well, you wanted to see me? Us?”

“Yes, I heard you came in yesterday…wanted to know what you were doing last night.”

Sloane narrowed her eyes suspiciously but shrugged. “We had dinner with Myriam Garcia and Jean Oberto. They’re old friends of my family.”

“Yes, I know them. Are you staying with them?”

“No. We had dinner and then we went to my gra…my house down here, where we’re staying. Number 1, Larson Lane.”

Nick glanced at her, not knowing that was the address. The Sheriff’s mouth quirked up. “Got a street named after you?”

“It’s a dirt road in the woods that leads to the house my grandfather built, the only house there. I didn’t name it,” she shrugged.

“Ah yes, your grandmother owned all that land up there…”

“I own it now if you’re trying to ask that,” she said, still suspicious.

“Good to know. So then, when did you two return home last night?”

“About 11:30 I think…” She looked at Nick.

“A little before, I called my girlfriend about 11:30 from the house.”

“Girlfriend?” he asked, looking between them like they’d revealed some incriminating piece of evidence. Or drama.

“He’s just a friend who’s come to help me sort through some of my grandmother’s things. His girlfriend is well aware he’s with me,” Sloane sighed.

“Oh…well, mighty nice of you then,” he said, somewhat disappointed.

“Yeah, anything for a friend,” Nick said, trying to give his best innocent smile. “Can I ask why you’re questioning us about last night though?”

“Well, as you saw this morning, we have a very suspicious death. Gotta ask the tough questions to everyone, including out-of-towners,” he said sagely.

“Did anyone see us or one of our cars in town last night?” Nick asked.

“Er…no, not that anyone has said.”

“Did anyone see us get into an argument with the victim?” Sloane asked.

“No…”

“Then I’m not sure why you’d think we did anything,” Sloane said.

“Hey, I’m the Sheriff here! I’ll ask the questions-” he started, still not rising from his seat but leveling a finger at them.

“Nick and I are detectives in Portland, Oregon,” Sloane said evenly.

“I…you are?” he paused, surprised.

“Yeah. We are. Homicide detectives to be more specific,” Nick said. “So we know what to look for as far as suspects. If nothing is pointing to us specifically, and we witnessed nothing or had no connection to the victim, there’s no real reason to question us here instead of just asking where we were this morning at the scene. Yet you picked us out specifically.”

“I…see. Yes, you’re right. Um, sorry about that, just…small town, you look at the strangers first.” Sloane wasn’t so sure about that and Nick looked rather dubious as well.

“What exactly happened anyway? Who was killed?” Sloane asked.

“If you don’t know, best I not tell you for now. Gotta keep things a little hush hush, see if the culprit will out himself somehow. Anyway, you two can go for now, but no leaving town.” He was agitated now, trying to get them out the door as he rose to show them out.

Sloane was a bit annoyed by the lack of information, and the sudden cut off when he’d been the one to call them in. Still, she didn’t want to start anything in the sheriff station. “Wasn’t planning on it,” Sloane said, standing. They were about to leave when she turned back. “Sheriff…how’d you know my name?”

“Hm?”

“My name. I only told one person my name since I got here, besides Myriam and Jean knowing me already, but you’re the second guy who’s known me by name.”

The sheriff smiled. “We’re still a small town at the moment, Miss Larson. Word travels fast.”

Sloane narrowed her eyes but nodded. “Okay then…” She shuffled into her pocket and pulled out a card. “If you need some help, Nick and I focus on murder back in Portland. We can always be consultants for you.”

The Sheriff gave a very tight smile as he took the card. “That’s very kind of you…”

Sloane had a feeling she’d hit a nerve but nodded. “Have a nice day then.”

Nick nodded to him as they headed out and back out of the station, walking back to the car. “That was…”

“Not what you’d expect from a professional homicide investigation?” she guessed.

“Definitely not…”

“Eh. He probably doesn’t get them very often. Part of why I offered to consult.”

“Was that why? I thought you were trying to give him a dig about being more experienced than him.”

“Eh…maybe a little,” she smirked. Nick chuckled and Sloane sighed and stretched. “But we can’t do anything right now. If something else happens we can try to get in on it. Let’s hit the supermarket for food and head back to start sorting through stuff.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

\--------------------

Sheriff Grover watched the two out of towners leave, sighing a little. He grimaced when he heard another door in the station open and Midgley walked into his office, closing the door. “You just let them go?” he asked, irritated.

“They’re law from another state,” Grover said simply.

“So? Is it the thin blue line stopping you?”

“Not exactly. They know the law, and they’re detectives. We can’t rail road them like a couple of yokels, they’d figure out pretty quickly it was you or someone else trying to put the pressure on them to wipe their hands with this town. We point fingers at them without evidence, they’re going to call our bluff or worse, lawyer up and get this as a federal case. You want the FBI coming in here and snooping around?”

Midgley sneered but sighed. “I feel that’s a worst case scenario for us and you’re just excusing not trying harder, but you do have a point. We’ll figure something else out then.”

“That won’t involve another body? I can’t keep cleaning up your messes,” Grover said.

Midgley glared and suddenly came in close to Grover’s face, making the Sheriff tense. “Given everything we’ve done for you and you’ve done for us these last few years, I think you better hope there’s no such investigation. Or the next body will be yours.” He woged, his pincers dripping in acid already from his agitation. A little landed on the carpet and the soft fibers smoked from the impact.

Grover woged, his skin turning green and his eyes turning large and compounded. The front of his face smoothed out with green skin while the back of his head became wider like a helmet. Two antennae flicking around anxiously. “Okay, Okay! I get it!” he said.

Midgley woged back and grabbed a tissue from the desk to wipe his mouth with a disdained look. “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend. You better hope Mrs. Hill will be in a forgiving mood this morning. She wasn’t last night when it came to Emily Fielding.” He tossed the tissue on the desk, the residual acid eating away at it already.

Grover changed back and glared after him, making sure he was well out of earshot before muttering. “Monkey suit wearing jerk…”

\---------------------------

Sloane and Nick arrived back at her grandmother’s house to find the driveway and walk up to the front porch had been salted and swept for them. Sloane knew it’d likely been Mim and was grateful they could walk easily with all their groceries up to the front door. Most of what they got was easy fix stuff that wouldn’t require too much time in the kitchen, and Nick didn’t bring that up. They put things away, putting the plastic groceries bags all together in a pile to use as possible packing materials.

“Okay…ready to get to work?”

“Yep,” Nick agreed.

Sloane took out the key from its hiding place again and opened the basement door, pulling it back with a slight grunt. It stayed open and she gestured for Nick to go down first. “Age before beauty.”

Nick snorted and moved down the stairs. He slowed as he came to the bottom, eyes widening. “Whoa…this is…a lot of stuff.” The whole basement was lined with chests, cabinets and shelves. It was like two of Aunt Marie’s trailers worth of stuff down there, maybe more.

“Of course,” she said, smiling proudly. “My grandmother had collected things for years and brought them back here. And my mother brought some things back as well, so we have a large collection.”

“So your mother is a Grimm? You don’t talk about her much,” Nick asked.

“I talk about her enough…” she said, the smiling diminishing a little. “Bringing something to add was about the only reason she only ever came back here…”

Nick frowned a little and decided not to press for details. He had a feeling that was a sensitive subject. “Well…where should we begin?”

Sloane went back to business and walked over to a cupboard with glass doors. “Books I think. These are the oldest ones. I’m not sure we should move them given their age, but we can at least go through them and copy and useful information.”

“…By hand?”

She looked over at him and arched her eyebrows with a smirk. “Afraid of a little studying?”

Nick smirked back a little more wanly. “More like I’m afraid of carpal tunnel.”

Sloane actually laughed at that. “I’ll teach you some hand exercises. Or…I could just break out the computer scanner I brought. It’s a hand held.”

“You bought that just for this trip?” Nick asked in surprise.

“Yeah. It’ll be quicker and we won’t have to agonize over the handwriting and stuff, can come back to them later.”

Nick smiled. “Smart.”

“I know,” she said proudly. “ ‘Prepare today for what you’ll need tomorrow’, that’s what Oma used to say. I’ll set it up, and you can go through them while I look over other stuff.”

Nick pouted. “I feel like I’ve been set up…”

“You offered to come,” she pointed out, gently piling the books. “C’mon, you can put on some music and I’ll make something to drink before I head back down…provided you keep it far from the books,” she said warningly.

Nick smiled and helped carry the books up. Sloane went upstairs and grabbed the scanner and a very small computer with an external hard drive set up. She showed him how it worked, having tested it on a couple of her own books before they left Portland the week before. She then brewed some hot tea and left it for him before heading back down stairs. Nick was actually having a good time scanning the books, seeing the old pictures and entries. There were only about five books, but scanning them was indeed much easier than trying to meticulously read through and take notes. He did get distracted now and then reading certain passages, making a mental note of the more interesting things.

“You hungry?”

Nick jumped and looked up over the top of the couch at her. “Uh…yeah actually.”

“I figured, it’s going on one. You making progress?”

“Yeah, I just keep finding interesting stuff. Like this thing, a _ban síde_.” He showed her the passage he was on, the figure of a crying woman on the illustration. Her face was long and stretched down and there were raw looking tracts of tears from her eyes.

“Ah,” she said knowingly. “Better known as a Banshee by most people.”

“That’s what I was thinking!” he said with a smile. “It said that they can sense death approaching and will give this wailing cry, but it can also kill people? Is it like a Murciélago, that wesen that emits a sonic screech I told you about?”

“Not exactly. Their cry can go high enough shatter glass, but it’s actually a much deeper sound that doesn’t cause anything to rupture or anything like that you have to worry about. It’s more that it causes paralysis and hallucinations. It’s like…having a night terror but you’re awake. You can’t move, you’re stuck and seeing some weird shit happening.”

“That sounds creepy…”

“A bit yeah. Like it says, they can also predict death with pretty good accuracy, it’s why old families used to take them into their home, to try and sense the danger before anyone died. Didn’t always work though, and sometimes the Banshees were more than likely the ones responsible. There’s some theories among Grimms they somehow feed off of death, maybe a chemical released in death or the like.”

“Even creepier to be honest…”

Sloane hummed in agreement, looking more at the book. “I remember parts of that book,” she said. “Lots of wesen and creatures from around Ireland, Wales, Scotland and Britain from an ancestor of mine back in the 1400s. May not run into them here, but not bad to have them on file for sure. Anyway, break for lunch?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“Sandwich from the store?” she said, already heading for the kitchen.

“Ham and Swiss for me.”

Sloane nodded and brought the sandwich over along with a soda. “I’ve found a few things that might be handy to have. Also…having to toss some stuff. Lots of herb stores are rotten or gone, and I think the poisons are off too.”

“Poisons can go off?” Nick asked, taking a bite.

“Oh yeah, though it depends on the poison. Given most of what we have is old school, herby ingredient type stuff, it’s probably not effective anymore. It’s funny, but some poisons become weaker with age, and other things become more poisonous with age. But a lot of this stuff would make you sick instead of kill you.”

“Can you not say ‘you’ right now when I’m eating?”

“Oh come on, I think we’ve established if I wanted to kill you I’d be more direct about it,” she smirked, taking a bite of her own sandwich. Nick rolled his eyes but smiled a little. He was getting used to Sloane’s sense of humor.

They were just finishing up eating when her phone rang and she picked it up. “Don’t recognize this number, but it’s the area code here…” She answered. “Hello?”

“Miss Sloane Larson?” a smooth feminine voice asked.

“Speaking…” she said hesitantly.

“My name is Noelle Hill. I’m the CEO of Summer Bridge Development.”

Sloane’s eyebrows ticked up. “Oh? Well…How did you get my number?” Nick gave her a questioning look and she mouthed “Summer Bridge” at him. He frowned, also wondering how they’d gotten that number.

“I asked around,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you quite badly.”

“Regarding my land I imagine,” Sloane sighed. “I haven’t really had time to look over that stuff your man from yesterday gave me, but I can go ahead and tell you I’m not really interested in selling.”

“I understand, I’m just hoping for a chance to speak with you in person to at least make an offer. You don’t put the land to much use, or that house. According to those I’ve spoken to, you haven’t even been in Wildred in three years after all.”

Sloane frowned more. “I’m not sure I appreciate how much you know about me when I know nothing about you…”

“I apologize,” she said, though she sounded amused. “I like to be prepared and gather as much information as I can on my potential projects, including who I’d be buying resources from. Please, let’s meet and at least discuss what we both want for the future of this town.”

Sloane sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Alright, fine, if just to get some peace. I’d rather do it tomorrow.”

“That’s fine. Shall we say meeting for lunch? Maybe Maggio’s, this nice place that’s opened up-”

“I’d prefer just meeting for coffee at the Redline, around 10. I’ll pay for mine.”

There was a pause before Ms. Hill spoke up again. “I see you know just what you want. Very well. Ten o’ clock at the Redline then.”

“See you then.” She hanged up.

“What’s that about?” Nick asked, having finished his sandwich while he listened.

“The head honcho of Summer Bridge wants to talk,” still glaring at the phone.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, to get me to sell the land.”

“Which I’m thinking is not going to happen?”

“Hell no. I was tempted to get a free meal out of it, but I’m not letting her even try to make me feel obliged. As if she could. But I’m already sick of them getting in my business.”

Nick smiled. “Need back up?”

“Nah, I think I can handle it. I trust you with working on getting more stuff together tomorrow while I’m out.”

Nick was somewhat surprised. When she said trust, he knew she meant it since this was her family legacy she was talking about. “Can do,” he said with a smile. Sloane smiled back and finished up her own sandwich before cleaning up.

Nick managed to finish scanning the rest of the books into the hard drive by the end of the day. Sloane had in the meantime brought up several dozen more to go through the next day to decide if they were worth bringing along. They locked the old books back up and were just about to consider what to have for dinner when her phone rang.

“Mim’s number. They might want us for dinner again.”

“I’m fine with that, they’re great cooks.”

Sloane smiled and answered. “Aunt Mim?”

“Hey there, kiddo. We were just seeing if you two were hungry after a day of hard work. I’ve been cooking tamales and pulled brisket for tacos all afternoon, along with Mexican rice and good old fashioned beans.”

She smiled and looked at Nick. “You like tamales, brisket tacos, rice, and beans?”

Nick’s stomach was already growling. “You may have to roll me out of the house when I’m done.”

Sloane chuckled and turned her attention back to the phone. “We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Great. Don’t forget to lock up though, including the gate.”

“Will do. See you soon.” She hanged up and they grabbed their coats, setting the alarm and locking everything up before heading down the road again.

Dinner was again delicious, Jean and Mim pouring out plenty of wine for them too before switching over to the dark, fruity tea they made to avoid a buzz. They asked about being detectives and Nick and Sloane related toned down, wesen-free versions of some of the cases. Sloane also made up how she’d entered the police force a couple of years ago and managed to test up into being a detective relatively quickly thanks to some loopholes she found. Mim and Jean in return related a few newsworthy things that had happened over the years in town, though it was comparatively tame. Once done eating they went to the living room to rest for a bit on the overstuffed couches.

“That sauce you made for the tacos was amazing…” Nick sighed. “I better be careful or I’m going to go back heavier than when I came.”

“Old family recipe,” Mim said with a smile. “If you want to come over tomorrow its Jean’s turn to cook. She makes a mean pork roast.”

“Oh God, the one stewed in apples in the crock pot?” Sloane groaned lightly. “Oh, I haven’t had that in so long, it’s so good…” The two women smiled at the anticipation already in her voice.

“So, how has sorting through your grandmother’s things been going?”

Sloane paused just a moment before smiling. “Interesting. We keep getting a little distracted by the little things we find.”

“I can imagine,” Jean said with a sad smile. “Are you bringing things down from the attic?”

Nick glanced at Sloane, surprised to know there were some things in the attic as well. Sloane just smiled. “Working our way up right now. Like I said, little distractions here and there. And we got kind of a late start after going into town…”

“Why’s that?”

“There was a murder,” Nick said without thinking. Sloane cast him an annoyed glance and he smiled sheepishly.

“Oh yes…” Jean said sadly. “I’d heard about that…Poor Emily Fielding. You were in grade school with her once upon a time.”

Sloane paused and put her tea down. “Did she work at the Redline?”

“Yes! Had worked there ever since coming back. Tried to make a go of it in San Diego, didn’t work out.”

“Nice girl,” Mim sighed.

“We talked to her yesterday at the diner when we came in…” Sloane said slowly.

“The waitress,” Nick nodded. “She’s the one that told us about Summer Bridge coming here and some of the weird stuff going on with it.”

Mim narrowed her eyes. “Hmmm…”

“Mim, no,” Jean said, putting a hand on hers. “It’s probably just a coincidence…”

“Too many “coincidences” in this town lately,” Mim grumbled.

Sloane frowned, not liking it either. “Do either of you know anything else about Emily? Or what happened?”

“You’re the detectives, aren’t you?” Mim said.

“We’re out of our jurisdiction,” Nick said. “And Grover called us in to question us, but we didn’t get much about what happened out of it.”

“Why’d he want to question you?” Jean asked.

“Apparently he thought unfamiliar faces more suspicious than anyone local,” Sloane said.

Mim snorted but Jean sighed. “I heard from Sharon Rathbone, one of the shop ladies, that she was found very early this morning, in an alley a few blocks from where she lived. Between the bank and the drug store.”

“That’s where the crowd was gathered…” Sloane nodded.

“Mr. Andrews found her when he went to open up the store according to Sharon. She could hear him screaming from her own store a block away. He called the police first thing, but people over heard…he said she’d been burned. But not like with fire, she wasn’t…”

“Charred,” Mim supplied, morose as well. “Not sure what could burn without _burning_ …It’s not the first time though.” She looked at Sloane meaningfully. The lock from the other day had been the same way.

Sloane was quiet a moment before glancing at Nick. He looked back at her, remembering discussing this before. Acid had been their possibly conclusion, but it raised a lot of other questions and concerns.

“Sloane? Everything alright?” Jean asked.

“No, yeah,” she said, trying to smile. “Um, we should probably think about getting back though, before it’s too late.”

Jean pouted but nodded, helping them with their coats. “Drive safe.”

“And lock up when you get back,” Mim added. Jean frowned at her, perhaps not liking her paranoia about the locks, but nodded.

“We will.” Sloane opened the door but then paused and looked back. “Actually, I forgot. I’m meeting with the CEO of Summer Bridge tomorrow.”

“You what?!” Mim barked.

“Calm down, I just want to get it out of the way so I don’t keep getting uninvited calls or guests. Anyway, I want to know what you think on it.”

“We’d be here all night if I really went into it. Hold on.” She walked down the hallway to another room and return just a few seconds later holding a proposal much like the one given to Sloane except obviously marked up in red pen. “Here. This is all the bullshit I’ve been able to outline from what information was in that “proposal” and other places. Put my old engineering masters to good use.”

Sloane took it and glanced over the red lined pages. “Wow. Didn’t go easy on them, huh?”

“Of course not. But read it and you’ll better understand why I don’t trust these corporate suits as far as I can throw them.”

“I’ll read it tonight then, thanks. Goodnight.” She and Nick headed out to the car and started it up, driving back in the ice and snow towards the white house.

“It’s like what we were talking about earlier,” Nick said. “You think a wesen might be what killed this girl? Something that has acid?”

“It makes the most sense. Acid isn’t a popular murder weapon, this isn’t the sort of place you’d normally have a chemical attack either…But I still know about ten possible wesen species that could do it.”

“Great…” He sighed. “But if there is an acid spitting wesen killing people, I’d rather not leave without stopping it.”

Sloane smiled a bit. “Agreed…but for now, we should sleep. In the morning we can check town again, see if we find anything.”

“Sounds good…do we need to go through stuff in the attic before we leave though?”

Sloane hesitated but shook her head. “No Grimm stuff up there, just normal family items…”

“…And you don’t want any of those?” he asked as sensitively as he could.

“…It’s not a fun place to go up to.”

“Really? Why?”

“…My grandfather committed suicide up there,” she said quietly. “He hanged himself.”

“Oh…I…I’m sorry,” Nick said, his gut twisting a little.

“It’s okay,” she sighed. “I never knew him, it was way before I was born. My mother was still a teenager. I didn’t even find out till I was a teenager. But…it’s always kind of felt like a sad place. Oma had trouble going up there sometimes and I wondered why. I went up there once, curious, and went through some of the stuff there. Old jewelry, books, clothes…She got upset at me for it and made me promise not to go up there alone again. If it weren’t for the fact she had nowhere else to go and had all her things there, and later me, I wonder sometimes if she’d have stayed in this house…”

Nick looked at her sympathetically and then forward as they came up to the gate. Sloane got out to unlock it and Nick stared up to the top window of the house. First her grandfather then her grandmother, both taken in sudden volatile ways, certainly made the once charming house much more morose.

They got back inside and he texted Juliette that he’d had a full day of Grimm stuff and was heading to bed before going to wash up and laid down to go to sleep.

In the morning, Sloane had breakfast and started work with him, showing him some of what she found the other day as well. Nick’s favorite thing was a three tiered crossbow. Entirely impractical in an on-going fight, but certainly fun. Around 9:30 she left to head back down to the diner. Inside she was surprised to see there were only two people there: An olive-skinned woman with dark hair trimmed into a very business savvy bob sitting at a booth and a boy of about seventeen sitting at the counter playing on his phone. The woman waved to her with a polite smile. “Miss Larson?”

Sloane nodded and walked over, sitting across from her. “I’m surprised how empty this place is…”

“Yes, I asked we be allowed some privacy. Aside from my son, Jasper,” she gestured at the teen. With his headphones in, he apparently didn’t even hear his name. “He’s still free from school for Christmas break and I don’t like him staying in his room all day. We’ll be doing a little bonding after this.”

“Sounds nice,” Sloane said. A waitress came out and delivered them two cups of coffee and pots of cream and sugar. She seemed intent to keep her head down and get out of the way as soon as possible. Sloane didn’t comment and starting fixing her coffee with just a little cream and sugar. She arched her eyebrows when she noted Ms. Hill put three sugar packets into her cup.

“I like sweet things. Surprising I’m told,” she said with a smile.

“To each their own,” Sloane said. “I read that proposal last night.”

“Oh? And what do you think?”

“Sounds nice. The designs are certainly pretty.”

She smiled more. “Well, our architects are extremely talented.”

“Obviously. You apparently want the whole of the land around the hills though. Over 2,000 acres of woodland just for this one building?”

“We’d want to create some trails and such through the woods. Nature hikes and the like would be a wonderful opportunity for visitors and locals alike.” Sloane hummed in agreement. “You would also of course be well compensated for your land.” She reached into her business portfolio and pulled out a contract, handing it over to Sloane. “Highlighted here.”

Sloane took it and looked at the contract before huffing a little. “I-wow…I will admit, that’s generous.”

Mrs. Hill smiled. “I’m glad to see you’re a bit more open. Ms. Garcia has been…resistant. I was also hoping perhaps I could talk to you about getting her to relax a bit, maybe meet with me as well-”

Sloane offered the contract back, surprising her. “I think you’re misunderstanding, Ms. Hill. I’m still not selling to you.”

Ms. Hill paused and her smile turned tight. “Oh? I thought meeting together and reading the proposal meant you were at least open to the idea…”

“I read it so I could tell you I did and I still don’t want to do it. That land has been my family since the turn of the century. My great-grandfather bought it, and my grandfather was the one to develop it.”

“A family legacy? You want to keep their memory alive?”

“Hardly. I know nothing about great-grandpa and grandfather died before I was born,” she said blasé.

“So you want to keep it for yourself?”

“Kind of. I’m with Ms. Garcia. We’ll see about getting the areas away from our houses named a National Park, build proper trails then, and anyone coming is free to enjoy them without the need to clear and strip a large area for a giant lodge.”

“It’s just a community center-”

“I’ve traveled the world, Ms. Hill. I know a lodge when I see it, and having a community center in the hills makes no sense. That should be where the people are, in town, not up in the middle of the woods more than half an hour outside of town. I also know Ms. Garcia is a former architectural engineer with a lot of experience in getting land ready for construction and knows these proposals are missing a lot of vital information. I called and asked because she’s been a family friend since before I was born. That might have something to do with why she doesn’t trust you. And frankly, I don’t either.”

Ms. Hill’s smile fell and she narrowed her eyes. “I guess I underestimated the two of you. Here I was thinking you were just some small town girl coming back with your tail between your legs after being out in the big world, and that she was just some aging butch who hunted squirrels in the woods.”

Sloane smiled tightly back and didn’t miss the flash of regret that Miss Hill had in saying the words out loud. “You need to work on your poker face. It’s much too easy to get under your skin,” Sloane said, drinking the cup of coffee down. “I think we’re done here.” She stood. “I don’t want any more calls from Summer Bridge, and that goes double for you.”

“I don’t give up on anything, Miss Larson,” she said darkly.

“And you really don’t want to cross me, Ms. Hill,” she shot back, not turning around as she headed back out the door.

Jasper pulled his earbud out, having been listening in. “That didn’t go well…”

“No, it did not…” Noelle sighed, standing. “I had hoped this would be easier…Your grandmother was much better at setting up her colony, I don’t seem to have that same charm…”

“It’s okay, mom. You just need to keep putting pressure on them.”

“Oh we will,” she said, watching Sloane drive off through the window. “One way or another.” Jasper also watched her go, nodding slowly.

\----------------------

Nick sighed, stretching a bit. It was hard to focus this morning. Being alone in the big house was giving his mind too much room to wander. Standing, he made his way upstairs to check his phone that was still plugged in. No messages. Even more boring.

Putting the phone back down, he paused in the hallway. There was his room—the guest room—and the master suite at the end of the hall, the bathroom between those doors and there was one more door. Curiosity was rising since Sloane hadn’t mentioned anything about this other room. He hesitated, unsure if he should pry, but walked over to try the knob. It turned easily, not locked, and he took a breath before opening it. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting—more weapons? A library?—but it wasn’t a child’s room.

It was like walking back into his own childhood in some ways. While the room was definitely more geared towards a young girl, he recognized several things he had or his friends had back in the 80s and early 90s. The bed was a white four-post bed with a matching nightstand and bookshelf. The bedspread was faded, and dusty, but he could tell it was a light blue with pink and orange flowers all over it. There was a stuffed rabbit propped up against the pillows that looked very old and lonely. The lamp on the bedside table was an old brass looking lamp with a white shade, an old alarm clock that had stopped ticking over a decade ago probably next to it with Mickey Mouse on it. There was a shelf with some Barbies and My Little Ponies and other stuffed animals on the wall next to the window with lacy white curtains. The bookshelf had a lot of kids’ books that he remembered: _Goosebumps, The Boxcar Children, The Bailey School Kids,_ and more.

Nick walked just a little further, looking around like he was in a museum. When he got to a small desk in the corner—white topped with bright primary colors for the legs—he broke most every museum rule and pushed a at a couple of papers there to see what they were. In childish scrawl, he saw _Sloane Larson_ , written out and what looked like homework from elementary school.

And just like that, he felt unwelcome now. This was Sloane’s childhood room, kept persevered since she left just like much of the rest of the house. It’s like the room was still waiting for a 9 year-old to come back up to finish her homework and go to bed and having him there was just a disappointment. She had a normal life once. She was just a little girl, and then she’d been pushed into this world that was too adult, too terrifying for a girl that lived here to be a part of.

He heard a car pull up outside and glanced out the window. Sloane was back already. Quickly he got back out of the room and closed the door behind him, heading back downstairs.

She walked through the door to see Nick packing a box full of books. “Hey. How’d it go?” he asked, trying not to let anything slip to show he’d seen too much.

“About as well as telling a type A I’m not going to go along with their plan can go when you’re in a public place.”

“So tense?” he guessed.

“Very. What about you?”

“Made some good packing progress for the books and equipment.”

She smiled as she took off her jacket and draped it over the couch. “Thanks. You’ve…been a big help.”

Nick smiled back, trying not to feel guilty. “Happy to be of service.”

Sloane sighed and got back to work with him, now and then flipping through and showing him some of the more interesting things she’d encountered herself or remembered from the books. They broke for lunch, got right back to work, and then went back to Mim and Jean’s for dinner. The pot roast was as delicious as promised and Mim enjoyed Sloane telling her about meeting with CEO of Summer Bridge. They returned and Nick called Juliette, updating her on a little of what happened.

“Sounds like you’re having a good time,” Juliette said.

“Pretty good, yeah. I mean, not saying Mim and Jean’s food have been the highlight of the day, but they certainly make it worth driving down there at night.”

Juliette chuckled. “I’ll see if I can look up any recipes like that then. But what about this murder?”

“We don’t know. We can’t exactly get in on the autopsy or anything like that, and it’s not our jurisdiction. I think Sloane wants to figure it out, but it’s not easy when Mim and Jean and everyone else here are not on the whole Grimm wavelength. Or at the very least she doesn’t want them to be.”

“Is that what made it hard for you before I knew?” she asked softly.

“A bit, yeah…Mostly I just didn’t want to scare you or get you caught up in something dangerous. Too late now I guess…” he added quietly.

“I’ll be alright, Nick. I’m not going to run away screaming, at least not at all I’ve seen so far. And I’ve seen some pretty scary stuff so far.”

Nick smiled. “Yeah, you’ve been great…”

“Glad you noticed.”

“I always notice how great you are, I’m just usually to speechless in awe to say anything.”

Juliette laughed and he was grateful he could make her laugh again. “You better get to bed, Casanova.”

“Right. Love you.”

“Love you too.” She hanged up and Nick smiled to himself, laying back to sleep.

In the middle of the night they were woken up by the sound of glass breaking and the house alarm suddenly going off. Nick Sprang upright in bed, feeling his heart literally stop a moment and his skin growing cold. Closing his eyes, he breathed and quickly got back under control as he heard Sloane’s door open and her feet quickly running across the wood. He was out of bed and out of the room just as she was at the top of the stairs. “Sloane!”

She was down them before he could stop her and he raced down after her. He heard the sound of a struggle and came down in time to see Sloane grappling with a man dressed all in black with a ski mask on his head and a crowbar in his hand. He was trying to strike her with it he realized and Sloane was holding that arm by the wrist to keep it from hitting her. She caught his other hand when he tried to punch her, digging her feet into the hardwood floors as he tried to push her away. Nick was behind him in a second, wrapping his arm around his neck in a sleeper hold and pulling him back. Sloane dug her nails into his wrist and he gave a strangled shout as he dropped the crowbar. He did managed to kick out and knock her away though, and in that second he pulled up the bottom of his mask. His mouth changed into a pair of pincers and he bit down on Nick’s arm. Nick shouted as he felt a searing pain across his skin and he let go, stumbling away.

“Nick?!” Sloane said, worry in her voice.

“He’s wesen!” he yelled. His arm was burning, something smelled like a chemical tang or vomit. He breathed deep and felt his heart starting to slow rather than speed up, his skin turning white again. He wanted glared at the figure in black and growled. The burglar froze a moment before cursing and rushing back out the now busted window he’d opened. That surprised him enough he snapped out of it. “He’s getting away!”

“Nick, let me see your arm!” She turned on the light and pulled Nick’s arm to her before he could fight her. His shirt was actually smoking slightly, two holes slowly being eaten away in the fabric. “Shit!” She reached up and suddenly ripped his shirt open down the middle.

“Sloane, what the-”

“You have acid on you, idiot, take off your shirt before it keeps burning you!” That got his attention and Nick quickly did as he was told, throwing the shirt over to the side. She grabbed his arm again to look at the damage to his skin. There was a nasty, blistering welt forming almost five inches long across his forearm and Nick could still feel his nerves on fire around it. “We need to treat this, now! C’mon!” She grabbed his other arm and pulled him toward the stairs.

“But that guy-” Nick started.

“Was a rank amateur, we’ll track him down easily enough. But first and foremost we need to make sure whatever that is doesn’t keep eating at your skin.”

Nick swallowed and nodded. “How do we do that?”

“You need to take a shower. Twenty minutes, under the water. Make it room temperature, not cold or hot,” she rattled off, pulling him upstairs.

Nick nodded again, cradling his arm and letting her push him into the bathroom. They heard her phone go off in her bedroom and she left him alone, closing the door. He quickly undressed and got in, hissing at the water on the burn but letting it wash over it. After a few minutes it didn’t hurt quite as badly, though it was still very red and blistered. He continued till there was a knock at the door.

“Nick? You should be okay now. Get your pants back on and I’ll bandage you up. Mim and Jean got the alert from the alarm system, they’re on their way. I already hid the books and anything else back down in the basement to be safe.”

“Okay,” He called. He turned off the water and carefully dried off, patting the raw area dry as gingerly as possible. He then pulled his boxers and pajama pants back on. “I’m decent.”

Sloane opened the door, bandages and a jar of her salve in her arms. She had him sit on the toilet while she looked it over. “Not as bad as I first thought,” she said, sounding relieved. “The salve should heal it in a few days without a scar.”

“That’s good to hear,” he said.

“It’s going to sting though.”

“I can take it, don’t worr-eeeee!” The last part was a slight squeal and grunt as some of the salve was applied, feeling like someone was running the point end of an icicle through the melted skin.

“Warned you,” she said, though she didn’t sound gloating. More like she was upset this had happened to him. She then carefully started wrapping the wound in gauze and bandages. “You almost…changed.”

“Yeah…” he said, sighing. “I…can control it sometimes, but when I want to fight…”

Sloane sighed. “I get that. I think I got a look at half his face at least when he bit you…”

“Know what he is then?”

“If I’m right, that guy was an Enxame Vermelho, if you pardon me butchering Portuguese. But that’s bad because where there is one, there is never just one.”

“So…he has a family? Like those Gelumcaedus we fought?” Nick asked.

“Worse. Their name literally means Red Swarm. They can live in colonies of multiple families of up to 100 members, maybe even more.”

Nick’s jaw dropped. “A…a hundred?!”

“Yeah. They’re social creatures who need to have strong ties between them, but all centered around a central matriarch: the queen. Strongest female in the colony.”

“Kind of like Mellifers?” he asked.

“A bit, but even more in need of being together. They usually live together in commune like places, and are pretty industrious. They also have the ability to produce a powerful acid in their mouths.”

“Yeah, noticed that…” He flexed his hand a little when she finished the bandaged, breathing through the sharp pain. “How do we fight a hundred people though?”

“I don’t know…The only time I’ve ever faced them was in a kind of group blitz attack when I was younger. It happened really fast and I was mostly in the back…” she admitted. There was the sound of a car pulling up outside and Sloane stood. “Go put a shirt back on, we don’t want Mim and Jean getting suspicious of just what attacked us.”

“Right.” He stood and went back to his room, mind turning over the new information. This was potentially going to be a rough week if they had to deal with a hundred acid spitting, bitey wesen.

“What the hell is going on?! The alarm went off on my phone, the gate’s chain was broken, your window is broken-” He could hear Mim shouting from upstairs and he quickly headed downstairs.

“Someone tried to break in, we scared him off,” Sloane said, trying to calm her down.

“They what?!”

“We’re okay, Nick got a bad scratch on his arm but that’s it as far as injuries.”

“I hope you mean to yourself! You better have done something to that guy!”

“Calm down,” Jean said, trying to hold on to her arm. “You can’t get too worked up, Mimsy!”

Sloane sighed. “He got away, but we’re going to call the sheriff and look around—”

“That sheriff is useless! I’ll find him!” She pulled out of Jean’s grip and bolted out the door surprisingly quick.

“Mim!” Jean yelled after her, starting for the door as well.

“Aunt Mim! Mim! Myriam!” Sloane moved to go out after her but had to back track and find her shoes first, cursing under her breath at the cold biting her feet.

“You should get dressed first, it’s cold out there,” Nick said.

“I’ll be alright—”

“You’re in flannel pajamas. Warm in here, but not enough out there. I’ll get dressed too and call the sheriff and we’ll find her before she finds this guy, keep the peace. But dealing with shivering is going to slow us down.”

Sloane huffed but nodded, and bolted upstairs. Nick followed, quickly calling the Sherriff’s office on his phone. “Wildred Sheriff’s office.”

“Hi, I’d like to report a break in. 1 Larson road. Suspect bolted when we confronted him.”

“Alright, we’ll have someone out there right away. Is anyone injured?”

“Nothing major, but we have someone who’s gone after him.” He heard Sloane’s quick, booted footsteps rush past his room and he cursed as he tried to get his jeans on one handed. “And I think my friend just went after her!”

“Sir, you should stay put until help arrives.”

“I know that, but I can’t leave them out there alone either!” he said, grabbing his jacket and moving to head down. “Someone will be here, just get over.” He hanged up as he got outside.

Jean was still on the front porch, looking out towards the dark woods worriedly. “Sloane rushed out before I could stop her, I don’t know where Mim could be or what to do…”

“Just wait here, the police are on their way. I’ll find them.” He was down the stairs before she could say anything, running to the tree line.

\------------------------

Sloane pulled her gloves on as she walked around the woods, eyes roving around. “Aunt Mim? Where are you? We should head back!” She didn’t hear an answer and cursed again. Opening up her senses, she tried to listen for someone else walking through the underbrush. She managed to pin point a sound a few yards ahead and rushed towards it.

“You red son of a bitch, I should’ve known!” Mim’s voice carried over.

“Stay out of this, grandma.”

“What, they sent a runt like you to try and do something to Sloane? Ha! Your queen must be off her rocker!”

Sloane slowed and frowned at the words passing between them. She finally had them in sight, Mim cornering the Enxame Vermelho that had broken into their house somehow. The would-be burglar must’ve come through the woods to avoid being spotted but got turned around heading back. They were squaring off and he had his balaclava off, revealing a young face of someone maybe only in his late teens or early twenties with sandy hair and freckles. It took Sloane a moment to place the face, but she remembered he was there with Noelle Hill earlier that day. Her son, Jasper.

“You shut your mouth! Or I’ll melt more than a lock!”

Mim glared. “So you broke into Jean’s workshop too? Bring it on then, you little shit.”

Sloane tensed and then rushed out, getting between them. “Mim! Stop it! You can’t fight him!”

Mim stared at her in shock. “Sloane, you don’t know what’s going on here—”

“I’ve pieced together quite a bit actually, so please, go back to the house.”

She heard the Enxame Vermelho move to her side and turned back. “That goes for you too.”

He glared at her and then suddenly woged, his pincers opened wide. “Sloane, down!” Mim yelled, grabbing her before she could react on her own. A glob of acid was spit at where Sloane’s chest used to be, but Mim’s surprisingly strong pull got her out of the way with a stumble against a tree.

“Aunt Mim, don’t-” Sloane’s words died in her throat as Mim woged, black fur growing over her face and neck, her teeth elongating and her nose flattening out. She roared like a bear at the insectoid wesen and rushed him, throwing him into a tree with a swipe like a steel girder swinging into him. He crumpled to the ground and de-woged, out like a light. Sloane’s eyes were still glued to Mim, her instincts and schooling shouting at her to draw her weapon while the knowledge that it was Mim was still too shocking.

Mim turned to her, the expression on her animal-like face morphing from rage to anxious realization as she woged back. “Sloane…”

“You’re…a Jägerbar?” she asked shakily.

Mim swallowed but nodded slowly. “I am…”

Sloane felt like the world was tilting and put a hand out to the tree next to her. “I…but…I-I’ve known you all my life…”

“I’ve been very diligent in hiding it from you,” Mim breathed out. She coughed a little, clearing her throat. “Woging is a little rough on me at my age too…Though not as rough as it was for him,” she said, trying to smile.

Sloane was shaking her head slowly. “You were friends with my grandmother…how? My grandmother was a Grimm too! I’m a Grimm!”

“I know…” Mim said gently.

“You know?!”

“Yes. I knew your grandmother so well, Sloane, of course I knew she was a Grimm. But she was still my friend…sometimes like a mother to me. And I am well aware of what I am. And what Jean is…”

Sloane swallowed thickly, feeling so many things—confusion, betrayal, anger, more confusion, her instincts clawing at her to fight but this was _Mim_ , her Aunt Mim—that she felt ill. “Jean…Jean too?”

“Yes…but not a Jägerbar. She—”

“All this time…I thought you were both human and in the dark…” Sloane said quietly, trying to control her breathing.

“That’s what your grandmother wanted,” Mim said, trying to inch towards her. “There was always a chance you wouldn’t have inherited, that you’d be able to grow up as just a regular child. If that was true, she didn’t want you to have to know about this world. We were away when you got your powers and…when Rebecca died. And Deirdre took you,” she said the last part bitterly. “I knew she’d raise you to hate us…Jean did too. We didn’t know how to tell you when we saw you again, sixteen but already so…so obviously a hunter like her and not your grandmother.”

“What do you know about my grandmother?!” she shouted. It was a stupid question; they’d been friends longer than she was alive, but how? How could she have been friends with wesen? Maybe she didn’t know her grandmother.

“Your grandmother was the kindest, most noble person we’d ever known. She…Look, let’s go back to the house and talk. There’s a lot to go over.”

Sloane took a couple of deep breaths before nodding. “Fine. Grab him and get to the house.” She turned without waiting for an answer, walking stiffly back through the woods. She felt like there was a coil of rubber bands inside her that were tight enough they were about to snap.

She wasn’t surprised when she Nick came through the trees. “There you are! Did you find them?”

“They’re coming. Help her with the would-be burglar,” she snapped, brushing past him. Nick blinked at the curt tone and looked back up where she’d come from. He hesitated but headed to the clearing, where Mim was looking over a teenager in black. She looked up hopefully when his steps crunched up to her in the snow and then deflated.

“Oh…hey.”

“Hey,” he said back. “He’s out?”

“Yeah, I…hit him kind of hard. Can you, uh…help me with him? I’m not as young as I once was,” she sighed, looking suddenly haggard.

Nick nodded and knelt down to maneuver the teen into a fireman carry, walking back towards the house.

Sloane meanwhile found her way back easily enough. She paused a bit at the edge of the woods, looking towards the house and feeling like she wanted to run. It was a few moments, when she heard Nick and Mim in the distance behind her, that she stomped up the steps and back inside, slamming the door open and startling Jean where she was pacing in the living room.

“Sloane, did you find Myriam?” Jean asked.

Sloane didn’t answer, heading for the kitchen. Nick came in and laid the teenager down on the floor inside. Mim was hanging back, hesitating to enter and he walked in. He watched confusion as she opened the fridge and pulled out one of the beers he’d gotten. Sloane didn’t normally drink much, but she opened it up and took a long swig. “Uh, you okay there, Sloane?”

She held up a hand, continuing to drink. Jean frowned worriedly. “Sloane? Hon?”

Sloane slammed the can on the counter and looked at Jean with a betrayed look. “So…what are you?”

Jean was confused for a moment before understanding dawned on her. “…You know?”

“Know what?” Nick asked, lost.

“Myriam and Jean are wesen,” she bit out.

Nick’s eyebrows rose and he looked to Jean. Jean looked at him as well, just as surprised. “You know about…?”

Sloane crunched the can under her grip. “He’s a Grimm as well. But apparently, he has more in common with my grandmother than I do because she had a bunch of wesen for friends!”

Jean looked at her with a pained expression. “Sloane, we wanted to tell you, really…”

“When? Because I’ve been a Grimm for almost twenty years now, I’ve been coming back here for ten—I’ve known you my whole life, and my whole life I thought you were human! Thought that you didn’t know anything about all this! I thought I was protecting you from it all but you knew the whole damn time?”

Jean shrunk down a little guiltily at that. “We thought we were protecting you too…” They all paused as Myriam made her way inside. “You woged and hurt him, didn’t you?” Jean accused. “I told you not to get so worked up or you’d woge!”

Mim huffed, looking guilty but annoyed, and stepped over the unconscious burglar on the floor. “Yes, okay! It happened! Give me some credit for not woging earlier around her!”

Sloane took another beer out but this time pressed the cold metal against her forehead like a cold compress to ward off a headache.

“So, what are you?” Nick asked, more curious than anything.

“Oh, you know about all this?” Myriam asked, torn between annoyance and surprise from the sound of her voice.

“He’s a Grimm too,” Jean sighed.

Myriam grimaced. “Shit…”

“I’m not interested in fighting you though,” Nick said quickly. “I’m more of a case by case kind of Grimm, dealing with them as they come to me in as a detective.”

Mim relaxed slightly but still seemed on guard. “Jägerbar.”

“And you?” Sloane said, looking at Jean again.

Jean hesitated before woging. Her teeth got longer, her hair wilder, her nose wider and more feline and her eyes sharper and cat-like. “Lowen…”

Sloane looked shocked again, almost dropping the beer. “You? A Lowen?”

Jean changed back. “I know, it doesn’t seem to fit with how I am. But this is who I am, Sloane. I had a wild past, but that wasn’t what I wanted out of life. Rebecca brought me here, gave me a new lease on life. Introduced me to Mim.” She took Mim’s hand. “Who had been in the same boat once and helped me make that new life.”

Sloane was quiet again. “I don’t understand though, how…why would my grandmother…?”

“She was more like your friend here, if what you two say is true,” Jean said. Sloane shot him a look and Nick tried to give her a disarming smile so she wouldn’t round on him. “She lost her parents young, early in the Second World War, and developed her own way of doing things…she still fought and killed wesen, but she wasn’t above making peace with them and being friends with them. She killed my older brother, but he was horrible,” Jean said bitterly. “I hated him, and what he’d make me do to help him. Drugs, fights, killing... Then he even got some of my friends into his messed up life…including my first girlfriend. Used her as bait for some rival gang members. I couldn’t save her. He was too strong for me to do anything on my own and had everyone else in the family doing whatever they could to stay on his good side. When Rebecca came to try and break up his operation, I helped her, but as a result my family would’ve torn me apart. Rebecca saved me and brought me back. I wasn’t expecting it, I figured I’d die by her hand or another’s, but she brought me back here and she and Charles—your grandfather—patched me up. Then I went to live with Mim and…here’s where I stayed.”

Sloane was calmer, but still tense. “…What about you?” she asked, looking at Mim.

“I was orphaned young because of a Grimm,” she said. “Ended up with a family who didn’t know about wesen, didn’t know how to deal with me. Grew rebellious and angry and ran away at sixteen. Lived the hard life. I tried to kill your grandmother when we first met…”

Sloane balked. “But…you’re her best friend!”

“Yeah. She beat me but didn’t kill me. I followed her back here, intending to kill her, but she just kept beating me. Eventually we just got to talking and…I don’t know. Over time it wasn’t black and white anymore, it was this shade of gray where I couldn’t blame her anymore for something she wasn’t even a part of, and she just always gave me this chance to be friends. I finally took her up on it and she got me back in school. Paid for it all, I became an engineer in record time and got enough money to pay her back and then buy up the rest of the land around the hills here. We were friends ever since…Your mother knows us too, but she leaves us alone now. Once she became a “real” Grimm, we were only tolerated.”

Sloane was still reeling it looked like, though she’d left the beer can alone now. She was staring at the two of them, or more like through them, as she tried to absorb everything.

“Sloane? Honey?” Jean said, easing towards her. Sloane moved back, shaking her head and Jean sadly eased away.

Nick frowned but before he could say anything, they finally heard the police outside. They’d taken their time he thought, but maybe a moment to cool down was needed. Grover walked up and knocked on the door and Sloane moved past the older women to open it.

“So…mind filling me in on what’s going on?” He said. He yawned a little, looking put out. “I was finally asleep when I get a call about trouble out here.”

“Attempted robbery,” Sloane said.

“Robbery? Again?” He eyed Mim and Jean and Mim bristled a little.

“Well, we got the culprit this time, no thanks to you. This little shit tried to rob them,” Mim said, toeing at the burglar. “Sloane and I went after him and we managed to catch him.”

He leaned down to take a look and froze when he recognized him. Nick thought he saw a flash of fear in his face before he looked more resigned. “Jasper Hill…Great. Just great, this is going to be a pain…”

“You know him?” Nick asked.

“I know his mother…”

“I do too. I met with her earlier when I turned down her proposal to buy my land, and he was there,” Sloane said.

Grover sighed and looked at Mim. “But that was a stupid thing to do, Ms. Garcia, going after him. What if he’d been armed?”

“He was. He brought that crowbar,” Nick said, pointing to it on the ground. “Tried to brain Sloane when she came downstairs. We disarmed him before he ran.”

Grover snorted and gestured to his deputy, who went over to pick it up with a gloved hand. “Well, I’ll run him in then.” He leaned down and gently tapped his cheek. “Hey son, wake up. Jesus, what’d you do to him, Garcia?”

“I judo threw him and he conked out,” she lied. “Not my fault he can’t take a hit.”

The burglar groaned and started coming too. “That’s it, wake up, Jasper,” Grover said. “I don’t wanna carry you. C’mon, we’ll have to contact your parents.” He got him up and walking a little unsteadily with the deputy back out to the car. “Y’all mind making statements in the morning? It’s cold as hell outside and I’ll have to deal with this kid’s parents first and foremost. Pressing charges?”

“Yes,” Sloane said. “But I agree, let’s do this tomorrow. Hold him tonight; I’ll be over first thing tomorrow morning.”

Grover nodded and led the kid towards the door, the deputy following. Once they were gone, it was quiet in the room.

“Sloane…” Jean started.

“I think I need some sleep before I deal with this anymore,” Sloane said, rubbing her temple. “Head home.”

“Sloane,” Mim started, sounding more resistant to being dismissed.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” she snapped. “Either of you.” She turned and headed upstairs before they could react. Jean looked down sadly and Mim put an arm around her. Nick felt sympathetic, standing to go to them.

“She’s just…it’s a shock,” he said lamely. “She doesn’t do well with surprises in day to day life I’ve noticed. On the job she can take it, but…”

“We know…” Mim sighed. “It’s part of why we hesitated telling her. We always knew she was out being a Grimm, not a flight attendant. And we know how Deidre raised her. I figured you were probably one too or a librarian or something and this “detective” thing was a cover.”

He shook his head. “It’s not. I really am a detective in Portland and Sloane is one of my partners. Thanks mostly to my wesen boss pulling some strings…”

“So she’s working with wesen?” Jean asked, sounding hopeful.

“Yeah, but…it’s a process getting her to trust anyone. But she has made wesen friends. Our friend Rosalee is a Fuchsbau and probably one of her best friends.”

Jean smiled. “I’m glad. Rebecca would be too. I just…I just hope she realizes we love her like family and we didn’t want to lie…”

“She will,” Mim said, rubbing over her partner’s back and kissing her temple. “We just need to let her process. Let’s go home, give her some space.”

Jean nodded and looked at Nick. “Thank you for being so understanding…Rebecca always hoped for more Grimms like her in the world.”

Nick blushed a bit but smiled. “It’s not always easy but…thanks.”

They nodded and headed out the door to their car. Nick headed upstairs. He looked at the closed door to the master bedroom and thought about checking on Sloane, but decided that Jean and Mim were probably right to let her have some time on her own.

\------------------------

“You really made trouble for us tonight, kid,” Grover said, glaring at Jasper in his rearview mirror. The kid had his hands handcuffed and hanging between his legs.

“Shut up, you’re not part of “us”,” Jasper said.

“True, but then, were you out here on your mother’s orders or did you do this on your own?”

Jasper didn’t answer and Grover sighed as he drove to the sheriff’s office. “Put him in cell 1,” he told the deputy.

“Wait, are you serious?” Jasper said, looking shocked he was actually being locked up.

“As a heart attack. You stay there while I call your mother and we’ll see what she has to say about your nighttime activities.”

Jasper glared and violently shrugged off the deputy’s hand as they walked in back. Grover sat down and dialed the number he already knew. It rang for a couple of seconds before a tired woman’s voice came over the line. “Sherriff. I trust this is important?”

“Yeah. I have your son Jasper in a cell down here.”

“…Why?”

It was scary how cool the voice was despite the news. “He was caught breaking into a house. The house in the woods owned by Sloane Larson.”

It was quiet a moment. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No one at the house far as I know, but your son has bump on the head. However, he also had a crow bar with him that he reportedly tried to use as a weapon. This is all grounds for a felony, Mrs. Hill. Also, I don’t think Miss Larson is going to warm up to you or your son now.” Mrs. Hill sighed and it was quiet for a beat before Grover cleared his throat. “Do you, um, want to come see him now?”

“No,” she said, her voice now icy cold. “Leave him there for the rest of the night. See if that helps him learn not to go off on his own. I’ll be there in the morning.”

“Okay, good…So will Miss Larson. She intends to press charges.”

“I’ll deal with her when I see her,” she bit out.

“Right, yes. Sounds good…I’ll, just, uh, let you rest up then.”

“Goodnight Sherriff.” She hanged up and Grover put his phone back on the receiver.

“That woman’s colder than a snowman’s ass…”

\--------------------------

When Nick woke up in the morning, there were fresh bandages and a jar of salve on his night stand, along with a note.

_You don’t have to wash the burn. Just apply a little more salve and re-bandage. Do it again tonight before bed._

_-Sloane_

Straight and to the point, as he’d expect. He sat up and unwound the gauze bandages Sloane had put on, noting that indeed the wound looked unexpectedly better. He reapplied the salve—which still stung a bit—and managed to dress it himself. He then got dressed and moved to head out of his room and downstairs. He was surprised when he saw the attic door was down in the hallway just before the master bedroom door, the folding stairs leading up extended. He hesitated before climbing up.

Sloane was sitting on the dusty floor of the attic, looking through a book in her lap with a quilted throw over her shoulders. A flashlight lantern was next to her, still on despite the daylight filtering in through the window with dancing specks of dust. It didn’t look like she’d slept much, her eyes droopy and slow blinking now and then while she continued reading. She wasn’t smiling or really frowning, she looked more like she was trying to understand something. “…Sloane?”

She jumped a bit but then looked at him. “Nick? What’re you doing up?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

“It’s 8 in the morning, Sloane…”

“It is?” She sounded somewhat surprised, looking over at the window as though she hadn’t noticed the sun that had risen at least an hour ago.

“Have you been up here all night?” He climbed the rest of the way up and walked over to her.

“Mmm…yeah. Couldn’t sleep so…I dunno. I thought there would be something up here to help me understand just what my grandmother was thinking…The basement is all Grimm stuff, things for hunting and fighting. This…is my grandmother’s stuff. The things she kept because of sentimentality and…other things I was told I shouldn’t have to be a good Grimm …”

Nick frowned. “…Did you find anything?”

“Lots of pictures, of my grandfather and her and of my mother as a kid—and that was trippy as hell—and…then this.” She gestured at the book. “Journals…One from when she was younger, couple from during WWII, and this one, from when she came over to America from Europe with my grandfather after the war. This is the one I’ve been reading mostly…”

“And does that seem to shed some light on things?” he asked, honestly curious but hopeful as well.

“Yeah…I…never really knew much about Oma’s past. I always assumed she was like Deidre or the other Grimms I’ve met besides you. A mighty hunter. But…she was more like you. And I don’t mean that in…in a bad way, really, I just…I guess I thought she’d be like Kelly, or Marie.”

“…Well, um…not to shock you more but, Aunt Marie was engaged to a Steinadler once,” he said slowly. “I met him, his name is Farley Colt. But she left him when my parents…or at least when my parents _apparently_ died to raise me. She wanted to keep me out of the Grimm life as long as possible.”

Sloane looked up at him, her tired eyes wide, and he worried he’d sent her over the edge for a tense moment. Then she gave a growling sigh, rubbing over her face. “No, you know what…might as well accept that no one is what I thought they were. I’ve been feeling it for a while.” She thunked back against the trunk behind her, lolling her head to rest on it. “Oma was still very talented as a Grimm. I found out so much I never knew, at least not the details. She lost her parents when she was sixteen at the very start of World War II. They were both Grimms but also Ally Spies. Hitler was actually a Hundjager—”

“I know. There’s some films in the trailer that are not home movies…” Nick interrupted, remember the film of the dictator woging.

“Oh…” she said, actually surprised. “That’s probably worth something…Well, part of his cleansing was to try and root out Grimms. He was genuinely anti-Semitic and into eugenics and all that, but a lot of Grimms in Europe at the time were from Jewish families. I think he knew that somehow and that was part of why he was hunting them. Ironic too how anti-Semitic some of those original Grimm tales could be…” she added under her breath a little bitterly.

“Wow…So your great-grandparents were spies?” he asked, getting back on topic and sitting next to her.

“Yeah. Even before the war. They knew what was happening, they saw the signs. But something happened—she found out later they’d been betrayed and fell into a trap trying to stem the rise of the fascists. Oma was sixteen at the time, didn’t know much about being a Grimm because they’d been busy after she inherited her abilities at 13. So she taught herself using the family collection…but her own discretion. Ended up recruited by a small cell of ally and resistance fighters made up of Keirsheite and a few wesen that she also befriended. Kept in touch with them too, I found letters…That group was where she met my grandfather, Charles Larson.” She smiled a little tiredly. “An American pilot that, and I quote, “Had a nerve of steel but a heart made of butter”.”

Nick snorted. “Does that mean she liked him?”

“I think so…Apparently one of Grandpa’s crew and his best friend was a Scharfblicke, a kind of bird-like wesen with great eyesight. He witnessed him woge and instead of both of them freaking out, they managed to come to an understanding and he brought Grandpa into this group. They called themselves Aegis, after the mythical shield from Greek mythology.” She looked around and then picked up another journal as she spoke, flipping through the pages and then showing a sketch of an old shield.

“Sounds pretty cool…” he said. He couldn’t deny thinking about Grimm spies in WWII was more than a little intriguing.

“Yeah…In here,” she held up the book she was reading, from after the war, “she talks about Jean and Mim but…there were others too. She always laments when she couldn’t just talk something out with a wesen and had to resort to killing them…” Sloane sighed and pulled her hair back, looking up at the ceiling. “All I can think now is…what she’d think of me.”

Nick frowned sympathetically and reached up to put an arm around her. She didn’t tense this time and he wasn’t sure if it was because she was so down or tired. “Sloane…she loved you. I saw it in those photos, she was so proud of you.”

“But that’s not me anymore…I’m not a little girl in a tutu anymore. I’m a hunter. A killer. I’m not what she wanted me to be…” she finished, and she sounded so lost that Nick felt his heart go out to her.

“I honestly don’t think that would change that she would still love you,” he said gently. “Maybe she would’ve raised you to be a different Grimm than you have been, but I don’t think she’d love you less.”

“She’d be disappointed in a lot of what I’ve done…” she pressed.

“Maybe. Or she…might hope you’d do better.”

Sloane looked at him with a look that said she couldn’t decide what she was feeling. “…I should probably head downtown. That little punk from last night and his mom will be waiting.”

Nick nodded, accepting the change in topic. “You want me to come?”

“…Yeah. If they’re both Enxame Vermelho, then there are probably a lot of others in the town. I might need some back up.”

Nick smiled a little, liking the sign of trust. They put the journals back in the box and headed downstairs to get ready. Nick drove into town and to the police station, parking beside a rather expensive looking car in the parking lot. “Guess mom got here early…”

“Yeah. I have a feeling she might be the queen around here.”

“So she’s the one we need to watch out for?”

“We need to watch out for all of them. But if things get dicey, go for her first. Or…”

“Or…?”

“…I’m wondering what my grandmother would do.”

Nick was about to ask more but she was already out the door. They headed inside and the secretary, looking nervous, quickly led her into the small interrogation room, one of only two in the precinct. Grover was already there, sitting across from Mrs. Hill and Jasper. Jasper already looked contrite, likely having gotten chewed out by his mother already.

“Miss Larson, welcome. And Mister…Burka?” Grover said.

“Burkhardt,” Nick said, giving a tight smile. They sat down in the two empty chairs on the same side as Mrs. Hill and Jasper, but with a large gap between them. “Just here for moral support and since I was there last night.”

“Understandable,” Grover nodded.

“I am truly very sorry for this,” Mrs. Hill said. “I think my son misunderstood the situation and thought he was helping me, trying to scare you…”

“I have a feeling he might’ve done something similar last month to Jean Oberto and Myriam Garcia’s work shed,” Sloane said evenly. She looked at Grover, who shifted uncomfortably.

“Ah, yes…guess I hadn’t made the connection…Jasper, you know anything about that?”

“N-no…I mean I heard about it…” he said, not looking at anyone.

“I wouldn’t recommend lying right now, kid,” Sloane glared. He shrank back a little but glared back.

“I realize you intend to press charges and I agree Jasper needs to face consequences for his actions, but I was hoping we could come to an agreement. Rather than a felony, perhaps we could agree on community service or something to that effect?”

“I’m not sure that’s enough considering he tried to attack Nick and me.”

“He was just startled-”

“He brought a crowbar. Now I could maybe think that was to smash up the house with, but then he tried to smash me with it. So I’m not feeling terribly forgiving. There’s also the matter of the _burn_ to Nick’s arm.”

Nick glanced at Sloane, surprised a moment she was bringing that up, then realizing she was letting them know they were well aware who and what they were dealing with. Mrs. Hill’s expression didn’t betray anything though. “Burned? How would that happen?”

“I think you’re well aware how.”

Grover was looking tense and so was Jasper. “Mom…I tried to tell you, the guy said I was wesen. They know…”

“Jasper,” she said warningly.

“Enxame Vermelho,” Sloane said. It sounded like a magic spell, and it did have an effect this time. Mrs. Hill looked at her and then woged, as did Jasper. While Jasper was a fiery red color, with his large eyes and pincers, Mrs. Hill was the color of blood, with a rigid plate of carapace around her brows, almost like a crown. Nick kept his cool despite a momentary lurch in his heart and stomach. Sloane he was sure was made out of ice at this point as she just stared her down. “And there’s the queen.”

“Grimm!” she breathed, woging back and standing, putting herself in front of Jasper. “Both of you are Grimm!”

The sheriff’s eyes widened and he too woged into his wesen form. Sloane glanced to him and arched an eyebrow. “A Grun Hochspringer? Didn’t think you two would work together.”

“You’re a Grimm? I-but-you’re family has lived here for generations!”

“It’s from my grandmother’s side of the family. In any case, I believe now is the time to discuss what I expect to happen going forward if we don’t want any more trouble.”

“D-discuss?” Mrs. Hill asked, confused.

“You’re a new queen I’m guessing, trying to build a colony here for…what reason?”

“…I like the area.”

“Well, good for you,” Sloane said snidely. “But you aren’t getting the hills. That’s my land, and the land of Myriam Garcia’s. And if _anyone_ ,” she narrowed her gaze on Jasper, who flinched back, his teenage bravado now forgotten, “messes with Myriam or Jean again in any way shape or form, they will answer to me.”

Nick smiled a little, glad that Sloane was still protective of the two women.

“I…I may be setting up a new colony, but we still out number you,” Mrs. Hill said.

“True. But then, you don’t know how many other Grimm’s I know. I have what we call a “Dead Letter” set up. If I don’t regularly check in to a certain account, after a couple of weeks this letter goes out to all my contacts—most of whom are Grimm. On a Dead Letter is a list of investigations, jobs, other contacts, etc. that may be unfinished business. I just added “Wildred, California-Colony of Enxame Vermelho. _Murderous._ ” She growled the last word and Mrs. Hill swallowed. “I know what happened to Elizabeth Fielding. Quite frankly, I wouldn’t mind having a chat with the one responsible for that. I assume it wasn’t your son.”

“N-No!” Jasper said. “It was Midgley! I followed them and saw him do it!”

“Jasper!” Mrs. Hill gasped.

“What? I heard you, I knew what you were ordering him to do! And you’re upset at me for breaking into their houses?!”

Mrs. Hill flinched and looked back at Sloane. “I…I didn’t want her dead. I wanted her to keep her mouth shut. He took it too far—”

“Was Mr. Morrison a step too far too?” she asked, glaring.

“Th…that was an accident…” she said, looking away.

“…I almost believe you. Regardless, that’s at least two deaths on your colony’s record, so my message is accurate enough.”

Mrs. Hill breathed deeply. “And…what will they do if they see this Dead Letter?”

“Converge on this town and purge it of your presence by finding and executing every last one of you,” Sloane said matter-of-factly. “It might take time perhaps, but it will get done. A few workplace accidents, some terrible car wrecks, disappearances…Wildred will become a ghost town if necessary. I’d do it myself, but I have other things to do and I rather not spend more of my life than necessary continuing to come down here for _pest control_. Nick feels the same I’m sure.”

Nick was surprised he was included but managed to look neutral and nod his head. “Yeah. The acid thing is off putting, but there’s ways around it after all. If Sloane wants my help, she has it.”

“…And where does that leave us if we want to avoid all that?” Mrs. Hill asked slowly.

“Two options. One: You stay.”

“We…what?”

“You stay. Provided you remain peaceful. No more shady deals, no more deaths, no more driving the locals out. No big chalet on the hill. Learn to love the small town feel and deal with it. Live here with knowledge that I will be constantly on the watch for news about this town and if anyone else dies mysteriously or “has an accident”, I’ll be back with more friends of my own.”

Mrs. Hill breathed in deeply. “And the second option?”

“Leave. Cut ties with all the work you’ve put in here.”

“That might tank the local economy-” Grover started.

“I will deal with you and your hand in this in a moment, Sherriff,” Sloane said darkly. He quickly shut up. Sloane looked back at Mrs. Hill. “As I was saying. You leave. You find somewhere else to set up. But I’d be more…diplomatic and discreet. Because if people start dying, I or someone else in the area might get curious what’s going on.”

Mrs. Hill stared at her. “You’d let us go?”

“On conditions. As I said, I don’t want to hassle myself hunting you all down. It’s been a rough week personally and I could use the opportunity to vent my frustrations for sure, but I’d just rather not. And I-that is, we really are a detectives in another city, so don’t go trying to make us disappear or pin something on us because I promise you, that will only end very badly for all involved. Kill us, you’ll be hunted down again within a month I promise you, by Grimm or by Federal Investigators. Stay and cause further havoc, I’ll take you down myself and enjoy doing it.”

“Then why not try it now?” She asked.

Sloane paused, looking thoughtful before looking back up at her. “I’m trying…a slightly new approach to things. Would you prefer I just do it?”

“No, no…” Mrs. Hill breathed in deeply, looking at Sloane as if trying to see a crack in her expression. Sloane was like a statue though, staring her down calmly. “…I will need to think on it.”

“That’s fine. We’ll be here a few more days. I’d like to hear your answer by Friday though.”

“Very well.”

“And have a talk with your son about the criminal lifestyle. Because I also expect law enforcement around here to do its job more thoroughly. And not taking bribes. You did take them, didn’t you?” She turned and glared at Grover. He swallowed but didn’t argue, apparently knowing that might endanger the promise of mercy they were getting. Sloane stood. “Maybe you should consider retirement after all if you don’t even want to bother doing your job properly.” She looked them over again before nodding to herself. “I think we’re done here. I won’t press charges so long as you don’t give me a reason to come after any of you again.”

“I…understand,” Mrs. Hill said.

“I hope you do because I’ll be honest, leaving here with all of you intact is screaming against everything I’ve been taught and my instincts,” Sloane said. “Do not make me regret it.” She nodded to Nick and they both headed out the door without being stopped. Sloane took a deep breath outside and Nick could tell she was truthful about leaving without a fight being hard. He reached up and put a hand on her shoulder.

“You did good,” he said honestly.

“Thanks…feels wrong still but…”

“I think your grandmother would approve if she’s the way we’ve heard. If nothing else…I’m proud of you.”

Sloane huffed but a small smile came to her lips. “That’s…something, I suppose.”

He smiled back then frowned. “Does that “Dead Letter” thing exist though?”

“Yeah, though it’s not as official as it sounds. It’s through the library. And I uh…haven’t actually added them yet though,” she said, tapping her lips with her finger in a “shhh” motion. “I’ll message Gallin when we get back.”

Nick smiled and gently nudged her. “C’mon. I’ll treat us to breakfast somewhere and we can get back to work.”

Nodding, they headed back to his car and drove into town.

\---------------

Jean was looking out the window of their house, into the darkened woods, towards where Rebecca’s house stood beyond the trees. She couldn’t see it, but she could picture it there as if she were just at the end of the driveway. She hadn’t turned on the light, didn’t really need to when she could see fine in the dark still. Her eyes had the slight green shine to them other predators had in the night.

“Jean, you can’t keep staring like that…” Mim sighed, walking in from getting ready for bed. She was in her flannel pajamas for the cold, a pair of slippers on her feet.

“It’s been two days,” Jean sighed. “She hasn’t said anything…Hasn’t called…”

“She’ll call us when she’s ready,” Mim said, coming up to put an arm around her side.

“And if she doesn’t?” Jean said, tearing up.

“She will. She’s just…she needs time,” Mim sighed. “Deirdre did a number on her…she needs to come to terms with everything.” Jean sighed deeply but nodded. “C’mon, let’s get to bed.” She turned to lead her back towards there room.

The paused when the heard something creak on the front porch, both looking towards the windows. They didn’t see anything moving outside but Mim’s hand tightened on Jean’s arm. “The wind? Or snow?”

“Yeah…maybe…” Mim said, though she didn’t sound convinced. Then they heard a crash from the side of the house, like a window breaking in. They could hear footsteps as well piling in as well. “Get to the bedroom!”

“Mim-”

“Go!”

There was another crash and the door at the end of the hall flew open as Jean was running towards it, the sizzling drops of acid falling onto the hardwood floor.

\-----------------

Sloane and Nick had two days of uninterrupted work after that. They weren’t interrupted by any wesen activity at all. Nick was sad to say though that Mim and Jean were on that list. Sloane didn’t talk about it, or about much of anything, and Nick hesitated to bring it up. But when they got all the boxes loaded into the car he paused after shutting the back. “Y’know…it’s already late in the afternoon. Almost evening. We could leave in the morning, get back at a better hour.”

Sloane sighed a bit, looking up at the sky slowly tinting orange in the late daylight hours. “Yeah…probably not a bad idea I suppose, since we gotta get the house ready anyway.”

“…You should probably talk to Mim and Jean too.” Sloane looked at him with an unreadable expression. “I know…finding out exactly who they are was shocking. But they’re still the same people you’ve always known.”

“…I had a thought last night, that I could take everything I needed from the house and never come back. Get a trailer like Marie’s, never store anything here again. Never have to see this town again.”

“…Or Mim and Jean,” Nick finished, feeling worried. Sloane didn’t say anything to that. “Is that what you want?”

“…What I want hasn’t been a priority since I was a child…” she said quietly. “Deidre raised me on my duty as a Grimm. The greater good, as she always put it one way or another.”

Nick frowned again. “What you want does matter, Sloane. Maybe it won’t always work out that way but…you shouldn’t feel like it doesn’t matter.”

Sloane was quiet again for a while before turning. “Let’s start cleaning up the house.”

Nick sighed, getting used to her changing the subject when she didn’t want to talk anymore, but followed.

That night, after an easy dinner of microwaved pizza, they were about to head up to bed when rapid knocking at the door made them pause. “Sloane! Sloane, help, it’s Mim! Mim needs help!” Jean’s frantic voice was crying.

Sloane froze just a moment before rushing to the door. “Jean? What—” She gasped as Jean stumbled through the door. The smell of something spicy and blistered skin reached her nose and she tightened her grip. “Aunt Jean!”

Jean tried to straighten and Nick could see her leg was badly burned. Running on it must’ve been excruciating. “They got the drop on us,” Jean panted. “One of them spat on my leg, the bastard…”

Sloane didn’t need to ask what she meant. “Mim?”

“She led them off through the woods to give me a chance to run here. I told her it made more sense she go, but you know her…”

Sloane glanced out the door as if hoping Mim would be there, but there was no sign of anyone else yet. “Nick…Can you treat Jean for me?”

“I don’t want you to go alone,” Nick said.

“Follow me after, but help Jean up to the bathroom first, please.”

The desperation in her voice (and the fact she said ‘please’ for once) must’ve gotten to him because he quickly pulled Jean’s arm around his shoulders and headed upstairs. Sloane grabbed her knife and then quickly grabbed a crossbow and several bolts in a side quiver from her car. She strapped the quiver to her thigh and took off into the woods.

Nick meanwhile helped Jean to the bathroom, cutting off the bottom of her jeans carefully with a pair of scissors and setting her up to run water over it for the next few minutes. “That looks bad…”

“It probably is,” Jean gritted out. “But I’ll live. I’m out of the fight, but I’ll live.” She looked up at Nick with an earnest expression. “I know Sloane can take care of herself, and Mim too…but every bit of help is a blessing. Go make sure my girls come back, please.”

Nick nodded and turned, grabbing his gun from his room and pulling the holster on before rushing outside. He paused for just a moment to grab a sword from his car and ran into the woods. He wished he had more than just his handgun and the sword, but he’d have to make due.

Sloane raced towards Mim and Jean’s house through the woods. Before she could drive she’d walk there in twenty minutes. Running, she could make it in ten to fifteen. But she had her senses open as well, trying to figure out where they could be. She heard a twig snap and paused, turning in that direction. A man in a flannel shirt was there, staring at her.

“You the Grimm?” he said gruffly.

“No, just doing a little light crossbow hunting,” she said tersely.

The man glared and then woged, his pincers spreading as he prepared to spit at her. Sloane moved quickly around a tree, the glob of acid hitting the wood and starting to eat away at it quickly. Cocking the crossbow, she spun around the tree, dodging another shot of acid with a roll over the hard, frozen ground and raised the weapon up in one fluid movement. She fired her cross bow and struck him right in his neck. He woged back, his hands going up to the wound, and stumbled back before falling. He was still dribbling acid that was eating away at the arrow, smoking from his neck. She didn’t bother to check if he was dead, running again. Another snap behind her had her turning with her already loaded crossbow raised, only to see Nick rushing towards her. He didn’t say anything, just nodded to her as they both moved again with Sloane in the lead.

Nick stopped her at one point, his ears having been open and hearing the sound of voices off to the side of them. He led her that way and they came upon Mim, up in a tree, higher than Nick expected someone her age to climb. Then again there were several men on the ground around her. Two were woged and spitting acid at the base of the tree’s thick trunk, intending to fell it with Mim at the top apparently. Midgely was among them. “Faster! I want that bitch down on the ground and then I want you to melt her down to her bones!”

Before Nick could say anything, not that he really planned on stopping her, Sloane fired a shot. She hit one of the woged men in his head with the arrow. The others all woged and turned, pincers clicking.

“So this is what I get for being nice,” Sloane growled. “Your queen decided for the option I warned her not to do? Keep on killing?”

Midgely woged back and glared. “My “queen” has ousted me from the colony thanks to you!”

Sloane arched her brow. “Oh?”

“Yes! She told me about your little ultimatum and decided she didn’t need an enforcer anymore! She let some of my men go too. We decided to put the pressure on you and these two old biddies ourselves. I’ll buy the land from the banks and develop this whole damn area for a factory of some kind, maybe a landfill, and ruin her lovely view!”

“Seriously? Why not just kill her?”

“Oh, like you should have? No. Her mother is still a powerful queen, her colony is over five hundred strong. Killing her or her little bastard would have them breathing down my neck the rest of my life. But I’m going to make her miserable one way or another. I helped make her what she is, make that company what it is, even before she broke off from her mother to start her own colony, and two Grimm’s have her quivering like coward?”

“She’s right to “quiver”,” Nick sneered. “You’ve never faced a Grimm before, have you?”

“What does that matter? You can die just like anyone else!” The men all rushed for them at once and Sloane jumped away, reloading the crossbow extra quick and firing at one. Nick brought the sword up to block the big one that came for him. The dripping acid actually sizzled on the blade, but he quickly managed to bring his foot up and kick him away. He backed up to put some space between them while his opponent kept advancing. Nick moved to swipe at him with the sword, but it hit the tree when he ducked away and actually snapped where the acid ate away at it. Cursing, he backed away more, gripping the hilt and trying to aim with his gun one handed. The ant wesen hissed through dripping acid and spit at him, making him stumble away. He lunged then and grabbed Nick’s hand, opening his mouth wide to fire again.

Nick felt the world slow down then. That cold, pale feeling came over him and he hardened his muscles like stone so that he couldn’t wrench his arm. With a growl, he brought the broken blade up into his stomach. The Wesen shuddered and de-woged before collapsing. Nick stared down at him as his thoughts cleared and he gasped, dropping the sword. For a second he remembered that he’d killed a man like this before in the biker bar—but then he hissed and looked at his arm. More smoking holes were in his sleeve. Despite the biting cold he quickly pulled it off and tossed it aside. That was right. It was self-defense; it was them or him and Sloane.

 _Sloane_. He turned and saw her dancing away from two of them. She then whirled and brought her knife into one neck, then turned and threw the knife in a fluid, almost elegant motion into the other’s chest. Another was coming up on her and Nick rushed him and slammed into him, making him skid across the snow. He was back on his feet in an instant and Sloane had her knife back and going back to back to be sure no one snuck up on them. It was a whirl of motion as they took out the last two, Nick stunning them without a weapon with a few well-placed punches and Sloane taking them out with the blade

Finally, only Midgley was left, the others wounded or dead at the Grimms’ feet. He was backing up slowly, eyes wide. “Typical man in a suit,” Sloane growled. “Stand by while someone else does the physical labor?”

“Stay back…” he said, obviously afraid now but trying not to show it.

“Or what?” She stalked forward. “I was nice to your queen. But you threatened my friends directly, so I’m not feeling like extending you the same courtesy. Anything you have to change my mind?”

Midgley swallowed before woging again, gearing up for a spit of acid. Sloane moved quickly holding her arm up to take the hit and then bringing her hand with the knife around and striking him right in the heart. Midgley changed back with a gasp and Sloane violently kicked him off her blade so he’d fall back. She looked down at him as he quickly bled out and then back up at Nick as she removed her jacket and dropped it before it could burn her skin. She stared down at him. “I should’ve just started hunting them when I found out…”

Nick winced but walked over. “Don’t go back to thinking that, Sloane. You did the right thing, Midgley’s choices were his own and he paid for them. There’s nothing wrong with the diplomatic approach.”

“Maybe I’m not cut out for the diplomatic role…” she said.

“No, he was an asshole,” Nick said more curtly. “I’m not gonna fault you for this round, he had it coming. But that’s no excuse to write off the rest of them. I’m still proud of you for trying to talk things out before anyone else got hurt, and the fact that we still had to hurt people doesn’t negate that. I know your grandmother would say the same thing. Understand?” Sloane looked a little uncertain to believe that, but wasn’t angry anymore.

“Damn straight.” They looked up as Mim climbed down, a little frazzled looking, but in no immediate danger. “She’d be real proud of you.” Sloane hesitated a bit and Mim took a breath. “…Are you alright?”

Sloane nodded slowly. “Yeah…you?”

“I’ll live,” she said, looking a bit awkward.

“Good…I didn’t want to find someone new to watch the house.”

Mim looked up in surprise before smiling and walking over to give her a hug. Sloane hesitated a moment but then hugged her back, giving a long sigh. Nick smiled as well, glad for them.

When they got back to the house, Jean rushed over and hugged Mim hard. She then hugged Sloane and Sloane hugged her back a little easier. It was tense, emotional few moments before Sloane took out her phone. “I need to make a call.” She walked back outside, but didn’t get far before Jean threw a jacket over her shoulders. Sloane just smiled and then walked down the porch a small ways. Going to her call history, she hit a number and waited.

“…Miss Larson?” Mrs. Hill asked slowly.

“I’m afraid so. Apparently, your severance package leaves a lot to be desired. My friend’s Jean and Myriam were attacked by your Mr. Midgley and some of his friends, and then Nick and I were when we confronted them. I trust you didn’t put him up to it.”

“N-no, of course not!” she said quickly.

“Well…they’re all dead anyway.” She heard Mrs. Hill swallow. “Have you come to a decision?”

“I…I think it best we start over somewhere else.”

“I agree. Just be aware if anything suspicious goes down, there are more people like me in the world than you think.”

“Yes. Um, I…thought about contacting some of the former owners of the businesses we bought, see if they’re interested in buying back their old places…” she offered, hoping for a peace offering.

“Well, that’s nice of you. I’m sure you’ll give them great deals as well, won’t you?” Sloane said with a fake sweetness to her voice.

“Of course.”

“Good. This is my last warning. If it’s a mistake I let you go, one more toe out of line and I’ll fix that mistake. Understand?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. Oh, and send someone to clean up the mess in the woods. I’ll let you know where.”

She ended the call and set her rough coordinates of where they’d left Midgley and the others’ bodies to go collect before heading back inside out of the cold night air.

\-------------------

“Do you really have to go so soon?” Jean asked. It was early in the morning, the sun barely up, and Jean and Mim had insisted they come over for breakfast before they hit the road. Both their cars, still loaded up, were outside ready to go after heaps of pancakes and bacon were eaten.

“We stayed an extra day already, Aunt Jean.” Indeed, they’d stayed the whole of the next day to talk and get the house back to its dormant state. It had been good, Sloane and her aunts talking about the past and what to do going forward. “We gotta go back to Portland. I actually need to put this stuff away you know,” Sloane said. “But…I’ll try not to be a stranger. And I’ll email you.”

“You better,” Mim said, pulling her into a hug. “Now that we can finally get a hold of you, we can finally set a wedding date! Been meaning to do that since it’s been legalized, but we want you there, girl!”

Sloane pulled back and smiled. “I honestly forget you two aren’t married most of the time anyway…”

They smiled and patted her on the back. Mim looked at Nick. “You two watch each other’s backs. You’re better off as a team I think.”

Nick smiled and looked at Sloane. “A good point I think.”

Sloane rolled her eyes but smiled. They got into their cars, Sloane watching two women who were the closest thing to family they could be waving in the rearview mirror as they headed out of town. They passed by the road up to her Grandmother’s house and though it couldn’t be seen through the trees she knew it was there. It still held the unhappiest of her memories inside, but she couldn’t push aside the happier ones anymore. She glanced to her passenger seat, where she had a box loaded with a few pictures she made copies of in town and her grandmother’s journals from the attic. It was time she decided to actually embrace her past more than using it to push her forward through the fights and hunts. That meant she had a lot of remembering to do, and a lot of catching up.

As they headed down Main Street, she was surprised to see a bunch of police cars outside the police station. Well, on its own not surprising, but they were apparently putting Sherriff Grover into one of the cars, in handcuffs.

The walkie talkie in her passenger seat clicked. “You see that?”

She grabbed it, driving slowly with one hand and watching the lights in her rearview mirror. “Yeah, wonder what that was about…”

“Well, someone might’ve tipped off the local paper—and some other law enforcement agencies—that the local Sherriff was accepting bribes from a development company to look the other way on illegal activity…” he said innocently.

Sloane couldn’t help the grin on her face, shaking her head. “You sly Grimm…”

“If we’re going to do a job, we’d better do it right and get all the bad influences out of here.”

She smiled a bit more, feeling that pretty fitting as they drove out of the town and back towards Oregon.

When she pulled up to her house though, she was surprised to see Monroe, Rosalee, Hank and Juliette outside. The waved as she and Nick drove up and she stepped out of the car. “Guys? What are you doing here?”

Juliette smiled at Nick as he walked up. “Nick texted us when you were an hour away and we headed over to help you unload.”

Sloane looked up at Nick who shrugged. “I figured more hands, less work?”

“…Fair enough,” she said, smiling a little. “Okay, well, I got books, I got weapons and I got tchotchkes.”

“Tchotchkes? I didn’t think you were the type,” Monroe said.

“I got a house, it’s time to decorate,” Sloane said she said matter-of-factly. She paused a moment and then turned to suddenly hug Rosalee.

“Wha-okay,” she said, hugging back. “Sloane?”

“Just…thanks for being my friend,” she said softly.

Rosalee glanced at Nick in confusion but he just smiled and shook his head. It wasn’t his place to say what happened.

They began working to get the boxes moved in, Sloane going through them again with them to show off some of the books, weapons, and then even a few pictures. They ordered in Chinese and talked about what happened in Wildred most of the evening. When they left, Sloane went to that box of mementos first and pulled out a framed photo of her grandmother with a two year old Sloane on her lap. She smiled sadly and put it on her desk. Her eyes strayed it the book of other “mementos” and newspaper clippings from past hunts and she felt something in her flinch but ignored it, moving to put the rest of her things away instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is quite long! But i'm really happy with it, and happy to introduce Mim and Jean. The fable of the Ant and the Grasshopper seemed a really good back drop for this and I think it worked really well.


	10. Change and Rearrange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PART 10 of the Casebook of Sloane Larson! Goes over Red Menace, The Eyes of the Beholder, and The Good Soldier
> 
> While still trying to wrap her head around what she's found out about her grandmother and her feelings towards wesen, Sloane is trying to figure out what kind of Grimm she really wants to be. Having to do this while dealing with radioactive healers, wesen street gangs, and someone picking off soldiers doesn't make things any easier. Or will it make it obvious why she needs this?

_The Red Menace_

\----

After returning from Wildred, Sloane had the weekend to get her collection organized in the spare bedroom. Her books were camouflaged and put away in locked bins hidden in the box spring of the daybed. Easy access for her, not so much for others. Weapons were hung up in the closet, not so easily camouflaged but she didn’t foresee anyone going into there without her being there. The hard drive with the scanned books was encrypted and hidden in a safe location as well. The only things she really had out in the open still were a few mementos she allowed herself to take: an old model airplane that according to her grandmother was the same model as the one her grandfather flew in the war, a ceramic cow creamer she always remembered being on their kitchen table (the nick in its ear still there from an unfortunate play date when she was six with a stray cat she brought home), and a few photographs of her grandmother and Mim and Jean and Wildred. And of course her grandmother’s personal journals. Those she had in her bedroom, and she’d read them at night before bed. They were a distraction she normally would be ashamed of, but it was like getting to know her grandmother for real. Not the person she thought she was from her childhood memories, or built up from her ideals as a Grimm, but a real flesh and blood person who lived for almost fifty years before Sloane was even born.

But she should stop reading them late into the night she realized Monday morning, yawning as she sat at her desk in the precinct.

“You okay?” Nick asked.

“Mmm…still reading up on my grandmother…”

“Ah, and how’s that going?”

“Interesting…weird…I don’t know,” she sighed.

“Well, if you need to talk let me know. Actually…I could, uh, use a bit of advice myself…”

“Oh?”

“It’s about Juliette—”

“I don’t think I’m the best to ask for romantic advice, Nick,” Sloane said quickly and honestly.

“No, it’s not romantic. Just, uh…a friend of hers is staying with us. Her name is Alicia and she’s hiding with us from her abusive husband.”

Sloane frowned. “Kill him.”

“What-no,” he said with his own frown. “I mean not that it’s not tempting on some level, but that’s not my issue here exactly. Also, I thought you were y’know…trying to do better with that.”

“Right, but that would be my answer, wesen or not.”

Nick couldn’t argue with that feeling but shrugged. “Well, that’s part of the question I guess…I saw Alicia woge. She’s a fuchsbau.”

Sloane was surprised by that, but not as hostile as she might’ve been once. “Oh…well, that’s…awkward. I take it this is news to you and Juliette?”

Nick sighed, though part of him was happy how easily she took that without suggesting violence again. “Yes, but Juliette doesn’t know. I haven’t told her…”

“Okay…and you want to know if you should?” she guessed.

“Yeah. I mean, Hank found out one of his oldest friends was a coyotle accidently and after a little…adjustment period he’s okay with it now. That’s how I had to tell him wesen were real.”

“Yeah, he told me. He thought he was going crazy before that.”

Nick flinched guiltily. “Y-yeah…I just…I never know how much to reveal or when, you know?”

She nodded a little. “That can be tough, but I generally say tell them when they’ve seen enough they’re questioning their sanity and can’t attribute it to trauma…”

Nick wasn’t so sure but nodded. “Well, there’s no chance of that here really because she already knows. So do I tell her?”

Sloane took a breath and looked up at the ceiling as she thought. “Like you said, Juliette is already Kehrseite. Not like you’re dropping the initial wesen bomb on her. I think the bigger worry is what your friend might do if she finds out you’re a Grimm.”

Nick nodded with a solemn look on his face. “Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about too more than anything. I don’t want to scare her into going back to Joe.”

“There’s the question of what he might be too,” she pointed out. “More than likely he’s already looking for her. No telling what he might do, or what he might be.” She was quiet a moment before sighing. “I’d tell Juliette and try to keep it quiet otherwise. Better she know what might be about to strike than go in blind, but her friend doesn’t necessarily need to know she knows.”

“Yeah…” He sighed and drank his coffee while Sloane looked at the clock.

“Is Hank coming in this morning?”

“I think he’s at physical therapy for his tendon. With that cute physical trainer he went on about before. Zuri I think her name is, if only because he’s said it a dozen times.” Nick smiled a little. “You think he’ll ask her out?”

“I hope he does, if just so he’ll stop talking about her so much.”

“You don’t know Hank, he’ll talk about her more if they start dating,” Nick chuckled. They paused and looked up when other officers were clapping. “Renard’s back…” They watched as their Captain headed for his office through the small throng of people. Captain Harden had informed them he’d be back yesterday by emailing Rosalee—something Sloane wasn’t keen on still but Rosalee seemed fine with it— and would be returning to work today. As he passed he glanced at them and gave a slightly nod before going in. Sloane and Nick looked at one another before standing and heading to the office. “You were gone a while,” Nick said, closing the door behind them.

“There was a lot to do,” Renard sighed.

“How did your trip go?” Sloane asked.

Renard set his briefcase down and sighed. “Well, the Verrat paid a personal call.”

“They found out you were there,” Nick surmised.

“Let's just say there was an indiscretion, but we handled it,” he said evasively.

“I'm guessing you didn't make any arrests,” Nick said with a bit of accusation in his voice.

Renard gave him a flat look but it was Sloane that eyed Nick a little dourly. “Did you arrest any Verrat when they came?”

Nick flushed but then sighed. “Okay, point taken…”

Renard smirked a bit but then but tried to make it a bit gentler. “There's a great deal at stake here, Nick. Allegiances are shifting. My brother's death has caused a great deal of turmoil.”

Nick nodded a bit. “Too bad I didn't get a chance to meet your brother.”

“Or me,” Sloane added.

“I would've liked to see that,” Renard said with slight but honest smile.

“They find out you were involved?” Nick said, getting back on track.

“They're not certain of anything…except that you and I pose a great threat.”

“What about me?” Sloane asked.

“I’ve managed to keep you mostly under the radar I think. You may end up being our secret weapon someday. With your resume, I’m sure they’d think you were the biggest threat out of all of us.”

Sloane’s brow twitched, not sure how she felt about that. They were interrupted by a knock at the door and looked up when Hank poked his head in. “Welcome back, Captain. Sorry to interrupt, but somebody got themselves killed. Anybody interested?”

Their victim ended up being a waiter in his twenties at a well-to-do Russian restaurant. Ivan Markov was found in the freezer, apparently strangled and then stripped down to his underwear. They could only surmise that he was killed for his uniform. They also found obvious signs of a struggle including blood and a broken window in the storeroom to the side of the restaurant. The owner, Dmitri Sokolov, was very cooperative if a little busy as he explained he thought Markov had gotten sick and left but they were too busy with a private party to check on him. The party was held by his friend, Mila Guryanova, and he gave them her contact information without hesitation. They also reviewed his surveillance videos. It was easy to see one person was rather keen not to be seen as he used whatever was at his disposal to hide his face.

“He knows there's cameras,” Hank pointed out, watching the man on camera carry a large box on his shoulders rather than use a dolly. They were back at the station, Renard watching over their shoulders. “That's why he's carrying the box.”

Sloane nodded, having used similar techniques herself in the past. “He probably cased the restaurant in advance two weeks or more ago. Enough time the tapes would be gone and no one would remember his face.”

“And this is him ten minutes later,” Nick said, switching to a camera to show him entering a door.

“Is that the storeroom?” Renard asked.

“Yeah. He goes in, never comes back out,” Nick nodded.

“So he kills the waiter, steals the uniform. What's the motive?”

“This guy. Boris Myshkin, guest of honor,” he said, focusing in on a man at the dinner table. It was a lively party apparently, with dancers and lots of drinking, but it was obvious who the center of attention. He was older, in his fifties, and tall, thin, with close cropped hair and a beard around his high cheek bones.

“The killer must have needed the uniform as a disguise,” Hank said.

“Myshkin? I've heard of him. He's some sort of Russian healer,” Renard said.

“Sounds like a scam artist to me,” Hank said.

Sloane side-eyed him a little. “Not that I disagree, but keep in mind you haven’t even seen half of what the world has to offer still. And we had a zombie epidemic not too long ago. And you dated a witch.”

Hank smiled wanly. “Points taken…but at least life isn’t boring.”

Nick rolled his eyes but focused in on a woman at the table with her hair up in a bun, exuberantly cheering for Myshkin. “According to the restaurant owner, Myshkin is staying with this woman, Mila Guryanova.” He pointed to another woman next to her who looked rather irritated as she sipped her drink. “And this is his wife Olga.”

“How does Olga feel about them?” Renard asked, pointing to the much younger girls next to Myshkin whom he was being very friendly with.

“What, his groupies?” Hank asked.

“Doubt she calls 'em that,” Nick pointed out. They watched as Myshkin rose and left the area, heading for the back of the restaurant as if in pain. Sloane frowned as she watched, wondering for a moment if he was poisoned. Then a man suddenly tackled Myshkin and forced him into the storage room. Doing that on top of poison seemed rather overkill. Nick paused the video, but there was still no clear picture of the mystery hit-man’s face.

“Mm. Any idea who the assailant is?” Renard asked.

“Not yet, lab's still trying to clean up the image,” Nick shook his head.

“And no one reported the assault?”

“No reports found,” Sloane said.

“We believe Myshkin threw his attacker out the window,” Hank added.

“And he went back to the party like nothing happened,” Nick said, looking at the tape of Myshkin exiting the storeroom and heading back to his table as nonchalantly as possible.

“So the guy who attacked him could still be on the loose,” Hank said.

“If someone tried to kill Myshkin, there's no reason to think he won't try it again.”

“Barring he’s dead.” They looked at Sloane and she shrugged. “Guy walks out like nothing happened when there’s blood and a broken window two stories up in that storeroom? He likely tried to give a killing blow. Russians can be pretty hard core.”

“We need to talk to Myshkin,” Renard said, thinking things out. “We're dealing with Russian citizens. If the state department decides to get involved, I'd like to stay in front of this one. I'm coming with you.”

They didn’t object of course and headed to an upper class neighborhood with a lot of big houses far apart on well-manicured plots of land. Everything still looked fairly green despite the winter chill and it didn’t seem like there was any danger in the daylight hours. As they stepped out, Renard reminded them that Russian healers were revered where they come from. Nick and Hank found it funny, but Sloane just kept quiet as they headed up to the mansion. A very pretty maid met them at the door and let them inside when they showed their badges and asked for Myshkin. She went down a hall while they waited in the opulent foyer. The hall was lined with people, some in wheelchairs, some sitting but looking ravaged by some invisible illness, their loved ones looking scared but hopeful around them. A woman walked brusquely for them from the hallway after the maid apparently informed her of them. They recognized her from the videos.

“I am Mila Guryanova. This is my home. The Myshkins are my guests,” she said, obviously intending to shoo them away. Another woman they recognized as Olga Myshkin came up behind her.

“What do you want with my husband?” she asked.

“We need to ask him a few questions concerning a police investigation,” Renard said.

“Now is not a good time. He's doing a healing,” she said.

“This shouldn't take too long,” Nick said.

“We can always wait around. I mean, our car is right outside, I’m sure in this neighborhood it’s more than safe to have a police car outside for a while, right?” Sloane said with a smile. “No one’s going to find that odd or start rumors.”

Olga huffed and Mila looked put out but they nodded. “This way.”

They headed to the side room to see Myshkin standing, examining a boy with a bandage wound around his head from his crown to his jaw. An older man, probably his father, was telling the healer how his son’s wound wouldn’t heal. The police officers moved in quietly, not outright interrupting, to watch what would happen. Sloane straightened when she saw Myshkin’s hand suddenly turn almost transparent, his metacarpal bones nearly visible through his skin, while his veins seemed to glow green. Nick had noticed too, glancing to her questioningly. She nodded, but then gave a slight shrug. She didn’t know what wesen could do that.

“You see something?” Renard asked them.

“His hand,” Nick stated quietly.

“And his eyes,” Sloane said, noting they also glowed slightly green. Before they could say more, Myshkin suddenly tilted back and nearly collapsed. His wife and the father worriedly helped him to a chair and he sat heavily, looking exhausted. The boy was looking surprised but hopeful as he undid the bandages around his head. A large gash was in his cheek, but it was closed now, not looking like it could’ve bled like it had against the gauze pad that had been resting against it.

“It’s healed…” his father breathed, going over to look at it. “You healed my boy! Spasiba! My boy is healed!” Mila began ushering them out, the father thanking Myshkin over and over.

Rendard stepped over while Olga walked back over from closing the door. “Sorry for the interruption. I'm Captain Renard. This is Detective Burkhardt, Detective Griffin, and Detective Larson.”

“What do you want?” He asked, sounding more confused than anything.

“You had a party at a restaurant last night. A waiter was murdered there,” Nick said.

Olga gave a rather unconvincing Russian curse in surprise while she set her hands on her husband’s shoulders. “What happened?”

“Olga,” Myshkin sighed, knowing it was an act.

“According to restaurant surveillance, the man who killed the waiter also tried to kill you,” Renard said.

Olga said something else in Russian, getting an impatient retort from her husband before Renard responded in perfect Russian back to both of them.

Sloane, Nick and Hank all looked at one another before back at him. “Why am I not surprised?” Hank muttered.

“You told your wife you'd tell the truth,” Renard said to Myshkin.

“I have nothing to hide,” Myshkin sighed, standing with a second wind. “A man attacked me. I fought back.”

“Did you ever seen this man before?” Sloane asked.

“No. But he too spoke Russian. He's saying...” He gave a phrase in Russian that they weren’t even sure how to pronounce.

“What's that mean?” Hank asked, looking at Renard.

“Doesn't really translate,” Renard said delicately. “But if you're gonna kill somebody you hate, it certainly fits the occasion.”

“Any reason why this man hates you enough to kill you?” Nick asked.

“Ah, many. Many reasons.” He untucked his shirt from his pants, lifting it up to show several scars of his own across his chest and stomach. “Sometimes... sometimes I try to heal someone, and I fail,” he said, sounding more guilty than upset that people blamed him. “Some say I do the devil's work. Some men are jealous because their foolish wives fall in love with me, but that, I can't help.” Sloane arched her eyebrows and glanced to Olga who looked away with a bit of annoyance.

“What happened to the man who attacked you?” Nick asked.

“I threw him out the window,” he said blithely as he opened a candy dish and took a chocolate. “He ran away.”

“You should've reported it,” Nick scolded.

“If I'd known he already murdered someone, I would've,” he said, popping the chocolate in his mouth.

“It's possible he may try again, so I'm gonna leave a patrol unit parked just outside in case,” Renard said, taking out his card and handing it to him. “If you see anything suspicious, please give us a call immediately.” He gave a parting word in Russian and then headed out with them again. He conversed with the maid in Russian as well, obviously charming her a little. He told her he’d spent two years in Moscow when he was younger and Sloane believed it.

Once they were outside Hank, asked them “What'd you see?”

“The skin on Myshkin's hand became transparent when he was healing that kid. I could see his bones,” Nick said, flexing his hand at the thought.

“Same,” Sloane said. “It was a greenish glow. I take it neither of you did?”

“No, no, but what you're describing is a Koschie,” Renard said, nodding to himself as they walked and then pausing when they were far enough from the house.

“It sounds familiar…but I don’t speak Russian, so I might have glossed over it in a book,” Sloane sighed. “The information doesn’t do me much good untranslated.”

“I only know a little. I remember meeting one once with my mother in Moscow. He was a healer just like Myshkin. He wore these long monk's robes, he didn't drink, and according to my mother, he was celibate, which is why he came to her. Evidently, the healing fired up his sex drive, and he needed a potion to put the brakes on.”

Hank snorted. “Myshkin's libido could use some of that. Man likes to party.”

“Oh, he doesn't seem to be suffering too much guilt about his marriage,” Nick pointed out as they started walking back to the car.

“Or maybe he's suffering too much. He is Russian after all,” Renard pointed out. “I'll call a few friends in Moscow, see what I can find out.”

\----------------

Nick called Sloane from the trailer later that day where he’d gone with Hank and Monroe to look through Marie’s books. Sloane was looking through her own and cursing again that she didn’t know Russian. Luckily they had found one passage in English though and Nick and quickly called her to put her on speaker.

“Wait, Rasputin?” Sloane said. “As in…Rasputin?”

“Well, he is Russia’s greatest love machine,” Monroe said, laughing a little.

“…What?” Sloane asked, confused and annoyed.

“It’s a…song, internet meme-you know, forget it. But yeah, Rasputin. Look here’s the journal entry: "Because of their healing powers, they are extremely difficult to kill, but one must be especially careful. A Koschie's touch can not only heal but also be fatal.””

“How do you know which one you're going to get?” Hank asked.

“I’m figuring that’s up to the Koschie,” Sloane said.

“There's more about Rasputin here,” Monroe went on. “"When the poison proved ineffective, I instructed Yusopov to just shoot the bastard. Unfortunately, he fired only one shot. I quickly shot him three more times with my webley. Still, this wasn't enough to kill him. We had to beat him senseless and dump him in the icy waters of the Neva river. Ironically, British intelligence had no idea they had sanctioned a Grimm to kill a wesen."”

“Happened a lot more in the second world war,” Sloane muttered. She heard a beep.

“Getting another call, Sloane, I’ll let you know if we find more.”

“Right. I haven’t found anything here.”

“Keep looking, just to be sure.”

Nick dropped her call and Sloane sighed. It was less than a minute later that he called her back. “Speed reading?”

“No, we have a body. Sounds pretty gruesome.”

“I’ll hold off on dinner for a while then.”

“I’ve seen you eat over case photos before.”

“Not saying I couldn’t,” she snorted. “Just that I won’t.”

It ended up it was good she didn’t. Blood, mutilated bodies, the palor of death-she could handle all that. The corpse in the bathtub at the local motel though was something else entirely. He was a mass of boils and blisters, his face swollen and disfigured, his eyes almost bulging out of his skull. It was as though he’d been touched by the horseman of plague. It actually turned her stomach a little. She backed out of the small bathroom first, looking around the room. “He’s been here in Oregon for a while. He switched motels a couple of times though. I’ve got brochures from two other places in his bag.”

Nick, Hank and Wu came out to search as well. “Room's registered to an Alex Renko,” Wu said. “Manager said he paid in cash, but he had a Moscow driver's license.”

“Another Russian,” Nick said.

“Got something here,” Hank announced, kneeling down to look at a pile of clothes in the room’s closet. He frowned as he used his pen to move some things. “Markov's uniform from the restaurant,” he said in disbelief.

“So the dead guy in the tub killed the waiter and attacked Myshkin,” Nick concluded.

“So we have our suspect but he’s dead in…a very gross and painful looking process,” Sloane said. “And…he somehow got this way in less than 48 hours.”

“Got a cell phone over here,” Nick said, picking it up. “Looks like a burner.” He pressed a few buttons, going through the call list. “All the calls are to the same number. Could be an accomplice. Let's see who he was talking to.” He pressed speaker and they all heard the same voice.

“The number you have reached is no longer in service…”

Nick sighed and cut off the robotic voice. “I guess the accomplice isn’t stupid.”

Sloane looked up when she heard a sound from the bathroom and cursed loudly when she saw one of the scariest sights she’d seen since in her life. Renko, still naked and covered in boils, lurched out of the bathroom towards Hank, being the closest to the bathroom door. A stream of black juice spewed from his mouth as he collapsed into Hank’s arms.

“Oh my God!” Hank yelled, quickly but as gently as he could putting him to the floor. He jumped back when he was done, shaking and grunting in disgust.

Just then another officer rushed in. “Hazmat's here. They said don't... Touch the... oh.” He looked down to see Renko on the ground, Hank covered in the ooze.

Several yellow Hazmat suit wearing technicians quickly followed in, Geiger counters clicking. “Sorry, Detectives, but you have to be decontaminated. You'll surrender your clothes and undergo exfoliation.”

“Exfoliation?” they all asked.

“That means you'll have to shower. You'll also need to take potassium iodide. Anyone allergic?” Hank gave a groan of disgust and frustration as he stepped around Renko and led them all out.

They all had to go to a quickly constructed portable shower area. Sloane was first since she was the only girl, undressing in the tent with two female technicians present. She made them understand that the knife at her side would need to be returned as it was special to her and they promised it would decontaminated and returned. The rest of her clothes would not be so lucky. She headed to a special partitioned area to shower using the hoses and soap provided. She heard the men all do the same on the other side of the partition. “Have I told you all how happy I am to be a homicide detective lately?” she called over sarcastically.

“Hey, at least you didn’t have the Toxic Avenger falling all over you,” Hank called. “I’d rather deal with zombie’s once in a twelve month period if at all thanks.”

“I've had to take a few cold showers before, but nothing like this. No peeking, Sloane,” Nick joked.

“Don’t flatter yourselves,” she snorted.

“Can't believe soap and water's gonna be enough,” Hank said.

“Scrub hard,” Wu advised.

“How long you think it takes before you show signs of radiation sickness?” he asked worriedly.

“That depends on the level of exposure,” Nick said.

“We were in there less than ten minutes,” Sloane pointed out.

“Killer must have got a pretty high dose... I hope,” Wu said.

“Well, he didn't look sick on the restaurant surveillance,” Nick said.

“Not before he walked into the storeroom anyway,” Hank pointed out.

“That must have been where he got exposed.”

“And by exposed you mean...” Wu asked.

“To Myshkin.”

“He must’ve done something,” Sloane agreed, standing under the spray to rinse.

“We better tell them to check out the restaurant storeroom.”

“I’m done, I’ll let them know,” Sloane said, turning off the water. “Call me Lady Godiva boys, because if you look at me, it will be the last thing you see.”

The boys all smiled and respectfully kept their backs to her even with the opaque curtain up as she walked to go redress and ask them to check the restaurant’s storeroom. She was given some underwear, an undershirt and a blue jumpsuit since their clothes would have to be incinerated. Her knife was returned to her, though the scabbard was gone. She went to put it in her car and get a new one later. When she came back, the boys were done and dressing as well. They received word from the Hazmat team that the storeroom was indeed hot with radioactivity as well. Which meant they had to immediately report to Renard at the station, in there blue jumpsuits and paper boots to the amusement of their colleagues. On the way they got news about Renko for the hospital. He was in isolation, dying from radiation poisoning. More surprising was what Renard found out.

“That fits with what I got. Turns out Myshkin was a paid assassin for the FSB.”

“An assassin?” Sloane asked in surprise. “The guy healing people’s injuries and illnesses?”

“His sins have come back to haunt him I guess,” Hank sighed.

Sloane frowned, a bit of discomfort as she thought about that phrasing. They immediately had Myshkin pulled in for questioning, though thankfully they could return home and change first. When he was in the room, all four of them took places around the table. Nick and Sloane in corners near the mirror, Renard in front, and Hank in back.

“You know a man named Alex Renko?” Nick asked.

“Should I?”

“You poisoned him with radiation two days ago,” Hank stated.

“And you used to work for the FSB,” Renard said. He looked down, what might be shame on his face. “We know you're a Koschie.”

“We saw you heal that boy,” Nick said.

“You saw it?” he asked curiously at Nick. Nick stared him back and Myshkin took a breath. He woged, his face growing taught and transparent, dark circles around his eyes and his lips parched like a corpse. Glowing green eyes looked to him, then Hank, then Renard, and finally to Sloane. He looked like he was in pain. “Two Grimms…” he murmured. He then coughed and woged back. “Now I know what you two are. How about the rest of you?”

Hank gave a tight smile and shook his head when Myshkin looked at him. “No.”

Renard sighed when Myshkin turned to him. “It's a long story.”

“We’re talking about you,” Sloane said. “Why did Renko want to kill you?”

“I promise you I don't know,” he said. “I'm sorry for what I did to that man. He attacked me. I had no choice. And yes, I was assassin for the FSB. But I wanted to find peace and do penance for the pain I caused, so I swore an oath to God to only do good, heal the sick.”

Sloane felt that twitch of something in her again when she listened to him. _Redemption…? Not sure you can redeem yourself after killing a bunch of people_.

“My concern is not your redemption,” Renard said. “My concern is that Renko has an accomplice who may still be after you.”

“Ah. I'm already a dead man, mister,” he said, smiling without humor. “Every time I heal, I die a little more. If someone tries to kill me, I'm not gonna fight it again. Why should I? Soon I will be in hell.” He seemed to look at Sloane mainly when he said that and she frowned more.

“Why’d you fight this time? Kind of hypocritical.”

He sighed, rubbing over his brow. “I was surprised. It’s been a while since someone tried to kill me, I suppose I foolishly thought I was safe here. And even knowing you’re at his door, one fears death. When the fight started…instincts took over.” He looked down at his hands. “I have asked myself why I fought back, why I did that, as well. Years spent healing to atone, wasted in a moment of fear of that which I sent so many to. I guess I cannot escape what I truly am, no matter how many I heal. But then, at least I can still heal for a time now to escape that. I will save more lives than I have taken. Can you turn off your nature I wonder? Is it hard not to try and kill me yourself?”

Sloane tightened her hands slightly and Nick looked at her with a worried frown.

Renard sighed. “Well, I suggest that you leave the country immediately. It’ll be safer.”

He nodded. “My wife misses her home. She would be happy to return,” he said thoughtfully.

“You're free to go.”

“Ah, I can go,” he said, standing and straightening his jacket. “Free... Ha. I'm not.”

He left just as Hank received a phone call that Renko was awake. This would probably be their last chance to ask him anything, so they quickly headed to the hospital. Sloane stared out the window as they did, deep in thought. Myshkin was once a killer, who’s conscience caught up with him and now he was desperately trying to atone by healing people. But the past wouldn’t let go of him, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn’t erase the bad doing good, couldn’t escape someone’s vengeance. What was the point then? Why did he try so hard to atone when he could never escape?

“Because sometimes you gotta live to try better tomorrow.”

Sloane blinked and looked at Nick. She hadn’t realized she’d been mumbling to herself in the back while Nick and Hank were up front driving. “Better?”

“Yeah. I think…there will always be something we regret, it’s just how life is. Mistakes, missed chances, stuff like that. Maybe it’s not the best way to realize he could do something better with his life, but he still realized it. He’s still made a lot of people better.”

“At the expense of himself. And not so much he won’t kill an attacker,” she pointed out.

“Like he said, death is still scary. Better he tried to do something better with his life than just lay down and die…though admittedly, killing people is counterproductive…but even he’s allowed to defend himself,” Nick admitted.

Sloane looked back out the window, thinking on the words. “…He’s just fooling himself,” she said finally. “People don’t change. And whatever he’s done recently doesn’t erase what he’s done in the past.” She had a distinct feeling that talk wasn’t just about Myshkin, and maybe that was what she’d been feeling all along. Nick didn’t say any more.

They headed to the hospital and Renard spoke with Renko in Russian, keeping his voice low to match the dying man’s raspy voice. He relayed the info once he was done; that he tried to kill Myshkin to avenge his father and that Myshkin will now try to kill “her”. Figuring this mystery woman must be someone with him now, they rushed back down to the car and headed back to the mansion.

When they got there, Olga answered the door, looking annoyed. “What is the problem?” she snapped.

“Where's your husband?” Nick said.

“Upstairs in our bedroom. He's got that little whore with him.”

Before they could ask they heard shouting in Russian from upstairs. A door opened and Larissa, the maid, ran out. Myshkin’s voice followed her, sounding desperate. “I told you, I'm not that man anymore!” He lurched out, a pair of scissors in his chest, still reaching for her. “I've changed!”

“Stay back,” Larissa said, crying.

“Mysha, what happened?” Olga called.

“She stabbed me…” he gasped. Nick and Hank were already heading up the stairs and guided the maid down. Myshkin removed the scissors with a gasp, likely already healing. Sloane was looking at him until she saw Olga take hold of Larissa. “Let her go!”

“No!” Larissa screamed the lady woged into a Malin Fatal. It was easy for her to swipe one of her long, razor sharp tusks across Larissa’s throat.

“Olga!” Myshkin cried.

“Get down!” Nick ordered, pointing his gun at her. Sloane was already grabbing Larissa, trying to put pressure on the wound with Renard’s help.

Olga woged back and looked at Nick in surprise but also a challenge. “Grimm.”

“You heard the man. On the floor!” Hank ordered.

Sloane was pushing at the wound, blood collecting over her hands. Larissa looked up at her, tears in her eyes, and she swallowed as she remembered similar looks in the eyes of her own victims. “He killed us all…” Larissa gurgled.

“Shh, don’t talk,” Sloane said.

Renard was looking at her anxiously. “I don't think she's gonna make it. The bleeding won’t stop.”

“Don’t say that-” Sloane started, but was interrupted by Myshkin pushing his way down the stairs.

“Move. Move. I can help,” he panted.

“Stay back,” Nick said but Renard shook his head.

“I don't think we have another choice.”

Olga, handcuffed by Hank now and kneeling in front of him, frantically shook her head. “No! She tried to murder you!” He didn’t listen, practically crawling over to Larissa and setting his hand at her throat. “Mysha, Mysha! Don't, don't! It will kill you. You are too weak…” His hand glowed and Sloane watched as the wound closed enough to stop the bleeding. Then the glow stopped and he gasped, grunting and rolling over. Olga continued to cry, crawling on her knees to him in a way they didn’t think the proud woman would ever do. “No! No! You fool!”

Myshkin looked up at her and smiled sadly. “Forgive me…”

Sloane looked at Larissa and then to him while Nick radioed for an ambulance. “Why…? After what she did…?”

He looked at her, his eyes already glazing over. “Because…She was right. And in the end it’s not about her forgiving me. It’s about being the man…I vowed to be…to prove to myself I’m not a monster, not to her. I drove her to this, but I had the power to save her…I still wish I was a better man…to my wife and to others…but…at least…I did…this much…”

“Mysha…” Olga sobbed again, murmuring something in Russian ash she knelt to press her head against his. He took a breath, murmured something back softly, and shuddered as he closed his eyes. Sloane thought he looked eerily peaceful in death and wondered if he finally found what he needed. An odd feeling came over her as she watched Olga cry over his body and she imagined if she were the one dead…would anyone be there to cry or try to comfort her?

\-----------------

Sloane honestly thought about taking another day off after what happened. Something about Boris Myshkin’s death continued to vex her and while she had an idea what it was, she didn’t really want to examine it that closely. Trying not to was somehow even more distracting though. It was distracting her at night as well to the point she was having trouble getting more than a couple of hours of sleep. She did her best to hide it from everyone else though.

She was trying to keep herself distracted with odd jobs around the house She was just organzing her reference cards—which still came in handy and she needed some new ones now— when her phone buzzed. _OR Library_ was up on the screen and she answered it. “Gallin?”

“Hello, Sloane. How are you?”

“Alright…”

“That doesn’t sound alright,” Gallin said, picking up on the tiredness of her voice.

“I’m fine, really. Just been a long week. What’s going on? I’m usually calling you,” she said, forcing herself to be more alert.

“Well…it’s regarding Mr. Burkhardt and his condition.”

“Did you find something?” she asked, hopeful.

“Maybe. But I need…well…”

“You need…more blood?” she guessed.

“No, not necessarily. I need, well…a video.”

“…Pardon?”

Gallin sighed. “I need video footage of how he is when he turns.”

“You want me to video tape this?” she asked, still not certain she heard that right. “That…you’re asking me to make him change on purpose and video it?”

“Look, I know it’s risky,” she said. “I wouldn’t ask it I didn’t have to, but my contact wants to see the symptoms physically.”

Sloane sighed, and rubbed over her temples. “Nick’s not going to like this…”

“I know, it sounds like something from _Jackass,_ making the guys that hulks out into a murder zombie do so on purpose, but I wouldn’t ask for it if I didn’t think it would help. This is the best lead I’ve found.”

Sloane sighed and then looked up at the ceiling. “Okay…I’ll see what I can do.”

“Great, as soon as you can, please.”

Sloane frowned. “This is eager even for you…”

Galin sounded a bit flustered. “Uh, well…its interesting and has some potential if we can figure out why it’s doing what it’s doing, effecting him that way. For future reference and defense.”

“Alright…I’ll talk to you later.”

“Right, later. Thank you Sloane.” She hanged up quickly and Sloane looked at the phone in confusion. Gallin always was a little strange and awkward though so she shrugged and starting putting up the cards, trying to think how to convince Nick to transform.

\-----------------

_The Eyes of the Beholder_

\-----------------

A couple of days later they were called out to a case near a diner than reminded her of the Redline. A couple had been badly beaten in the parking lot, the man dying at the scene. The woman was rushed to the hospital but it didn’t look good. They’re only real lead was a young black male racing off in a silver Impala right after the incident. That ends up being good because they track the car to a Tyler Z. Ellis.

Bad news was that was Tyler Zuri Ellis, Hanks physical therapist that he had the crush on. He’d told them asking her out hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped, and even Sloane knew this was going to make things awkward. Even more so when her little brother Jared came down stairs and ran when he saw them, forcing Nick to give chase and take him in. Looking him up they didn’t find much of a record on either Zuri or Jared, but their father was doing 25 to life and their mother was dead. They only had each other. Even so, Sloane admired Hank’s determination to go in with them to question Jared.

“Jared, we're going to ask you about last night,” Hank said. Jared was slouching low in his seat, trying to look apathetic but looking more like he was trying to hide himself. He was twitching and looked in their direction when they spoke but never in their eyes. Sloane watched him from the other side of the mirror in the observation room, trying to pick out any body ques. Nick and Hank felt that would work better for now if he was trying to get himself initiated into a gang. He might not want to talk to a female officer. That was not the vibe Sloane was getting however. “All you got to do is tell the truth.”

“Why'd you run from us?” Nick asked from the corner with his arms folded. Jared didn’t say anything.

“Did you take your sister's car last night without her knowing?” Hank asked. Jared hesitated still but eventually nodded. “Where'd you go?”

“To see my girlfriend,” He said quietly.

“What's your girlfriend's name?” Nick asked.

“Joy.”

Hank sat up straighter in recognition. “Waitress at Ray's Diner?” Jared nodded again.

Nick sat down and pulled a photograph from the folder on the table and slid it over to him. It was of a larger Black man, but it wasn’t a crime scene photo. Just a mugshot. “You ever see this guy before?”

Jared took a gulp of air and tried to sound unaffected. “He was in Ray's.”

“You know him?”

Jared unconvincingly tried to compose himself again, putting on too much aloofness. “No.” Sloane was even more convinced he wasn’t a murderer or trying to get into a gang. _He’s softhearted…_

“What about in the parking lot? You see him there?” Nick pressed.

He shook his whole body and looked down and away, his words more forceful. “I didn't see anything.”

_He saw. He wishes he didn’t but he saw. He wants to lie to himself just as much as lie to us._

Hank frowned and picked up the photo, his voice hard. “Somebody beat this man to death. You didn't hear him scream? You didn't hear his girlfriend scream?”

“A customer saw you leave, Jared,” Nick went on. “You were there when it happened.”

“Who killed Alonzo, Jared? If it wasn't you, who was it?”

“I don't know, they were gone by the time I got there,” he bit out, breathing heavier.

“Oh,” Nick said, feigning surprise with a hand rubbing over his chin. Sloane frowned, disliking that he was being such an obvious little shit compared to the seventeen year old in the room. “So you did see something. Who's they? Was there more than one?”

“I didn't see anything,” he said again, more desperate. “I didn't see anything.”

Hank frowned more, but this time worried. “Who are you afraid of?”

Jared shook his head, breathing heavier, with an almost asthmatic wheeze to his words. “No, I'm not saying any more.” He sank back, his hands covering his face. Nick and Hank looked at one another before back at the mirror. Sloane tapped the glass twice, her signal that as far as she was concerned the interview was done. They rose and exited the office interrogation room, letting Jared stay and breathe alone. Sloane watched him for a moment and then went out, bought two bottles of water from the vending machine, and knocked on the interrogation room door. Jared looked up, a little calmer but no more talkative. “What?”

Sloane set the bottle down in front of him. “Thought you might be thirsty. We don’t need prints or DNA, not that kind of crime scene, so this is just a bottle of water.”

He looked at the bottle suspiciously still and then up at her. “You playing good cop then?”

She smirked a little and looked down. “Honestly that…is not my forte. I’m usually the “hard ass” compared to my partners. They thought you wouldn’t talk to a woman if you were in a gang.”

“I’m not!” he said defensively.

“I know. No offense but you are a lousy liar and a bit prone to panicking. Not gang material. Which is lucky for you because my partners and I are 100% sure you are not a murderer.”

He looked surprised, then hopeful. “Then can I go home?”

“In a bit, probably. I think your sister is already working on that. But I wanted to talk to you before you did.”

“I told you I didn’t see anything,” he snapped.

“We both know that’s bullshit but fine, you don’t have to tell me what you saw.” He looked confused again and Sloane shrugged. “I get it. These are dangerous people, you don’t want to cross them. More over…there’s somethings that are just not easy to talk about, especially when it’s fresh in your mind. Witnessing a violent murder is not an easy thing to just talk about. You probably keep thinking about it and it makes all this all the worse because of that.” He looked a little glassy eyed for a moment before nodding, sniffing a little. “As police we seek justice, even for murdered gang members, and we need information to do that so…I’m sorry if we seem kind of heartless or like we don’t care about what happens to you. It’s just that we pursue the truth and we want to keep people safe from people that do these kinds of crimes especially. And we’re also worried for you for that reason because you might not be safe even if you don’t tell us.”

Jared looked down, tracing patterns on the table. “…I…can’t…”

Sloane sighed but nodded. “Like I said, I’m not going to keep pressing.” She took out her wallet and grabbed her card, taking out a pen to scribble on the back. “This is my card and that is my cell. If you feel like someone is after you or you need help, call me, alright? If you just need to talk about anything, off the record, I’ll listen. I know more about witnessing violent deaths than your average person…even your average police officer.”

He looked at the card and slowly took it. “Off the record?”

She smirked. “I’m not a typical police officer on many grounds. Sure, I’d like to go kick some ass... but sometimes you have to do things for the greater good.” He nodded a little and she stood. “I think your sister is about to get you out of here. Take the water with you, best to stay hydrated when you’re stressed.”

“Thanks…”

Sloane headed out again and Nick practically ran into her. “There you are! The girl at the scene is out of ICU and can talk to us now. …What were you doing in there?”

“Just talking with Jared. Kid was scared to death in interrogation.”

Nick arched his eyebrows and then smiled. “Look at you, you old softy-”

“I can still dislocate your elbow before you have time to defend,” she pointed out.

“Right, to the hospital then.”

Sloane looked towards Renard’s office and saw that he was in. “...Just a bit, I need to talk to Renard about something.”

She stalked off towards the office, making sure Nick didn’t follow. She knocked and Renard looked up. “Larson. What can I do for you?”

Sloane closed the door and walked forward towards the desk. “…Do you still have that security footage of Nick at that biker bar?”

Renard frowned “…No, I destroyed it.”

Sloane gave him a flat look. “Bullshit.”

“Sloane-”

“You wouldn’t destroy something like that. You could use it to your advantage someday. You know that and you wouldn’t bring yourself to just destroy it.”

Renard paused and then sighed. “Why are you so good at reading people?”

“It’s a gift. Now hand it over.”

“I can’t, it’s not here. It’s somewhere safe. Why do you need it anyway?” he asked, curious.

Sloane hesitated, but then folded her arms and braced herself. “Nick is…still having after effects from the Cracher Mortal.”

“He’s what?” Renard said, frown deepening and on alert now. “Why did no one tell me about that?”

She huffed out a breath but stared him down. “It’s not something he’s broadcasted to everyone. It’s not common, but it comes up when he’s feeling threatened—”

“He’s a police officer and a Grimm, how is it not “common”?” Renard snapped.

“We’ve been trying to figure it out,” she pressed on. “He didn’t want to worry anyone. Juliette knows because he’s turned in his sleep before for some reason. No violent behavior, but he…he looked dead apparently.”

Renard sobered. “That is certainly worrying…”

She nodded. “But he did have a slight outburst with me when we were training. I know someone who’s asking around for more information. But they want a video of Nick while he’s like he was, to help diagnose him.”

Renard breathed, looking thoughtful, but then shook his head. “I can’t give you that footage.”

Sloane glared. “Look, it wasn’t that we were trying to keep it from you, he didn’t want everyone knowing—”

“It’s not just that,” Renard said. “I get it. I would probably have done the same in his shoes. But I took a big risk to take that footage away from investigators and protect Nick. Right now there is one copy and I have it, and that’s safest for both him and me. Putting another copy out there or giving the only copy away potentially opens a huge can of worms if it gets into the wrong hands that could land Nick on trial for murder, and the rest of us as accessories. Can you guarantee that won’t happen?”

“…I know my contact wouldn’t do that.”

“...But?” he prompted.

She looked down. “…I don’t know who she’s contacting.”

“Then the answer is no.”

“But we need footage! It’s to help Nick!” she persisted. “I know you and him don’t always see eye to eye, but you don’t want him getting worse, right?”

Renard shook his head again. “It’ll help him now, but what about down the road? We could all be in a lot of trouble. No. If you want to do this, I suggest new footage. Considering the security footage has no audio, it might work even better to help diagnose him.”

“Great…” she muttered. “So now I have to get Nick to transform and get it on tape?”

“That’s what I’m saying, yes. Now, I believe you need to go out on your case. Also…get some rest. You look a little tired.”

Sloane sighed and headed back out of the office. Nick and Hank were waiting and could tell something was wrong from her expression. “You okay?” Hank asked.

“Not really. Renard didn’t give me the answer I wanted…”

“When does he ever?” Nick said. “What did you need though?”

“…Let’s talk later, we should get to the hospital.”

Nick frowned, knowing that was rarely a good sign when she changed the subject like that. But they headed down to their car to head out.

They got to the hospital, but Mercedes was not feeling talkative either. Unlike Jared, she was outright antagonistic to them—obviously she didn’t like cops. Nick pressed her even harder, describing graphically what they did to her boyfriend Alonzo. Sloane was only mildly surprised when she woged into a Yaguaraté. Not as surprised as Mercedes was to see two Grimms though. She screamed and even in her beaten state tried to scramble away in her hospital bed, nearly crying in panic. Sloane almost felt bad for her. She was more surprised when Nick threatened to come back for Grimm business if she didn’t tell him who attacked them at the parking lot. It felt like something she would do.

Going to Monroe for information? Still not something she liked doing.

“So you're thinking if she's wesen, they're all wesen?” Monroe asked as he worked on filling phials of green powder according to weight at the Spice Shop. Rosalee was working grabbing herbs from a rooftop garden to dry and was out of the room at the moment.

“Could be,” Nick said. “Have you ever heard anything about wesen street gangs in Portland?”

“Can't say that I have. But gangs are really not my thing,” Monroe said more conversationally. “Groups, in general, tend to make me a little constipated. I mean, I get it, you know. I get the whole tribe mentality, us-against-them, safety-in-numbers thing. But hooking kids on drugs and violence at what? 10, 11 years old now? Zero tolerance, wesen or no wesen.”

Sloane was about to snap at him to get back on subject—even if she did agree in principle—when Rosalee walked in with a bushel of lavender, tying it with twine to hang to dry. “Wesen or no wesen what?”

“Gangs. Seems we might have a wesen turf war,” Sloane said.

“Have you ever heard of a gang called Northend Cru?” Nick added, not really expecting her to know either.

Rosalee paused a moment before taking a deep breath. “Yes, I have.”

Sloane and Nick blinked.

“One of them is some kind of wesen apparently,” Monroe said, a bit more prepared for that.

“Yaguaraté,” Sloane and Rosalee said at the same time. Sloane looked at Rosalee in confusion. Rosalee wasn’t looking at any of them. “Northend Cru are all Yaguaraté,” she said.

“And you know this because...?” Monroe asked.

“I used to buy drugs from them when I was going through my rough patch. That was years ago,” she stated. Sloane was again surprised. Rosalee had told her a bit of her jaded past, but it was still a shock sometimes to think the fuchsbau herbalist used to be a drugged out vagrant. Nick, Hank and Monroe were all surprised too, trying to be a bit more delicate.

“Do you remember any names?” Hank asked.

“You don't forget names like Smoky and Stink Eye, but real names, no. No, nobody ever used real names,” she said, her movements still calm as she measured out twine. Almost too calm. She was definitely trying to seem okay talking about this.

“What about 7th Street Savages?” Nick asked.

“They're a Seattle gang.”

“So hang on a second,” Monroe interrupted, glancing at them and then quieting his voice as he leaned into her. “When you were in Seattle, did you also buy from...”

“No,” she said more emphatically. “I just knew people who did.” Monroe breathed in relief and nodded. She looked back at them. “But Northend and 7th Street don't mix. It's why 7th street never comes to Portland.”

“Until now. Killing Alonzo was their way of letting Northend know they're here,” Hank soused out.

“That's quite a way to send a message... cutting off the head of the serpent,” Nick agreed.

“Or, in this case, the head of the Yaguaraté,” Monroe laughed. None of them were amused and he cleared his throat. “Serpent's good.”

“Also, you sent two reapers heads to their boss in a box,” Sloane reminded him.

“Yeah, well…That went with the message I was trying to send,” Nick defended.

“I’m sure the Savages feel the same…” Sloane said.

“Look, if they're moving into Portland, that means they're probably still here,” Nick went on. He nodded to Monroe and Rosalee as he motioned them to head for the door. “Thanks, guys.”

\----------------

Before they could plan their next move, it was decided for them. Zuri and Jared were nearly attacked at their apartment, Zuri luckily having been on the phone with Hank at the time and so police were there before they got the door kicked in. Renard met with them this time, a book of mugshots on his desk, and finally convinced Jared to point the men out so they could give them protective custody. Sloane and Hank went to help get them situated at a motel while Nick worked on coordinating with Seattle. When it was time for them to go, Hank paused in the parking lot. “You know, I…think I’m gonna trade posts with Wu and stay here tonight.”

Sloane arched her eyebrows. She was really tired and wanted to go get some sleep, or what sleep she could manage. “Okay…why?”

“Just…to make sure they’re alright.”

Sloane gave him a flat look. “Are you seriously using a safe house as an excuse to hit on her?”

“What? No, that’s not…I’m just…” he floundered, obviously embarrassed.

“You do know you drove us here, right? If I take the car, your kind of SOL for a while.”

“I…yeah, you’re right, sorry…” He looked down, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

Sloane looked at Hank’s hang-dog expression and sighed. “Nick’s probably not left the precinct yet. I’ll see if he can pick me up. You stay here.”

Hank tried not to light up. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Just try to remember her brother is there and don’t make things too awkward, okay Casanova?”

“It’s purely professional,” he said, though his smile said something different. She rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone to call Nick.

“Hey, what’s up? They okay?”

“They’re fine, we got them set up at a motel. Hank wants to stay though. Luckily he was just leaving and swinging by wasn’t too far out of his way. He frowned when she climbed in though. “Okay, I’ve been wanting to say this all day: No offense Sloane, but you look like you haven’t slept in days…”

“I honestly probably haven’t…I’m working through some stuff,” she sighed. “I’m fine though.”

“I kind of disagree,” he said, firmly but still worried. “What’s been keeping you up at night? Not your grandmother’s books, this seems different.”

“…Things. Stuff.” Nick rolled his eyes and she frowned at him. “Look, just take me to my car, I can drive home fine.”

“Nope. You are in no shape to drive.”

“I’m not that tired, Nick, honestly. I’ve been worse.”

“That does not make me feel better. You’re not driving.”

She glared more. “Fine, drop me off at my place.”

“Also no. You’re obviously distracted by something and I bet part of it is at your apartment.”

“Don’t deduce me, you ass!” she snapped.

“And you’re somehow more irritable than usual,” he said lightly. “You need sleep.”

“Don’t you already have a house guest?” she pointed out.

“My couch is still really big and comfortable. Trust me, I slept on it for a while when Juliette was having that memory curse. And most of all, I can drive you and you won’t be out on the road tired.”

Sloane was quiet a moment before sighing and sitting back. She didn’t want to admit that Nick promising to be there for her made her a little happy. Having someone to worry about her day in and day out—about things like food and feeling tired, not just bleeding out or breaking bones or dying—was nicer than she wanted to admit. Between him and Rosalee she was starting to feel a bit spoiled. “Fine, okay, whatever…”

Nick smiled and drove towards his house instead of the precinct. “…I’m having a little trouble sleeping too.”

She looked over at him. “Is it the transformations?”

“Kind of…more me worrying about them. I did it again, in Wildred. Went blank and just…stabbed that guy in the fight. I’m not beating myself up about defending myself this time-”

“Good, I was going to smack you otherwise after last time,” she said dryly.

He rolled his eyes. “ _But_ I don’t like losing myself like that. I’m scared I’ll do something like that to someone innocent. Like I almost did with you. I’m scared I’ll wake up and I’ll have hurt Juliette…”

Sloane sighed softly. She wondered if she should bring up that Gallin contacted her but needed the video footage of him transformed. Good news, bad news? “We’ll figure this out…I promise.”

“Thanks…But you know, if…if I lose control at some point and you’re there-”

She smacked his shoulder. “No.”

He looked at her. “Sloane, I’m serious. I want you to make sure I don’t hurt anyone.”

Sloane huffed a sigh. “I won’t let you hurt anyone. But I’m not going to kill you, or harm you. We managed before, we’ll manage again.”

“I nearly hurt a lot of people before,” he reminded her. “I did kill someone.”

“Do not start,” she said more firmly, glaring at him. “I am not killing my friend.”

Nick blinked and glanced at her, then back to the road with a slight smile. “Your friend, huh?”

She gave a long suffering sigh. “Yes, I can’t deny it, you’ve wheedled your way into my heart. You jerk.”

Nick laughed and kept driving, deciding that was a good place to leave things for now. He got to his house and headed inside with her. It was a quick thing to get the couch set up with pillows and blankets, but it honestly wasn’t that bad. Sloane had to admit she was flagging pretty heavily and had been most of the late evening. She’d been eyeing the bed at the motel a little too much on retrospect, and she’d nearly punched Wu when he snuck up behind her. Luckily she’d been able to brush it off then, but she knew her lack of sleep was getting to her since she’d had long periods of restlessness before. It was easier before she had a day job.

“I’ll go grab the other blanket, just wait here,” Nick said, heading for the stair.

Sloane sighed and sat down on the couch. It was rather cushy, she had to admit. She took off her boots and put them to the side of the couch, then took off her knife holster and set it with her boots. Stretching, she laid back and sighed. She needed to talk to Nick about the video. But she still wasn’t sure how. It was such a sensitive subject. She just needed to come out and say it… _This couch is actually pretty comfy…_

“Okay, got the blanket,” Nick said, coming down with a comforter in his arms. “Do you need something to sleep in? I can see if Juliette can loan you…” He trailed off when he got closed to the couch and blinked in surprise to see Sloane was already fast asleep, curled up on her side with her arms around the pillow. He smiled a little. “Not tired, huh?” He came around the front and shook out the blanket, draping it over her. Sloane sighed and curled up a little more but remained asleep. “Night Sloane,” he said quietly, yawning and heading up to bed.

She was woken up in the morning by the smell of bacon and eggs being cooked and sighed as she sat up. Looking at her phone she knew she’d slept better than she had in days, even if it wasn’t a full eight hours. She was also more covered up than when she went to bed, with a comforter draped over her. She folded the blanket and stood, stretching with a groan. Padding into the kitchen, she rubbed her eyes a little to clear the sleep and saw Juliette cooking. “Um…hey?”

Juliette jumped and then sighed. “Sloane, hey…Nick left me a note saying you’d be sleeping downstairs. You okay?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you…But yeah, Nick’s a worrywart, I was just a little tired last night and he didn’t want me driving,” she said, rubbing over her neck.

Juliette smiled. “Nick always worries for the people he cares about, it’s just his nature.”

Sloane wasn’t sure what to say to that, just nodding. “Um, so…”

“Yeah…so…” Juliette sighed a little and then smiled awkwardly. “We’ve never really talked just the two of us, huh?”

“Not really, no…And I’m not really good at small talk.”

Juliette smiled. “Well, as the other Grimm in Portland and therefore a big deal in Nick’s life, I’d like to get to know you.”

Sloane arched her eyebrows again. “Big deal in Nick’s life? I’m…not sure about that—”

“Not sure about what?”

They looked up to see Nick walking down the stairs and entering the kitchen.

“We’re just chatting, that’s all,” Juliette said, kissing his cheek when he came close. “What time did you two get in last night anyway, I only kind of remember you coming in?”

“Ugh, late…Didn't want to wake you all the way but Sloane had the couch.”

“If you’d like to recall, you insisted on that I sleep over,” she pointed out. He smiled and shrugged.

“I wish you had woken me up,” Juliette said, turning suddenly a little worried. “I, um... I told Alicia that I knew.”

Nick froze and Sloane took a moment to think of what that could mean. “That she was a wesen?” Nick asked.

“Yeah.” Juliette looked at Sloane. “See, my friend from college is here, trying to get away from her bastard abuser of a husband, and Nick said she’s—”

“He told me. He wanted to know if he should tell you and I told him it was probably best you knew.”

“Oh…well, um, thanks—”

“But I think he forgot I specified you shouldn’t let her know you know…” she added, looking at Nick. Nick grimaced but nodded a bit.

“Huh? Why?” she asked, getting upset.

“It’s nothing about you. Wesen don’t always like Keirsheite. Some tend to think secrecy above anything else is the only way they’ll survive. Others are just…panicky, and don’t do well with panic.”

“Well…I mean, she didn’t take it well, but not that bad. She just kind of…denied it. Even though I tried to tell her I’m alright with it.”

“Really?” Nick asked.

“Yeah. I even talked to Rosalee about it. She said what Sloane did pretty much…” she sighed.

“Did she say anything else?” Nick asked.

“She said to just be patient. Alicia's just not comfortable coming out yet.”

“Coming out?” Nick asked, frowning at the wording.

“Feels like a metaphor…” Sloane smirked.

“You two know what I mean,” Juliette sighed. “So I've just decided to just let things unfold naturally. Now. Rather than force it.”

Nick and Sloane shared a look and then nodded. “Okay.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Juliette smiled a little and then straightened up when they heard footsteps on the stairs. “Oh, here she comes.” She and Nick lined up and Sloane face palmed when they gave a couple of cheery morning greetings that sounded forced. Alicia, who was still sporting a bruise on one of her high cheek bones, smiled. “Morning. Um…we have company?”

Sloane waved. “I’m Sloane Larson. I work with Nick. He let me crash here last night because according to him, I was too tired to drive home.”

“You were. You fell asleep in like five minutes,” Nick pointed out.

“I can do cartwheels on two days without sleep,” Sloane said back defiantly. “But hi.”

“Well…it’s nice to meet you,” Alicia said, looking a bit skittish.

Sloane nodded and then looked at Nick. “Where’s the bathroom? I’m gonna go clean up a little and then you’re taking me to pick up my car Mr. Good Samaritan.”

Nick just smiled. “Breakfast first?”

“…Fine. But then my car. I’d like to actually take a shower and get some clean clothes before work,” she fixed him with a serious stare that she swore wasn’t meant to be playful and headed to the bathroom. She cleaned her face and borrowed Juliette’s brush for her hair, and a little deodorant so she didn’t smell quite so much like she’d slept in her clothes. All around her were signs of Nick and Juliette living together: two toothbrushes, the his and hers towels, the big bed and two bureaus. It was homier than any place she’d been, even her own she thought. Somehow it made her feel very much like an intruder rather than a guest. A strangely lonely.

A loud series of crashes had her jolting to attention and then scrambling back down the stairs. She got there just in time to see Juliette jump on a stranger’s back, fitting her arms around his neck and yelling at him. He bucked her off in the kitchen and Sloane scrambled in, ready to defend the red-head, only to see her use her frying pan to admirably strike him across the face. He turned back with a glare and then woged. _Klaustreich!_ Sloane didn’t have her knife on her, it was still by the couch. She could grab a kitchen knife-

“I’m not impressed,” Juliette growled without fear. She tried to strike him again but he deflected the frying pan. He was not prepared for her to kick him between the legs though, then jab him hard in the chest and face, and then grab the coffee pot—empty sadly—to smash over his head. He went down and she continued her assault, Alicia coming in and smashing a vase over his head before helping her kick him. Sloane felt oddly useless just standing on the sidelines watching, but they had it covered.

“Hey!” Nick yelled, coming down the stairs with his gun drawn.

That got them to pause and back away, the klaustreich seeing Nick. Sloane was still to his side so he didn’t see her. He woged back, fear all over his face. “Oh god, a Grimm! D-don’t kill me!”

“I don’t think it’s us you have to worry about,” Nick said, going over to handcuff him.

“For real, we weren’t doing much,” Sloane said. “If they want to keep going, I will get rid of your body for them. Though, uh…who are you?”

“My husband,” Alicia panted.

“Ex-husband,” Juliette spat.

“I just wanted her to come back…” Joe sobbed as Nick cuffed him. “I didn’t mean to hurt her…”

“Yeah you did, you son of a bitch,” Juliette said, ready to start again.

Nick hauled Joe to his feet. They were about to leave when Alicia spoke up. “Wait.” She got in front of Joe and made him look at her. “We are done. I never want to see you again.”

“If she ever does see you again...” Nick trailed off.

“I can make it so she doesn’t,” Sloane said.

“No, no, I swear, she'll never see me again,” he sobbed.

“I’ll be right out with you,” Sloane said. Nick nodded, marching Joe to the door. She looked at Juliette and Alicia and smiled a little. “You two…are pretty fierce. Good job.”

“It was really all Juliette,” Alicia said. “She…fought him for me, I couldn’t let her do it alone.”

Juliette smiled. “I wasn’t going to let him hurt you again…”

Sloane smiled and patted Juliette’s shoulder. “I’ll be frank, I didn’t think Nick being in a relationship with a keirsheite was the best idea. They tend to get hurt or worse. But…You can hold your own. So I feel a little better about that.”

Juliette smiled a little and nodded. “Thanks…but it was my fault this almost went to hell.” She looked at Alicia. “I shouldn’t have pushed like that. I just…want you to know you’re my friend no matter what. It doesn’t matter to me your wesen. I just want to stay your friend and I want you to be safe and happy…”

Alicia sniffed a little. “Thank you. I…” she glanced at Sloane worried and Sloane held up her hands.

“I’m gonna leave you two to sort things out while Nick and I go book your husband. If you need someone to stare him down in divorce court, let us know.” Alicia smiled a little in thanks while Sloane headed out the door and to the car.

“Are they okay?” Nick asked worriedly. Joe was already in the back, looking sad but also scared.

“I think they’re fine. Your girlfriend is scrappy.”

He smiled. “Don’t I know it…Though she chose a poor moment to out me to Alicia…I thought she was going to bolt when Juliette told her you and I were Grimms…”

“Wouldn’t blame her…” Sloane said, trying not to think on the almost guilty feeling she had in her chest.

“Joe coming in stopped her though. And me. Asshole has a decent right hook, at least when he takes you by surprise,” he rubbed over his cheek.

Sloane paused and then turned to look at the man in the car. She didn’t think he knew she was a Grimm, but whatever expression she held made him flinch seeing and duck his head more. “He better hope he stays in lock up…” She looked back at him. “You didn’t transform?”

“Didn’t have time before he got the drop on me,” he said.

“…Gallin called me the other day. She might have a lead.” _There, I said it._

Nick looked at her in surprise. “Really? That’s great! Why…didn’t you say something sooner?” he finished, getting an idea that something was wrong.

“I don’t know who her contact is, she wouldn’t say. But apparently…they want a video of you transformed. To help diagnose you.”

Nick blinked and then looked down “I…wow, okay…”

“Yeah. I knew it wouldn’t be something you’d like, but…”

He sighed. “Yeah…not sure I want another video of me acting like a homicidal jerk out there. Not to mention forcing it…”

“It’s the only lead we have though…and we don’t know if it’s getting better or worse,” she pointed out.

He nodded, thinking. “…Let’s get our friend here down to the station. Then we can figure out where to go from there.”

Sloane nodded. “Okay.”

\---------------

That afternoon, while they were giving statements for Joe’s arrest at the station after Sloane got to go and get some fresh clothes, she got a strange text. It was from Hank’s number, but the message was, _They took Joy. I have to get her back. –J_

Sloane only took a moment to comprehend before she was grabbing Nick and they were out before Hank and Zuri realized he was gone, though they realized quick when she called him and asked where Joy lived.

They got there and were met by gun shots when they tried the door. Sloane raced around the side, seeing Joy and Jared run out to the back yard. She whistled and Jared skidded before running for her with Joy close behind. Sloane pulled them through the gate just as one of the Savages came out the door. He was pointing a gun at her, and she had no weapon to point back. No time to rush him, she might be able to dodge jumping behind the fence but no guarantee. For a quick moment she thought about what would happen if she died—a funeral, but sparse. Nick would be there, so would Rosalee and Mim and Jean. Would they cry? Of course, but would anyone else? Would anyone actually miss her?

Jared was grabbing on to her and trying to pull then and she panicked, not wanting him to get hit too. And then suddenly a flash of burgundy jumped over the fence with a yowl and tackled the gunman to the ground. Zuri, she recognized the clothes, but her face was woged and she was ripping out the man’s throat. Sloane stared in shock and then down to Jared. “…You’re… Yaguaraté?”

He looked up in surprise, his eyes just slightly golden. _I…saved a Yaguaraté…but he’s just a kid…_

She looked over when Nick and Hank came out to the deck and Zuri looked up, her mouth and front of her shirt covered in blood. She woged back and stared at Nick in shock. “You’re a Grimm…?” Jared was tense and almost moved to get between them, but Sloane held him back.

“Easy. Nothing’s going to happen…Keep hold of your girlfriend.” She nodded to Joy, who was collapsed by the bushes near the fence crying. He swallowed but then nodded and knelt down with her, pulling her close.

“It’s okay, Zuri,” Hank said, trying to keep things calm. Sloane knew he would.

“You know?” Zuri asked, more surprised.

“Yeah, he does,” Nick said, still training his gun on her.

“She didn’t have a choice Nick,” Hank said.

“She saved me for what it’s worth,” Sloane said, making them look at her. “I mean admittedly, I think she was more focused on saving Jared, but…”

Nick faltered before sighing and putting his gun down. “Get her out of here.”

“What are you gonna tell them?” Hank asked.

“We found him like this.” He looked at Sloane.

Sloane shrugged. “Big dog, ran out the gate.”

Hank nodded and took Zuri’s arm, intending to lead her to the car. “What about Jared,” she asked, not wanting to go.

“We got him, he’s okay,” Sloane said. “We’ll look after him and bring him back to you.”

She nodded slowly and followed Hank out. Nick walked over to her and she stepped back so he could see Jared and Joy crouched together, Joy still crying in fear. Jared looked up, a little scared too, and Nick smiled as gently as he could. “We need to talk…”

\-----------------

In the end, Zuri and Jared agreed they needed to move to another apartment complex just to be safe. Jared wasn’t going to break up with Joy and Sloane didn’t even bring it up. It just didn’t feel right to push them one way or another. The fact she’d inadvertently comforted and helped a Yaguarte was…something else to work though. It felt like something she should be ashamed of, similar to being friends with a fuchsbau and letting a blutbad live, but there was a strange disconnect between the idea and shame. It felt a little unreal.

Even more unreal in how real it was, was her visiting Rosalee at the shop.

“So Jared and Zuri are going to be okay? And the girl?” Rosalee asked, pouring another cup of tea for herself.

“Seems like it. All this time I thought Jared was just scared—and he was—but he was also trying to keep himself from woging. He doesn’t want to be violent like his father…”

“We always worry about having our parent’s worst traits I think,” Rosalee agreed.

“Not sure my mother has any good traits and dad’s still a mystery,” Sloane sighed. “What about you?”

“Ah…well, my parents were both pretty good. Though I don’t want my mom’s tendency to judge—which my sister inherited unfortunately—or my dad’s…” She paused and sighed. “My dad sometimes let work take over his life. It felt like he did it more when I went through my rough years and I blew up at him before I left for Seattle. Then…he died. I guess I just wish I’d had more time with him.”

“I’m sorry,” Sloane said, honest as she could be when she couldn’t quite empathize with the feelings.

“It’s okay. The past is the past.”

Sloane looked at her tea a moment. “I think the past is all I have sometimes…”

“That’s not true,” Rosalee said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve got me. And Nick. And Hank and a bunch of other people here. You got a lot to look forward to.”

Sloane felt her lips lift into a smile and she sighed as she nodded. _Maybe so…_

\--------------------

_The Good Soldier_

\--------------------

It was a couple of days after the gang war incident, and Sloane had a feeling Ron Hurd was killed by a wesen. Granted it used to be she saw wesen in every violent death, and had since learned humans could stab and shoot and beat each other just as much. But something about this just gave her that feeling. He’d been attacked in his own home, stabbed by something large, conical and sharp, and had died almost instantly. Considering the man worked in home security, it didn’t seem like good publicity for his Rent-a-cop business at McCabe Security. He didn’t even get the chance to fire off his gun. The only thing broken in his home was a frame that had apparently contained war medals, the frame in pieces but the medals gone. Hank recognized the kind of case from his father’s own medal case. They only knew exactly what they had held because his friend, Troy Dodge, told them.

“I have no idea,” he said, looking flustered when they asked why someone would kill Hurd. They were outside the house now, Mr. Dodge not wanting to go back inside. “Everyone liked Ron. I’ve worked with him at the company since 2011, before that we were in Iraq.”

“You were in the war?” Hank asked.

“Ron was 10th battalion, I worked for Artemis,” Dodge clarified.

“The military contractors?” He asked in surprise. Dodge nodded.

“We know Hurd had a pretty good security system,” Nick said. “Any security cameras?”

Dodge sighed. “Not part of the employee discount.”

Sloane arched her brow. “Seems like maybe something he could splurge for…”

“Well…one thing I can say about Ron that could go either good or bad is he was frugal…” Dodge said wanly.

“Did you touch the body at all?” Nick asked.

“No,” he shook his head quickly. “Soon as I saw what happened, I called 911.” His phone suddenly went off and he pulled it out to look. “Oh, that’s the company wanting an update…is it okay if I take it?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Nick said, finishing his notes. Dodge walked off and the three detectives walked towards the front of the house. “So we got a security guy killed in his own home, had his gun right next to him, didn't call 911, didn't turn on the alarm.”

“Sounds like he let his killer in the house,” Hank said.

“But what made the hole in his chest?” Nick asked. “We don’t have a murder weapon?”

“And why steal his medals?” Hank wondered. “They’re not necessarily that valuable.”

“Maybe the killer didn’t think he deserved them?” Sloane asked.

“Maybe,” Nick nodded.

“But why would they care?” Hank asked.

“Unless they were military too,” Nick said, glancing back at Dodge on the phone.

“…Should I display my grandfather’s medals?”

Hank looked at her in surprise. “You got them?”

“I saw them in the attic at oma’s. I’d have to go back and get them, but I’m a little hesitant right now…” she admitted.

“You aren’t still upset at Mim and Jean, are you?”

“About being wesen? No,” she said, smiling a little. “Jean and Mim are being a little…pushy about something right now though. Apparently Sherrif Grover has resigned, when it was shown he was taking payouts from Summer Bridge to look the other way on some shady moves.” Nick grinned rather proudly and she smiled back. “They’ve got a new sheriff now who’s promising change and updates to keep up with the growing town—which is still growing, but much more naturally now. And part of this is overhauling the department and he wants some new officers.”

Nick made a sound of understanding. “So they were hoping you would…”

“Move back? Yeah. I think they realize that’s a bit of a downgrade job wise and unlikely, but they were hopeful and now I feel kind of bad…But we’re messaging every week so I think they’re still happier.”

Hank chuckled. “Well, if you ever do get the medals, I can tell you a little if you want. My dad’s a history buff, a little rubbed off on me.”

Sloane smiled. “Thanks, that’d be nice. Also, I don’t trust that guy, he got real tense talking on the phone.” She nodded towards Dodge. Multitasking was definitely a skill of hers.

“Well, his friend and one of the head honchos of his business did just die,” Nick reasoned, but he wasn’t convinced either. “Let’s go do a little more research on our victim.”

Hank nodded and started towards the car, and Sloane put a hand on Nick’s shoulder to make him pause. “Hey…have you thought about what I told you? Gallin’s request?”

Nick’s face was a bit pinched before he sighed. “Yeah…I don’t like it, but…I do want answers. To make sure this doesn’t keep happening.”

Sloane nodded. “I had an idea. If you’re okay with it, we could…restrain you for it. To make sure you don’t hurt anyone.”

Nick nodded slowly. “Okay…how?”

“Gallin has a room at the Library, most do. It’s meant for…interrogations, lets say, but it should have what we need.”

“That’s sounds creepy as hell,” he said dryly.

“It’s the best option I have unless you have a dungeon I don’t know about,” she shot back. “…Or Renard. He seems the type…”

“And on that note, I’m just going to agree before I consider what kind of dungeon my boss has,” Nick said. “Just…let’s work, and we’ll figure out when we can do it afterwards.”

“Okay…but I don’t think we should put it off forever.” Nick didn’t say anything, but they caught up with Hank at the car to head back to the precinct.

Research turned up only slightly more than they knew. They knew he served three tours in Iraq. Honorable discharge, two purple hearts. That his last credit card purchase was at the VFW—Veterans of Foreign Wars, a social location for veterans that included a bar Sloane learned— at 11:03 the night, he died. And the last three calls on his phone were to Jim McCabe, the head man of McCabe security. First two only a few seconds, likely voicemail, and the last one about two minutes long.

“Sounds like he was pretty desperate to talk to this guy,” Sloane noted.

“Well, we should talk to him too. We can hit the VFW on the way,” Nick said, standing.

Sloane’s phone rang as they did and she looked at the ID. “It’s Rosalee…” She looked at the other two. “Wait for me, I’ll be at the car in a bit.”

They nodded and Sloane stepped into one of the side rooms to answer. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Sorry, are you busy with work?”

“We have a case, but you don’t normally call in the middle of the day. What’s wrong?”

Rosalee was quiet a moment before sighing. “I was going to ask if I could borrow some of your courage…”

“For what?” Sloane asked slowly.

“I told you about my mother and sister…About how we haven’t really talked in a while.”

“Seven years I think you said,” Sloane said, recalling the conversation.

“Yeah. Well, I, uh…emailed her. I figured with how things are going and me staying in Portland, I should get back in touch…”

“Oh…How did that go?” she asked, honestly a little worried. She was well aware that they had a tense relationship after Rosalee left to go to Seattle.

“Better than I expected. I’m, uh…meeting them for dinner. Both of them. Tonight,” she finished tensely.

“Whoa…that’s fast,” she said intelligently.

“Yeah,” Rosalee laughed. “Monroe’s going with me for support, but…I’m still feeling sick about it.”

“…I wish I could give you some advice,” Sloane said honestly. “But, well…family stuff isn’t my strong suit. I can tell you how to load a musket, but making up with your family is…foreign territory.”

“Right, sorry,” Rosalee said. “I should’ve realized…”

“No, it’s okay, it’s just how it is,” Sloane said. “But I guess…look, you went through some shit.”

“I kind of made that shit for myself,” Rosalee reminded her.

“You made some mistakes. Things got out of hand. But you also turned your life around really well and I think that’s amazing. It’s not something everyone succeeds at. From how you dread it, this meeting will be awkward I can tell, but you should be proud of that at least. You’re doing really well, you’ve saved a lot of people and wesen and they can’t fault you for that. If they do, they’re jerks, I’m sorry, family or not. But…I’m still gonna be your friend at the end of it. And so will the rest of us. And I guess you’ll have the Blutbad too.”

Rosalee laughed slightly at Sloane’s honesty and the awkward, almost shy way she said she’d have her still at the end. “Thank you, Sloane…that does make me feel better.”

“Good.” She sighed in relief and glanced back to Nick and Hank at the car. “But look, we are on a case, I should go before the boys get impatient. Call me later?”

“Sure. Good luck.”

“You too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

They hanged up and Sloane sighed a bit. She felt oddly jealous of Rosalee. There was no reconciling with her family, she knew that. There wasn’t much of one left to reconcile with. Putting that thought and her phone away, she headed down to where Nick and Hank were waiting.

“Hey, everything okay?” Nick asked.

“Yeah. Rosalee just needed some moral support for something. She’ll probably tell you later.”

“Okay…” They climbed into the car, Sloane in the back, and headed for the VFW. It was an old brick building, crimson from the recent rain and nostalgic for a time none of them had really even lived through with its memorabilia from various wars. As they entered the main hall they could hear jazzy dancing music blaring from the main hall.

“Somebody’s in the mood,” Hank smiled.

“What?” Sloane asked, trying to keep from swaying to the beat.

“It’s the name of the song. Glenn Miller’s In the Mood. Somebody having fun?” They pushed open the door and paused when they saw a dozen couples well into their 60s and over swaying and pulling each other around the dance floor. Sloane couldn’t help but smile a little as she watched. It was charming.

A tall, willowy black woman with softly graying hair walked up to them with bright smiles. “Well! Do we have two handsome gentleman soldiers and a lovely lady in the service to join us? Well, take off your coats and partner up! I’m sure we can work it out-”

“Ah, no,” Nick said delicately. “We’re not…is there someone who works here?”

The woman was a bit confused but nodded. “Yes, Candy is in the back. But if you change your minds, you’re welcome to join in.”

They nodded, heading for the back through the dancers. Just a they did a tall woman with brown wavy hair was bringing a box of bottles out from the back. She frowned when she saw them and set the box down. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, we have some questions about a patron who was here last night,” Hank said, flashing his badge.

“Okay…”

“His name was Ron Hurd.”

Candy huffed out a breath with a tired smile. “Oh god, what did Ronny do now?”

“He was murdered last night,” Sloane said.

“Excuse me?” she asked, looking honestly shocked.

“According to his credit card statement, his last transaction was here at 11:03 PM,” Nick said, checking his notes.

“I don’t believe this,” Candy said, reeling a little.

“What time did he leave?” Nick prompted. “Was he with anyone?”

She shook her head, trying to get her thoughts together. “No…he came in alone, he left alone. After he paid for the drinks. What happened?” she asked, looking between all of them.

“Was he with anyone while he was here?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, the regulars,” she sighed, resolving herself to the questions. “He had dinner at the bar. Bought a round of drinks for the guys.”

“Do you have any names,” Sloane asked.

“I can get them for you,” she nodded.

“Did anything unusual happen last night?” Hank asked.

Candy looked down in thought before nodding slowly. “Actually…there was. There was a young woman who sat with him at the table, but he didn’t seem too happy to see her. That was right before he left.”

“Do you know her name?” Nick asked.

She shook her head. “Never seen her before, but...”

“But what?”

“When I cleaned his table last night, I found what I thought was something pretty weird. It was a cocktail napkin with blood on it,” she said with a grimace.

“What did you do with the napkin?” Hank asked.

And that question led to Nick and Sloane digging through the trash with their gloves on. “Have I told you how glamorous this job makes me feel,” Sloane said quietly. Nick just smiled.

Candy was behind them on the ground with Hank. “Do you remember what the woman looked like?” Nick asked.

“Late 20s, early 30s, dark hair,” Candy said, trying to remember.

“Was she military?” Hank asked.

“I don't know for sure, but she looked like a tough lady,” Candy said shrewdly.

“How long did she stay after he left?” Nick asked.

“Not very long. I'd say she left within five minutes.”

“You don't have any surveillance cameras, do you?” Hank asked.

Candy laughed but looked apologetic. “Who's gonna steal anything with a bunch of soldiers around?”

“Why does no one have security cameras when we could use them,” Sloane muttered.

Nick then pulled a napkin out of the trash, looking it over. “Is this it?”

Candy looked and nodded, noting the odd pattern of five straight vertical lines, followed by what looked like a circle or a D like shape. “Yeah.”

“How do you get yourself to bleed like that?” Hank asked, tilting his head.

“Might be some kind of pattern. I don't know….”

Sloane frowned as well. “No wounds like that on our victim…They must’ve been on the woman. As fresh as they must’ve been to bleed…Self-mutliation?”

Nick nodded, following her train of thought. “That doesn’t answer the why though…Maybe McCabe has an idea.”

Nodding, they thanked Candy for her help and headed back to their car to go to McCabe security.

Jim McCabe was in his thirties, with a shaved head and a decent physique beneath his corporate suit attire from what Sloane could tell sizing him up on instinct. Something about him gave her a bad feeling though, even as he smiled when he let them into his office after his receptionist announced them.

“Mr. McCabe, we're Detectives Burkhardt, Larson and Griffin,” Hank said, moving inside.

“You're here about Ron,” he guessed immediately.

Nick paused and Sloane glanced at him before back to McCabe, agreeing that was fast. “Yes, we are.”

“I'll help you any way I can. As soon as I heard about what happened, I started racking my brain about who could have done this. I'm afraid I haven't come up with much, but I have put together a file for you. Ron's full employment record, clients he dealt with, jobs he worked... it's all in there,” he said, handing Nick the file folder.

Sloane frowned, feeling that that was quick work for one morning. “According to his phone records, he called you last night at 12:10.”

He glanced at her, sizing her up as well if she had to guess, and nodded. “Yes, he did.”

“Mind telling us what that conversation was about?” Hank asked, while Nick was looking over the folder.

“He called about work... a job we're doing in South Portland.”

“It's a little late to be calling about work…”

McCabe just smiled. “As you know, security's a 24-7 job.”

“Before he called you, he was at the VFW having drinks till about 11:00,” Sloane said. “We’ve been told there was a confrontation there with a woman. Did he mention her to you?”

He pulled a face and shook his head. “No. We just talked business.”

“Was he seeing anyone? Do you know who the woman could have been?”

“No. Ron loved the ladies. Unfortunately, they only loved him back about 10% of the time. You definitely would have been his type though. You might be mine,” he said in what he must have thought was a flirtatious tone.

Sloane didn’t look impressed, and neither did Hank or Nick. Sloane just put on her most bored tone when she spoke. “I don’t flirt on the job. Especially when I’m questioning someone about a homicide to the victims friend.”

He had the decency to look rueful. “Ah, right…Sorry.”

Nick smiled, having known she’d handle that fine. Hank smiled as well as he looked around the room again. “Back to that homicide,” Nick said. “Is there anyone you can think of who might want him dead?”

“Personal security's a tough business. We don't always make a lot of friends,” with a sigh.

“That's Troy.” Hank said suddenly. Sloane and Nick looked over to where Hank was pointing to a picture of four soldiers standing together in a sandy, desert like setting. They were all younger than they looked now, but it was them. “Is that Ron?” He pointed to the figure dressed in mostly camo compared to the more mercenary like clothes of the others.

“Yeah. We spent time together in Iraq. Most of my employees have some sort of military training.”

“And who... who's that?” Hank asked, pointing to the one unfamiliar face.

“Bobby Hammond.”

“He work here too?” Nick asked.

“He did. Moved to Phoenix a couple years ago, opened his own shop.”

The detectives looked at one another before Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out the evidence bag with the napkin inside. “Look... Does this mean anything to you?” he asked, holding it out to him.

McCabe looked at the pattern and shook his head slowly in a mix of disgust and surprise. “No…Where'd you get that?”

“It was left on Ron's table at the VFW,” Sloane said.

He shook his head again, regaining his composure. “I don't know.”

Nick sighed and put it back in his pocket. “Well, you mind if I make a copy of that photograph?”

“Go ahead.”

Nick took his phone out and snapped a picture of the photo. They said their goodbyes and headed out back to the car.

“…That guy gives me a bad feeling,” Sloane said.

“Same here,” Hank agreed.

“We’ll check him out back at the precinct,” Nick said.

They didn’t find much more on McCabe, other than he was part of Artemis with Troy Dodge and Robert Hammond at the same time their victim was over in Iraq. Then they found out Robert Hammond was also dead, killed a week ago in Phoenix in another home invasion. Someone was definitely picking off these men in particular Sloane felt, but she didn’t know why or how.

“I think we should ask Renard’s help on this, he might be able to get more information from Phoenix,” Hank said.

“I agree. As weird as this is, it might be one of our strange cases. He’s not in yet though…” Sloane said, glancing at the office.

“I’ll shoot him an email. In the mean time we can keep looking as well,” Nick said.

Sloane sighed but went back to searching and combing through files. Renard returned less than an hour later and nodded at them, which they took to mean he got the message. But it was getting late and they hadn’t had much of a lunch, so they opted to go to an early dinner together.

“So…any idea what this could be?” Hank asked the two Grimms.

“I can’t rule out non-wesen with just a very strange weapon,” Sloane said honestly. “I’m not making that mistake again.”

Nick smiled a little despite himself. “You’ve become a pretty good detective.”

She smiled, sipping her water. “What will you say when I’m better than you?”

“If only you weren’t so cocky still…”

“Hey, I call it as I see it and I think I deserve to have an ego living through everything I have,” Sloane said. “Death is probably coming for me on some hunt, at least let me feel good about myself now.”

Nick and Hank shared a surprised look before looking at her. “That’s…kind of macabre,” Hank said.

Sloane shrugged and took a bit of her sandwich. “I made peace with that a while ago…doesn’t mean I’m not going to fight it off tooth and nail, but I figured I’d probably die in a fight sometime. Hopefully taking whatever or whoever is responsible with me. If not, avenge me,” she said mock seriously. She tried not to think about the thought’s she’d had just recently, wondering if someone would miss her. The moment she thought she might die to a gunshot of all things trying to save a yaguarte teenager. That for a moment, death did scare her, really scare her. She didn’t like being scared. She was feared, not fearful. And she was determined to keep it that way.

Nick and Hank smiled a little, but it was still odd how blasé she was about her own possible death. Nick’s phone went off then and he looked at it. “Renard has some information for us.”

“Let’s get back to the station then.”

They quickly finished their food, tossing the trash away as they headed back for the car. Getting back to the station, Sloane noted that Renard was talking on the phone and he didn’t look pleased. He hanged up as they entered though.

“You wanted to see us?” Hank asked.

“Yeah. I spoke to Captain Wilton at the Phoenix P.D. This is the paperwork he sent over on Robert Hammond and the ongoing investigation into his murder.” He held up a file and Sloane took it to look over.

“We got a cause of death?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, apparently he was stabbed with a poison spike.” All three looked up in surprise at him in unison.

“…Not human,” Sloane finally said. “The killer I mean.”

“Not likely, no. Good thing you three are on the case.”

“They I.D. the poison?” Hank asked.

“Inconclusive,” Renard sighed.

Hank frowned, taking the file from Sloane when she offered it. “We're still waiting on Harper to get the tox screen back on our Vic, but the spike in the chest is the same.”

Nick sighed, also looking part of the file over, then he pulled out a print of the photo from McCabe’s office and showed it to Renard. “So two of these four men are dead, killed in the same way within a week of each other.”

“And the other two are here in Portland. They both work for McCabe security.”

“That one's McCabe,” Nick said, tapping the man on the far left.

“Could one of them be killing the others?” Renard asked.

“Well, there could be some bad blood between them,” Nick said.

“One army guy with three military contractors... we know why?”

“They were all friends,” Hank said, shrugging a bit.

“Check with his C.O. See what he knows about the relationship between them,” Renard suggested. He then looked at Sloane, who was looking over the file still. “Something stand out to you, Sloane?”

She looked up then back down. “…I think they’re hiding something.”

“Likely, given someone is killing them.”

“No, I mean…I think these four are specifically hiding something. Not something to do with the business, something personal. Something bad they all had a hand in.”

“Why not something with the business?” Hank asked.

“They didn’t all start together and if it was, it would’ve been over here in the states. That doesn’t strike me as likely because McCabe started the company just after they left Iraq and pulled these three in specifically. McCabe gives me the worst feeling, deep in my gut, and I think he kept these guys close as long as he could because they know something.”

“Blackmail for a job?” he asked.

“Not like that…more like…McCabe tying up loose strings close to home. Whatever he has on them, I think it incriminates himself too, and vice versa. He didn’t seem happy Hammond left, even if he tried to seem like it. He’s paranoid about something but trying to seem in control. I took advantage of paranoia like that often enough to hone in on it,” she finished.

Renard nodded slowly. “If it happened in Iraq, well…No disrespect to those that serve, but they are capable of things any human being is.”

“And that can be bad,” Hank agreed.

“It’s getting late though. We should probably try to find that C.O. in the morning, most places are gonna be closed,” Nick said.

“Then start fresh tomorrow,” Renard agreed.

They nodded and split off, heading for home to rest up. Sloane looked at her phone when she got home and noted Rosalee hadn’t called. She shot her a quick text.

**Sloane:** _Everything okay?_

When she got out of the shower, there was a text waiting.

**Rosalee:** _It was tense for a while, and I ended up telling them a lot more than I wanted. But I think it was good. I think we’re on our way to understanding each other again._

Sloane smiled, honestly happy for her. **Sloane:** _I’m glad. We got a weird case again though._

**Rosalee:** _Do you need help?_

**Sloane:** _Maybe, but for now I think you’ve had enough to deal with. We’ll let you know if we need some extra help._

**Rosalee:** _Thanks. I’ll tell you all about how my evening went down later. Goodnight._

**Sloane:** _Goodnight._

Sloane sighed and went to lay down. She paused before going to sleep and grabbed her phone again, calling Gallin’s number.

“Sloane?” she yawned.

“Hey. Did I wake you up?”

“Yes…but what’s wrong? Did you need a weapon?”

“No, no. I managed to talk Nick into the video…But I wanted to ask if we could use the back room of the library.”

“The back room? Really?” she asked, sounding worried. “For what? Or who?”

“For Nick. I said I’d restrain him while we do this, so he didn’t have to worry about hurting someone…”

“Oh…That’s…not it’s intended use…” she said hesitantly.

“I’m well aware,” Sloane said. “But I think it’s necessary. I’ve been on the wrong side of Nick’s transformations, they are not fun.”

Gallin sighed, sounding worried. “…Let me clean it out, I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

“Clean it out?”

“I try not to go in there often, it’s a bit…gross,” she said, shuddering.

“…Alright. Just let me know when it’s ready.”

“Right…Um, so…how are you doing?”

“Uh, fine. Just heading to bed.”

“Right, right,” she said, sounding a bit flustered again. “I should let you do that. Rest up. I’ll call you later.”

“Right…goodnight?”

“Goodnight.”

Sloane hanged up and sighed, setting the phone back down on her bedside table and laying down to try and sleep. It was a little easier now, though sometimes she still had trouble sleeping. She didn’t like to examine why exactly for long.

In the morning they got back to work trying to find the Commanding Officer in charge of the 10th battalion when Hurd was there. It was Hank who came out from one of the side rooms with a smile on his face around mid-morning. “I got the video chat set up with Ron Hurd's old C.O., Colonel Adam Desai.”

“When?” Nick asked, surprised by the speed.

“Now. He's in D.C. at Walter Reed hospital... terminal cancer.” Nick and Sloane both frowned in sympathy—Marie coming to mind for both—and stood to go group up with him. Hank brought up the chat function quickly. Desai was a man in what she guessed was his sixties, with slightly receding white hair and fair, almost sickly pale skin, but still with the sharp eyes and air of a soldier as he looked at them. “Colonel, thank you so much for taking the time. These are my partners, Detective Burkhardt and Detective Larson.”

“Wish I could be there in person, but the lungs won't allow it,” he said in that matter-of-fact tone brass in the military often used.

“We understand,” Hank said.

“Really sorry to hear about Ron…” he sighed.

“We were hoping you could help us connect the dots between him and a few military contractors,” Nick said. “Did you get the photo we sent you?”

“I did. Jim McCabe, Troy Dodge, Robert Hammond,” he sighed, sounding resigned.

“So you knew them?” Hank asked.

“Yes, Artemis security. Our platoon was stationed outside Balad... minesweeping, peacekeeping... but half the time we spent trying to undo the damage those cowboys did,” he said bitterly.

“Damage?” Hank frowned.

“Harassing the locals, theft, extortion... dogs without a leash,” Desai spat.

“Why didn’t you arrest them or kick them out?” Sloane asked. _Or put them down…_

“You don't understand the arrangement the military had with the private contractors,” he huffed.

“What kind of arrangement was that?” Nick asked.

“A good one for them. Their deal with the government exempted them from any prosecution. They were untouchable right up until the winter of 2010, when Artemis finally got kicked out of Iraq.”

“You said they were exempt from prosecution. Were they ever brought up on charges for anything?”

Desai took a deep breath, glancing at Sloane a moment before and working his jaw. “A specialist under my command came to me, said that Ron and these Artemis guys had raped her.” Sloane’s blood went cold a moment and she gripped the sleeve of her shirt. “I reported the incident to my superior but was told to look the other way.”

“But Ron was under your command,” Hank said, also troubled.

“He was transferred before I could do anything except file a restricted complaint. Went nowhere.”

“That’s bullshit,” Sloane growled.

“I said some similar things when I found out,” he sighed. “I served to protect others, not to let men like these use our station to do…that, and get away with it…”

Nick chewed the inside of his cheek as he took that in. “What was the name of the specialist?”

“Frankie Gonzales.”

“Do you know where she is?” Hank asked as Nick wrote that down quickly.

“As far as I know, she's in South Carolina.”

“Do you remember the date this attack on Gonzales happened?” Nick asked.

“Never forget it. November 11, 2010.”

Sloane and Hank both paused and Sloane pulled the evidence bag with the napkin out from some of the papers on his desk. “111110…” Sloane said somberly.

“It's a date,” Hank said.

“I hate to say this,” Desai sighed, “But whatever those guys are getting, they deserve.”

“I agree,” Slaone said darkly. Nick looked at her, a little surprised by how much venom was in her voice.

Desai looked up beyond his computer camera and nodded as if seeing someone there. “Nurses are waving at me. It's time for my chemo. Good luck on your investigation.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Hank said. The feed cut and Sloane took a deep breath, trying to center herself.

“You okay…?” Nick asked.

“Not really…right now, I’m asking myself if I really want to catch this murderer…” she said honestly.

“I get that…” Nick said. “But it’s our job.”

“And their job should’ve been to protect people,” she muttered. “Considering what they did instead, I think a poison spike to the gut is justified.”

“…Again, I don’t disagree. But look, right now, we need to keep doing our job, the best we can. Everything will come out somehow or another, they aren’t going to just sweep it away again.”

“Yeah…If I find out the names of whoever covered this up though…” Nick wisely didn’t say anything as she sat back down to look for the necessary files.

They found specialist Francesca "Frankie" Gonzales was discharged in 2012. After her discharge, there was a page-long list of misdemeanors. Drugs, alcohol, in and out of rehab, and overall not a pretty picture. Sloane looked at the mugshot on file with sympathy. Her army photo was the picture of pride and respect, and then she became a hard-eyed, messy woman who looked as though she hadn’t slept in days but was still ready to fight. When they found out she was picked up for drunk and disorderly conduct a little over a month ago in Phoenix, the same place Bobby Hammond was killed, they all agreed that was too much of a coincidence.

They were just about to go check into whether she’d arrived in Portland in the last few days when Wu informed them they had a double murder. The victims were Troy Dodge and his wife Betsy, and they quickly headed to the scene.

“Same type of stab wound,” Hank said. “You think Frankie's doing this?”

“If she is, I sure wish I knew what she was using,” Nick said. He looked at Sloane and she sighed and shook her head.

“I wish I could tell you, but I’m not certain myself. Poison occurs in _a lot_ of wesen species, with lots of ways to administer it, they all have different weaknesses, and I have no idea what makes a wound like that.”

Nick sighed and looked around the house, just as Hanks phone rang. “Griffin.” Sloane followed Nick into the living room and paused when she saw him put on a glove and kneel by the fireplace. “Found something?”

“Yeah…It’s a torn up letter of some kind, but despite being in the fireplace it isn’t burned. I think-”

“Guys, Wu’s on the phone,” Hank said quickly. “He just got the tox report on the first victim. It's a match to what they found in Phoenix.” Nick stood up and nodded and Sloane came in closer too as Hank pressed the speaker button. “Let's have it.”

Wu’s voice came over loud and clear. “Both victims died from an excessive dose of neurotoxins and enzyme inhibitors associated with the family Buthidae.”

“Okay…what does that mean in English?” Sloane asked.

“The closest match is scorpion venom.” The three detectives looked at one another and Sloane shook her head, still uncertain. “Obviously, we're not talking a real scorpion 'cause it would have to be 6 feet tall. That's all I got.”

“Thanks,” Hank said. He hanged up and Nick held up a piece of paper he took from the fireplace.

“This look familiar to you?”

Hank looked at it and so did Sloane. “November 11th... the day Frankie was attacked,” Hank said. “We better find out what the hell we're dealing with.”

“Neurotoxins, enzyme inhibitors... I'm gonna call Juliette,” Nick said, pulling out his phone.

“Yeah, dealing with a 6-foot-tall scorpion, we're gonna need all the help we can get. Uh, could that be what we’re dealing with?” he asked Sloane.

“…I admit I don’t know,” she sighed. “But I would not be surprised.”

It took them a little while to finish up at the crime scene, and by the time they got to the trailer Juliette had already gone through the quick reference system they were putting together on a tiny travel laptop to find some ideas. Sloane could admit she was stealing the idea for her home library, it made searches much easier. Nick was letting them look through the books though while he put together the bits of paper he’d found in the fireplace.

“Okay, the first candidate is from 13th-century France. It's called a Trasque... a small, solitary creature who loves the singing of maidens,” Juliette said, showing the book.

“Who doesn't?” Hank chuckled, but shook his head looking at it. “Probably not what we're looking for.”

“Yeah,” Sloane agreed. “Their tail ends in a scorpion-like stinger, but it’s usually small. I remember a Grimm I met had one he preserved. It was like a lizard tail with a bulbous end about the size of a golf-ball and a small spike on the end. We’re looking for like…grape-fruit size.”

“Yeesh,” Juliette said. “Okay, then going a little bit further back to 1100 A.D., we have a Shnabeltiermorder,” she said, pronouncing it slowly.

“That’s a platypus,” Sloane said, looking at the drawing quizzically. The others looked at one another before shaking their heads. “Nah,” They said in unision.

“Okay, what about that?” Juliette said, pulling up another book.

“A Manticore?” Hank read. “It's the right size.”

Juliette pulled the book back over and read the passage. “‘I first witnessed what I was later to discover was a Manticore while my command lay siege at the fortress of Hormuz. Pliny the elder described this wesen in his famous Naturalis Historia circa 77 A.D., tracing its origin to ancient Persia. The beast described had a most unusual body, reflected by a physical duality. Part lowen, it also had a scorpion-like tail which could protrude from its spine, having a spike-like nail at the end capable of injecting a great deal of poison. When I attempted to make a move on this wesen, I discovered there were several more in the ranks. I quickly put away my blade to conceal my identity as a Grimm.’”

“Lowan and scorpion? I didn’t think that was even possible…” Sloane murmured.

“‘I was to learn they were some of the most lethal soldiers in our command, for they have no fear of death.’" Juliette finished.

Hank blew out a breath. “I don't like that "no fear of death" thing. It's not healthy.” He glanced at Sloane who just arched her brow in return. Then he looked over at Nick with a frown and Sloane turned to see Nick looking a bit upset. “Nick, what do you got?”

“A confession... to the gang rape of Frankie Gonzales.” Sloane turned around even more, looking at the torn paper in surprise. “Looks like Troy finished writing it just before he was killed.”

“The colonel was right. This is about her,” Hank said. “She's our Manticore.”

“I doubt that,” Sloane said immediately.

Nick looked at her in confusion. “The men who raped her are turning up dead.”

“Yeah. But think for a second. Imagine you two are women, as hard as that might be for all of us,” she said sardonically. “Four men gang up to assault you. Most women not trained in combat, probably unable to defend themselves even if they try, and some are too scared to try. Given it’s the army, both she and the men were trained, so it’s still not looking good. But if you had the ability to turn into a creature with claws, fangs and a giant freakin tail with a spike that injects poison? Who knows no fear of death?”

Both men looked at one another, realizing she had a point, and Juliette was nodding. “I was thinking the same. Unless they could keep her from transforming or one of them was something worse that could overpower her, if she was a manticore I think she’d have scared them off…or they’d already be dead.”

Hank nodded but then shook his head. “Someone someone killed Ron, Troy, and Bobby.”

“She’s the only one we know with a motive,” Nick agreed.

“And there's only one cowboy left,” Hank said.

“I think we need to find Jim McCabe. And whether Frankie Gonzales is the manticore or not, she might know what’s going on, so we need to find her too.”

Sloane obviously didn’t agree Frankie was their murderer, but nodded. “If we find him, we might find her. Then we can figure this out.”

That led to tracking down Jim McCabe. And sure enough, when they found him, he was trying to leave McCabe security, but was stopped by Frankie Gonzalez screaming at him to get out of his car.

“Back away, Frankie,” Nick said, raising his gun as they climbed out of the squad cars. “Don't fight this. Okay? If you do, you're gonna get hurt, but we don't want that.”

Sloane paused and looked at him. “We need to work on your phrasing in a situation like this,” she muttered, shaking her head in disapproval. Nick looked at her in confusion, but rather than draw her gun or blade Sloane just walked forward. Frankie was looking around in a half-panicked state and Sloane just held up her hands. “Frankie. I’m detective Sloane Larson. We want to talk with you down at the station.”

“Looks like you want to do a bit more than that,” Frankie said.

“Yeah. It’s a tense situation. You were being aggressive when we came up.” Frankie glanced at McCabe, who smirked and blew a kiss at her. Sloane felt her blood boil and imagined grabbing his bald head and crushing it like an egg. But she took a deep breath, knowing it must be worse for Frankie. “We are aware of the situation,” Sloane said, saying her words deliberately slow and pronounced. “But we need to ask you questions. And because of what we saw, we need to handcuff you.” She took her cuffs out. “Turn around with your hands on your head and come quietly, please. We’ll talk more at the station.”

Frankie looked close to crying but turned, her hands on the back of her head. Sloane cuffed her and brought her over to the squad car, helping her in.

“You were oddly gentle there,” Nick said.

“I told you, I don’t think she’s the one,” Sloane said, sighing.

“Who else could it be?” Hank asked.

“Maybe she knows,” she said, losing a bit of patience with them. “If I’m the one saying “just ask”, you guys need to chill.”

They looked at one another, unsure, but headed to the car. They returned to the station, putting Frankie in one of the interrogation rooms. The next half hour was putting all the information down in front of her.

“We know you did it. It’s over,” Nick said.

Frankie shook her head, spreading her hands in the need to be understood. Sloane insisted on no cuffs, but otherwise she was mostly quiet, watching Frankie. “I didn't kill anyone!”

“Frankie, we know you did. First Bobby Hammond in Phoenix,” Nick said.

“Then Ron Hurd... you caught him at the VFW,” Hank said.

“I didn't even know they were dead!”

“You followed him home,” Nick said.

“To talk!”

“But when you didn't like what he said, you killed him,” Hank prompted.

“No, I did not,” she said definitively.

“And what about Troy Dodge and his wife? You didn't kill them either?” Nick asked.

“No!”

“So what, you tracked down the four men who raped you just to say hi?” Hank asked bitingly. Sloane knew it was an act for a most part to be the hard cop, but she wasn’t happy about it.

Frankie stared at him, her pain and anger palpable. “I spent the last four years of my life trying to get past that night... Going over every minute of what happened to me.” Hank looked down then, unable to keep up the tough act and stare her down. “They got away with it. I'm the only one who's paid for this. I didn't deserve what they did to me. I was a good soldier. All I wanted was for them to confess, to admit what they did to me, and they wouldn't.”

Sloane was about to say something but Nick spoke up first. “We know what you are.”

“Nick-”

“What?” Frankie asked in confusion.

“I'm a Grimm, and you're a Manticore, and that's how you killed them.”

Frankie looked shocked before her face hardened. “That's what you think?”

“That's what we know,” Hank said.

“That’s what they think,” Sloane said. “I’m a Grimm too. I don’t think you’re a manticore.”

Frankie looked at her and huffed a laugh. “You two should listen to your partner here more.” She then woged, blue-gray feathers sprouting from her skin and along the top of her head, a black curved beak from her face, and her eyes turning a bright golden yellow.

Nick gaped in surprise and though mildly surprised, Sloane just nodded. Hank looked at them. “What?”

“She's not a Manticore,” Nick said, his brain catching up.

“What is she?”

“Steinadler,” Sloane said.

Frankie woged back and looked at them, also catching up to what they were saying. “It was a Manticore that killed them?”

“Who else knows that you're here?” Nick asked quickly.

She shook her head. “Nobody.”

“Frankie, somebody else knows you're here,” Sloane said gently. “I’m not sorry these guys are gone after what they did to you, but we do need to know who is killing them because we need to make sure it doesn’t go further. Dodge’s wife was already caught up in this and killed, she didn’t do anything to you. So who did you tell?”

Frankie looked at her before taking a breath and thinking. “The only one is my old C.O., but he's in the hospital.” Hank looked at them, knowing immediately who she was talking about. “I went to him looking for help to find these guys. He said I was wasting my time. I didn't care. I had to do something, or I was gonna kill myself,” she choked a little. “But I did not kill them.”

“Colonel Desai?” Hank asked more gently.

She nodded. “He's the only one that gave a damn.”

“Do you have his number?” Nick asked.

“Yeah…but seriously, he’s in the hospital, he can’t have...”

“We need to be sure. Hank, stay with her. Sloane, let’s go get her phone.”

Sloane blinked, wondering why he needed her help to do that, but stood and followed. Outside, Nick paused and looked at her. “You…were right. About her not being the manticore.”

Sloane looked at him and then shrugged. “Like I said…if she were, I’m pretty sure those guys would’ve been dead already.”

“Yeah. We…I should’ve listened. But…don’t take this the wrong way, you handle Frankie really well. Better than you do with other cases, though you’ve been really improving there too. But it’s…like you understand…”

Sloane looked back up, arching her eyebrow. “You’re wondering if I’ve had to deal with sexual assault?”

“Sorry, that…that was a bad thing to ask,” he said, rubbing over his neck. “I just got worried and thinking I must’ve really pissed you off-”

“I have.” Nick froze and then looked at her, stricken. Sloane smiled to try and ease the tension there. “Nick, before I came here, I went hunting in some of the seediest places on earth. I’ve been verbally abused, I’ve been groped and grabbed…I’ve had men try to push me down or against walls…since I was a teen. Someone tried to spike my drink once, but luckily I realized and ran to vomit it up. It’s scary…I’ve been more scared to be alone with men than I have fighting wesen. But I knew from how they acted they do this to other girls. I’ve seen it happen to other girls. Couple of guys too. Had to talk to victims. So I fought every time, and I tried to do something for them too. I’ve never been raped…” She paused but shook her head, trying to clear it from a few images that tried to come through. “But I’ve had close calls and they…they affected me more than I wanted to acknowledge. You get paranoid being alone in strange places, with your food, waking up with phantom hands on me…So yeah, I understood at least some of what Frankie felt, but I could also tell she was a fighter. If someone can defend themselves and shake their attacker, they’re going to, just like with most other battles.”

“…I’m sorry…For not listening…” Nick said quietly.

“As long as you don’t try it with me or someone else, you’re safe,” Sloane said with a smile.

“No, never,” Nick vowed. “I…knew it was a problem, just…wow.”

“Yeah…” She breathed deeply. “I know we have to catch this guy, but you can understand why I’m not exactly sorry for these men.”

“Yeah…Let’s go.” He went down the hall and requested Fankie’s phone back. They set it up so they could trace the call and walked Frankie through what she had to do, basically keep him on the line long enough for the trace to work. It was a little sad to watch Frankie realize, from the Colonels on words, he had murdered those men. But they managed to figure out he was at the VFW.

When they got there, Sloane could hear the crashes and bangs of a fight inside. They rushed in, Nick and Hank with his guns drawn, but just as they did with orders for them to stop and backway, McCabe stabbed an unresisting Desai in the abdomen. He gasped and then shuddered when the knife was pulled out, stumbling back and falling with a groan.

“On the ground! Hands where I can see them!” Hank yelled, moving for McCabe.

He dropped the knife complied with an angry look at them. “It was self defense,” he snapped as Hank got his hands cuffed.

“Yeah? Not what we saw.”

Sloane and Nick meanwhile were kneeling by Desai. Nick was trying to put pressure on the wound while Sloane kept Desai still. “Get an ambulance here!” she yelled.

“It’s okay,” Desai breathed. “It’s fine…You can’t arrest him for what he did to Frankie…but you can for what he did to me…”

Sloane stared down at him before nodding slowly. “We will.”

“Oh please!” McCabe said. “I’ll get the best lawyers, and the army will just cover this up again!”

Sloane glanced up and then leaned down to the still breathing McCabe. “You’re a manticore…what is he if he gave you this much of a fight?”

McCabe glanced up at her. “…Same as me…killed Dodge…”

She shook her head. “No…he may be a manticore, but he’s nothing like you.” Nick looked up, surprised at the comfort she was trying to give. Sloane looked honestly sad.

“Just…did what I had to…” He closed his eyes, his breaths slowing.

Sloane took a breath and stood. Nick glanced up at her worriedly but she walked over and looked McCabe dead in the eyes. “You are going to confess to the rape of Frankie Gonzales, and the murder of Colonel Adam Desai and Troy and Betsy Dodge, in writing, and you will plead guilty.”

McCabe stared her down. “And why would I do that?”

Sloane narrowed her eyes before grabbing his face and making her eyes go black willingly. Hank actually froze because he could _see_ it, those black, void-like eyes; like two mirrors of obsidian glass staring at McCabe. Her voice was so low and serious it made the hairs on the back of Nick and Hanks necks stand on end. “You may not be afraid of death, but you’re afraid of consequences. I know that because you _hid_ what you did. You are afraid of shame and _pain_. I can do more than kill you. If you are ever on the street again, I will find you and you will disappear. But you won’t die. Every day of your life will be agony like you’ve never known and you will beg for death by the end, but I won’t give it to you. I will take your fingers, your toes, your lips and eyes and every other bit of you and keep you alive until I’m satisfied. And all the while, I’ll have killed your reputation. The whole world will know you’re a rapist, a murderer. And they won’t care that you’re gone. I’ll be able to do anything I want to you.” She let go of his face and gently patted it with a sweet smile as her eyes changed back. “Jail is the safest place for you, _honey_.”

McCabe shifted a moment but then stopped himself, eyes caught by Sloane. She was serious, he knew. Sloane straightened and was back to her perfectly calm persona as Hank took a now slack McCabe away.

“That…was terrifying,” Nick said.

Sloane looked down and smiled. “Thanks. It’s similar to a threat my mentor made to someone she wanted information from, I just tried to emulate her. Kind of scared me too...” Looking down at Desai, now still and not breathing, her look softened. “…He was a good man…”

Nick nodded, knowing how she felt.

\------------------

Between Dodge’s letter and a confession by McCabe, it was shaping up to be a quick trial. When Hank said they might want Franky to testify, she agreed readily. They discovered that Desai had left the hospital four weeks ago, the doctors only giving him three months to live. Hunting down the men that violated Frankie was his way of making amends for not protecting her. His last regret.

Sloane drove Frankie back to her motel. She’d insisted, wanting to be sure she was safe and figuring she’d be more welcome than the boys, and Frankie appreciated it. “The trial might go pretty quick. What are you going to do afterwards?”

“I don’t know,” Frankie sighed. “I never thought I’d have an after…”

“…You could probably sue the army?”

Frankie looked thoughtful but not enthused. “I don’t know…I want…to actually live. I know that’s what Desai wants…or wanted, but I don’t have any family left and I cut ties back in North Carolina…Money will help but I don’t know how much.”

Sloane sighed but then got an idea. Pulling out her notepad, she scribbled something down. “I still vote sue the bastards—money is the least you deserve—but as far as just getting your life back…I know a job opening you might do well in.” She handed her the paper. “This is the email for my…well, I guess you could say she’s one of my godmothers. According to her, they’ve got a new Sherriff who’s overhauling the local law enforcement and needs new recruits. He’s paying for schooling in the police academy and helping them get settled in town. It’s a small town, but not too small and might still be growing. She’d help you too.”

Frankie looked shocked but took the paper. “…Is she a Grimm?”

Sloane huffed a laugh. “No, uh…she’s a Jaegerbar. And the other is a Lowen.” Frankie looked up in shock. “Yeah. I’ve, uh…I always thought I was a traditional Grimm before coming here, but seems maybe not. It’s made becoming whatever I am now easier. I mean, my best friend is a Fuchsbau, her boyfriend who I tolerate is a Blutbad, my handy man friend is a Eisbieber, and my boss is…well, he’s complicated. And I’m really starting to like this life,” she said honestly. “If I can change my life this much, I think you can.”

Frankie nodded but still hesitated. “I…my record…”

“Mim and Jean—who are uh, _together,_ and have some interesting pasts of their own—aren’t going to care about that. From what she’s now told me about growing up, Jean would understand a lot of what you went through...And they love tough cases,” she said, gesturing at herself with a smile.

Frankie looked at the note put it in her pocket. “I’ll…think about it. Depending on how long the trial is.”

Sloane nodded, accepting that answer. “Okay.”

She looked at her and smiled. “Thanks. For everything.”

Sloane smiled back and shook her hand. “Glad I can help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a happy holiday season! Original case next week, with a new kind of hunter coming to Portland that poses a problem for everyone, but especially Monroe and his friends.


	11. Hunter's Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 11 of The Case Book of Sloane Larson
> 
> When a wesen friend of Monroe's turns up dead under strange circumstances, Sloane doesn't believe it's another Grimm but something much worst that could cause problems for all of them. But what annoys her more is having to work with the Blutbad to find the answer--or will they finally find some common ground?

**_“And Peter caught the wolf around the tail and stringed him up the tree, just as the hunters tracking the wolf emerged from the woods with their weapons drawn.”_ **

\---------------------  
 **Hunter’s Doom**

\---------------------

“Are you out of your Blutbader mind?” Sloane snapped. “There is no way that’s right.”

“And what do you know about it?” Monroe snapped back.

“I’ve been reading my grandmother’s journals! She was there!”

“So? She didn’t see everything! My Uncle Rolf was there too!”

“Yeah? What side?”

“OH you-” he snarled.

“Okay, ENOUGH!” They both jumped as Rosalee came out from the back room. “What are you two arguing about now?”

Sloane frowned and glared at Monroe. “This guy claims that there was a group of Blutbader working closely with a resistance group made of Keirsheite and wesen, and he thinks it’s the same as the one my Grandmother was part of, Aegis.”

“And…?”

“I call bullshit. Blutbader don’t have the kind of control for espionage work,” she said matter-of-factly.

Monroe glared more. “I’ve controlled myself around you, haven’t I? Considering your personality, I deserve a medal!”

Sloane glared back at him and Rosalee sighed and bravely got between them. “Guys, stop, okay.”

“She started it!”

“You two will take any excuse to argue!” Rosalee shot back. “You argue over wesen things, you argue over Grimm things, over history, over food—you argued over how to pronounce Turmeric!”

Sloane smirked. “Actually, I admit, that was mostly just to mess with him. He got so defensive.”

Monroe growled softly and Rosalee shot her an annoyed look. “Regardless, you are my boyfriend,” she patted Monroe’s chest, “and one of Nick’s best friends. And you are one of my best friends,” she put a hand on Sloane’s shoulder, “as well as Nick’s and his fellow Grimm, and we share a lot of other friends. I know we would all really like you two to get along.”

They looked at one another a moment before Sloane snorted. “Considering we don’t actually try and kill one another, I think we get along well enough.”

“Yeah, that’s probably as good as we’re going to get,” Monroe said. “I’m not really scared of her now. You’re sister DeEtta scares me more.”

Sloane narrowed her eyes. “That sounds like a challenge…”

“Sloane, no,” Rosalee sighed. Sloane pouted but Rosalee held up a bag. “Here you go, I got the salve ready for you,” she said, changing the subject. She handed her a bag with a heavy jar inside.

“Thanks.”

“You go through that really fast you know…”

“Dangerous job,” she said simply. Rosalee frowned but Sloane smiled. “I’ll try to be more careful.” Rosalee smiled and gave her a little hug, noting happily Sloane didn’t tense anymore when she did. She even patted her back in reciprocation. “See you later Rosalee.”

“See you later.”

Sloane turned and headed back out of the shop.

Monroe huffed and looked up at Rosalee. “I was trying to be nice and make conversation. She always takes everything I say as something to defend against though. She’s never going to like me.”

Rosalee smiled and patted his shoulder. “It’s not you exactly, it’s just…she has a hard time with trusting Blutbad. It took her a while to trust me, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was months ago and now your “best friends”. And Nick and I get along fine, so I don’t think it’s a Grimm instinct or something.”

“It’s just a Sloane thing. When she’s ready she’ll trust you. But until then, I love you enough for a dozen people.”

He smiled. “Only a dozen?”

“Don’t be greedy,” she chuckled, kissing his cheek.

\-------------------

Sloane was just pulling up towards her apartment when her phone rang. She answered without a second thought, much different than before her move to Portland. “Larson.”

“Hey, Sloane. We got a case,” Hank said.

She sighed. It was busier being a detective than just a Grimm, that was for sure. “I just got home…”

“Sorry, but it came in kind of suddenly and we’re the only ones able to take it.”

She huffed but resigned herself. “Yeah, okay. Where at?”

“Your favorite hangout. The woods. I’ll text you where to head.”

“Right, see you guys in a bit then.”

Setting the salve on the floorboard of her backseat, she pulled back out of the parking area and followed the directions to a road out in the woods. She saw a red-cabbed big rig parked up ahead but ignored it for now. There was a crime scene quartered off already and she stepped out and over the tape without any worry being stopped. Several yards beyond the trees from the road, Nick and Hank were gathered around looking at something on the ground, and she paused when she realized it was a huge hole, about as long as a body. For a second she felt a bit of panic, before she remembered the only body she’d buried lately was much deeper in the woods. _That Muse isn’t going to be found anytime soon…_

“Hey,” Nick nodded as she walked up. “We got an odd one…”

She knew that was him silently asking if she thought it was wesen related, but peering into the hole she rather doubted it. They had a body in the shallow grave, only buried about four feet down. It was a man, in his mid-forties, white with a spray of stubble across his jaw and hair that probably seen better days before it was half covered in dirt. His body, lying under the head, was wearing a flannel jacket stained red around the neck and shoulders and a pair of jeans and work boots. However, he also looked fairly fresh. She didn’t see any outward sing of decay.

“He hasn’t been dead all that long…”

“ME on scene estimates maybe less than a day,” Nick said. “Our would-be grave digger was interrupted it seems before sunrise this morning. Long haul trucker driving by saw him through the trees in the act, thought it was weird.”

“Bit of an understatement…” Sloane said.

“The car parked off the side of the road in the middle of the night thing was weird, he did not anticipate the headless corpse in the hole,” Wu supplied. “Although I guess he’s not fully headless since we have his head…point is, Mr. Uccello nearly had a heart attack, quite literally thanks to staying up way late driving on several energy drinks. He’s over in the ambulance and is okay enough to talk.”

The detectives nodded and headed over to the ambulance, where a man in his forties was sitting with a bottle of water. He was tan, a little round, with graying black hair. Sloane noted he wasn’t covered in dirt, so she doubted he had gone digging around the grave. He looked up and nodded when they all flashed their badges. “We’re detectives Burkhardt, Griffin and Larson,” Nick said, gesturing to each of them. “Think you can answer some questions?”

“Yeah, I can try,” he sighed.

“What exactly happened, in your own words?”

He took a breath and nodded to the big rig parked up the road. “I was driving towards Bethany to pick up a new shipment early this morning. I like going through the woods when I can, I usually find it calming…It was dark, and as I was passing this area, my lights caught the sight of a big SUV on the side of the road. I thought it was odd so I pulled over and got out to see if someone needed help. No one was in the car though, and then I heard noises in the woods. So I followed the noise and I saw this guy…I mean, he had a shovel in his hand and one of those electric lanterns and he was filling in this big hole. I didn’t have a good feeling about it. So I yelled out to him and he looked up and then grabbed his light and took off running. I went over, thinking maybe it was something illegal like drugs or something…I really didn’t think it was…that.” He gestured towards the hole with a shudder. “Someone just took a guy’s head off and then tries to bury him out here? What is wrong with people?”

“We ask ourselves that a lot too,” Hank said.

“It’s what our job is kind of built on,” Sloane agreed, though she was sometimes the one digging the hole she reminded herself internally. “So I take it you didn’t get a good look at him? Or chase him?”

“Nah, my heart was already feeling like someone had grabbed it and run it like a wet rag, I didn’t want him taking my head too. I had to breathe for a few minutes before I managed to get to my truck for the radio, and that car that must’ve been his was gone. He must’ve circled around through the woods. As for getting a good look at him, it was still dark. Best I could tell was he was…I think white, wearing a black shirt and dark jeans. I got a better look at his car.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “I wrote down the license plate in case I needed to call it in. It was a dark blue Ford Escape, not sure what year.”

“Good thinking, sir,” Hank said, taking the paper and Nick made the note about the color and model. “This will help track him down hopefully.”

“My father was a state trooper,” Mr. Uccello said with a smile. “He always made sure I knew what info would help. Though if he knew I’d gotten out of the car and followed a weird noise into the woods he’d have dragged me back by the ears for almost ending up in a hole with that pour soul.” He crossed himself and glanced up. “Sorry, papa.”

They asked a few more questions before going back to where the ME was clearing the body to be moved. “So, we got a guy burying a headless body in the woods,” Nick said. “But when he’s discovered, he chooses to run instead of fight? I mean, cutting off someone’s head is pretty high on the list of power moves, yet he doesn’t confront a single witness?”

“Murder of passion maybe?” Hank suggests. “Killed the guy in a struggle, then panics and tries to hide the body but doesn’t have the same adrenaline moment to kill a guy who walks in on him burying the evidence?”

“Possible. We might be dealing with a more physically weak person too who didn’t think he’d win in a 1 on 1 fight,” Sloane said.

“What makes you think that?”

Sloane knelt by the hole and pointed to the body. “There’s no other wound, but that head came off pretty cleanly, no hesitation marks or jagged edges. Not like it would with a hand-held weapon. This required a lot of force, probably using some kind of trap or sedating the guy before…” She made a slicing motion over her throat. “Plus, decapitation isn’t most people’s immediate go to nowadays for killing someone.”

“I’m not so sure. After all, I know a couple of “Decapatare”,” He said quietly, looking at the two Grimm next to him. Nick and Sloane looked at one another and tried not to smile. It was a crime scene after all.

“We don’t do that _too_ often anymore either,” Sloane said.

“Could it be reaper related though? They’ve been quiet around here for a while,” Nick asked back.

“Possible, but they do usually leave a calling card of some kind…I think your little show of dominance you told me about probably put them off for a while, but it’s possible they might want to strike back again.”

“Great,” Nick sighed.

“If it is a Reaper, he’s got two Grimms to deal with this time,” she said, patting his shoulder. He smiled a little.

“What about the Royals? Or the Verat? They’ve been stirring up trouble the last year,” Hank pointed out.

“That I doubt. They’re usually more careful. If they make bodies, they’re only found if they want them found,” Sloane said.

“I guess it’s too much to ask this case might not even be wesen related?” Nick said.

“Eh, hard to say at this point I suppose,” Sloane said. She looked back towards the would-be grave. “I guess once we figure out who our victim is, that should help get things rolling.”

“Got you a head start here then,” Wu said, coming up to them with an evidence bag. They gave him a rather dour look and he paused before holding up his hand. “That pun was completely unintentional, I swear. What I was trying to say was we have a wallet that was still in the vic’s jacket pocket. Says his name is Patton Marlow and he lives here in Portland.”

“Well, that should make this a bit easier then,” Hank said.

Nick nodded, taking the wallet to look it over through the bag. “Looks like all his cards are there and…almost a hundred dollars in cash.”

“So not a robbery,” Sloane surmised.

“Likely not. We better track down the last people to see Mr. Marlow alive.”

“I’ll have the body sent to the ME as soon as we can get him out of the ground then,” Wu said. They were already pulling him up out of the grave, his head being carefully being put in a separate, smaller body bag. Sloane straightened when his body was carefully lifted out.

“Hold on,” Sloane said, leaning down more. Reaching a gloved hand down into the shallow grave, she brushed some dirt away from his feet. “There’s some bruising around his ankle…I think he might’ve been tied up.”

“I don’t see anything on his wrists,” Hank said. “Did they just tie up his legs?”

“Just one…” Sloane said, looking at the other. “That’s about all I can tell though. Let’s hope the ME can see more. But I don’t think this was a quick death, this bruising is old...”

“That’s not the only thing,” the ME said. “I hadn’t turned the body over yet, but it might not have been the head-lopping that got him. I’ve got several holes in his back, from what appears to be a fire arm.”

“He was shot too?” Sloane leaned down from where the medical team was holding the body to see the dark red, soaked back of his shirt. There were four of them and given the amount of blood it was likely what killed him. “So why take his head off?”

“Definite overkill,” Wu said. He frowned when they looked at him again. “I swear I’m not doing that on purpose. Mostly.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. Someone really wanted this man dead,” Hank said.

“Agreed,” Nick said. “Someone targeted Mr. Marlow somewhere they could take their time. We need to find out why and where.”

The nodded and thanked Wu and the others before heading back to their cars and back to the station. It was a couple hours of scouring the data bases later that they had a bit more information on their victim.

“Patton Marlow,” Hank read from what they’d all gathered. “44 years old, moved to Portland 8 years ago, worked as a local furniture maker. Had a bit of a wild youth growing up in Michigan it seems, a few priors in his record for violence and gang activity going back to his teenage years.”

“But then he got into making furniture?” Nick asked skeptically.

Hank shrugged. “Apparently while in jail for three years on a battery charge, he started learning how to make furniture in their local work shop program and landed an apprenticeship. Seemed to have a good effect on him, he went the straight and narrow when he got out. He’s been an example of “Work for Change” for years of how their program does well.”

“So could it be this has to do with his old life?” Sloane wondered. “Someone he did wrong in his youth coming back for revenge?”

“Definitely possible,” Nick said. He picked up the wallet and flipped through it again before pausing and pulling out a card. “…We need to go visit Monroe.”

Sloane frowned automatically. “Why?”

“Because I’ve seen this card before,” he held it up. It was a picture of silhouetted human cameo, but hollowed inside it in the white of the card was a wolf. In simple letters was the title _New Nature_ and just the contact information. Nick was already heading for the door after flashing the card and Hank gave a sigh.

“Guessin’ this is wesen after all,” he said.

Sloane nodded and they quickly followed.

Nick had called ahead to the Monroe while heading down to the car and found out he was home working on some watches rather than at the shop with Rosalee. Sloane would rather Rosalee was there, but at the very least Hank and Nick would be there. Monroe opened the door as they were walking up the steps.

“Hey, what’s up? You said something about a case?”

“Yeah…I’ve seen this in your wallet before and when you gave one to Holly’s mother a couple of years ago.” He held out the card and Monroe took it to look over with a worried frown.

“This is a card for my church…”

“Your church?” Hank asked.

“The Wieder church. We say church, but nowadays it’s more like a group meeting for wesen that y’know, don’t want to be violent and wild. We get together to swap techniques, recipes, do some group activities, and support each other when temptation happens. Used to be just Blutbader but we opened it up to other wesen too.”

“Sounds fun…” Sloane said dryly.

“It is, thanks,” he said back. “But where did you get this?”

Nick looked at Hank and Sloane and then back to Monroe. “Do you know a Patton Marlow?”

“Pat? Yeah, he’s been coming to our church for like eight years now, since he moved…Oh no…” Monroe looked at them and then sighed and sat down. “What happened?”

“He was found this morning…he was decapitated,” Nick said honestly.

Monroe’s eyes immediately went to Sloane and she glared back. “Don’t look at me like that! We have a witness saying it was a guy digging a grave for him out in the woods. I didn’t even know he was a Blutbad till now.”

Monroe blinked and then looked at Nick. “He wasn’t a Blutbad.”

“He wasn’t?”

“No. He was a Zischende-Federn.”

Sloane reeled a little in disbelief. “Wait, seriously?”

“What’s that?” Hank asked.

She looked for a second like she wanted to laugh but shrugged. “A goose wesen,” Sloane said.

Nick and Hank looked at her and then at Monroe. “Goose…?” Hank started, lips twitching.

“Hey, don’t laugh,” Monroe said seriously. “Zischende-Federn are prone to anger issues. Kind of like real geese…and they can be dangerous. When they woge, their beaks are super strong and can crack someone’s skull if they try.”

“Is that why he had a battery charge for striking someone in the head hard enough to cause a concussion?” Nick asked more seriously.

“Ah, you know about that,” Monroe said, grimacing a little.

“We did do a back ground check.”

“Right, of course…Yes, Pat did do some time in prison. But that was behind him! After he finished his apprenticeship to be a carpenter and he finished the ninth step in Michigan he moved out here.”

“Ninth step?” Sloane asked.

Monroe took a breath and rubbed his hands over his jeans as he thought how to explain. “Like in AA and other anonymous groups, we do counseling and a kind of twelve step program at the weider-church. After growing up with all these traditions and values, you can’t just quit cold-turkey. It’s pretty similar to other twelve step programs, though not really religious or obviously tied to alcohol or drugs. Though giving into the wild side of our wesen selves can be addicting…”

“So the ninth step is making amends to people, right?” Hank asked. They all turned to look at him and he shrugged. “My uncle had some problems in the past, I remember my dad and mom helping him through a program. He had to go back to square one a couple of times before making it that far.”

Monroe nodded. “A lot do, even me. Here, just a sec.” He turned and opened a drawer, shuffling around in it before pulling out a journal. He pulled out a pamphlet that was placed inside and opened it up. “This is from back when I first started.” He handed it up to Nick who opened it while Sloane and Hank leaned in to look. There were pictures of people doing things like walking in the woods and doing community work, a few paragraphs about what New Nature as about, and then the twelve steps listed out.

  1. _Acknowledge that I have given in to my baser instincts too many times and that it is a danger to myself and others._
  2. _Come to believe I A) deserve to live happily and B) that I have the power to do things differently—I can change maladaptive and destructive patterns of thought, behavior and action, and make wise choices._
  3. _Become willing to do things differently and make healthy choices in my thoughts, behaviors and actions through various methods, be it changing my living situation and lifestyle, suggestion from wise friends, my sponsor, my father’s wisdom, a therapist, group meetings, meditation and the development of my own inner strength and wisdom._
  4. _Look at the patterns of thought and behavior that don’t serve me and keep me angry, depressed, upset and lead me down the path to give in to my instincts. Where resentments are concerned, acknowledge my part, be it ever so small, so I can empower myself to change these patterns and have compassion for others. Recognize that interacting with unhealthy people is foolish and causes me harm._
  5. _Reflect on these patterns, discuss them with someone if necessary and fully acknowledge that these things harm me and cannot continue._
  6. _Become willing to surrender these negative patterns of thought, behavior and actions, including drinking, fighting, hunting or other addictive behavior, unhealthy romantic entanglements, unhealthy job settings and unhealthy people._
  7. _Take the necessary action to change these maladaptive patterns, to end unhealthy relationships and continue to take action that leads me to sobriety, sanity and wellness. Learn to let go of parts of myself or my heritage that may be holding me back. Figure out how to do this not in shame of what I am, but in the desire to be who I want to be._
  8. _Make a list of persons I have harmed and become willing to make amends to them._
  9. _Make direct amends to such people, whenever possible, except when to do so would injure them, myself or others._
  10. _Continue to watch for maladaptive behavior, without judgement, and take action to change it. Be kind and apologize when I’m in the wrong._
  11. _Involve myself in positive activities, such as dance, travel, learning, exercise, meditation, going to museums and readings, writing and cooking. Hang out with positive and spirit-lifting people to participate in life and keep moving forward, away from my rough past._
  12. _Develop an ethical compass. Treat others with respect and compassion, live with wisdom and generosity. Give back to the community when possible and to others in recovery while employing healthy boundaries. Live an example of a positive, openhearted, honest, ethical life._



While kept a little more ambiguous, it made sense for wesen in how it was phrased. “Like you said, the Eighth and Ninth step are tracking down people we’ve wronged in the past and apologizing to them, try and make amends,” Monroe said. “Even if they can’t or won’t forgive us, part of it is just being willing to admit the wrong stuff we did and admit we want to be forgiven. Pat did that—he tracked down the people he could in Michigan to say sorry and did what he could to make amends. Then he came here for a fresh start. Kept up with the steps here until he was done and living a good, lawful life.”

“Could it be he didn’t manage to get everyone to forgive him?”

Monroe sighed and nodded again. “That is always a possibility…I never asked for the specifics, it’s private unless they want to share.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“A couple of months ago I’m afraid. He doesn’t come to every meeting since he’s technically a graduate of the programs. And so am I, I only really go every once in a while if I want to catch up or if I had some…temptation. He didn’t come to any meetings I was at though. I’m sorry, I don’t think I can help much more because we didn’t really hang out too much.” He sighed. “He liked staying at home working on his furniture more than socializing. Considering what he could get for it, I understand why.”

“How do you mean?” Nick asked.

Monroe quickly wheeled over and opened his laptop on his nearby desk, waking it up from sleep mode before typing in an address. “Pat’s furniture was handmade and sold for big bucks. See?” He showed him the pictures on a website of handmade furniture, all very nice and well made. One chair was carved with leaves winding up the rails at the back rest, like it was covered in ivy.

“$800 for one wooden chair?” Sloane gaped. “Could that be motive?”

“Hey, hand-made stuff like this isn’t cheap,” Monroe said. “But I guess you could try his place for clues and stuff…do you, uh…want some help?”

Sloane was set to say no, but Nick smiled and patted his shoulder. “Since you know him better than us at least, sure.”

\---------------

Patton Marlow’s place was a small two bedroom house, well-kept but simple. Nothing seemed out of place inside, what mess seemed like the kind of mess that came from living in a home. Shoes left near the door, jacket over a chair, some dishes that needed to be washed—nothing out of the ordinary.

“No signs of a break in or someone being beheaded…” Hank said, flipping through the mail on the kitchen table. “And he hasn’t been gone long. This mail is from yesterday.”

“ME said he was killed likely between 6pm and 10pm last night,” Nick said. “He’d have likely been home I think, right?”

“More than likely,” Monroe agreed. “He’s pretty introverted.”

“Got a computer and some business stuff back here,” Sloane said, walking out with some papers. “These recent statements don’t give much motive. He wasn’t rich, but he was making a living with his furniture.”

Nick took them to look over as well. “So we’re still looking at something from his past catching up.”

“We’re also still looking for an actual crime scene,” Hank pointed out. “No big blood stains here though.”

“I don’t smell anything off either,” Monroe said. He paused, moving a curtain slightly at the window near the back door. “Maybe he was out back? That’s where his workshop is it looks like.”

Sloane opened the back door, seeing the large outbuilding set up several yards away. She headed that way, the men catching up quickly. She slowed and then reached for her knife when she saw the door slightly ajar. Monroe paused a few feet from the door and tensed. “Now I smell blood…”

Sloane gripped the knife a little tighter, moving slowly inside. She wrinkled her nose when it caught the scent of blood before she even saw it. The floor and far wall was splattered with blood, some of the streaks going up to the rafters. A buzz saw was on the ground beside a huge pool of dark, almost black red, old and sticky around the teeth of the saw. There were drag marks leading out the door. “I think I found the crime scene…”

“I’ll call it in,” Hank said, pulling out his phone.

Monroe turned away quickly when he caught sight of the blood, feeling his eyes turn red for just a moment. “God…someone killed him in his own workshop?”

“Yeah…looks like the killer used his saw to take off his head…” She paused and frowned, pulling on a glove as she stepped around the blood trails and examined the wall. “And I got bullet holes too. Looks like he missed the first shot or two. They’re also high up, he wasn’t that tall…”

“That might have something to do with it,” Nick said, pointing up. She looked and attached to one of the rafters was a rope. It looked like it had been cut, but stepping back they mentally lined up the body.

“A snare…this guy snared Marlow’s ankle and had him hanging upside down and then shot him…” she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Bastard,” she heard Monroe hiss.

She couldn’t disagree with him this time. Looking back at the wall, she blinked and moved in closer with a frown. “Hey, uh…we got word from the ME about the autopsy?”

“Not yet, she had another to finish first. Why?” Nick asked.

“I want to know what the bullets were made out of.”

“The bullets?” Monroe asked, still at the door. “Why would that matter?”

Sloane rolled her eyes and shined a light around the hole. It sparkled oddly, like glitter was around it. “Because, smart wolf, if they were like this they were pretty unusual.”

Nick frowned as well, moving closer to inspect the sparkling effect. “What is that?” He pulled out a small knife and worked it in, pulling the bullet out from the wall. “It’s on the bullet too.”

“I’m thinking this bullet was silver plated,” Sloane said. “And if it is, we might have a bigger problem than just someone trying to have it out with an old gang member…”

“How do you mean?” Nick asked.

She looked at Monroe, who was staring at the bullet holes now with a hint of anger and dread. “You know what I’m talking about, Blutbad?”

“…I think so.”

“Again, what?” Hank asked, having overheard as he called for backup.

She sighed, putting the flashlight down while nick bagged the slug. “We might be dealing with a Blinde Jäger.”

There was a pause and Hank was the first to ask the obvious: “What’s that?”

“‘Blind Hunter’,” Monroe translated. “Really annoying…”

“Just annoying?” Nick asked. “I mean, our victim might’ve been killed by one.”

“They’re annoying because they’re normal people who start hunting wesen,” Sloane clarified.

“You mean like Keirsheite?”

“Not necessarily.” She looked at Hank. “You told me about when you first started getting an idea wesen existed, you got freaked out. Paranoid. That you shot at your closet thinking something was there.”

Hank nodded slowly. “Yeah…Wasn’t a fun time.”

“I didn’t think so. But imagine if you realized there are “monsters” in the world. And you wanted to do something about it.”

“Not sure I appreciate the phrasing, but yeah,” Monroe agreed. “Blinde Jäger are humans who aren’t Grimm who start hunting wesen for whatever reason. Sometimes they know what wesen are, sometimes they maybe catch a glance of us woged and they’re mind isn’t sure what to think so they think we’re things like...well, werewolves,” he said, looking a little awkward.

“Werewolves?” Hank asked in surprise.

“Makes sense actually,” Nick said. “And because these bullets might be coated in silver, you’re figuring it’s one of these Blind Hunters?”

“It’s just a theory, but yes,” Sloane said. “If it was someone from his past, they’d either think he was human or know he was a Zischende-Federn, wouldn’t they? So a regular bullet would be fine. Why coat this one in silver?”

“But you said those were goose-like wesen,” Hank said. “Why would he think that was a werewolf?”

Sloane frowned. “I’m…not sure…”

“I might,” Monroe said. “It’s the same way you guys figured out he was wesen…”

“Your church?” Nick said.

“Yeah. I didn’t put two and two together till now, but a few days ago they had someone try to attack a member in the parking lot.”

“Did anyone report it?”

He shook his head with a sigh. “The weider church isn’t popular with every wesen out there. We figured it was some traditionalist feeling like a fight and saw us as easy targets. The meetings are supposed to be private too, and no one was seriously hurt in the end they said. So they didn’t say anything.”

“What happened exactly?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t there that night,” he said. “But I know a first-hand witness.” He paused and looked at Sloane. “If I take you to him, you gotta be on your best behavior,” he warned.

“Why do you single me out?”

“Because…he’s also a Blutbad.”

\----------------

The house Monroe led them to a two story traditional, with a natural garden around the front and what must’ve been a large backyard open to the woods behind. Monroe led them up to the front door and knocked on it, trying not to look worried. Sloane was tense next to Nick, but he was keeping an eye on her. A black man opened the door, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. He smiled when he saw them. “Monroe! Hey, nice to see you.” He shook his hands. “Been a while, haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I haven’t caught up. Things have been a little…crazy.” He stood aside a bit. “Guys, this is Caleb Farkas. Caleb, these are some friends of mine: Nick Burkhardt, Hank Griffin and…Sloane Larson.” Sloane arched her eyebrows but didn’t point out the pause.

“Nice to meet all of you. But what brings you all by?”

Monroe took a breath. “It’s…about Patton Marlow.”

Caleb’s smile fell and he looked at them all, not missing the despondent tone of Monroe’s voice. “What about Pat?”

He tried to say something but finally sighed. “Can we talk inside?”

He nodded slowly, letting them in. His house was clean like Monroe’s, though his tastes were a little more modern. Lots of straight lines and solid colors compared to the homey wood and soft lines. “What’s all this about?”

“I heard you got attacked a few days ago,” Monroe said, sitting on the couch. “At one of the meetings.”

“Yeah…” He glanced at the others gathered.

“It’s okay, they all know. We need to know what happened. Please.”

“Why?” He asked slowly.

“We think he might still be out there. My friends are detectives, they want to help. We need to know what happened though. You want him off the street right?”

Caleb nodded slowly and sat down in the chair across from the couch. He leaned forward a bit, tapping his fingers together nervously. “It was four nights ago. I went to the meeting because I wanted to catch up with everyone and…well, I’d come close to eating meat again. I went for a run and some guys were having a barbeque and it just smelled so good…I could even smell the raw stuff they hadn’t cooked yet and it had my mouth watering. Stress at work wasn’t make it easy to resist.”

“I know, it gets hard sometimes…” Monroe agreed. Sloane shot him a look and he huffed and straightened his shoulders. “Um, so, you went to the meeting.”

“Yeah. I went down to the community center for the meeting and it was going fine. Marian was talking about nature versus nurture and nurturing ourselves to be who we want to be, I’d heard it before but we had some newer members and it’s good to hear sometimes. Then I got a phone call from my boyfriend who’s away for work so I went outside to chat. I saw this guy off to the side and he was just…off.”

“Off how,” Nick asked.

Caleb bit his lip and thought a moment. “It’s like…when you get the feeling someone is staring at you, and not in a good way. The guy was wearing a dark hoodie under a jacket, with the hood up, and it wasn’t that cold anymore, and he was just facing me the whole time. I didn’t want to freak out though, I thought maybe he was interested in the meeting, but didn’t know how to approach or was worried. So after I hanged up I went over to talk to him. I asked him what was up, if he wanted to come inside…and he asked “What are you?””

“Wow, rude,” Monroe said.

“Yeah. This wasn’t a kid either, he was at least in his twenties, maybe thirties…it was dark. I asked what he was talking about and got a little closer and suddenly he pulls out a bat. And then I get a little worried. He said something like “Show me what you are, monster”, which also rude and a touch dramatic…But I woged thinking I’m going to need to fight and could scare this dumb kid off. He yells and tarts swinging at me, I manage to fend him off while trying to tell him to stop. I get angry enough I grab his bat and break it over my knee and I’m about to put my teeth in him when I manage to stop. Then he pulls out a gun. I’m really scared for a second. Then I hear more yelling and people from inside are coming out, heading right for us. He panicked and ran off. Gave me a few bruises but he was definitely trying to smash my head in, and I’m fairly sure he would’ve shot me…”

“You should’ve reported this,” Hank said.

“To the police?” He shrugged. “Probably, but our meetings aren’t “official” meetings so we weren’t sure how to explain it without us all maybe facing some problems if we had to say it was something it wasn’t. If my job thought I had an alcohol or drug problem, they’d probably fire me. It was hard enough to get where I am.” He looked at them and frowned. “You say he’s still out there, and I believe you, but why did you want to know about Pat?”

There was a pause before Nick spoke up. “We’re actually homicide detectives…and we’re uniquely equipped to handle these kinds of cases.”

Caleb stared before woging suddenly. His hair and eyebrows grew wilder, his ears pointed, teeth sharp, nose more angular and feral. Sloane grasped the arm of the couch tightly and Nick quickly put a hand on her knee as if to anchor her down. Hank didn’t react to him, but saw the two Grimms tense. It was a quick change, reverting back to his human appearance only seconds later and moving back in his chair. “Oh my God, you’re the Grimm!”

“Now Caleb-” Monroe started.

“I’d heard there was a Grimm detective in town and some wesen were working with him, but you Monroe?! And there’s two of them?!”

“Calm down,” Monroe said quickly. “Yes, I help them, but it’s because they’re good. They’re not like the Grimms we were told about as kids.” He glanced briefly at Sloane but continued on. “They’ve done a lot of good. They’ve brought in bad wesen and they’ve solved cases for and helped good wesen. I wouldn’t bring them here if I didn’t trust them.”

Caleb slowly sat back with his feet on the floor. “…I’m not sure I understand…Why is one crazy guy trying to use me for target practice a matter for the…Grimm police?”

Nick let go of Sloane’s knee, shooting her a warning glance. “…Was Patton Marlow at that meeting that night?”

“Pat? Uh…yeah. Surprised us, but he wanted to check in, maybe sponsor someone again. Actually, he was the first one out of the center. Ran up like he was ready to take him on single handed, shouting at him to leave me alone or he’d throw him down the hill,” Caleb nodded. “Why?”

Monroe took a breath again and rubbed his hands together. “Pat was found dead this morning…”

Caleb’s jaw dropped and the rest of the tension left him in shock. “Dead…?” Monroe nodded sadly. “H…how?”

“We’re still gathering details,” Nick said delicately.

“But we think it might have something to do with the man that attacked you,” Hank said. “You said he had a gun?”

“Y-yeah. He didn’t get a chance to fire it though…”

“Any idea what type?”

“Um, I don’t know guns that well, but…it was like the kind you see in westerns, with the…” He made a half-hearted motion with his hands, one as if holding a gun and the other flicking the side of where the imaginary firearm would be.

“A six shooter? The kind with a spinning barrel?” Nick supplied.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said helplessly.

Nick wrote that down while Hank kept up the questions. “Do you remember anything that might help us identify him?”

“Um…” He breathed, closing his eyes as he tried to remember. “I…It was dark…but I did get him under the parking lot light at one part. He was about my height but broader. He was white and he had a scar, I remember. I tore the sleeve of his jacket off when we were fighting and he had a big scar on his forearm…four of them actually.” He looked down at his hand. “Like claw marks…but they were old, healed up, I didn’t actually scratch him!” He looked at Sloane and Nick as if worried they’d judge him guilty.

“It’s okay, we believe you,” Nick said. Sloane kept her mouth shut. “I’d accept self-defense if you did. Anything else?”

“Not really…oh…his scent actually,” he said.

“His scent?”

“Yeah. When I woged, I still couldn’t smell him…”

“Wolfs bane,” Sloane finally said, though it was more to herself.

“Yeah. But if he rubbed it on him, it must’ve been fresh,” Monroe said slowly.

“Does that mean he does know wesen?” Hank asked.

“Not necessarily,” he sighed. “Wolf’s bane is also said to be a weakness for werewolves.”

“Werewolves?” Caleb asked, wrinkling his nose. “Wait…you think we’re dealing with someone that believes in werewolves?”

Monroe sighed and nodded. “A Blinde Jager, yeah.”

“Oh…great,” Caleb sighed. He then balled up his fist in frustration. “But why Pat? He wasn’t a Blutbad!”

“If I had to guess, it’s because he was also there that night,” Nick said. “This guy fired bullets coated with silver, so he was using werewolf logic. But he didn’t see Pat if he woged out of stress, only you when you woged to scare him. So he might’ve assumed that he and anyone else there at that meeting was a “wolf”.”

“That card does seem kind of wolfy,” Sloane supplied dryly.

“Yeah, we do need to change it…” Caleb agreed, slightly out of it.

“How did he even know about the meeting though?” Hank said.

Caleb suddenly straightened and then quickly pulled out his phone. “One of the organizers that night, Carol Larkin, didn’t come...we thought it was odd because she’s one of the ministers at the church nearby and definitely should’ve been there that day, but no one had heard from her since the day before.”

“Oh no…” Monroe breathed. “Not Carol…”

Caleb called a number and held it to his ear. He frowned and brought it down a minute later and shook his head. “She’s not picking up…”

The detectives all rose. “Do you have her address?” Nick asked quickly.

“I do,” Monroe said. “We trade recipes and I’ve had to return pans to her before…”

“Can I help?” Caleb said.

Nick looked at Caleb with the air of a Grimm, but also the authority of a police officer. “Stay here, lock your doors and call everyone from the meeting to tell them what’s going on. No, wait,” he amended. “Stress to them not to go out looking for trouble, alright? We’ll handle this, I don’t want a bunch of scared or angry people walking into trouble, no matter how fearsome they are as wesen. A bullet could still kill most wesen I’ve met. Tell them someone might be looking for them and to stay on guard and at home as much as they can.”

Caleb nodded quickly. “Okay, yeah, I can do that…”

They started for the door but Sloane paused and looked back at Caleb, assessing him. He paused and looked up. “W-what?”

“…Have you ever killed someone?” she asked, her voice even but icy.

Caleb tensed and swallowed, before taking a deep breath. “A-almost…I was a teen, I-I didn’t have control-”

“I don’t care. I don’t like Blutbader.”

“Sloane,” Monroe warned.

“So I’m not exactly thrilled to be defending you,” she went on, ignoring him. “But a Blinder Jager is a danger to everyone. They could take any odd behavior as a sign of a “monster”. When this is over, you better hope I never catch so much as your pinky toe out of line.”

Caleb’s hand tightened on the phone before he straightened up. “Believe me, lady, I live every day scared about stepping out of line and being judged. And it’s not just because I’m a Blutbad. I’ve lived everyday guilty for hurting someone how I did. But you know what else? I did my ninth step. I found him and I apologized and I made amends and he forgave me. So now I do everything I can to make sure I never hurt another innocent person, and I take that promise seriously enough I might’ve let that kid hit me with that club or shoot me rather than kill him. And I’d have left behind the man I love and a lot of other people in that instance, just to avoid blood on my hands again. Can you say the same?”

Sloane’s jaw ticked a moment before she turned and stalked out. Nick and Hank followed her, and Monroe nodded to Caleb in part apology and part admiration before following them.

“Where does he get off,” Sloane muttered, heading for the car.

“Where the hell do you get off?!” Monroe fired back. “He gave you no reason to say that to him!”

She turned and snarled at him. “He’s a Blutbad! That’s enough reason for me!”

“Okay, both of you stop!” Nick said, getting between them before they could come to blows. “Sloane, cool down. We’re not hunting a Blutbad, so focus on the task at hand and please stop derailing and being antagonistic. And Monroe, you are right, but ease up a second, okay? In fighting isn’t going to help either.”

Sloane snorted but turned away, hands on her hips and her foot twitching irritably. Monroe huffed but calmed down slightly. “She’s the one being rude…”

“I don’t disagree,” Nick said, shooting Sloane a look when she glared at him. “Your bias isn’t helping anyone here.”

“Bias, huh? I call it caution but sure.”

“Whatever you call it, we know a Blutbad probably didn’t do this, right?”

Sloane crossed her arms but finally nodded. “Yeah…”

“Then let’s focus on that.”

“Fine.”

“Then we need to get to Carol,” Monroe said, heading for the car.

“Is she also a Blutbad?” Sloane asked.

“No, she’s a Zirpende Stimme. A song bird.”

“…What the hell is a Zirpende Stimme doing at your meetings?!” Sloane said, snapping her belt on. She was riding up front with Nick, Hank in the back with Monroe. “They couldn’t hurt people if they wanted to.”

“She’s a local minister and does work outside the church with us. She helps officiate the meetings and mediate and talk people through the exercises. She was one of the first people I met here in Portland and one of the nicest, least judgement people out there,” Monroe explained patiently. “Something you don’t really worry about it seems.”

“Maybe because I don’t want to,” she shot back.

“Guys, focus?” Nick sighed. Monroe gave directions to where Carol Larkin lived, a simple neighborhood of nice, well-kept cottages. The little violet cottage stood out even there as they pulled up to it.

“It’s been more than five days,” Nick warned as they headed up, looking at Monroe. If no one’s heard from her in that time, she’s might be…”

Monroe nodded, taking a deep breath. He knocked on the door. “Carol? Hey, it’s Monroe.”

Nick paused and turned his head slightly, opening his senses. He could hear the sound of footsteps inside. “Someone is home…”

“Carol?” Monroe called louder, pounding on the door.

A loud crash got them all tense and Monroe immediately reared back and slammed against the door with his strength. It caved in easily enough and they quickly stepped through, Nick and Hank pulling their guns and Sloane her knife. It was quiet a moment, Monroe sniffing the air and then pointing down a hall. “Down this way…”

They headed that way, but Sloane paused, sniffing. There was a pungent, almost sweet-sour smell hanging in the air, like bad eggs mixed with a ton of gardenias. “Sulphur?” she muttered, looking around. There was a bit of white dust on the kitchen table, but that was all she saw that was strange. There was also a pizza box on the kitchen table. Lifting the receipt on the lid, she saw it had been delivered earlier that day. She put it back down and followed the others, deciding to come back to the smell later, but glancing around with piqued paranoia. Monroe led them to a door at the end of the hall that was closed and nodded at it. Nick slowly turned the knob and pushed it open, ready to fight if need be.

Inside, a woman in pajamas and short, red hair was tied to a chair with her hands behind her back, her face bruised and bloody. The crash they’d heard had apparently been a lamp she’d managed to knock over from the bedside table. She saw Monroe and tried to speak through the gag in her mouth, flooded with relief.

“Carol!” Monroe said, quickly moving forward and pulling the gag out. “You’re alive!”

“Barely,” she rasped, sobbing a little. “God above, you don’t know how happy I am to see you, Monroe…”

“What happened?” Nick asked, moving to help untie her. He noted her hands were a little purple, having been very roughly and tightly tied for a long time. She groaned as rubbed her wrists, shaking stiff fingers.

“It was a few days ago…I think. It’s all kind of blurred together now. This man came to my door one evening asking if he could talk to me about New Nature. I thought he was someone interested in joining so I invited him in. He starts asking mostly about “wolves” though…I thought he might be a Blutbad, but when I asked, he didn’t even know what a Blutbad was. Then he got angry…He told me he knew I was one, but I swore I wasn’t. He took out a gun and I…I got so scared I woged!” She did so now, pale blue feathers growing out of her head, bright yellow feathers down her neck, and short beak popping from her face. A nervous but still pretty trill escaped from her throat, but then she squawked when she saw Nick. “Ah! You’re-”

“It’s Okay,” Nick said quickly. “We’re interested in the guy that hurt you, not hurting you.”

She woged back, breathing deeply and seeming a bit shaky now. “I-I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Monroe said. “These guys are detectives, and my friends. They’re trying to find the guy who did this to you. What happened after you woged?”

She sniffed and swallowed. “H-he freaked out and hit me. I blacked out a-and then I woke up tied to this chair. H-he would bring me water and a little food and let me go to the bathroom, but then…then he’d start asking questions about the meetings, and hitting me when I wouldn’t or couldn’t answer! And he kept asking about “wolves”!”

“…He’s been staying here, hasn’t he?” Sloane asked from the doorway.

“Y-yes, in my guest room…how did you…?”

“Because…he’s still here,” she said, looking at the doorway. Just then a blur of black raced past the door. Sloane was on the chase before the others, rushing after him.

“Sloane!” Nick yelled, quickly following.

“Next time maybe lead with that!” Hank said, following Nick, while Carol clung to Monroe.

“Sloane, wait!”

She didn’t listen as Nick yelled after her, chasing after the man in a black hoodie and jeans as he raced through the house. He tried to juke her, moving towards the front a moment before jumping over a divider set up near the front door to race back for the back door. She switched back quickly, still hot on his tail. He made it through the back door into the yard, jumping over the railing of the deck. She watched him vault over a fence and sheathed her knife again before she followed him easily. Nick and Hank were left on the back deck, unable to see where they were going after Sloane disappeared over the fence.

“Dammit!” Nick swore.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be okay. It’s him we should probably worry about…” Hank reminded him. “We should get some medical over here for Miss Larkin.”

“Yeah…” Nick said. He had a bad feeling he couldn’t shake but followed Hank back inside.

Sloane meanwhile was running after the man like a lioness after a gazelle. He kept trying to lose her through backyards before coming out into a park and running for the nearby trees. Sloane caught up in the wide open space with a burst of speed and tackled him to the ground.

“Portland PD, stay down!” she barked, wrestling his arms around and pinning them to his back. He was shorter than her, but was compact muscle and strong. He tried to struggle but she kept her knee on the small of his back as she moved to handcuff him. She pushed down harder and on an inhale caught that harsh scent of Sulphur again, but also the slight tang of gunpowder. Pulling his jacket up, she saw his gun was in the waist band of his shirt and quickly pulled it out and tossed it by his feet so he couldn’t grab it. “You’re being arrested on the suspicion of murder, kidnapping, and probably a bunch of other stuff. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law-”

“You don’t understand!” he shouted. “I know it sounds crazy, but they aren’t human!”

Sloane paused but then hauled him up. “I understand better than you might think.”

“No, you don’t, they change, they—”

“Look like animals? Sharp teeth, more hair…red eyes? Like blood red?”

The man froze and then turned to look at her. He had blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a hawkish nose. “Y-yeah…you’ve seen them?”

“Yeah…I’ve seen them,” she said.

He straightened and looked at her. His hands were still bound but he was slacker now, looking at her in shock. He was actually a little older than her, maybe in his mid-thirties, with sandy-blonde hair and pale skin and pale brown eyes like coffee with a lot of cream in it. His eyes were a bit wild at the moment, wild with surprise and hope. “They’re dangerous. They’re killers!”

“I don’t disagree…but so are you.” _And so am I, but at least I can see what I’m killing._

“No! I’m keeping them from killing more! Like my father!”

Sloane frowned. “Your father?”

He shook a little bit, breathing deeply. “My father…he was killed by one of those things. It tried to kill me, and my father saved me but it killed him…”

Sloane felt her heart lurch a little. “…I understand that too…”

He stared before nodding. “You lost someone to those monsters too? Then you know why I do it!” He pushed.

Sloane took a breath and then looked at him. He had no idea why she did what she did, and no idea how far this spread. He thought he was protecting people… “…You and I need to have a talk.”

\-----------------------

“Sloane isn’t back yet,” Nick said, looking out the door worriedly.

“Maybe she’s still chasing him. She is the determined type…” Hank pointed out.

“I hope he resisted arrest and she beat him up,” Monroe said, handing Carol another glass of water.

“Well, the ambulance is on the way. It’s best you go get checked out, Miss Larkin,” Hank said.

“Thank you…That man, what has he done?” she asked. “I know he did something, he came back covered in blood one evening…he said he got one of my “monster friends”. Called me a harpy, which I took a bit of offense too, we look nothing alike…”

Monroe frowned and patted her shoulder. “I think it might be better I tell you after you get checked out at the hospital…I’ll go with you, okay?”

Carol frowned and set the glass down. “Monroe, I know he killed someone and it must be someone I know…what happened?”

He frowned more and sighed. “It’s Pat…he thought Pat was a Blutbad—a werewolf—and…shot him and took his head.”

Carol closed her eyes as if in pain and took a deep breath before shaking her head. “Dammit…” She wiped at her eyes. “Pat…poor Pat, he didn’t deserve that…But…that boy’s not a Grimm, why?”

“You know he’s not?” Nick asked.

“I woged several times while he was in the same room with me and he never noticed. If I did it so anyone could see, he’d notice then and he’d get angry, but it was more like he didn’t want to get close to me,” she said. “And his eyes never changed…not like yours.”

Nick tried not to feel uncomfortable how scared she was of him when he wasn’t the one who had tied her up and beaten her.

“We think he’s a Blinder Jager,” Monroe said.

“Oh…Oh dear…that can be worse than a Grimm…There was one I heard of when I was young, he killed several humans thinking they were wesen because he couldn’t tell the difference…a mass murder. He was shot by police.”

Nick frowned more, worry growing. They heard the ambulance pull up outside and Nick and Hank went out to meet them and bring them inside for Carol. When Carol and Monroe were heading the hospital, Nick looked at Hank. “Do you think you really would’ve become like this guy?”

Hank took a breath. “I was freaking out when I started seeing these things, Nick. Jumping at shadows, wondering if I was crazy or if it was the world. I saw Carly, my own goddaughter, change and almost shot her in the heat of the moment. If it weren’t for you, maybe I would have…That thought gets me sometimes.”

Nick frowned but nodded a bit. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner…”

Hank shrugged. “I get it, man. It’s not an easy thing to explain, even when you see things.”

Nick nodded and then looked around the street. “I’m getting worried about Sloane…Should we go looking for them?”

“Might be good, yeah. But we better wait for Crime scene to get here. Sloane can take care of herself.”

\-----------------------

Sloane knew on some level this was a bad idea. At least in her current life as a police detective, this was a horrible idea. She had taken a wanted murderer to the local coffee shop, bought him food and sat outside where they couldn’t be overheard. They hadn’t talked much on the way over, but the man had stayed because she promised him information.

“What’s your name?” Sloane asked, handing him the fountain-drink soda and sandwich.

He eyed the food a little suspiciously but took them. “Andrew. Andrew Petrevski.”

Sloane nodded. “I’m Sloane Larson.”

He nodded and took a sip of the Soda. He was calmer now, eyeing her up and down. “You said you’d tell me what you know.”

Sloane sighed and got comfortable on the grass. “What I know is…you know nothing.”

“Excuse me?” He said, getting angry.

“It’s true. I’m not saying you didn’t lose someone to a monster, but you don’t know what it really was. It’s not a werewolf. Was it a full moon when you were attacked?”

He was quiet before shaking his head. “No…but I know what I saw!”

“And I believe you, because I’ve seen them dozens of time. I’ve hunted them. Along with tens of hundreds of other kinds of “monsters”. They’re called wesen though, and they’re all around you, many of them different.”

“You’re trying to scare me…” he accused.

“I’m really not,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Tell me about what happened to you.” Andrew huffed a bit and she looked at him steadily. “I’m going to believe you. You don’t have to worry about me dismissing you.”

He stared back before looking down at his soda cup, chasing a drop of condensation with his thumb. “…I went out on a hunting trip back in Montana. I was sixteen at the time, and it was the off season, but I knew there were some deer in the area. So I set a traps. I got really good at making traps. I didn’t want to get caught, so I figured traps were quieter. I went to check them one afternoon, found a pretty good sized buck in one of them. Like, I was amazed I’d caught something that big! But super proud. Took me a bit to pull him up, but I got him and dressed him and started back for home.” He took another sip, rolled it in his mouth as if tasting his words with it.

“This guy suddenly popped up near dusk. Big guy, wearing flannel and jeans and big heavy boots and messy hair. He told me I shouldn’t be there, tried to take the deer I caught. I was a dumbass teenager and fought him on it, then I punched him in the jaw. And his face just…changed. Like you said, red eyes, hair, fangs…it was like his bones rearranged in some places. He swiped at me…” He pulled up his sleeve and showed four claw-like scars on his arm, just like Jacob described. “I freaked out and ran back home. We lived just on the edge of the woods and I got inside. My dad had told me not to do anything so I thought he’d be mad, but he was freaking out about me being bloody and started wrapping my arm to go to the hospital. I tried to tell him and he didn’t believe me at first, but then there was this loud knock at the door. He went to it and it was him…the-the monster from the woods. My dad said whatever it was could wait, he had to take me to the hospital. That…thing said no one was going anywhere and transformed again. My dad was a boxer, he managed to stun it for a second and yelled for me to get to the basement and lock the door. I was frozen for a couple of seconds—I was scared. But then he shouted at me again and I ran like a damn coward and hid in the basement.” He gripped the cup a little tighter and Sloane was glad she got him a soda instead of coffee. “I could hear them fighting, and then this pounding on the basement door. He was going to break it down, I was sure I was going to die…and then there was this scream from that thing. And a sound like chopping wood. I waited a sec and then climbed out and I saw my dad had cut that things head off with an axe. But his neck was…was bitten out.” He choked a bit, swallowing bile. “He was close to passing out, just looking at me with glassy eyes and all that blood…I called 911 but they couldn’t get there in time…I passed out from blood loss and when I woke up in the hospital, my dad had died.” He was close to crushing his drink and sandwich in his hands and Sloane took them and set them aside. “Everyone thought I was crazy when I told them it was a werewolf. They put me in a mental institution. Some even thought I killed my father and a stranger. I went through therapy, I was given medication…I thought maybe I was crazy, but these damn scars were always there, telling me I know what I saw…”

“So what made you start hunting them?” she asked quietly.

“I got out…I was…normal for a while. 9-5 job at a chemical warehouse, made it to supervisor…I learned a lot from that job. I was good at it. I knew what chemicals needed to go where, how to store them, what doesn’t mix unless you want to lose part of the building or your life. I still made traps sometimes…Bad nights I’d set one up outside my house, my windows, to feel like I was safe. But I was doing good, really,” he said. “Then a year ago, one of my workers tried to shake me down for money. I told him no, fired him. He turned into another…thing—it was like what attacked me, but different…”

Sloane nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me…there are a lot of different types of wesen. A lot of them with fangs and claws.”

He breathed deep. “Wesen…” he said, testing the word.

“What did you do? About this worker?”

He laughed a little. “I…it brought everything back and I freaked out. I fought back, which he didn’t expect. I had this…silver pen, a gift when I was promoted. I put all my power behind it and stabbed him in the neck. It killed him…and I ran. I’ve been running since. I wasn’t crazy, they were real. I’d been taking my meds, I’d been to therapy, everything was fine, but he turned and I knew in that moment _I wasn’t crazy_. These things were out there,” He finished desperately.

Sloane nodded. “Yeah. They are. Wesen are everywhere.

“Then how do we fight them?” he asked almost urgently.

“ _You_ don’t,” she said firmly.

He blinked in confusion. “What?”

She looked at him steadily. “You’re a normal human. You don’t fight them, people like me do. Because I can see them when you can’t. I’m what’s called a Grimm, and Grimm are the natural hunters of wesen. What you’ve done is make a big mess to be honest.”

“Stop trying to bullshit me!” he shouted, throwing his drink off to the side. It was a treat for the ants now. “You’re special? What makes you special?! What’s a Grimm and why should I care?!”

Sloane didn’t flinch at his anger, staying calm. “…Let me tell you about my grandmother.”

\-----------------------

Nick and Hank were still hanging around Carol’s house as the crime techs were going over it for any more clues, when Sloane returned.

“Where were you?” Nick asked. “You’ve been gone for three hours! Are you okay?”

Sloane sighed. “I’m okay…but I lost him.”

“You lost him?” Hank asked, more surprised than accusing.

She nodded. “I kept up with him till we were out of the neighborhood, into a park. I almost had him but the asshole got around me somehow and I kept trying to hunt him down…But I had to give up.”

Nick frowned a bit, knowing she wasn’t the type to give up. But she looked agitated and figured she hated admitting it. He set a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll track him down.”

Sloane nodded, but still looked annoyed. “I didn’t get away empty handed.” She pulled out the gun from her pocket, wrapped in her rubber gloves with a smile. “I got this away from him in a struggle.”

“That’s a big something,” Nick said, smiling back and taking the gun. He grabbed an evidence bag from a kit and put it inside. “Six-shooter, like Caleb Farkas said.”

“Wonder if those bullets are coated in silver…” Hank said.

“I think it’s likely,” Sloane said. “How’s it here?”

“Monroe rode with Miss Larkin to the hospital. Crime scene is going over the place and we’ve got plenty of DNA sources since he left so fast. Including some bloody clothes in bag he was probably going to toss into the hole,” Hank said.

Sloane nodded. “That’s good…”

“Let’s head back to the precinct. We should probably let the Captain know what we’re dealing with.”

Sloane nodded, still oddly quiet, but they headed for their cars and headed back to the precinct. They went to Renard’s office immediately after getting in and he nodded to them. “What is it?”

“A case we’re on,” Nick said. “Some of Monroe’s weider group have been attacked, one man is dead. Patton Marlow, a...”

“Zischende-Federn,” Sloane supplied.

Renard’s eyebrows ticked up. “I see. Someone not liking the weider church isn’t unusual, they usually see them as easy, ‘peace loving’ targets.”

“It’s not just that,” Hank said. “This isn’t wesen on wesen crime. It’s a…” He glanced at Sloane.

“Blinder Jager,” she supplied again.

“That.”

Renard’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yes. He held a woman, Carol Larkin, captive for several days and tried to attack another member of the church. Both were wesen, and from what he said and the weapons used, he thought he was hunting “monsters”,” Sloane said.

“Werewolves to be more precise. Larkin did some shifting around him he didn’t seem to notice, so he’s not a Grimm,” Nick added. “She thought he might be at first, but he couldn’t see her woge. He had her tied to the chair and beat her for information on the “wolves” she knew.”

“So he has a particular vendetta against Blutbader,” Renard surmised.

“Hard to imagine why,” Sloane muttered. Nick cast a disapproving look and she didn’t meet his gaze.

“We better find this guy. If he can’t tell who he’s attacking looking for “wolves”, he’ll start attacking anyone that fits his description. Make this your priority right now. Do we have anyway to track him?”

“He was on foot last I saw him,” Sloane said. “But we know he has a car somewhere. He managed to get away when I gave chase, so he’s in good shape. But I got his gun.”

“Miss Larkin can give us a description probably,” Nick said. “She’s being checked out at the hospital.”

“Alright, get a sketch artist with her and get that picture out there. Hopefully he’s not gotten out of town,” Renard said.

They nodded and headed back out and to the hospital. They waited outside while Carol spoke with the sketch artist, Monroe sighing. “She’s prettying shaken up, but the doctors said there’s no lasting damage.”

“That’s good,” Nick said.

“Yeah…” Sloane said. Nick glanced at her and frowned a little. She seemed a little perturbed. He figured it was because she couldn’t stop him, but something felt wrong.

“Well, for now, I’m going to go home for a bit…” Monroe said. “If you need me or find the little so and so, call me, okay?”

“Will do, man. See you later.”

Monroe nodded and waved to Carol through the observation window before heading out. The others all elected to split up, heading to their cars and away. Sloane hesitated but then drove instead for the spice shop instead. There was a feeling she couldn’t shake, tightness in her chest and shoulders that made it hard to breathe. She parked outside the shop and headed in. “Rosalee?”

“Sloane?” She came out from the back of the shop and smiled. “Hey. What are you doing here? Monroe called and told me about the busy day you’ve all had…”

“Yeah…Just…” She sighed and rubbed over her neck. She felt nervous suddenly and it was hard to hide it in front of Rosalee.

Rosalee frowned and walked over. “Are you okay? You look tense.”

“…I think I might’ve made a mistake…” she said quietly. “And I don’t think you’re going to like it. I know Nick, Hank and Monroe won’t…”

Rosalee looked at her worriedly and put a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon, I’ll make some tea and we can talk about it. Even if I don’t like it, we can figure things out.”

“But what if you can’t let it go? Forgive it, I mean,” she asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

Rosalee smiled reassuringly as she led her to the back and had her sit down on a chair. “Sloane, you used to be a big bad Grimm. Not like Nick, but a real “hunt them down, leave no witnesses” kind of Grimm, right?”

Sloane felt that tightness again but nodded solemnly.

“But you’re still one of my best friends. I forgave that because I figured you were changing. And the fact you’re worried about how I’ll react to whatever you’ve done means you’ve changed a lot. If you slipped up, I know there must be a reason. Was there?”

“…Yeah…”

“Then we’ll talk about it and figure this out. And if you really think you made a mistake, we’ll figure out how to fix it, okay?”

Sloane smiled a little, grateful that Rosalee was already being good to her. “Okay…”

Rosalee nodded and brought over to the electric kettle she had, still fairly hot from an earlier tea break, and poured them both a cup. “Here. Chamomile, relaxing.” Sloane nodded, taking the cup and just holding it for a bit as she stared at it. “So…what happened? Did someone die?”

“No…I mean, yes, but not by my hands…” She took a breath and set the cup down. “Monroe told you everything?”

“Most everything. He said you were dealing with a blinder jager, that you found where his friend Pat was killed, talked to Jacob Farkas, and then found Carol tied up in her home. And you tried to chase down the perp.” Sloane’s brow twitched at perp and she smiled. “He might’ve gotten into use the lingo he hears on the crime dramas we watch sometimes. And he said he got away.”

Sloane nodded a bit. “He…did, technically…because I let him go.”

Rosalee’s eyes widened. “I…Sloane, you let him go?” Her tone was a little shocked and worried.

Sloane winced and looked at her. “I…know, it’s bad, he killed someone. But I talked to him, his name is Andrew Petrevski and…”

“And what? What made that okay?” Rosalee was trying not to get upset and Sloane hunched slightly over her teacup. This was one person she didn’t want to upset, one of her very few real friends.

“He told me about how his father died,” Sloane said quickly. “He was killed by a Blutbad when he was a teenager, after his dad hid him in the basement.”

Rosalee’s accusing look slackened. “…That’s not an excuse to go around murdering people…”

“I know. But…people thought he was crazy. He had to stay in an institution, medicated, all that. I...when oma died, they had me talking to psychologists. And I didn’t know to keep things secret, I just told them monsters killed her. I knew they were thinking I might need to go somewhere like that. I was definitely looking at foster care, which I’ve heard isn’t much better sometimes unless you’re lucky.”

Rosalee softened a bit more. “So…you saw yourself?”

“A little, I guess…” she said quietly. “He got out and was doing okay. And then another wesen comes out to him, threatens him, and he defended himself and just…thought that meant monsters were everywhere. First his father, now him, and wondering how many other people get menaced and killed each year by monsters…I get that…”

Rosalee’s face turned a little more sympathetic. “…I do to. I lost my brother to some. But Sloane, he’s not a Grimm, he’s barely a Keirsheite-”

“He is now,” Sloane said. “I sat and explained the truth and told him to just…to just leave the hunting to us. That he should try and rebuild his life and go back to whatever normal is, and let the Grimms take care of the bad ones. And I explained there are good ones too…”

“You think he can just go back?” Rosalee asked uncertainly. “After killing people?”

“I don’t know…I just…I know I can never have that,” she admitted. “I’m a Grimm, there is no “normal life” for me, and to be honest at this point I don’t want one. But I know Nick does, and he can’t have that. And neither can Hank either for that matter. And I wondered how close I was to that kind of life, if Deirdre hadn’t gotten me when she did. So if he can just try to put it behind him again and know there are people out there doing the hunting…maybe he can go back to that.”

Rosalee sighed and put a hand on hers. “Sloane…that’s a nice sentiment, really. But he can’t have a normal life again. He’s always going to remember. And he killed Pat. Pat didn’t do anything to deserve that, did he? Or Carol? I’ve met Carol, she’s super nice, and he had her held captive and beat her?”

Sloane looked down. “Yeah…that’s why I started thinking I made a mistake letting Petrevski go…I just…wanted to give him a choice at least…”

“A choice?”

“To stop and leave and never take hunting like this into his hands again, or deal with us…Nick and I don’t have that choice. Probably never did.”

Rosalee took a breath and then put a hand on her shoulder. “Okay…well, maybe I don’t totally agree with what you did. But I do appreciate the thoughts behind it, and you trying to be kind and understanding and give him a choice even when he didn’t give his victims one.”

“…I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse,” Sloane said honestly. “Can’t you be angry at me and yell?”

“No,” she smiled. “Because if you’re feeling that I’ve done my job. Just know, I don’t hate you.”

Sloane chuckled slightly and leaned against Rosalee a little. “Thanks, Rosalee.”

She smiled and patted her back while they sipped their tea. They sat and chatted about other things, Sloane calming down. Eventually though Rosalee looked at the clock. “Ah, Monroe will be here soon, we’re going to go pick up Carol and have dinner and she’s going to stay with us tonight. Apparently she just needs some time to recover at home, nothing was extensively broken, but they’re still going over her house.” Sloane pulled a face any time she mentioned Monroe and Rosalee pulled a face right back. “Don’t look so sour.”

“I can’t help it, it’s Pavlovian by now,” Sloane said dryly.

Rosalee rolled her eyes. “You know, you two are more alike than you think. If you actually tried to get along I’m betting you’d be like a house on fire.”

“…That doesn’t sound like a good thing,” Sloane pointed out.

“I know, it’s something my mother always said and I never really got it either…But my point still stands, you two need to start trying to actually get along. For me?”

Sloane sighed and stood. “…I can’t guarantee anything…” she said, almost guiltily. “I’m trying to be less…traditional, but Blutbader are a whole other problem to me. I’ve seen too much…”

Rosalee frowned but patted her shoulder. “Okay…but just…be civil at least, okay?”

Sloane nodded with a sigh, “I’ll try. With him at least. I better go though so you can close up.”

Rosalee nodded and gave her a hug before Sloane headed back out to her car.

\------------------------

“So this guy isn’t a Grimm, but hunts wesen?” Juliette asked, setting the table.

“Yeah,” Nick said.

“So like me and Hank?”

Nick shook his head immediately. “No, because you two know that they are _wesen_ , not some kind of monster. Also, you don’t hunt them on your own, you both help me, and I have the resources to tell when they’re maybe actually a problem instead of just like…someone like Monroe or Rosalee. He’s not talking to them, he just hunts them. Like animals. Literally, he like…snared his victim and hanged him from the rafters.”

Juliette frowned. “I see…that’s definitely a problem of its own then, I see what you mean.”

Nick nodded and sighed. “I just hope we catch him before he hurts anyone else…” He paused when his phone rang and grabbed it up. “It’s Hank.” He stood and walked over to the hall to answer the call, bracing himself. “Hey, did we find anything?”

“Not what we wanted,” Hank sighed. “One of the crime techs said he smelled something off in the house and had a sniffer dog brought in. Got a positive hit for explosives.”

“Explo-” He paused, glancing at Juliette before continuing more quietly. “Explosives?!”

“Yeah. But just residue, nothing actually in the house,” Hank said.

“Which means he probably has them with him,” he said, rubbing through his hair. “Shit, this might be so much worse than we first thought.”

“No kidding. Renard’s put the sketch around to other precincts too, we’re on high alert. I still need to warn Sloane though.”

“Yeah, okay…” Thanks for the heads up.

\-------------------------

Sloane was trying to relax at home, in bed on top of the covers. Trying and not doing well. The uncomfortable feeling was not going away, pulling at her chest and her gut like someone reaching through her back to try and hollow her out. She sighed as she tried to relax. Her grandmother’s journals were on her bedside table but she couldn’t bring herself to open one. She wasn’t sure why mercy felt so wrong. It wasn’t like she spared a dangerous wesen…just a dangerous human.

She groaned and stood to try and find something to distract her. Inspecting her weapons sounded fine. She started pulling things out to look them over for dull edges to sharpen or leather to wax. Like that spear…

When there was a knock at the door she paused and then quickly put the spear back in the closet before heading to the door. “Yes?” There was no answer and she frowned. Bracing herself against the door, she slowly cracked it open. There was no one there. Opening it just a bit more she scanned around and then down to the front porch. She noticed then package on the doorstep, about the size of a brick. Hesitating, she leaned down and plucked the note on top, opening it.

_Thank you for the truth._

_-Andrew P._

Sloane’s gut went cold for a second. She had absolutely not told Andrew where she lived. Looking around, she quickly went back in with the package and locked the door. She set the package on her bar and stared at it warily. After a moment she shook her head at herself for being so worried and used her nails to pull open the taped edges. Unwrapping the box, she blinked and somewhat relaxed when she saw it was a box of ammo. She flipped the lid up and saw that there were about 20 bullets left, all coated in silver. Looking at the wrapping, she saw another messaged scrawled inside. _I don’t need these anymore._

Sloane breathed out in relief and smiled slightly. Maybe things were going to work out after all.

She jumped when her phone rang and went to grab it from the coffee table. It was Hank according to the ID and she opened the call quickly. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Just calling to give you some bad news,” he sighed.

“How bad?” she asked, the worry coming back.

“We had a bomb sniffer dog out to Carol’s; one of the techs recognized the smell. We got a positive for explosives.”

“E-explosives?” she asked.

“Yeah. This guy apparently worked in a place that stored dangerous chemicals and the like, he has some knowledge of how to mix them. We’re not sure where he got supplies from, but he’s been making something at Carol’s. We don’t know what because it’s not on scene. He must’ve taken it with him.”

Sloane glanced at the box of bullets, a bad feeling creeping up her spine. _How did he know where I live?_ She looked around for anything out of place but it looked fine. She was certain no one had come inside. “…What do we do?”

“We can’t do much till we find him. We just have to hope he doesn’t use them.”

“Yeah…Let’s hope so.”

\------------------------

Rosalee helped Carol out of the car, supporting her as she got out. “You can stay as long as you like, really.”

“Thank you, but really, just until the police are done with my house is fine. I want to get back and get things back to normal as soon as possible.”

“You’ll be more careful who you let in your house though, right?” Monroe asked.

“Yes. Though you know I won’t turn away someone that needs help,” she said with a rueful smile.

He huffed but smiled, not surprised. “I asked Nick if he could get you some clothes from your house.” Holds up the bag. “They gave us pajamas and a couple sets of clothes.”

“Wonderful, thank you, Monroe,” she sighed. She moved to take it but he pulled it back.

“You’re wrists are still healing, I got it.”

She nodded, looking at her bandaged wrists with some aching look of pain and disappointment. “I suppose it’s going to be a while before things are back to normal…I don’t think I’m going to sleep well until that man is caught.”

“You’ll have to pardon me if I want him dead…” Monroe said quietly.

She nodded. “I understand, but…I guess I still hope he can be saved.”

Monroe didn’t comment. Rosalee thought about Sloane’s hopes in letting Petrevski go and sighed slightly, wondering if that was possible.

They showed Carol to the guest room, getting her settled. “I’ll head down to start on dinner. Oh, I should probably call Caleb too, let him know you’re okay.”

“I’ll help Carol to the guest room,” Rosalee said, taking the bag from Monroe and kissing his cheek. “Then we’ll cook dinner.”

Monroe smiled at her and took out his phone, finding Caleb’s number in the directory. “Monroe? Is everything okay?” he asked when he picked up.

“Mostly. Carol’s okay, we’ve got her. But that slimy so-and-so had her tied up for four days!”

“God…But she’s alright?”

“Yes, we brought her back from the hospital. She’s going to stay with us while the police search her house and for the hunter.”

“He got away?” he asked worriedly.

“Yeah. Slippery bastard…But don’t worry, Nick and the others are looking for him.”

“I suppose that’s good…”

Monroe knew that tone and sighed. “I know it’s weird, Caleb, but Nick’s a good guy.”

“I trust you, Monroe, but trusting a Grimm…” There was a pause. “Someone’s at my door…”

“Caleb? Caleb, I wouldn’t answer that…Caleb?” There was a shout on the other end and Monroe stood quickly. “Caleb?!”

He heard a laugh and Caleb sighed. “I’m sorry, Monroe, its fine. It’s my boyfriend, Michael, being an asshole.”

“Oh c’mon, I left my keys here!” he heard another voice say. “You scared me half to death with the claws and fangs! I got home early and I had to take an Uber home because your phone was tied up for a while…”

“I’m sorry, babe, but it’s been a day…Monroe, can I talk to you more later?”

Monroe smiled, relieved. “Yeah, that’s fine. But you called everyone else then?”

“Everyone I could on the phone tree, they know to be careful.”

“Great. Stay safe then.”

“You too.” They hanged up and Monroe sighed.

Meanwhile, Caleb hugged his boyfriend with his phone still in his hand. He was a good looking, slightly heavier-set man with fairer skin and a dark brown beard, dressed in a button-up shirt and slacks. “I’m sorry, babe, I didn’t know you’d gotten back early.”

“Yeah, the accounting job didn’t take as long as we first thought. What’s going on, you seem tense. Is this something to do with that guy that attacked you? I didn’t want to leave you alone if you weren’t feeling safe…”

Caleb sighed and pulled him towards the kitchen. “Let’s get something to drink and I’ll explain…”

He poured some whiskey as he explained the events of the day as he knew them. Michael listened, growing worried as well. “Christ, so there’s some mad killer out there?”

“Basically…and it’s not the guy I’d expect.”

“Well, here’s hoping this Grimm can get him because as much as I’d love to be your knight in shining armor, I’m just human and self-defense was not a priority to learn…”

Caleb smiled and took his hand. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you…”

Michael smiled back and gave him a kiss. “I’m pretty beat. Wanna go up and try to relax? Order some pizza?”

Caleb nodded and they headed upstairs. He paused when his phone beeped. “Huh, a text from the New Nature group chat…”

\------------------

“Monroe, I don’t suppose they found my phone?” Carol said as they were cleaning up dinner.

“Your phone? No, I don’t think so, they said they were still looking for it when they dropped off the clothes…”

Carol looked down at the table with a growing look of worry. “…I’ve been thinking…of how he knew where Pat lived…”

Monroe and Rosalee paused and looked at her. “His address?”

“He doesn’t put it on his site…he couldn’t have known it offhand…but…” she started tearing up. “My phone has my address book…And I have the names and numbers of so many of our members in there…and notes of what they are and where they live if I have them.”

Monroe glanced at Rosalee, who was worried as well, before grabbing his phone and quickly dialing Nick’s number.

Nick was also just finishing up dinner when his phone rang—a ringtone for Duran Duran’s “Hungry Like the Wolf” played on the cello that told him that Monroe was calling. He picked up with an apologetic look at Juliette as he picked up. “Monroe?”

“Nick, Carol brought up something we didn’t think of before. This hunter, he knew where Pat lived even though he’s unlisted.”

Nick blinked at the abruptness, but his detective mind starting turning as he stood to pace. “That’s true…”

“I know it because we have a contact tree at New Nature. And Carol has that same tree on her phone. The one that the police can’t find.”

“…shit,” he muttered. “Okay, so he has a bunch of wesen addresses. That’s bad…”

“No kidding,” Monroe said.

“I’ve got worse news though. We had a bomb sniffer dog out at Carol’s and he alerted to there being explosive residue in her place.”

“Oh God…” He glanced at Rosalee and Carol and then turned away again. “That is so, so much worse…”

“Are the other members of your church in the loop?” Nick asked.

“I talked to Caleb and he went down the tree contacting everyone and I’m sure their warning others, so hopefully they’ll be on alert.”

“That’s good, yeah. You be careful too though. And you might let them know to buddy up and check in with one another.”

“Good idea,” Monroe said, nodding to himself. “I’ll message as many as I can, let them spread the word too.”

“Great. Keep me posted too. And stay safe.”

“You too. Bye.”

“Bye.” Nick hanged up and sighed.

“Everything okay?”

“Not exactly. Petrevski has a list of possible victims and their addresses…”

“Oh no…” she said softly.

“Yeah…I’m going to call Sloane and Hank, let them know to be ready to go if he tries anything.”

\-----------------------

“So this is where you guys meet?” Michael asked, looking at the community center.

“Yeah. So, um, you’re going to meet a lot more wesen than ever before,” Caleb said. “But they’re all part of my group so you don’t have to worry.”

Michael smiled and put a hand on his again. “Cay, when you told me you’re Blutbader, we took a break to process it. But I came back. I’m prepared. Honestly, keeping up with your vegan diet is harder on me most of the time. And they better have food here because I’m starved.”

Caleb rolled his eyes but was still worried. “You say that, but you haven’t seen some of these guys woge before…”

“We’re here grouping up for safety, we’ll be alright. If I didn’t run when you went Long Chaney on me that first time, I’m not running this time.”

“You are such a dork,” Caleb sighed, but smiled and kissed his cheek. When they got out and started heading for the door however, he paused. “…Mike, get back to the car.”

“What? But-”

“Get back to the car!” He pushed his boyfriend, running with him. There was the bang of a door being forced open behind them and the sound of a shot gun cocking. There was a shot and a miss, and then another shot and Michael fumbled with a cry of pain.

“No!” Caleb gasped. He quickly turned back while the shooter was reloading and picked him up easily, rushing him to the car. He got him in the backseat and sped off, just as another shot broke his rear window. “Mike, Mike babe, talk to me!”

“M-my back…” He gasped. “It’s on fire…”

“Shit shit shit,” Caleb muttered, almost breaking the steering wheel. “We’re going to the hospital, just hold on!”

\-------------------------

Hank sighed as he finished his evening stretches, turning his ankle slightly. He was about ready for bed when his phone rang with Nick and Sloane’s numbers both popping up.

“Guys?” he asked. “You’re both calling at once?”

“Yeah,” Sloane said. “Nick called me, insisted on a three way.”

“Phrasing, Sloane. But yeah, we have a conference call on.”

“Why?”

“A problem. Monroe called me and he thinks Petrevksi has Carol Larkin’s phone, which has an address book full of wesen. That’s how he found Marlow’s house.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic,” he deadpanned.

“Yeah…” Sloane said, sounding tightly contrite. “I’m sorry I let him get away…”

“It’s alright, you tried,” Nick said. He couldn’t see the slight flinch in her face on the other end of the line. “I got Monroe calling and letting the church members know.” He paused when his phone beeped and looked at it. “That’s him now, let me patch him through.” He pressed the buttons and put it back on. “Monroe?”

“Nick, we have a problem,” he rushed out.

“What?” they all said at once.

“Uh, okay, you’re all here, good,” he said, surprised a moment. He quickly got his mind back on track. “Carol’s phone messaged Caleb before I could call him, telling him to come to the meeting room, that our group will meet up for the night to be safe.”

“And I didn’t send it!” they heard a hysterical Carol cry out.

“He set a trap for them and…it worked,” he choked out.

“Monroe, what happened?” Nick asked quickly.

“Caleb and his boyfriend Michael went to the community center, thinking they were meeting with a group for safety. When he got close though, he smelled gunpowder and some other odd scents that shouldn’t be there...”

“Petrevksi…” Hank said.

“Yeah. They ran back to the car, but…Caleb’s boyfriend Michael got hit. He took him to the hospital, said it was a mugging gone wrong. I called to tell him about the address book problem while he was there. Mike’s in surgery right now. The guy’s a Keirsheite; he’s not even wesen and this maniac...”

“I don’t think he cares to check anymore,” Nick said darkly.

Sloane was quiet, looking at a spot on the floor of her living room as she took that all in. “Where was this?”

“The High Hills community center,” Monroe said. There was a beep and he blinked. “Sloane?”

“She hanged up,” Nick said, looking at the call.

“Goddamit,” Hank said. “We better head there too.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Monroe said.

“What about the other members?” Nick asked.

“Right, got to warn them…I can use the group chat like he did-”

“No, then he’ll see it. Send a mass text or something like that, leave out Carol’s number,” Nick said.

“Right, good idea. I’ll do that and head over.”

They hanged up and Nick stood to go get his jacket.

“I’ll get my co-”

“No, Juliette, no this time.”

“Nick, I can fight-”

“I know, trust me, you do great. But if this guy thinks he can take down a “werewolf” or whatever, he’s got something up his sleeve and I don’t know what.” That was a small lie, he knew it was probably something designed to explode but he didn’t want Juliette to know that just yet. “The fewer factors we need to worry about, the better. Go over to Rosalee’s, he might have their address and she and Carol will feel better having you there if Monroe joins us.”

Juliette frowned but then nodded. “Okay…but be careful.”

“Aren’t I always?” He tried to joke. He kissed her quickly and rushed for the door.

The drive up to the High Hills Community center was tense as he tried to think of what must be happening. Petrevski had more skills than they were aware of it seems. He didn’t think he could keep getting the drop on the wesen when they were on high alert, so something else must be happening. When he got to the parking lot, Sloane and Hank were talking and Monroe was just pulling up as well.

“Hey,” Nick said, jogging up. “Any change?”

“Not that I know of,” Sloane said. “I just got here and Hank kept me from going in alone…”

“Because it’s better we all know what’s going on,” Hank said firmly.

“He’s right. We have strength in numbers, let’s use it,” Nick agreed.

Sloane bit her tongue wanting to say something but finally nodded. They headed up to the main door. “This is the one Caleb and his boyfriend were about to go through?”

“More than likely, it is the front door…” Monroe said. “But it smells different. There’s like a thick smell in the air, I can’t pick up any other scents. He must’ve doused the place in something.” Nick nodded and reached for the handle, giving it a try. It was unlocked and he opened it slowly, looking through the crack. “I don’t see him…” He opened it more and the slipped through. There was a slick trail through the hall and they recognized the overwhelming smell of bleach now that it was in their faces. They stepped carefully through the puddles and swathes of liquid. As they were walking down the hall though, Sloane grabbed Nick by the arm.

“Wait…”

“What is it?”

Sloane pointed to want looked to be fishing line pulled tight a few inches above the floor. She followed it with her flash light up to what appeared to be a make-shift bomb.

“Are you kidding me?” Hank whispered harshly. “Is that a bomb?”

“Is that thing real?” Monroe said.

“Looks like it, but it’s pretty simple...Goddamit!” she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “The Sulphur smell! I knew that smell, I knew it was an ingredient in explosives, but I didn’t make the connection! I smelled it at Larkin’s house!”

“It’s part of what the dog picked up on too I think,” Hank said.

“There was saltpeter, which smells similar to gunpowder too,” she sighed. “I smelled that on him when I tackled him. But I didn’t investigate more, I didn’t think…”

“So that thing could be real?” Hank said.

“Probably. Even homemade, it’ll do the job of blowing us apart if we aren’t careful…” Sloane said.

“So he was hoping to get a big group here and then blow them up?” Monroe said, blood boiling a little. “Caleb was just a test?”

“He’s good at traps…” Sloane said softly.

“What?” Nick asked.

“Nothing. Just…watch where you step.” She stepped over the wire, as did the men, and they continued on through the hall as quietly and cautiously as possible. They heard something moving up ahead and moved a little faster. They came to a hall way that split left and right. Right led to a door that went outside.

“Split up?” Nick suggested.

“What happened to strength in numbers? Does this seem like Scooby-Doo to you?” Monroe asked.

“Depends, are you Scooby?” Sloane asked. He gave her an annoyed look and she smirked.

“It’s the best option right now,” Nick said. “Monroe and Sloane, head back outside.”

Sloane’s head snapped back to him. “Are you serious?”

Nick didn’t back down or look amused by her knee-jerk reaction. “You and Monroe have more experience hunting outside in the woods than we do. We know how to handle ourselves indoors.”

Sloane glared but couldn’t deny that had logic to it. She looked at Monroe, who didn’t look thrilled either. “…Let’s go, Scooby.”

He rolled his eyes. “Right behind you, Freddy.”

“Why am I-Never mind,” she muttered, heading for the door. She paused to look it over for traps before pushing it open.

“Should we worry about them killing each other before Petrevski even tries?” Hank asked.

“I’m hoping they can at least pause in the arguments to work together…” Nick sighed.

The two detectives kept to the left, down a hall with several doors. They moved slowly, deliberately, looking through windows for any sign of movement. They heard the creak of something move in one room and paused. Looking to each other, they nodded and slipped forward, Nick moving around one side of the door while Hank took the other. Nick tried the handle and it turned and slowly moved inward. As it did, there was a click and they both threw themselves away from the door as a spray of white foam shot out.

“The hell?!”

The foam filled up the hall as well as a gas, and they coughed and swiped at it. Managing to look into the door, Nick saw a fire extinguisher had been rigged to fire when the door opened. “Goddamit!” he managed between coughs, fighting his way around the side and managed to yank the contraption that fired it off. Hank followed him in, wiping down his front ineffectually of the white powder left behind.

“I feel like I’m fighting Macaulay Culkin…But like, if he was a serial killer.”

“He wasn’t far off in those movies if you think about it,” Nick muttered. They both jumped when the door suddenly slammed shut. “Shit!” He went over to try it and jumped when Petrevski’s face appeared in the window.

“I wouldn’t do that, detective…” He pointed up and Nick looked to see some sort of sensor at the top of the door, and another round of explosives. “The trigger engaged when I closed the door after the fire extinguisher went off. You try to open it again and they’ll be scraping you off the wall. The windows are rigged too, so I don’t recommend that.”

“What the hell?” Hank muttered. He looked and saw that indeed the windows were all rigged with their own triggers going to several sticks of dynamite suspended high on the wall. “How the hell did you do this?”

“The Chinese invented explosives centuries ago, in a pretty simple recipe of ingredients I could find at most home-improvement shops. No background checks required. Learned it on the job back in Kansas.”

Nick glared at him. “Why are you doing this?”

Petrevski looked at him solidly for a while. “…You’re a Grimm? You see those…things all the time?”

Nick was surprised he knew that but nodded slowly. “Yeah. I am and I do.”

“But you don’t kill them?” he accused.

“Not when I can help it.”

He glared now. “You’re weak. You and that woman. Showing mercy to a bunch of monsters.”

“They aren’t monsters!” Nick said. “The man you shot was human!”

Petrevski flinched, looking a haunted for just a moment before solidifying his glare. “He was with that wolf. He betrayed his own kind. And that was a dry run to try and lure them out.”

“Hate to break it to you, creep, but we already warned everyone else away from you. No one else is falling into your trap.”

He glared. “Well…you two did. And so will your friends.” He stepped away.

“Petrevski! Stop!” He was about to reach for the handle but managed to stop himself. “Goddamit! We have to warn Sloane and Monroe!” He reached into his pocket for his phone and tried to dial Sloane’s number, but it wasn’t connecting. “Goddamit, those woods are a freaking dead zone!”

“So’s this room if we aren’t careful…” Hank said somberly.

\--------------

Sloane had her knife in her hand and the fact she wasn’t using it to fight the Blutbad next to her felt wrong. It went against her training, her instincts. But she didn’t turn to fight him.

“Can you see anything?” Monroe asked.

“My night vision is better than average when I try,” she said blandly.

“Well, get trying because we need to find this little bastard.”

Sloane gave a huff but focused her vision. While not as bright as daylight, things did turn suddenly much easier to see in the dark forest.

“Holy hell!” She looked at him and he backed away a little. “Geeze…Your eyes, uh…”

“My irises went black?” She guessed. “They do that when I activate my Grimm senses.”

“…Do you, uh…see me…?” he asked.

She hesitated but looked away. “No… You do still need to woge for me to see you. Then my whole eyes go black, or so I’m told,” she said honestly. “Otherwise this would be even more uncomfortable for both of us.”

Monroe didn’t respond to that, continuing through the woods. Several minutes passed before he paused, breathing deep. “I smell him…this way.” He turned and headed a little quicker through the woods. They got to a small clearing and he sniffed more. “He’s close. He…is a jacket,” he finished lamely, noting the jacket in the middle of the clearing. “Dammit, I thought we had him!”

“He probably is close, this is just-Monroe!” Sloane barked when she noticed he was heading towards the jacket.

“What?” he turned. It was the first time she really used his name. But even distracted he was still walking and froze when he felt something snap under his foot. He yelled when more snaps echoed through the woods and he felt the ground give way under him.

“Shit!” she rushed over and looked down. “I was saying it was a trap, you dolt!”

“Yeah, I got that now…” he wheezed.

“…You injured?”

“No, I don’t’ think so…just got the wind knocked out of me…” He looked up and grimaced. “And this hole is a little too deep. I can’t reach the edge…”

Sloane sighed and stabbed her knife into the soft ground next to her and got down on her stomach to reach down for him. “Grab on, I can try and pull you out.”

“What, not gonna leave me here alone?” he asked, honestly surprised.

“Would if I could, but I don’t want Nick and Rosalee angry with me…”

Monroe huffed but reached up for her hand and Sloane reached back, grunting as their fingertips just barely brushed together. “Motherf-How deep did he dig this hole? And how?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to have to go find something else to get you out…Ugh, but if I leave you alone, he might come back for you…In which case I could get him from behind…” she mused, formulating a plan.

“You are not using me as bait! This is why I called you Freddy! Freddy uses Scooby and Shaggy as bait all the time!”

Sloane frowned but sighed. “Okay, okay, calm down…I’ll call Nick and have him bring some rope from my car or something from the community center.” She sat up on her knees and pulled out her phone. “Aaand, no signal, perfect…” She paused and leaned over slightly when she saw something through the trees. It was a piece of heavy equipment, the kind you could rent from hardware stores, and a huge pile of dirt under a green tarp. “I do see how he made this hole, there’s a freaking steam shovel over there…” She smiled. “Okay, hold on. I’ll get that and use it to get you out.”

“Alright…” Monroe said dubiously.

As Sloane moved to rise, she only just caught the sound of someone running up behind her. She turned only a fraction of a second before Petrevski body checked her like a linebacker, sending her stumbling back. Her heel caught the edge of the pit and she yelled as she went down and her shoulder hit the wall. She felt something pop and gritted her teeth at a flash of pain. Monroe managed to catch her somewhat and ease her fall, but they both went sprawling into the pit that was only barely being enough for them to stand together in.

“You!” Sloane yelled up. “What the hell are you doing?!” She lifted her arms as if to climb and hissed at another bloom of pain in her right shoulder, bringing it down and holding it with her other arm. Monroe actually squeezed her slightly in worry at the obvious pain.

“Your job,” Petrevski called down. “You said it yourself, you went soft. You stopped being a Grimm, stopped hunting these “wesen” monsters. Well I may not have your fancy eyes, but I can do what needs to be done!”

Monroe stared up at him then looked at Sloane. “Why…does he know all that?”

Sloane gritted her teeth, the pain in her shoulder and the truth coming out both twisting her gut. “Not now.”

He stared before his jaw dropped. “You-you got the chance to talk with him? About all this? And he got away?”

Petrevski chuckled. “She let me go, Blutbad. And told me about you and your friends. And all about her too.”

Monroe glared at her. “You let this little psycho go?!”

She glared back and then up at their trapper. “I let you go so you could live a normal life again, not to do this.”

He shook his head with an almost sad smile on his face. “I don’t have a life to go back too. I gave it all up to hunt these monsters. You understand.” He reached down and pulled her knife from the dirt where it still was embedded. “You told me all about how your grandmother died. And why it turned your stomach your fellow Grimm worked with a Blutbad.” Monroe frowned and then moved back when he threw the knife down, landing at their feet. “You saw them kill her…those blood red eyes you still have nightmares about you said. Can you forgive one of their kind so easily?”

Sloane was quiet, not looking at Monroe even though she could feel his eyes on her. She didn’t see the look of realization on his face.

“If you kill him, I’ll get you out of there,” Petrevski said.

“...I can’t do that,” Sloane said. “Whatever I feel, he’s my friends’ friend. I can’t just kill him.”

Petrevski sneered. “If you’re worried about that other Grimm and the detective, they’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

Monroe looked up. “What did you do?”

He smiled coldly. “I trapped them in a room with more dynamite. Like I told them, it’s amazing what you can get without a background check at the right sources. Including this.” He held up a little device. “I’m going to detonate that whole building soon. First, I need to finish some arrangements. You messed up my first plan to get a whole group of monsters here, but I’ll figure something else out.” He stood. “I’ll come back in an hour. If he’s not dead…I’ll just bury you both and be done with it. But if you want to actually do what you’re supposed to do, then I think we can work something out.”

Sloane glared but he turned and walked off. Growling in frustration, she punched the side of the hole. A little dirt flaked off and scratched her hands, but otherwise nothing. She grunted and held her shoulder again.

“You’re hurt?”

“My shoulder dislocated I think…” she muttered. “I can’t climb like this, even with a boost, or give you a boost…”

“Shit…” he muttered.

Sloane didn’t say anything. Instead she just sank down and sat on the earthen floor. Monroe stared before he sat down across from her. It was quiet for a few minutes before he spoke up again. “Your grandmother…was killed by Blutbader?” Monroe asked quietly.

Sloane looked at him, ready to snap at him to shut up, but she was halted by the look on his face. Not defensive or angry or proud like she expected but actually soft. Humble. Sympathetic. Monroe always struck her as odd for a Blutbad—weider aside—but the empathy he could show her even now made something in her finally uncoil. She took a deep breath. “There were others…Hundjager, Malan-Fatale…But three Blutbader. I remember them because they were the ones who tore out her throat while I watched in the cupboard…” He flinched but didn’t say anything. “It took everything for me not to scream and one almost heard me.” She cradled her arm a little tighter. “One must’ve heard the small sound I did make and came close to where I was hiding. I saw his red eyes and…red teeth. I can’t forget that face. Oma had given him a nice cut across one eye before going down and I couldn’t tell where her blood and his blood differed. It was only because that cupboard was hidden in the wall and heavily coated with wolfsbane he didn’t smell me out. They looked for me though, and any Grimm things for trophies, but they couldn’t get inside the basement. Then they left. I don’t know how long I stayed put before I finally managed to push the door open with the table in the way, but I did and…I just…I didn’t know what to do…so I just laid down with Oma and waited for…something.” She leaned her head against the wall of dirt. “It was two days before the police came and found me. I was alive but dehydrated and famished and…well, I think we can agree that had a pretty profound effect on me to say the least. Five more days of treatment and Deidre came for me and…the rest is history.”

Monroe was quiet a long time before slowly reaching out and gently patting her good shoulder. “I’m sorry…I’m not blind that a lot of Blutbader are monsters, really. Believe me…” He sighed and looked up at the sky from the hole in the ground. “My parents eat meat, but our family always tried to stay civilized. We didn’t belittle what our ancestors did, but hey, it’s the age of cars and grocery stores. We aren’t fighting for food, it’s easier to just go pick up a side of beef than hunt a man or an animal. So that’s what we did. Occasionally we might’ve gone hunting for rabbits as kids, a deer if we were feeling adventurous, just to get the old hunting instinct out of the way. But we had a whole freezer full of meat if we didn’t catch anything so there was no need to hinge a person’s life on it. It was an unwritten rule, no hunting humans, and only fights them if they start it. I didn’t always follow that one, I was kind of a ball of hormones as a teen-“”

“Was there a point to this?” Sloane sighed. “Cause if you’re trying to numb the pain by droning on, it’s only half working.”

“Sorry,” he said a little ruefully. “My point is, my family eats regular store bought meat and I used to as well. Then…I made a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Sloane said slowly.

Monroe sighed again and rubbed through his hair. “When I was 18 I’d just graduated high school and I didn’t want to go right to college. I wanted to travel, see Germany myself, just me and a backpack and what money I’d saved up that wasn’t going to college with me. My parents thought it was a great idea but gave me a weird instruction: don’t mingle with Blutbader who wear anything bright red. Seemed like a weird instruction. I mean red does things to us, obviously, but why not talk to Blutbader in red? I didn’t think to ask why, I didn’t really listen to the explanation, and I was just pumped to go. So I flew over, started backpacking around, had a great time. Until this one town…” He swallowed a bit. “I met a guy at a tavern, dude was wearing this _bright_ red shirt, but he also had this wolf tattoo. I said I liked it, we got to talking, and we managed to figure out we had a lot in common.”

“He was a Blutbad,” Sloane guessed.

“Yeah. German, from a town over, he came there with his friends to have some fun he said. He asked if I’d like to join them. I was alone in a weird country, didn’t have any other friends in town, I was honestly grateful for the chance. So we went out and I met his friends, a bunch of other Blutbader boys and girls, ranging from my age to twice my age. A kind of makeshift pack. We go out to the woods, start playing around like Blutbader do till way late at night. They invited me back to where their staying at a hostel. Said they had a lot of leftover food from yesterday and drink and we could party more human like there. So I did. They had this really…tender meat there. It was soft and succulent and though it tasted kind of…porky, I hadn’t had anything quite like it. So we ate up and then I fell asleep for a while before it was morning and we went down to get some coffee for our hangovers. While we were down there, these people…were putting up fliers for this missing boy. I took one when this crying woman handed it to me. Cute kid, a little on the big side, all blonde and freckled with dimples…Only 11 years old. The guys around me start chuckling and I’m confused why. A missing kid isn’t funny. Then they said “They won’t be finding him any time soon.” I asked why and the guy in the red shirt said we finished him off last night.”

“Oh God…” Sloane grimaced.

Monroe nodded, not defending her disgust at the revelation. “Yeah…I felt sick. I literally sprang up and knocked my chair over rushing outside. I ran as far as I could before I threw up and then I just…dug a hole and buried it…I don’t know if I was hiding my shame or trying to give whatever was left a burial.” He rubbed at his eyes a little. “I got my stuff and got out without them seeing and I didn’t know what to do. I had never eaten a person before, and the fact that I _liked_ the taste made it worst. I didn’t know what to do either because what could I possibly say to police to get them to look into it? “Yeah, these guys kidnapped and ate this kid because they’re all wesen and so am I but I didn’t mean to eat him?” So I didn’t say anything and returned home. But any time I looked at meat I just saw freckles and dimples and had that taste in my mouth and wanted to puke. I didn’t want to go to college and my parents were worried, but I didn’t know how to tell them. I didn’t know what to do. I just pulled back from everything Blutbad, from them and my friends. I got scared of them. Till I met a couple from the weider church. I pursued that as hard as I could. My ninth step was writing the police back in Germany and telling them some of what happened by then 3 years ago. I couldn’t exactly say it was a bunch of Blutbader who kidnapped and ate him, but I said it was this group of people that killed him for fun and listed off what names I could remember. And it actually worked. They caught several of them and one of the guys got scared and led them to the boy’s bones. I saw it in the news, and I felt…better. It was something. The kid would have a real burial, his family could mourn him. But I still went through with the rest of the steps until I cut meat out completely. I didn’t want to be like those Blutbader, ever,” he said definitively. “I may get a little wild fighting other wesen with you and Nick, but that’s because I don’t want those kind of wesen hurting others ever again. I want to punish these kinds of acts as much as you do, and it’s not always easy to be proud of what I am but I am because there’s lots of other things I do love about my family and our kind. But not this.”

Sloane was quiet a few moments before nodding slowly. “…I’m sorry.”

He blinked and looked at her. “For what?”

“For letting Petrevski get away. I felt sympathy for him. He lost his father to a Blutbad when he tried to save him. But…the fact is, he’s been killing people that never did anything to him, that were trying to make up for bad things they did and some that didn’t do anything wrong. He hurt some of your friends…and he ended up hurting our friends too, because of my mistake.” She looked down. “Things aren’t black and white when it comes to being a Grimm. I wanted it to be, because that would be a lot easier, but it isn’t…Nick is right.”

“…It’s not a mistake to sympathize with people. Especially ones that went through something you understand. You gave him a chance to stop and do better and he didn’t do it. That’s on him. And the fact you didn’t kill me when he said shows that at least you care enough to…not kill me.”

Sloane looked at him and gave a small smile. “Well…you are kind of useful now and then.”

Monroe gave a small huff of laughter and leaned against the side of the hole. “Not right now though…”

“Neither am I with this shoulder…Nick and Hank are in danger…” She sighed. “And he’s going to bury us alive when he comes back if I don’t…” Sloane paused and looked at her knife on the ground.

Monroe followed her gaze and then looked back at her worriedly. “Hey now, I thought we were finally having a moment…”

“We are…and I just got an idea…”

\----------------

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Nick asked.

“No, but it’s the best one we have,” Hank said. “This asshole wants to play Rube Goldberg machine death match, we gotta get on his level.”

“You watch Home Alone a lot more than I realized…”

“Hey, we all have our Christmas movie traditions. Home Alone and Diehard are mine. Now, get in the closet.”

Nick went to the supply closet on the other side of the room they managed to clear out. It would be a tight fit for the two of them, but it wasn’t rigged to explode and would provide a bit of a cover. It also had a bag full of rags for cleaning and they’d managed to cut them with Hank’s pocket knife and tie them into a make-shift rope. Everything else was dumped on the floor and the shelves and brackets tossed out to give them plenty of room and decrease the hazards. Also using the knife, he’d loosened the door hand just enough that it would pull open with a bit of pressure.

Following Nick into the closet, Hank took a deep breath. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Nick responded. Hank closed the closet door just slightly, and then quickly pulled the rope and closed it. There was the sound of the door being knocked open before a beep and then they felt the room rock violently and several explosions go off. Reflexively they grabbed onto each other. When the shaking stopped, they both slowly opened their eyes. They were alive, which was a good sign.

“You good?” Hank asked.

“Yeah…yeah. You?”

He nodded and slapped a hand on his back. “Yeah…Let’s hope we aren’t buried alive now…”

“You conveniently didn’t mention that possibility before…”

Hank pushed against the door and grunted when it didn’t move. “Help me out here.”

Nick pushes as well and the door started sliding roughly, like pushing wood over sandpaper, across the floor. They had to throw their whole body against it and heard more things crashing over before they managed to get the door open enough to slide out. “Holy crap…” The room was in shambles. The door to the hall was blown out, the windows along the outer wall were broken or gone, the tables and chairs closest to the door were splintered and cracked. Surprisingly it wasn’t as much damage as he expected.

“That son of a bitch,” Hank muttered, going over to the windows. “Half of these by the windows weren’t real! Just putty and cotton stuffing!” He picked some up, letting it waft slowly back down. “He fooled us…”

“The point is we’re okay, and right now we need to find Sloane and Monroe before he does.”

Hank nodded. “And hopefully someone heard that and will call the cops for back up. After I kick this guy’s ass,” he added. Since one of the windows was destroyed, they hoped over and made directly for the woods.

\-----------------

Sloane waited, standing with her back against the all, nursing her shoulder and a couple of scratches on her arm. She had her knife in her hand, red smeared across it. Monroe was lying on the ground on his side, eyes closed and still.

Sloane took a breath when she heard footsteps and looked up. Petrevski’s shadow fell over the hole and blocked out what moonlight was getting to them.

“You did it?”

“Of course I did it! Now get me out of here or Nick is going to kill me next.”

He seemed excited but was keeping it contained. “I’ll be back.” Sloane sighed and rubbed over her face. She heard an engine start up and knew he was probably driving the back-hoe over to them. As she heard it come closer, over the mild thunder of the engine, she heard an echoing clap of sound.

Monroe tensed and opened his eyes. “What was that?” he hissed.

“Shut up and keep playing dead or you won’t be playing,” she hissed back.

“I play dead way too often…” He quickly went still again when the backhoe got close.

The shovel extended down and then the motor shut off. Petrevski got close again and looked down. “Do you need a hand up?”

“Yeah, my shoulder is messed up…” He leaned down to offer his hand and she took it, climbing up over the arm of the backhoe to get out.

“Do you need a doctor?”

“Possibly…what was that sound before? I just barely heard it over the engine.”

Petrevski grinned and Sloane felt for the first time really that he’d lost his mind by the manic gleam in his eyes. She’d hoped he hadn’t gone off the deep end completely but if setting traps in community centers hadn’t convinced her, the almost gleeful smile did. He was having fun killing people. “That other Grimm and the detective must’ve tripped one of the switches in the room I left them in. So no more worries about them.”

Sloane paused. “You…you blew up Nick and Hank?”

“Yeah. I made a fun trap for them-”

Sloane grabbed him around the throat with her good hand and actually held him up with his feet dangling. “I’m going to kill you!” She yelled, her vision heightened to the point even he must see the dark, pitch black transformation of her eyes. Judging by the sudden fear in them she knew he did. But Petrevski was a fighter a moment later he brought his fist down into her injured shoulder. She yelled and let go and he scrambled back.

He was panting but the fear was turning to anger quickly, making his body tense and ready to fight. “You’re still defending them? They were holding you back! You said you used to hunt these things down without remorse! Now what are you?”

Sloane gritted her teeth. She’d asked herself that before, dealt with the image of herself as she should be and as she was now. But having him question her…

“They are my friends!” she bit out. He glared back and his hand moved behind him. Sloane rushed him in a parody of what he did to her and tackled him to the ground. She punched him across the face and he growled as they rolled and he punched her back. She struck him in the side where his kidneys would be with her good arm, but he pressed his forearm against her throat, putting his whole weight down to pin her. He mashed his fist into her injured shoulder, making her see stars and gasp for breath past her blocked windpipe.

“I thought I’d finally found someone who would understand…” he rasped. He reached in back and pulled out another gun, this one a modern handgun, pressing it to her temple. “I’ll blow those pretty eyes out of your head!”

There was a snarl like a beast and Petrevski was suddenly wrenched off of her. Sloane gasped in a deep breath, her head spinning from the sudden burst of oxygen. She looked up to see Monroe, woged, toss the man across the clearing, the gun skittering away through the leaves. Petrevski was startled but trying to get to his feet.

“D…don’t let him get away,” she gasped, trying get up and move.

Monroe moved to tackle him again but stepped back when he pulled out a grenade. “Shit!”

“I pull this pin and toss it, you’ll go sky high,” Petrevski spat out.

“You might too!” Monroe shot back. “Just stop this! No one else has to die!”

“I disagree…I’ll see you and your kind all be wiped out or die trying, monster!” He moved to pull the pin but before he could he gave a shuddering gasp as Sloane plunged the knife into his side. Sloane kept his eyes on hers as she pushed it in deeper, slow enough he could feel it and gasp again like he was trying to scream.

“You move, I pull this and let you bleed out. How’s that for an ultimatum?”

He stared at her a moment before whispering. “Why…? After what they did to your grandmother?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she said. “Just put the grenade down and stop this.”

He stared a moment before pulling the pin anyway, gripping the grenade tight.

“Sloane!” Monroe grabbed her around the middle and ran for the trees, moving behind the nearest one.

He then pressed her head against his shoulder, his other hand over her ear, and protected his ear against her head with his hand over his other. Just as he did there was a loud explosion that she felt through her whole body and realized he was trying to save their hearing from the blast. Once it was quiet he relaxed his hold and looked up. Even she could smell the blood now.

“I…I didn’t think he’d actually…” she said quietly, shaking slightly.

“He was too far gone,” Monroe said. “He probably just wanted to die in a hail of bullets at this point, and take anyone he could with him.”

“…Thanks for making sure it wasn’t me…” she said honestly.

Monroe smiled and stood, helping her to her feet by her good arm. “Yeah, well…You’re not so bad for a Grimm.”

She smiled back. “And I suppose you’re not so bad for a Blutbad…I mean, saving me from a grenade does count for something.”

Monroe huffed and then started laughing. It was a bit giddy, the adrenaline petering out, but it was also one of relief. “Oh my God, I did that…”

Sloane chuckled as well but then looked up when she heard someone yelling.

“Sloane! Monroe!” Nick was trying to fight through the trees.

“Over here!” Monroe yelled.

He managed to finally get around to them, panting. “You’re okay?”

“You’re okay?” Sloane shot back, looking him over. “He said he blew you up!”

“Yeah, we detonated them on purpose while we took cover…But I heard another one—”

“Grenade,” Monroe said. “He, uh…was holding on to it.”

Nick paused and leaned over slightly to look behind the tree. “…shit…”

“Yeah…We got a cover story for this?” Sloane asked.

“Hank is working on that now. He’s called the police and we’re saying Petrevski was a domestic terrorist. Not that far from the truth...I guess we’ll say he blew himself up.”

“Also true,” Sloane nodded, then grunted and supported her shoulder.

“Sloane’s hurt,” Monroe said. “We should get her to a doctor.”

Nick frowned, looking her over. “I gotta wait for the backup…You shouldn’t be here, Monroe, there will be too many questions.”

“Then I can take her,” he said simply. “There should be a local emergency center nearby.”

Nick was about to try and save Monroe from whatever biting remark Sloane had when she nodded. “I’d appreciate it, thanks. I don’t think I can fix this on my own.” Nick gaped and she looked up at him with a frown. “What?”

“You…nothing. Go on then, we’ll take care of the rest,” he said, keeping his tongue in check.

Sloane nodded and she and Monroe walked towards where the community center would be, Nick following, making sure to mark the path. He paused though when something shiny caught his attention and he moved back. Stuck in a tree was Sloane’s knife. It must’ve been very close to the blast to travel like that. Grabbing the hilt, he grimaced as some of the leather wrapped around the handle flaked off in his hands. Rocking it along, he was able to pull it out. The blade was still in one piece, being well made, the filigree _G_ near the handle still visible even through a tiny bit of scorching. He knew Sloane would want it back, but it was not in great condition. The handle was scorched, cracking, and it needed sharpening. Sighing, he hid the knife inside his inner jacket pocket to keep it away from the forensics team likely on their way.

As he jogged to catch up, Hank was confirming things with Sloane and Monroe and they walked to Sloane’s car. They watched as she easily handed off the keys to her car so Monroe could drive and they climbed in. There was a backroad out they took to avoid any questions of being seen.

“They don’t seem to want to kill each other all of a sudden,” Hank commented, noticing too the relaxed atmosphere around them now.

“Yeah. Guess they worked it out,” Nick said with a smile. Then he sighed with resignation. “Now we gotta work all this out.”

“Lucky us,” he said as they watched the police cars pull up.

\----------------------------

“And I’m telling you, absolutely not,” Sloane said. Her right arm was resting in a sling to keep it immobile while her dislocated shoulder healed, but that didn’t stop her left hand from gesturing her disagreement with the man across from her.

“Oh c’mon, you know I’m right,” Monroe said.

“I know your right out of your head,” she shot back.

Rosalee sighed as she walked in. “Are you two arguing again?” she asked despondently, setting the box of herbs she was carrying down. “I thought you were finally starting to get along.”

Sloane and Monroe blinked before looking at one another and then back at her. “We are,” they said together.

“This is more just a debate than an argument,” Sloane said.

“About what?” Rosalee asked.

“Worst smelling wesen,” Monroe said simply. “I maintain that the faeteo fatalis is the worse. I was bunkmates with one in summer camp, and with my sense of smell it was a wonder my nose didn’t burn off.”

Sloane rolled her eyes. “I’m not saying it’s not bad, but I had to fight a Masova Hniloba once. Its name is Czech for “Flesh Rot”. Guess what he smelled like.”

Rosalee stared before she started laughing. “Why…why did you even get on that subject?”

“Update from Caleb,” Monroe said, pulling it up on his phone and showing her. “Michael made it out of surgery and Caleb tried to break up with him.”

“Wait, what?” Rosalee asked, concerned.

“He felt responsible for what happened to him,” Monroe said. “Luckily it was actually pretty minor, most the buckshot grazed him and left a few pellets they were able to get out. But still.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Rosalee said with a look of sympathy.

“Don’t’ be, Michael refused his break-up,” Monroe laughed. “Apparently he really, really loves Caleb. He doesn’t care that some psycho tried to kill them, he’s just glad they’re both alright and he refuses to let it stand in the way. He had a ring and was going to propose to Caleb soon, and did it in the hospital.” He showed her the picture of Caleb with a gold band around his finger. “Michael says as he’s concerned but if they lived through this, they can take on anything.”

“That’s great! But…why are you arguing about stinky wesen?”

Monroe laughed. “Well, apparently the ring is too big, so they need to get it resized. And I said that stinks like a raya blanco.”

“To which I said that wasn’t the worst smelling wesen, and…” Sloane gestured with her hand to say ‘here we are’.

Rosalee shook her head, laughing at their train of thought. “Well, as long as you two are getting along.”

“Eh…Your Blutbad is pretty good once you get to know him,” Sloane said, sipping her tea as if she hadn’t refused to even try for nearly 10 months to do just that. Monroe grinned, going back to sorting herbs. “Ah…speaking of which, I do owe you at least one specific apology.”

“For what?”

“Eh…I guess doubting you.” Sloane reached into the bag at her side and pulled out a book. “This is one of my oma’s journals. Interesting read…” She opened to where she had a book mark. “‘Busy last four days, finally have time to write. We are in Cologne, arrived five days ago. I met with some other members of Aegis’—that’s the resistance group she was part of. ‘Among them were three Blutbader. While our first meeting was tense and we nearly came to blows, we managed to come to an understanding that we are all here to fight against the Nazis and free their hold on Paris and the rest of their stolen territories.’”

“Wait, so your grandmother worked closely with Blutbader spies?” Monroe asked excitedly.

“Yep. She says their names were Raul Besser, Kurt Schulte, and Olaf Ackerman.”

Monroe sat up straighter. “Hold on, Ackerman? Olaf Ackerman?”

“Yeah?”

“…Huh…”

Sloane frowned. “What?”

“Nothing, just…that was my great uncles name. He was a newsreel editor in Berlin back in the 20s…”

Sloane blinked in surprise, looking down at the journal. “…Huh…” She smiled faintly. “Oma says they were spies working in the news industry…” She held out the book to him.

“No way,” Monroe said, taking it to look at, fingering over his uncle’s name.

“Yeah. Oma liked Olaf. Thought he was funny, but said he was a good spy. And she does mention his cover was something with the news hounds, using cameras…”

Monroe stared down at the page. “Damn. Uncle Olaf was even more interesting than I thought…No one ever mentioned being a spy or working in a resistance group. And I guess I carry on a family tradition of working with Grimms.”

“And mine for working with wesen,” Sloane agreed. The toasted each other, half joking half serious. Rosalee smiled brightly in relief, going back to sorting through her goods without worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you haven't guessed, this is based on Peter and the Wolf, with Peter being the bad guy. I thought this would be the best point to have her and Monroe finally start getting along--I didn't want to keep drawing that out. I know in one of the books (Icy Touch) Monroe goes over his reason for being wieder as accidentally killing a park ranger while woged with Angelina. But I'd come up with this before even knowing about the novels and I liked this version. I'm also not sure how much I'm going to consider books and comics canon because A) I still need to read some of them and B) this focuses mainly on the TV show and really nothing from the books or comics is referenced it seems. So I guess consider this a bit of a divergence if you do consider them canon.
> 
> Translations:  
> Zischende-Federn--Hissing Feathers. Gooses hiss and are sometimes really aggressive, and I wanted to do that rather than a duck like in the story.
> 
> Zirpende Stimme--Chirping Voice. Song bird like in the story
> 
> Petrevski--The last name means something along the lines of "descendant of Peter"


	12. Thicker in Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rewrite of Wild Hunt and Revelations
> 
> Monroe asks Roslaee to marry him, but there's a hurdle to get over: His Parents. Add to that a wesen killing people in uniform and taking their scalps and it's kind of a stressful week. No less stressful is Nick still dealing with his transformations and hoping the Grimm Librarians will be able to help. They might need something first though...

**Wild Hunt/Revelations**

\---------------------------------

Someone killed a highway patrolman, and it was not a pretty sight. Death usually wasn’t, murder especially so, but the man was missing the top layer of skin on his head, revealing the blood soaked bone underneath. Officer Aguilar had been chasing a white muscle car that was driving erratically, according to Officer Ross who met them at the scene, and after losing contact they found him propped against his car off a muddy dirt road like this. They were working on getting the video feed from the patrol car sent to the departments.

“Wow…” Sloane muttered. It had been a little over two weeks since the blinde jaeger incident and her shoulder was out of the sling. She’d made the excuse of hurting it at the gym, and everyone at the precinct bought it. The doctors had been surprised how fast it was already healing, even if it was just a minor dislocation, but that was Grimm genetics for you. Unless it was a killing or super crippling blow, they could heal from most things. Something Nick was happy to hear about. But she was pretty sure they would not survive whatever Aguilar went through. “That’s…not right.”

“Assumption is that he caught whoever he was chasing,” Ross sighed. “But he was a tough guy, I can't believe he was taken like this. Whatever happened, he never got a chance to fire his weapon. We're hoping the video will give us more.”

Nick knelt to look closer at the body. “Looks like blunt force, maybe a broken neck.”

Ross nodded. “Yeah, we'll know more when the M.E. has a chance to look at him.”

“You know,” Hank said, eyeing the missing skin with a grimace, “in the good old days, scalps served as kill verification for payment.”

Ross nodded again. “Or as proof of your prowess on the battlefield. Least that’s what I read.”

“Let's hope it's not the good old days again,” Nick said, standing.

“Agreed,” Sloane said. They nodded to Ross and headed to look around the scene a bit. There was nothing that could give them much to go on though, the area was a gravel pit full of water and mud off the side of a busy road. Ultimately they ended up driving back to the station to wait on the tape. “Another odd one,” Sloane sighed. “Normally I’m pumped but this is especially creepy…”

“Yeah. Don’t suppose it’s tickling any feelings in you?” Hank asked.

“No, not immediately. Hair can be a few different wesen, and scalping is a thing for different cultures. Could just be some nutball too. Now if it was teeth that were missing, that narrows it down.”

Nick and Hank grimaced. “Not sure if that’s better or worse sounding,” Nick said. “Honestly, I’d rather be doing my taxes…”

“…Taxes?” she asked, confused.

Nick and Hank glanced at one another before Hank turned in his seat since Nick was driving. “Sloane…you know what taxes are, right?”

“Of course I do,” she said, huffing a little.

“And that you have to do them?” he clarified.

“…I do?” she asked, honestly confused. “I thought that was like a thing you did if you had a job.”

“You do have a job!” Nick laughed. “You’re doing your job right now.”

“Well, yes…but I thought it was like a…seasonal thing?” she asked hesitantly.

“Sloane, it’s tax season!” Nick said, glancing in the mirror.

“I don’t know what that means! I’ve never had to do them before!” she said helplessly.

“Ever?” Hank asked, almost laughing.

“Hey, I am legally dead in three states—under different names of course, and I’ve never actually held a job before. Taxes were not a priority,” she said defensively. “Besides, most of my money came from people I killed or gambling, and that’s not exactly taxable to my knowledge.”

“Ah…that could actually be a problem,” Hank said, sobering. “The IRS might wonder where you’ve been for the last decade…”

“Ya think?” Sloane said sardonically. Her tone turned more apologetic and pleading. “What do I do?”

“I guess talk to Renard,” Nick said. “He set up your past employment records, he might be able to help you with the tax thing. As far as actually doing them, you can just find a place online.”

“Great…” she said, unenthused.

\----------------------------

Rosalee was on Cloud 9. Last night had been amazing—a total shock she was still reeling from, but amazing. She looked at the ring on her hand again and smiled widely. Honestly, she had no idea Monroe had planned to propose, she though it was all a belated Valentine’s Day thing since the whole Blinde Jager case had put a damper on all that for a bit. When they got home from their fancy dinner and the coo-coo-clock had chimed with “Will you Marry Me?”, the ring around the little birdie, she’d nearly fainted. Mostly because, after her years of addiction and rough living, she’d really given up on the idea of marriage and forever love and all that. She didn’t want to admit that with Monroe she wanted it—she wanted forever and marriage and the whole shebang, but she was terrified to voice and jinx it and be left heartbroken again. The wall of fear was still there, but that part of her had finally broken through and said yes and cried and kissed him and taken him up to bed for more celebrating was still in control and she liked it.

“So where do you wanna do it?” Monroe asked suddenly, holding her hand as they lay together in bed in the early morning hours.

Rosalee thought for a moment before knowing at least part of the answer. “Here.”

“At the house?” he asked in confusion.

“I mean in Portland,” she clarified, chuckling.

“Oh…” he said, smiling as well. “Church wedding?”

“I think I'd rather it be outside. What do you think?”

He smiled, nodding. “Outside is good. When?”

“I was thinking maybe... The spring?” She looked at him, at the bright eyed excitement that mirrored hers and broke off into giggles. “Oh, my God. I can't believe we're talking about this.”

“I know,” he breathed.

“And I-I can't believe I'm wearing this,” she said, looking at the ring. “It's really not a dream.”

“It is for me,” he said warmly.

She looked at him and smiled, turning over to face him. He turned as well and she cupped his jaw and leaned in close. “Me too.” She kissed him gently.

He smiled and sighed. “So... We invite family and friends. No enemies.”

“No enemies is good,” she agreed.

“We have to invite Nick. And Sloane.”

“Of course we do. And Juliette.”

“Juliette's not really the problem,” he sighed. “I just think some of our Wesen friends might not be copacetic, rubbing elbows with a couple of Grimms.”

Rosalee groaned softly, knowing he was right. “Maybe we should just go to Las Vegas…”

“No,” he said, half-whine half-pleading. “This is our wedding. Everybody has to accept everybody for who they are. Besides, my parents would kill me if I got married without them.”

Roslaee smiled, rubbing along his arm comfortingly, smiling as he closed his eyes in complete trust and bliss. “Speaking of that...When am I going to meet them?” His eyes popped open, an awkward look in them. “I think it's... it's probably the right time now, right?”

“Yeah. No, we should... we should be crossing that bridge... You know, soon,” he said, turning on his back and looking up at the ceiling. He was still happy, but there was an edge of worry and panic there.

Rosalee however soldiered on. “Today.” It was firm but gentle. Monroe hummed, looking resigned. She had a feeling this was going to be quite the surprise for his parents.

They cuddled a little longer before getting ready for the day. Rosalee went to the shop and paused before getting everything ready to pull out her phone and text Sloane.

**_Roselee_ ** _: I have some exciting news!_

It was a couple of seconds later when she got a reply.

**_Sloane_ ** _: Good exciting?_

**_Rosalee_ ** _: VERY good._

**_Sloane_ ** _: What is it?_

**_Rosalee_ ** _: I want to tell you in person. Can you come by?_

**_Sloane_ ** _: Can’t right now, sorry._

There was a moment of hesitation before another text came through. She knew Sloane was likely debating what to say. She tried very hard to curtail her blunt ways with Rosalee, and Rosalee knew that and appreciated it. It took some work but now they were close enough she knew Sloane was doing her best to be a good friend.

**_Sloane_ ** _: We have a big problem. Someone killed a state trooper last night. Really bad. The whole precinct is on alert and we’re on the case._

Rosalee felt her heart sink a bit, not in disappointment but in worry.

**_Rosalee_ ** _: That’s awful! Any leads?_

**_Sloane_ ** _: We’re about to look at the footage, but none so far. This killer is good whoever he is. Some weird stuff too, not sure if it’s up your alley or not yet. But don’t worry, we’ll get him._

**_Sloane_ ** _: Can we text later and talk about meeting up? I’d like to know what made you so happy._

She smiled.

**_Rosalee_ ** _: Of course. I’ll text you this afternoon, see how you’re doing._

**_Sloane_ ** _: Sounds great._

**_Rosalee_ ** _: Be safe._

**_Sloane_ ** _: I’ll do my best._

Sighing, Rosalee put her phone back in her purse and secured it under the register before getting the shop ready to open.

\----------------------------

When they got back to the station, the video arrived soon after and the whole station gathered to watch. Sloane felt then the sense of comradery between them all, that this didn’t just happen to a man but to one of their fellow officers. And it was strange to think of them that way, as her “fellows”, but it fit. While they got the strange cases, she had actually solved quite a few mundane (by her standard) cases. Like a woman who killed her husband with ant poison. She’d confessed relatively quickly when Sloane found the box in the kitchen—she’d just forgotten to put it back. Not planned at all, not wesen at all. There’d been a theft case where she’d tracked the thief own over a course of days and dragged him back to the station covered in concrete because he’d run to a construction site to try and get away. And a few more in the almost year she’d been in Portland. _I’m…a detective. I like being a detective…_ She smiled briefly at the thought but sobered as the video started.

They watched the chase, then the officer getting out of his car and being attacked by a man. But the sounds the man made were more animal than human in between the officers screams of pain, and Sloane felt her hands tighten automatically. Glancing at Nick, he nodded back. They both actually jumped when Aguilar was slammed on the hood in the video, and winced when he was dragged off again.

Renard finally paused the video and turned to the group. “We received an update about 20 minutes ago from the State Police. They've linked this attack to two other scalpings, one in San Diego of a border patrol officer, the other attack in San Rafael on a naval captain. We believe the suspect entered illegally from Mexico and is now headed our way. So it seems that we have a serial killer who's targeting men in uniform.” Everyone looked around a bit uneasily, hints of anger in the air as well. “No motive for the scalpings yet, other than he's taking souvenirs. Now based on the pursuit video, we know the car to be a 2011 Dodge Challenger,” pointing to the white car on the screen framed by the patrol car lights. “No plates, no registration, but it does stand out. So look for it but do not... I repeat... do not engage the suspect without proper support. You got that?” There were quiet affirmations and nods and he nodded back. “All right. Let's be careful.”

The rest of the day was relatively uneventful, mostly just them trying to find leads and not really succeeding. That was another frustrating part of the job. It was a lot of paperwork, a lot of nowhere leads, and a lot of dead ends. Finally, with a bit of time before she’d clock out, Sloane went to Renard’s office and knocked. He looked troubled, but she could count that to the video earlier she supposed. He looked up and motioned her in. “Larson. How’s the shoulder?”

“Good, though I still need to rest it for a couple more weeks technically,” she said, closing the door. “But I need to talk about a different matter.”

Renard set down the pen he was using to go over some notes. “What about?”

“I have some questions about…well, what I should do given what you’ve done for me.”

Renard quirked his eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“It’s tax season. What the hell am I supposed to do about that?” she clarified a bit more impatiently to the point.

“Ah…Given your history—” he started.

“The one you made up for me,” she reminded him.

“And you’re real one, you’ve never had to do them before I take it?” he said patiently.

She nodded. “Bit hard when you live really off the grid. Or I guess traveling through separate grids. Sometimes simultaneously.” She gestured with her hands a bit. She was much more expressive lately, Renard noted. Nick and the others had been a good influence on her.

Renard smiled. “Well, I set up your past fairly well and their will certainly be record of you paying taxes before.”

“...Okay, that raises too many questions of how you can do that so I’ll just move on to, what does that mean now? Can you do that again?” she asked hopefully.

“I’m afraid not. You’ll have to actually do your taxes yourself.”

She frowned. “I have absolutely no idea how to even start that you realize?”

“I’ll get you started. You’ll find your W-2 in your file folder. Take that and just visit a website, you should be able to figure it out.”

“That’s not helpful,” she said snidely.

“I’m not going to hold your hand for it. The internet is a wonderful tool, utilize it,” he ordered. “Was there anything else?”

She sighed. “Not right now, no…”

“Then have fun,” he said with a dismissive wave. Sloane resisted sticking her tongue out at him and left the office.

Nick looked up, as she stalked back over to her desk. “Everything okay?”

“Just remembering the good old days when I didn’t have to worry about bureaucratic nonsense…” she muttered. Nick glanced at Hank but he shrugged as well. Sloane took her phone off her desk and frowned. “I’m also wondering about Rosalee…she said she wanted to talk, said she had some exciting news, but I told her it was a busy day here. She said she’d text me later but still hasn’t and it’s getting late.”

“Monroe did the same thing,” Nick said. “I hope everything is alright…”

“I’m sure you’d know if it wasn’t,” Hank said. “They probably just got side-tracked with something.”

“Or each other,” Nick said knowingly.

“Yeah,” Sloane sighed. “But it is actually getting late and I need to pick up some groceries on the way home. Should we call it a day?”

“Sounds good,” Hank agreed. “Fresh start in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Nick sighed, standing as well.

As they headed for the garage, Nick put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, uh…I got something for you.” He led her over to his car and pulled something out of the back seat. “I managed to keep forensics from finding this that night with Petrevski.” He handed her a long object wrapped in a scarf. Unwinding it, Sloane smiled when she saw the familiar hilt.

“My knife!” she said, smiling happily. “I thought it’d been blow up…”

He smiled back. “Yeah, I found it in a tree. It’s pretty durable, though it was a bit scuffed up and, well…charred. I found someone local and had it cleaned and restored.”

“You did?” Sloane unwrapped it the rest of the way, noting that the blade look polished and sharpened and the leather grip was actually much better looking, likely remade completely. She hadn’t had that done in years. “Wow…it’s almost a new knife now…”

Nick frowned at the sort of unsure tone she had. “Is that okay?”

“No…I mean yes, it’s great, just…” She sighed. “I missed this knife. It’s been like another part of me for years. It belonged to my grandmother. The only thing my…my mother actually passed down to me, used by both of them. But I got to thinking how many wesen…people I killed with it…And how many more before that.” She fingered the ornate G engraved at the base of the blade near the hilt. “Stuff I never let myself think about before but keeps coming up.”

Nick watched her and then gently set a hand on hers at the hilt. “Hey. A knife is a tool. You decide what to do with it. If you want to make different choices, now is a good time. The knife’s been reborn, you can be too.”

Sloane looked up and then smiled wryly. “Reborn? Really?”

He huffed a laugh. “Too melodramatic?” She raised a hand and teetered it side to side with a playful purse of her lips. He pinched the back of her hand and she fake gasped and took it away as if affronted. “You get my meaning.”

She smiled. “Yeah, I do…thanks. And thanks for this. What do I owe you?”

“It’s a gift.”

“You know I don’t like owing-” she started.

“It’s a gift,” he said more firmly. “For saving my but so many times. And because You’re my friend.”

She paused but smiled. “Thanks…”

“See you tomorrow?”

“See you then.” She wrapped the knife back up, having not warn the hilt harness since her shoulder was hurt, and set it in the seat of her car. She stopped for her small list of things to get at the store, then went home to cook a simple dinner of fish, salad and pasta. After that she worked out a bit; her usual routines of push-ups, sits ups, and doing pullups using a bar in her bedroom doorway.

She was just finishing up when she got a call from Nick. Picking it up, she took a swig of water before answering. “Nick?”

“Hey, Sloane…”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, picking up on the hesitant tone of his voice.

“Well…Has my mom tried to contact you?”

Sloane paused in taking another drink and frowned. “No, I haven’t heard from Kelly in a few weeks.”

“Weeks?”

She smiled a bit. “She calls to ask me about you primarily and how you’re doing about once a month.”

Nick chuckled. “I see…Well, uh…Juliette emailed her today.”

“Oh? And something troubles you about that?”

“No no, I said it was okay. She sent an email back. If I’m reading it right, she had to put her current mission on hold and she went to meet with L, who I think is-”

“The Lauffer?” Sloane asked with a frown. “The anti-royal resistance group?”

“Yeah. Do you know them?”

“Vaguely,” She admitted. “I helped on the fringe with some of their work, but never joined in any official capacity. So she knows more about it than me. I do know their work is usually to disrupt the royals as much as possible—deals, land work, exposing underhanded moves, etc. Theft and assassinations were occasional, but not enough for me to be an asset.”

“…What about my mom?” he asked.

Sloane sighed, knowing what he was worried about. “You’re mom…is stealthy. Getting in and out of a place without being noticed is a big strength of hers. I advise you to take that as you will and don’t press.”

Nick took a breath but seemed to agree. “So, they probably have an important job for her?”

“That’s my guess. I wouldn’t worry, Kelly can handle herself.”

“I know…Just wanted to hear it from you I guess. Also she said it’s safer for me to contact her through Juliette…”

“Likely true, they’d put together she’s not a Grimm fairly fast and likely keep back, thinking she’s not involved.”

“Likely?” Nick asked dubiously.

“They would definitely not if they thought you were a newly minted Grimm,” Slaone said idly. “You might be worried for Juliette, but if they found out about you or me, enemies would definitely try to engage. You got the reapers to back off for now, but there are plenty of other groups that don’t like Grimms. Especially if they found out your Kelly Kessler’s son.”

“Kessler?” Nick asked in confusion.

“Your mother still goes by her maiden name in many circles. Now that I think about it, it’s probably to protect you…” she said in realization.

“Oh…” He murmured. That probably brought up some conflicting feelings to say the least.

Sloane took another sip of water and wiped her mouth. “Don’t worry, Nick. I swear, Kelly knows what she’s doing.”

“I know, I know…I just don’t want to lose her again…” he sighed, sounding weary.

Sloane thought about what if her grandmother suddenly appeared after thinking she was dead. “…I get that…” she said honestly. “By the way, how’s the uh… ‘condition’?” she said, changing the subject.

“It’s…hard to predict,” he sighed. “I haven’t changed in a while but…I don’t think it’s over. Every now and then I just have this feeling, like the world is slowing down. Everything gets super bright or sharp or loud…and…”

“And what?” Sloane asked hesitantly.

“…And I feel like I want to fight. Something. Anything.” He sounded pinched and anxious. “I was ready to kill Petrevski, even when it meant probably blowing Hank and me to hell. Just…anger and fear seem to trigger it. Not a great thing when I have to deal with criminals _and_ possible homicidal wesen.”

Sloane frowned and sighed. “I’ll check in with Gallin later.”

“Okay…I guess it’s too much to hope it’ll just go away, huh?” he said morosely.

“I promise, we’ll figure it out,” Sloane said, firm.

She thought she could picture him smiling. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight, Sloane.”

“Goodnight, Nick.” Hanging up, Sloane sighed looked to see she had no new messages. It wasn’t like Rosalee to leave her hanging. Opening it up, she typed out real quick.

**_Sloane:_ ** _Hey, everything alright?_

She set the phone down on her bedside table and went to rinse off and get ready for bed. Returning, she had a new message.

**_Rosalee:_ ** _I’m so sorry! I was going to text back, but something came up. I’m going to be busy tomorrow too._

**_Sloane:_ ** _It’s alright. Anything I can help with?_

**_Rosalee:_ ** _I wish, but it’s sort of a thing with Monroe and I. His parents are coming over._

Sloane’s eyebrows went up. That must be part of the exciting news, but it sounds like it was a surprise for Rosalee. Also stressful. Given how worried she was about Monroe meeting her mother and sister, this must be a worry for her on a different side.

**_Sloane:_ ** _Good thing?_

**_Rosalee:_ ** _Yes, very good. I hope. Just nervous. Happening little fast .Gotta plan a dinner and cook. They aren’t vegan so we’re thinking bratwurst. And it’s probably best you don’t meet them, if I’m honest._

**_Sloane:_ ** _I’m not insulted, from what he’s said before I figured Monroe’s parents might be a little traditional and wouldn’t really like a Grimm. Wasn’t sure it would ever come up._

**_Rosalee:_ ** _A lot traditional possibly. I’m worried what they’ll say about a fuchsbau._

**_Sloane:_ ** _If you want me to call and make up an excuse to get you out of there, let me know. But you should do fine. If you can charm a Grimm like me, you can probably handle a couple more Blutbader._

**_Rosalee:_ ** _:D Thanks. Once this is done, then I definitely want to talk. We’ll have a girls night._

**_Sloane:_ ** _Never done that before. Sounds fun. Goodnight and good luck then._

**_Rosalee:_ ** _Goodnight._

Sloane sighed and plugged her phone in to charge, feeling better. Lying in bed, she let her mind drift over things from the last few days before a stab of infuriation went through her. “Shit, I forgot my tax forms!”

\---------------------

In the early morning they were called to another crime scene with a scalped victim and Sloane grimaced. More so when they determined he was a Green Beret, not someone to be taken down easily. Back at the station, they ran down what they knew.

“We have no prints from any of the crime scenes,” Nick said.

“No blood except for the victims,” Hank added.

“No witnesses,” Renard chimed in.

“The only thing we know for sure is the make and the year of the car,” Sloane sighed.

“And the pattern of victims,” Renard reminded them.

Hanks computer beeped and he quickly brought up a new page. “Huh, here's an update from the Oregon highway patrol. Federales in Mexico reported two similar killings in the last ten days. The victims were scalped. One was an army officer in Mazatlan. The other was identified as a police officer in San Luis Potosi-”

Wu suddenly ran up on them, urgent look on his face. “Patrol officer spotted a car matching the description... 2011 Dodge Challenger parked on Stark in the southwest.”

Renard and the detectives were already scrambling. “Make sure the officer knows not to get near that vehicle and to stay back. I want more unis out there covering a four-block radius. Anyone gets in that car, take him down.” Renard was right behind them heading to the car. “I’m driving.”

“You sure?” Sloane asked. “I mean, we probably have it handled.”

“This guy is targeting men in uniform, which is bad enough, but it’s a matter of time before he targets a cop, maybe one of mine. I want to help take him down,” he said seriously.

Sloane raised her hands quickly. She hadn’t really seen this side of Renard before and she had to give him credit for being intimidating. “Okay, okay. Nick has the keys.”

Nick handed them over without much resistance. “Shotgun?”

Renard just smiled. They all climbed in, Nick in the front and Sloane and Hank in the back while their captain took the wheel. Driving towards the southwest side of the city, they pulled up to an officer waiting for them up the street. Renard rolled down the window. “Where is it?”

“Halfway down the block, right-hand side. Nobody's been back to the car since we got here,” the officer said. Just then someone was forcefully shoved out of the door of the nearby motel. By forcefully, he was thrown down to the sidewalk, just a foot from the street.

“What the hell?” Hank asked.

“Could be our guy,” Renard said.

“That string bean?” Sloane muttered doubtfully.

“I'll check it out,” Nick said.

Renard nodded. “Just be careful. If it's not our guy, we don't want to scare him away.”

Hank climbed out as well. “I'll take the other side.”

“I’ll go up the side towards that motel,” Sloane said, climbing out. She started around the back of the motel, where she could see the back door was ajar. She pulled her knife to be ready as she was about to turn the corner. Just as she did, a tan truck came screeching out of the back parking lot. She only barely managed to dodge by ducking back down the side alley time before it moved out onto the road. Having a bad feeling, Sloane moved back to the front. Nick and Hank were with the man that had been ejected from the motel, Renard right by them. “He says the guy in 312 hit him,” Nick said as she was walking up.

“That could be our guy. Get the M.T. Call the paramedics. Get an APB out and find out what kind of truck this guy's driving,” he told the officer in the nearby car.

“Late 90s aqua blue and tan Chevy ,” Sloane said.

“How do you know that?” Hank asked.

“Because he nearly ran me over in the alleyway back there. That’s all I was able to get though.”

“Are you alright?” Nick asked.

“Fine, I managed to move in time, but barely because he got out of there fast.”

They nodded, relieved she was okay, then looked up at the building. “We'd better check 312.”

Going in, they checked to make sure there was no one in the room before calling clear. There was a definite odor in the air though, and moving to the bathroom Renard found the source. Bits of hair and blood were at the bottom of the bathtub, still damp. It was like seaweed in puddles of red. And the foul odor was rising from there.

“Ugh, man, that's bad. It smells like rotten eggs in here,” Hank said.

“Sulfuric acid. That and salt is what they use to tan hides,” Renard supplied, surprisingly unaffected.

“You mean scalps,” Nick corrected.

Renard didn’t pause. “The Forensics needs to go over this room and his car, now.”

\-----------------------

“You want to hear about the car?” Hank asked as Sloane and Nick returned from the printer.

“We do,” Nick said, smiling a little at progress.

“2011 Challenger is registered to Captain Emilio Cervantes, who was reported missing two weeks ago in Calexico, five miles from our first scalping victim, the border patrol guard.”

“So we still have no I.D. on our killer?” Sloane sighed.

“No. In fact, Mr. Cervantes, the owner of the Challenger, may be another victim who hasn't been found. What do you got?” Hank asked.

Nick held up his papers. “Lab reports on the hair follicles found in the hotel room and in the Challenger. We got samples that match our two victims plus... get this... 27 other unrelated samples.”

“27 others?” Hank and Sloane gaped.

“We thinking Wesen yet?” Hank asked, looking at the Grimms.

“I'm ready to go there. Sloane?”

“Yeah, sounds likely,” she agreed. “This guy has some purpose in mind and he’s going way too fast for a human.”

“What do you have?” Nick asked.

Sloane grimaced and held up the papers. “My taxes…”

Nick smiled, trying not to laugh. “You went walking through the sewers a few months ago with less complaining than this…”

“Because they don’t make sense! I’d rather fight the gelumcaedus again than do this…” she added quietly.

He did laugh a little now. “I can help you with them later if you want.”

Sloane smiled, a genuine smile of gratitude that Nick rarely saw when she first arrived but he realized was getting more common. “Thanks.”

“First things first, let’s figure out what’s murdering people,” Hank said.

“That I’m good at,” Sloane smiled more confidently.

They headed out and to the trailer at the trailer park in their own cars, settling down to read through the books. Hank was the first to find something. He was scanning down the translations that were inserted for this section into various languages.

“Well, looks like the original was in Latin, translated into German next, followed by Italian, Spanish, and Arabic.” He paused and just shook his head. “I have no idea what this is.”

“I think that's Polish or Czech,” Nick said, standing next to him. “Maybe Norwegian?”

“The last one I believe,” Sloane said from the other side. “But I’m rusty on reading anything like that. I’m more conversational than well-read…”

“All I know is, it's not English,” Nick said. “Isn't there anything?”

Hank turned the page and they all sighed in relief. “English next, thank God. They're into the names of these guys. Wildesheer, wuotis heer...”

“ _VIL-dəs-hair_ ,” Sloane pronounced slowly. “It means “Wild Army”.”

“Sounds accurate. Listen to this,” Nick said, pulling the book a little over. “‘The Wildesheer,” he glanced at Sloane who nodded in acceptance of his pronunciation. “Go into a rage on the battlefield, with no fear of death,"”

“Again, no fear of death?” Sloane sighed.

“ ‘Mad as hounds, faces smeared with blood of victims,’” Nick went on. “ ‘Fighting in a trance-like fury, scalping their defeated enemies.’” Hank and Sloane shared a glance. “ ‘They sew these trophies of war into cloaks of hair," "supposedly giving them the power of the warriors they've defeated.’” Sloane looked at the picture of a beast of a man wearing a cloak of hair with a grimace.

“Warriors...They're looking for warriors,” Hank said, putting the pieces together. “That's why their victims always wear uniforms.”

“Police, army, green beret—uniforms of todays warriors I suppose,” Sloane agreed.

“And sewing cloaks of hair... That's what this guy's doing?” Nick asked, a little disbelieving.

Hank turned the book back over, quickly reading on. “ ‘These Wesen achieved such fearsome reputations, they also became known as... Berserkers.’”

Nick blinked and then sighed. “Guess that's where we got "berserk."”

“Part of it,” Sloane said, thinking. “I’d heard that word came for the Norwegian “ber-serker”, basically meaning “bear-shirt”, and was used as a title for great warriors. I think I can see how they might use it here, what with the wesen features and the whole hair cloak thing.”

“Well, this isn't comforting at all,” Hank said.” Let me say, I'm glad we're not wearing uniforms. But if they’re looking for warriors, you'd two would kind of be at the top of the list.”

Nick nodded, knowing that was probably true. When he glanced at Sloane, his face fell flat at her eager, bright eyes. “You want to fight them, don’t you?”

“…Little bit,” she acknowledged, holding up her fingers just slightly apart. “Mostly to stop them.”

“Mostly?” He was torn between laughter and disapproval, but Hank was mostly laughing.

“Hey, I never said I’d give up all my old habits. I still like a challenge,” she pouted, crossing her arms.

Hank shook his head. “Well, let’s try to figure out a way to actually beat them first. I’m not sure head on is the best option if you want to keep the top of your head.”

Sloane picked up the book and sighed as she flipped through it. “Not much more here. Looks like this was mainly a reference for what they look like and their actions, not a how to hunt.”

“Monroe and Rosalee might know something?”

Sloane nodded. “Maybe. Doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“You guys need me on that? Because I’ll be honest, I skipped lunch and I’m running on empty,” Hank said with a sigh. “I also have some auto searches running back at the station I’d like to check.”

Sloane shook her head. “Go ahead. And get some rest too.”

“Yeah, we can go talk to Monroe and Rosalee,” Nick said.

“Better to have your wits about you too,” Sloane added.

“Yeah. I should start carrying protein bars like you,” he said with a wry smile.

“Hey, I’m rarely hungry,” she said, spreading her arms proudly.

They went back to their own cars, Sloane just ahead of Nick’s car as they headed towards Monroe and Rosalee’s. The sun was setting, and soon enough it was dark. She was just getting out of her car when the front door opened and then slammed loudly, making her jump. Roslaee was coming down the steps, obviously agitated.

“Rosalee?” Sloane asked.

Rosalee froze. “Slaone?”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, moving towards her.

“I just…I can’t be here,” she sobbed out. “We had a fight…I…” She was trying very hard not to break down crying, Sloane could tell, and she felt a wave of protectiveness go through here. But she didn’t see any marks on her so she resisted marching in and kicking ass, knowing that wouldn’t help.

“Okay…C’mon, I’ll drive you somewhere,” she said. Gently she put a hand on arm and led her to Sloane’s car. Rosalee didn’t say anything but went with her without argument, climbing into the passenger seat.

As Sloane was about to get in, Nick was pulling up. He got out and looked at them. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure. Rosalee is upset, said something about a fight, but she seems fine physically…Go talk to Monroe, I’m going to take her somewhere else.” Nick nodded, looking at Rosalee worriedly as Sloane climbed in and drove off.

The drive was quiet, Rosalee breathing and trying hard to get herself under control. Sloane drove to her house, helping the other woman up to the door. She had her sit on the couch looked at her worried. “…You want something to drink?”

“No…thank you,” Rosalee said quietly.

“…I’m gonna make tea for me. Let me know if you change your mind.” Sloane stood and went to the kitchen, putting on her kettle. From the kitchen she watched as Rosalee started sobbing and then put her face in her hands and leaned down to cry. She quickly came back around but paused. Comforting people was still not her strong suite, but she wanted badly to know do it now. Sitting on the coffee table across from Rosalee, Sloane considered hugging her, putting hands on her head and patting her, telling her to get under control—none of that seemed right. Finally Sloane said quietly. “I…don’t like it when you cry. But I don’t know what to say. If someone needs to be beaten up, or killed, or something I’m good at it, but this…I just want to help, but I can’t if I don’t know what you want me to do. Whatever I can do for you, I will.”

Rosalee sobbed and sniffled a moment more before sitting up, looking at her with puffy eyes. “I…Monroe asked me to marry him.”

Sloane sat straighter in surprise. “Oh! Um…Mozeltov?” she said, uncertain. “Wait, is that what’s wrong? I thought…I mean…”

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I was happy…so happy about it. I couldn’t believe it. I’d sort of resigned myself to not being married—My sister didn’t have luck there with two divorces and neither did Freddie who was a bachelor till the end, and I just figured it was never going to happen after my checkered past. Basically curse of our family. So this…this made me so happy.” She took her hand up and rubbed over the ring. Sloane noted it looked nice, even if she didn’t know much about engagement rings. Elegant.

“Well…that’s good then, right?” she said, smiling. But Rosalee still looked miserable so the smile faded. “What happened?”

Rosalee was quiet then sighed. “It’s Monroe’s parents.”

“His…Oh, right! You mentioned they were coming over. It slipped my mind…” Sloane said, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. A lot had happened since their texts last night.

“Yeah, well, a lot of things slipped Monroe’s mind,” she said with a touch of bitterness. “H-he told them about the engagement and they rushed over. But they didn’t know I wasn’t a blutbad. And they figured out I was a fuchsbau quick. Blutbad nose. And th…they freaked out. So bad,” she sobbed again. Sloane blinked in surprise. She hadn’t considered wesen might have a thing against different wesen marrying. Then again, she’d learned just how human they were recently. “M-Monroe tried to defend me, defend us, but his parents just went on about it being against nature, and a mistake, and…” She looked down. “It hurt Monroe too, I know, but I was angry at him too. So angry I couldn’t stay. He didn’t tell them what I was, he didn’t even tell them we were living together! He must’ve known, somewhere inside, that this would happen but he didn’t prepare them or me!”

“…yeah, I can agree that’s pretty bad,” Sloane said. “Sounds like he was scared though. I mean, Monroe is pragmatic, he doesn’t just avoid stuff.”

Rosalee sighed and nodded. “I know…So I feel bad I’m angry when he must be hurt too, and then I’m angry that I should feel bad, and then I feel guilty I’m tearing his family apart, then angry at them…I’m just all mixed up,” she sighed.

“…My grandmother went through something similar,” Sloane said, thinking.

Rosalee looked up. “She did? About being a Grimm?”

“Ah, no…My grandfather’s parents weren’t keen on him marrying a Jewish woman,” she said, grimacing a little at the thought.

“Oh…” Rosalee said, a little surprised.

“Yeah…the times, you know? Or just awful people. I read all about in in her journals. It hurt her, but Oma offered to convert—they were Catholic—because she loved my grandfather, even though her faith was important to her. This just made him even angrier at his parents. He blew up at them. He’d spent the last three years of his life fighting against Nazis, seeing what they put Jews and so many other people through. He loved Oma and knew she was a great woman. But his parents thought she was inferior—heck, that she was a monster. Really, from what she says, they probably would’ve sided with Hitler if they’d been born in Germany. He didn’t want them to accept her only if she denied her heritage and told them to stuff it. So, little different but…” Sloane felt like she was rambling an a different track and wondered if she should’ve said anything. It felt like she was making this about her or her grandmother, not Rosalee, and she wanted to kick herself.

“…What did they do?” Rosalee asked, honestly curious.

Sloane breathed a sigh, relieved that Rosalee wasn’t upset about the slight change in topic. “He gave them an ultimatum. Apparently this was just the last in a line of things that Grandpa couldn’t stand about them—they were not great people. But this was the last straw. So he said he’d only see them again if they apologized to Oma and held their tongues about their anti-Semitism, at the very least. And then they ran off to California and got married.”

The kettle whistled then and Sloane and Rosalee both jumped. Rosalee looked at her and they chuckled a little as Sloane went to take it off the stove and pour it over teabags in two mugs. She walked over with them, setting the other down on the table while she sat with her. “I brought you tea anyway.”

Rosalee smiled a watery smile and leaned against her shoulder. “Thanks…” Sloane nodded, blowing on her tea and taking a sip. Rosalee had calmed slightly but was still occasionally leaking tears and sniffling. “…Did they ever apologize?” she asked quietly after a few minutes.

Sloane put her cup down. “…I haven’t read they did, no. And I’m up to several years after they got married.”

Rosalee sighed. “I don’t want to put a rift between Monroe and his parents…”

“That’s something you’ll have to talk with him about,” Sloane said. Hesitantly she put an arm around her. “You’re both my friends, but I’m gonna support _you_ in whatever you do…Little bit of favoritism maybe, but well…”

Rosalee smiled more, leaning against her still. “Thank you, Sloane…”

“Of course…” Sloane froze when a thought came to her. “Wait…are Monroe’s parents at Monroe’s?”

Rosalee looked up. “I left them there, yeah…why?”

“Shit shit shit!” Sloane quickly stood and grabbed her phone. “Nick was going in there!”

“Oh no,” Rosalee gasped. “A Grimm is going to be gas on that fire!”

Sloane nodded, quickly dialing Nick’s number.

“Sloane?” Nick asked when she picked up. “Hey, what happened?”

“Are you okay?” she asked quickly.

“Yeah, I’m fine...” he sighed.

“Good,” she breathed. “Rosalee told me Monroe’s parents were there and I’d left you alone…”

“Yeah, but I get it, I was worried too. How’s Rosalee?”

“Uh…drained, I think is a good word,” she said, glancing at Rosalee. She nodded softly. “Monroe?”

“Not…great. Monroe’s parents almost attacked me. Monroe managed to stop them, but I nearly…I felt that change coming on,” he sighed. “I was this close to slapping his dad into the wall when he came at me. I might’ve put him through it.”

Sloane frowned. “Self-defense, Nick. It’s just protective instincts.”

“I know, but even so I don’t want to possibly kill Monroe’s father over a misunderstanding. And I don’t like losing control like this, slipping into that state. It doesn’t seem to be getting better, I just know the signs to try and back off and keep from going under, so to speak. Even not hitting him, things got…awkward real fast. They weren’t expecting a Grimm to be his friend...They don’t even know about you.”

“Sorry, I really didn’t mean to leave you without backup…”

“No, I had Back up,” he said. “Monroe defended me. He was pretty upset though so I ended up leaving. I think he needs some time. He and his parents really went at it…”

“Yeah…I got that impression too.”

“I didn’t help. He blew up a little when I said I came for help with a wesen case, saying that’s all I came to him for.”

“Hey, that’s not true. And he knows it,” she said, putting a hand on her hip out of reflex.

“Yeah, but I think we should let him and Rosalee off the hook for wesen stuff for a while,” Nick said. “We rely on them a lot. Maybe too much.”

Sloane arched her eyebrow. “I seem to remember saying something similar when I first came down and you worked really damn hard to convince me otherwise,” she said blandly. “And you argued they were a better resource than the library.” Rosalee gave her a curious look and she gave her a look that said “Just a sec” in return.

“Yeah, no...I just…don’t want to be a burden. Juliette said we probably aren’t, that if it was a problem Monroe would’ve said so before but…”

Sloane softened and sighed. Monroe was as much his friend as Rosalee was hers, and she knew she’d be pretty upset if they’d had an argument like that. “It’s been a stressful night all around. Why don’t we rest, start fresh in the morning?”

“Yeah…yeah, that sounds good,” Nick sighed. “Is Rosalee still with you?”

“Yeah. Hold on.” She took the phone away. “You’re staying the night.”

Rosalee couldn’t help but smile. “Do I get a choice?”

“...Stay the night please?” she tried again.

Rosalee did laugh this time. “Okay, yes. Thank you.”

Sloane nodded and put the phone back up to her ear. “She’s staying the night.”

“That’s probably good,” Nick said, sounding amused. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later,” Sloane agreed. She hanged up and sighed. “Nick’s okay. Monroe’s parents did try to attack him, but Monroe defended him. So, uh, now you’re not the most “unnatural” relationship he has?” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

Rosalee chuckled. “But he’s okay?”

“Yeah. Monroe got a little upset, but Nick gave him some room to cool off.”

“Probably good…What were you guys doing coming over anyway?”

Sloane hesitated then shrugged. “Just checking in…” Rosalee gave her a dubious look and she sighed. “Wesen case. But that can wait. For now, you take the bed, I’ll sleep in the office since I don't have the second bedroom set up. Still.” _Really need to do that..._

“Oh no, Sloane, this is your place now-” she started.

“Yes. And as this is my place, I say you take the bedroom. The office has too much Grimm stuff in there, might be…uncomfortable,” she said, pulling Rosalee to her feet. Rosalee was surprised she’d thought about that. “You can borrow one of my sleep shirts if you like. They’re extra large men’s shirts I get at Goodwill, but they’re comfy.”

“…Thank you,” Rosalee said, wrapping her up in a hug. “This…would’ve been a lot harder without you.”

Sloane blushed a bit on reflex, still not used to such gentle words or touches like that, and slowly hugged her back. “Any time.”

\-------------------------------------

It was early in the morning—as in no sun in the sky—when Sloane was awakened by someone knocking at her door. Frowning, she stood from they day bed in the office and walked out to the front door. She had an umbrella stand next to the door and from it she pulled a bat, looking through the peep hole. “…Monroe?”

“Hey, Sloane…is Rosalee here?” he asked hopefully.

“...Yes…” she answered hesitantly.

He took a deep breath and leaned against the door. “Oh thank God…I tried the spice shop first and nearly panicked when she wasn’t there. Actually I did panic, then I lost track of time before I finally realized she might be here.” He looked up at the peep hole again. “Can I…come in?”

“I don’t know…she was pretty upset earlier, Monroe, and I’m not sure if she’s ready?” Sloane said. She wasn’t trying to sound upset at him, more just worried about Rosalee.

“C…can you ask?” he said. “Please, I really need to talk to her.”

She hesitated before sighing. Monroe sounded way too broken up for her to ignore. “Wait there.” Turning, she padded back to her bedroom and over to the bed. “Rosalee?”

She wasn’t really asleep and opened her eyes. “…Is that Monroe?” she guessed.

“Yeah. A very sad wolf is at the door. Want me to let him in?”

She took a deep breath before nodding. “I’ll be out in a second.”

Nodding, she went back and unlocked the door, opening it up. “…Aren’t you usually supposed to bring flowers when you’re trying to make up?” she asked idly.

“Yeah…no florists are open though,” he said, walking in. “Plus I went straight to the shop, then straight here after being in a daze for a bit…actually, a couple of hours. I fell asleep with my eyes open I think…” He looked at her, then to the bat. “How much did she tell you?”

“Enough to know you didn’t mean to hurt her.” She leaned in, tapping his chest with the bat gently. “Lucky you. Friend or no, that would not have been good for you.”

“Ha, yeah…I’d have let you take my head if I did hurt her on purpose,” he said, and Sloane detected no lie there.

“Damn, stop making threatening you such a guilt trip…” she sighed. He smiled and then looked up anxiously when Rosalee came out, redressed in her clothes from earlier. “Hey…”

“Hey.”

Taking a breath, he tried to find his words, walking towards her. “Rosalee…I am so sorry. If I had known, I never would have told them anything,” he said, looking remorseful.

Rosalee’s face pinched and she sighed. “We need to talk.” She glanced at Sloane.

“…Oh, uh…I’m gonna just go…somewhere else,” she said, heading for her office.

Rosalee smiled as she closed the door and turned back to Monroe. She gestured for him to come and sit with her on the couch. He did, and hesitantly reached for one of her hands. She didn’t flinch away or stop him, and he was relieved and held on. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said honestly, with remorse in her voice as well. “But…”

“I am not gonna let my parents destroy the best thing that's ever happened to me,” Monroe said firmly, squeezing her hand.

“It's not that easy. This will ruin your relationship with your parents, and I'm not quite sure I want to be the cause of that,” Rosalee said.

He shook his head, “You're not. They're the cause of it.”

She frowned, trying to get him to see past the stubbornness. “Monroe, I lost my dad. I didn't speak to my mom or sister for seven years. This is not an easy thing to do. You will regret it. And then you're gonna regret me.”

“Never,” he said firmly. “I don't believe what they believe, okay? And if that destroys my relationship with them, so be it.”

Sloane, who was listening in despite herself, looked at a picture of her Grandmother and wondered if this was similar to the talk she’d had with her grandfather decades ago. From the descriptions in her journals, it certainly sounded like it. And she hoped, for their happiness, it went better with Monroe’s parents than with his. And that it had a happier ending…

“And besides... It's not just you,” Monroe sighed.

“What?”

“Nick came over...”

“Ah…Sloane mentioned that. Did they woge?” She asked with a wince.

“Both of 'em. Just before they attacked Nick.”

Rosalee winced again and sighed. “So now they know you're friends with a Grimm and you want to marry a Fuchsbau.” They looked at each other and couldn’t help but laugh. It was such an odd situation to be in, and yet it was their life.

“Yeah…I guess you could say I'm a disappointment.”

Rosalee shook her head and took his hand, leaning against him. “Not to me…”

Sloane smiled, but felt a twinge of something she wasn’t sure about in her chest. It was tight, but not the same as fear or anxiety.

“Sloane?” Rosalee called.

Rousing herself from trying to examine that feeling, she opened the door and poked her head out. “Everything okay?”

“No,” Monroe said honestly. “But…Between Rosalee and I, think it will be.” Rosalee smiled and squeezed his hand. “What time is it?”

Sloane looked at the clock on her cable box. “Uh…6:30-ish.”

He nodded and stood. “I’m going to call my parents. I gotta deal with this.”

“What, now? This early?” Rosalee said.

“No one talks to you like that,” Monroe said seriously, pulling out his phone.

Rosalee was touched, and Sloane had to admit it was impressive. “Who are you calling?”

“My mom,” he said. “I’m gonna find them, say my good-byes, and then we’re going to get on with our lives.” He put the phone to his ear, waiting. Tuning in her hearing, Sloane could hear when the line was picked up.

“Monroe?” a very feminine, house-wife like voice answered. She had to admit, she hadn’t expected his mother to sound like that. She sounded worried too.

Monroe took a deep breath. “I think we should meet up and talk. Where are you?”

“The Stanbridge Hotel.”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.” He hanged up again quickly and turned to look at them. “They went to stay at the Stanbridge Hotel. I’m going to go meet up with them.”

“You’re sure about this?” Rosalee asked again.

“It’s going to be hard, I won’t lie to you,” he said, going over to sit with her again. “But you are worth it.”

Rosalee blinked rapidly as she teared up and hugged him tightly. “Love you…”

“Love you too,” he said, kissing her temple. Pulling away, he stood and she followed as they headed to the door. A few more kisses and he left. Rosalee leaned against the door, breathing deeply.

“…How are you doing?” Sloane asked.

Rosalee turned and smiled. “Better,” she said. Walking over, she hugged Sloane again. “Thank you for everything…”

Sloane smiled and hugged her back. “You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“I feel like I do.” Pulling back she smiled tiredly. “Can I at least make you an early breakfast as thanks?”

“Well, I won’t say no to someone else cooking,” Sloane grinned. “But no offense, you still look tired as hell. Want to try and sleep a little more?”

Rosalee smiled more. “I’m not sure I could sleep right away…Doing something will make me feel better. Unless you’re tired,” she added quickly.

“I’m fine,” she said, smiling. Roslaee smiled back and headed for the kitchen, Sloane going to sit at the table.

“You’ve gotten a lot better at stocking your fridge,” Rosalee said, pulling out some eggs.

“I’m trying. Having a place to cook took some getting used to. I burned eggs my first couple of times, I didn’t even know you could do that...” she said, sounding annoyed at the failure still.

Rosalee laughed and set to work to create some eggs and pancakes. Sloane smiled when the plate was set down and started eating. As she did though, her phone rang. She grabbed it from the guest room quickly as she chewed and swallowed another bite. “Larson.”

“Hey Sloane,” Hank said. “We got another dead officer…”

“Shit…Okay, where,” she said.

“I’ll text you the location. Nick and I will meet you there.”

“Right, see you there.” She hanged up and went back out to Rosalee. “I told you about someone killing a state trooper, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah…”

“Well, that wasn’t his first and it’s not his last. He’s targeting people in uniform and they found another one,” Sloane sighed, going over to quickly eat the few bites that were left.

“Oh my god,” she said. “Do you know why?”

“We think it’s wesen…” she said hesitantly around her food.

“Can I help then?”

Sloane paused and remembered what Nick said about them relying on Monroe and Rosalee too much. She shook her head. “Probably, but let’s talk later. You’ve had to deal with a lot already.”

Rosalee frowned but nodded. “Alright…”

“I gotta get ready to go. You still got your key?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll lock up when I leave. Be careful.”

Sloane nodded, running to get dressed and head out.

\----------------------

Monroe took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He knocked on his parents hotel room door and waited. He could hear them talking on the other side, his father still sounding angry and growly. He’d never worried about his parents hurting him, not really, but his father could get agitated and hang on to a grudge for a long time.

The door opened and he stepped inside. His mother looked worried—and he hated that she did—and his father looked predictably ready to lecture him again. “Morning…” he sighed. “Look…Maybe last night is my fault. I should have told you about Rosalee.”

“Yes, you should have,” his father snapped.

Monroe breathed again, remembering his mediations as he tried to keep calm. “I didn't know you were gonna come out right away, okay? I thought I had a little more time.”

“How long have you been seeing her?” his mother asked, knowing the answer .

“…Right, okay, I put it off longer than I should have. I should have said something. But that shouldn't even matter!” he said more desperately, trying to get them to understand.

“It does matter! These mixed marriages never work,” his father said

“We are not living 100 years ago!”

“There are reasons we stick to these rules,” he said, sounding every bit like he did chastising him as a child for any indiscretion.

“Yeah. Ignorance and bigotry,” Monroe snapped back, gritting his teeth.

“Bart, let him talk,” his mother said, ever the voice of reason.

“I don't have to let him do anything,” Bart huffed defiantly. “And I can't believe you're still doing this vegetarian crap,” he continued, deciding to just let it all out. “Why don't you just wear a sign saying you're ashamed of who you are?”

Monroe glared. “I'm not ashamed of anything.”

“Oh, yeah,” he scoffed. “I saw that with you and your Grimm.”

“Are you serious? Nick is different,” Monroe defended.

“Oh, he's a vegetarian too?”

Monroe felt his patience snap “Would you lay off with the vegetarian thing?! God, you…you have never understood, never even tried…”

“We have,” his mom said earnestly.

“I haven’t,” Bart snorted. His wife shot him an aggravated look but he crossed his arms. “You were fine eating meat for years and just all of a sudden, you can’t stand it? Can’t stand hunting? Doing this hippie yoga crap. I didn’t raise you to be ashamed of what you are but you run from it every chance you get!”

“I do not! I just choose how I want to live my life and I don’t like what meat does to me!”

“And you’d rather forget you’re a Blutbad and marry a Fuchsbau? That-that I could maybe forgive one day, but being friends with a _Grimm_?! He’ll kill you one day!”

“He won’t! He’s my best friend!”

“ _Best_ friend?” he practically shouted. “Best executioner more likely! And you’ll be too damned weak to defend yourself because you only eat that vegetarian crap-”

“I ate a child!” he yelled. He panted, wanting to pull those words back, but choked back a sob. “Is that what you wanted to hear? That I ate a murdered child?”

The silence was deafening as his parents finally seemed to hear him. “You…what?” Bart asked. His mother had a hand over her mouth.

Monroe swallowed his shame and looked at them. “Not on purpose…It was when I went to Germany, when I was 18. I met a group of Blutbad there and they invited me to hang with them. They had what I thought was pork but…it wasn’t. I didn’t find out till the next morning. And ever since then, meat makes me sick.”

“Why…why didn’t you ever tell us?” his mother asked, looking hurt and concerned and worried.

“Because part of me _was_ ashamed,” he admitted. “Not of our family or being a Blutbad—I still do have a lot of pride in our history. But that…that was the first time I came face to face, first hand, with the awful things Blutbader have done. That all that wasn’t in the dark ages, like you told me. This was a child, an innocent kid they just butchered for the hell of it less than 15 years ago. And I’ve seen and heard more of that over the years. I was ashamed that I was with them, even unintentionally, because can you really “civilize” that? Would I just give in and be okay with it? And…I was ashamed that I liked it. And I didn’t know how to tell you all or what you would say…”

“You should’ve told us,” his father said, looking conflicted. “We could’ve…I don’t know, gotten you therapy or something—”

“Therapy? Dad, that’s…Becoming vegan and getting in control of my instincts was my therapy,” he sighed. “And it shouldn’t matter _why_ I did it. It was my choice, and you’ve never supported or respected it! Just like with Rosalee.”

“I don’t see it as respectable, you’re denying who you are!”

“I’m _not,_ ” he said. “I’m choosing what parts of my heritage I’m going to respect and do and what parts I’m _not_.”

“Then you wouldn’t be doing something so stupid! You can get over this without denying it!”

Monroe stared him down, gritting his teeth. He could feel his eyes going red, and he could see his father’s eyes reddening as well. But he took a breath and willed it away. “…You know, maybe part of me was also scared to tell you because you’d say something like that. That this is what we are. That you’d approve of what they did, because you always talk about how proud we are as Blutbad.”

“Monroe!” his mother said aghast.

“How dare you,” his father growled. “We don’t hunt children! Or humans! We’re not animals!”

“Grandpa did. And that wasn’t that long ago. He killed innocent people,” Monroe shot back.

“He was old and confused,” Bart snapped. “And the Grimms killed him!”

“To stop him from hurting other people,” Monroe said. “I don’t like it, but I liked what he did less. And after what I’ve seen, I understand it even if I don’t want to. And Nick wasn’t the one that killed him.”

“But if it was now, would you kill your own family?” he asked seriously.

“…I’d do everything I could not to. But if it meant keeping them from becoming monsters you told me we shouldn’t be, yes. Or were those just words so you could seem civilized?”

Bart growled and Alice put her hand on his arm. “Monroe, this is…you can’t just drop all this on us and expect us to be okay with it.”

“…I know. And I’m sorry for that. And I understand the Grimm thing, I do. I’m not asking you forgive the Grimms or change. But can’t you understand, I love Rosalee? Can’t you give her, give us a chance?” Bart didn’t say anything, but still looked at him practically ready for a fight. His mother looked torn, glancing between them, unsure what to say or do. Monroe shook his head. “This is pointless, I knew it… Look, I just came to say that I'm sorry you don't care to understand who I am or listen to anything that I have to say. But I do love Rosalee, and I'm gonna marry her. And if that destroys the family, then so be it.”

“Oh, please don't say that,” his mother said, putting her hands on his shoulders pleadingly.

Monroe looked back sadly. “You're not giving me any choice.”

Bart just glared, looking torn but angry. “You just refuse to respect who we are! Hypocrite!”

Monroe didn’t even get angry and just shook his head again. “I'm sorry you feel that way. But I’m done living in the past. If you want to stay there, then…Good-bye.” He turned, heading out the door. He blinked a few times once he was outside it, trying to control his emotions, before heading back down to the street.

\----------------------

When Sloane got to the crime scene, Nick, Hank, Renard and Wu were there already. She jogged up to them, looking around what looked like a campsite just off the road. She nodded to Nick, who nodded back. “What do we got?”

“Not a good way to start the day,” Wu said, gesturing for them to follow.

“Where's the body?” Renard asked.

“Over there,” Wu said. “Some of it. Body's kind of all over the place. Victim is Thomas Mart, works for the forest service. Checking out an illegal campfire where a deer was poached. Reported it, was investigating, call went dead. They sent out a team to investigate and found the Chevy pickup we've been looking for, the one stolen from the hotel manager. Mart also reported seeing a jeep here. Kansas plates. We got an APB out on it.” They came to the sight and they all froze a moment in shock. There was a smoldering campfire, a dead deer, the aqua and tan truck, and several pieces of a human body thrown about like a ripped paper doll. “That would be Mart's right arm. Left leg is over there in two pieces. Looks like animals got to him after the attack. Anyway, I hope so. I'd hate to think this happened to him while he was alive.”

Nick was looking around and glanced at Sloane who nodded with a resigned sigh. They both had a feeling he had been alive, at least during part of it. “You said there were two cars reported,” Nick said.

“Yeah.”

“He couldn't have driven both cars here,” Renard said, following their train of thought immediately.

“That means there's more than one killer,” Hank nodded.

“Oh…great,” Wu muttered.

\-----------------

Juliette headed into the shop, the bell ringing above her head. “Hey.”

Rosalee looked up from mixing something at the counter and smiled. “Juliette.”

“How are you doing?” she asked delicately.

Rosalee smiled tiredly. “Oh, a pleasant mixture of sadness, anger, resentment, and bitterness.”

Juliette grimaced in sympathy. “Nick told me. I'm so sorry. That's why I came over. I didn't know if maybe you wanted a shoulder to pound on.”

“Oh, thanks. Really, I’m feeling a lot better now. Sloane got me out of there fast and took care of me. Then I was able to talk with Monroe and…we came to an understanding I suppose.” She set her mixture aside. “How's Nick doing? I heard he had his own meet and greet with Monroe's parents.”

“He feels really bad about that,” Juliette said with wince.

“Monroe was in no place to deal with anybody last night. What did Nick need? Maybe I can help.”

“Sloane didn’t tell you?”

Rosalee smiled. “She was not her usual blunt, forthcoming self. I think she was trying to pull back and be overly considerate. But I know she got a call about another murder this morning…”

Juliette nodded emphatically. “It is the most terrifying series of murders, and the worst part is, the killer has been scalping his victims. Anyway, Nick thinks it's wesen, but why am I telling you this right now?” Juliette said, mind catching up. “Sloane’s right, you don't need to hear about this.”

“Wait, the victims were scalped?” Rosalee asked, trying to get specific.

Juliette nodded as if to say _“can you believe”_. “Yeah…”

The door and closed again with the jingle of the bell and they looked up to see Monroe walking in. Monroe looked surprised but smiled. “Hey, Juliette.”

“Hey, Monroe.”

Rosalee tried to smile but it wasn’t as bright as usual. “How did it go?”

Monroe breathed deep and sighed, but tried to smile as well. “Let's just say it went.” He looked at Juliette apologetically. “I feel really bad about what happened to Nick last night. Some of the things I said...”

“It's okay, Monroe. He feels really awful too,” Juliette said.

Rosalee interjected quickly. “Did Nick tell you why he stopped by?”

Monroe shook his head. “No, no, my folks kind of got in the way of that. Did Sloane?”

“No, but Juliette told me. Somebody is murdering people and scalping them. Nick thinks it's wesen,” she said meaningfully. Monroe’s eyes widened and he paled slightly.

“That's not why I came by, just so we're all clear,” Juliette said quickly.

Monroe wasn’t listening. “Caccia Morta…” Rosalee was nodding, thinking the same thing. “But it can't be, could it? I mean, that's what it sounds like. If it is, that's really serious. I've got to talk to Nick.” He turned and quickly headed out the door.

“…How bad?” Juliette asked, turning to look at Rosalee. Rosalee just looked at her, worry digging into her now for her friends.

\------------------------------

The rest of Sloane’s afternoon was spent trying to track down information to figure out just how many killers they were dealing with and where they had been recently. Hank showed them the student film he’d shown Renard last night first thing.

“…Is that a…oh, that lizard thing from Star Trek,” she sighed, blanking on the name.

Nick and Hank both looked at one another and then at her. “I keep forgetting, you watched Star Trek,” Hank said with a smile.

Sloane frowned. “Why do you guys always make fun of that?”

“We’re not making fun,” Nick smiled. “You’re just not what people expect for a Trekkie.”

She frowned and then leveled a finger at him. “Watch them. They’re good. I even got to try the newer stuff on that streaming app thing you got me.”

The men looked at one another, and Nick smiled. “You nerd.”

“Oh shut up,” Sloane said, smacking his shoulder. “I take it the long haired guy with a grocery bag is our man?”

“We’re pretty sure,” Hank said. “Not the best picture, but gives us a basic description.”

“He’s not a small man,” Nick sighed.

“I think we can handle him,” Sloane said. “But, let’s see if we can pull up anything else with what we know now.”

They nodded and went back to searches and branches of inquiries. But not before Nick said teasingly. “Make it so, number one…”

Sloane shot him a look that promised retaliation if he kept it up, so he just smiled and turned back to his computer. Hank was the first one with some luck on that front. “Nick, Sloane, I got the registration of the Kansas plates.” They both migrated over to Hank’s desk quickly. “The jeep is registered to a Walter Murphy from Wichita.”

“Is he a cop?” Nick asked.

“Corporal, U.S. army.”

Sloane looked at the army photo of a young black man. “Is he alright?”

“Reported AWOL three weeks ago,” Hank sighed.

“Well, I don't think we're looking for Walter Murphy from Wichita,” Nick said, just as his phone started ringing.

“I don't either,” Hank agreed.

Nick picked up his ringing phone and a look of resolve came over him as he picked up. “Monroe,” he said. Sloane looked up and subconsciously trained her ear on the phone again.

“Nick, we need to talk,” Monroe said rather urgently.

“Hey, I'm sorry about last night,” Nick said, sounding honestly regretful.

“Yeah, I'm sorry too, dude. Really,” Monroe said, still talking urgently. “But we got bigger wesen to fry. Caccia Morta, you ever heard of them?”

“Caccia Morta,” Nick said, looking over at Hank and Sloane. They nodded back. “Yeah. I think we just read about them in the trailer. That's the same thing as Wildesheer, right?”

“Close enough.”

“That's why I was coming over last night.”

“Well, you better come over now, because this is way more complicated than your average wesen rampage. But just you and Sloane, okay? This is too dangerous for a Kerseite Schlich Kennen. At least until we figure out how to deal with this.”

“Okay…We’ll head over to your place then.”

“Right, see you there.” They hanged up and Nick looked at Hank and Sloane. “Sloane, Monroe wants to talk to us…Hank, I know you want to help, but Monroe thinks its safer you stay here.”

Hank frowned. “Seriously?”

“Hey, he knows as well as we do how much you’ve dealt with and fought against with us. He says unless we can get a solid plan, it might be better you wait.

Hank didn’t look happy but sighed. “Alright. I’ll keep doing some work here then.”

“Thanks. I promise, we’ll keep you in the loop.” He nodded to Sloane, who followed quickly.

\----------------------

Monroe had not anticipated his father being on his front porch when he got home. After their fight earlier, he expected his father would never want to see him again. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see him and his tone reflected that. “What are you doing here?”

Bart looked as put out as him as he stood. “I was on my way to the airport...And your mother wasn't with me.”

Monroe stared at him accusatory disbelief. “What did you do?”

He lifted and dropped his hands in frustration. “I said I was leaving. I thought she'd come with me, but she didn't. So I came here, but she's not here either.”

Monroe was worried but still more frustrated and moved past him to unlock his door. “Look, dad, I don't have time for this, okay? Nick is on his way over here right now, and I don't want another episode.”

Bart followed him in, worry in his voice. “The Grimm is coming here?” Monroe gave him a withering look and Bart huffed. “I didn't come here to argue.”

“Oh, what, you got a few more cultural clichés for me to live by, or what?” This time Bart looked at his son in frustration but Monroe just shook his head. “Dad, listen, I have no interest in trying to change you or mom, okay? But I do have a very real interest in living my life my own way.”

“I get it,” Bart said, trying to stay calm. “But believe me, that's not the real problem. This friendship, if that's what you call it, with the Grimm, it goes against everything we believe in!”

Monroe was already rolling his eyes before he finished. “You don't know Nick.”

“Know a Grimm? How can that be possible?” his father sputtered.

“The fact that I'm standing here is proof that it is indeed possible! And you know what else? He’s not the only Grimm I’m friends with!” Monroe said, almost triumphantly.

Bart gaped. “What? There’s more?”

“Yeah. There’s another Grimm here in Portland. Her name is Sloane and she’s my friend too,” Monroe said, practically rubbing his face in it. “Nick is going to be my best man! Or at least he will if he agrees…And Sloane is probably going to be Rosalee’s maid of honor because they’re best friends. Because we’re all friends. And they’re friends with other wesen too! We look out for each other, and we stop crime!”

“You can’t be serious,” Bart said, trying to breathe calmly. “You’re trying to what, be a superhero? This isn’t some Saturday morning kids show!”

Monroe sighed. “Look, I didn't plan on introducing you to Nick, or Sloane. That was an accident just happened. And let me just say...” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “Let me just say... the first time I met Nick, it didn't go so well either. I attacked him because he was lurking around my house, having seen me woge in passing and thought I’d done something another Blutbad had done. Kidnapping a little girl. I can be proud of what I am, but acknowledge we have done some horrible things, so I can’t blame him for thinking that. And you know what? We got to know each other, dad. And we started to trust each other. He has saved my life, and I've saved his. And the same goes for Sloane when she came, though I admit that was a slower process…And she had every right to distrust Blutbad and wesen in general given what she’s been through. But you know what? We stopped a Blinde Jaeger together and now I’m happy to say we’re friends.”

“I cannot believe this,” Bart said, reeling.

“Well believe it. I guess I just get to keep being your little disappointment,” he said bitterly. “Vegetarian, loves a Fuchsbau, friends with Grimms…Oh, and child eater, since you seem to just gloss over that still.”

“That wasn’t you’re fault! We would’ve understood!”

“Why? Why do you excuse that, and what Grandpa did? Were you proud? Is it something you want to do? To go back to that?” Monroe asked desperately.

“No! Things are different, we don’t _have_ to hunt like that anymore, but that doesn’t mean we should just curl up and—” he said, trying to get his point across.

“But you still live by the other old laws!” Monore nearly yelled. “You can change some things, but not this stuff about mixing races? Even Sloane, a Grimm brought up as a _Grimm_ , can change her ways drastically. She hated blutbader, but she listened and became my friend rather than judge me or brush it aside when I told her. And Nick was different from the start. I’m different. So why can’t you...?” He sighed and shook his head. “You know, maybe it's better this way, just out in the open, to deal with or not. But we’re just talking in circles. Nick and Sloane are on their way over here right now, and I'm gonna help him.”

Bart hardened his face. “And how are you going to help him? By killing wesen? Is that how you're gonna help him?”

Monroe started shutting down his anger, just shaking his head and waving away the argument. “I'm not asking for your approval, dad.”

“Who's head are you gonna cut off tonight?” Bart persisted. Monroe looked down. “A Blutbad? A Hundjager? Even if it was a Bauerschwein-” he spat on the floor just mentioning it, “I wouldn't agree!”

A car pulled up to the driveway and Monroe moved towards the door. “Caccia Morta.” He said simply. It almost sounded like a spell, and he wished it would banish him.

Bart’s face morphed from anger to shock and fear, paling. “A Wildesheer?” he gasped.

“They’re here, dad. Just go home,” Monroe said.

“You can't go up against the Wildesheer!” he said almost desperately.

Monroe gritted his teeth and turned around. “Stop telling me what I can and cannot do! Stop worrying about me, and start worrying about mom.” He opened the door just as Nick and Sloane were coming up to the porch. Nick froze when he saw Bart, and Bart backed up slightly when he saw them. Sloane leaned over a bit, eyeing him over Nick’s shoulder.

“We can do this another time,” Nick said slowly.

“Not with Wildesheer, we can't,” Monroe said. “My dad's leaving. Come on in.” Slowly Nick walked in, Sloane behind him. Bart followed their movement, turning with them so that his back was never to them. When he was in the door way he looked one last time at Monroe before backing out. Monroe closed the door on him.

“…So…That’s your dad?” Sloane asked, trying not to be too awkward.

“Yeah…he was,” Monroe sighed, walking over to the book shelf in his living room. Sloane frowned, glancing at Nick. Nick just shook his head, knowing they should probably leave it for now. Just then they heard what sounded like a wolf howling just out front of the house. It was a mournful sound that even Sloane could feel.

“That sounded not so good,” Nick said.

Monroe sighed and nodded. “Yeah. He's in a not-so-good place right now. But I'm done with that, it’s his problem,” he said with finality. “Guys, you need to know what you're up against this time, because it's bad. It goes way back to something roughly translated as "the wild hunt." It's like the gates of hell open up and let demons loose on the world. So stopping these guys sooner rather than later is kind of where it's at.” He was looking through his shelves as he spoke and moved on to another near the kitchen when he didn’t find what he was looking for.

“We can't find them. We've got no prints, no I.D., no record of where they came from,” Nick said.

“Just a long string of deaths and car thefts…” Sloane added.

“That's what I'm trying to tell you,” Monroe said, flipping through a book. “You don't have to find them. According to legend, the first thing you hear is terrible thunder and howling wind, as if the Wildesheer are being blown right out of hell.”

“Not so encouraging,” Nick said blandly.

“They're hunters, and their life's blood is built upon killing powerful warriors. And it just so happens, the Grimm is like the most powerful warrior of all. See? That's the Grimm there, in the middle.” He showed them and it was a picture of three wildesheer converging on a man with an axe, biting and clawing into him like prey. Monroe chuckled. “This was one of my favorite books when I was a kid because, you know, the Grimm gets obliterated.” Sloane and Nick both looked up slowly, Sloane arching her eyebrow at him while Nick just looked put out. Monroe looked at them and flushed, coughing. “But... no, that was before... anyway. My guess is, you're the reason they're here.”

“You think they know about us?” Sloane asked.

“Probably Nick at least. You tend to keep a low profile still. All I mean, I think it's no coincidence they're in Portland. There are a lot more cop/warriors in like New York City, or... “

Nick sighed and closed the book. “Well, don't I feel special?”

“Listen, the most important thing is, they will be coming after you. So what we can do is pick where it happens. And I highly suggest that's not my house, so we should be leaving,” he said, going to grab his jacket from over the couch.

“Isn't there anything in the book about how to fight them?” Nick asked, brandishing the book.

Monroe frowned and shook his head. “Not in that book. They're supposed to win.”

“Never considered wesen would have books like that on us,” Sloane muttered, following him out as Nick tossed the book on the couch.

“So we pick someplace we control,” Nick clarified as they headed for Nick’s car.

“It's got to be wide open, you know? We can see 'em coming, but we got to weapon up first, dude. I need more firepower than my canines.” They climbed in and Nick drove for the trailer. Monroe rattled off a few other tidbits about the Caccia Morta—all the horror stories his family used to tell about them. “So, you know how many there are?” Monroe asked as he B-lined for the weapons cabinet.

“We think there are at least two,” Sloane said.

“Well, better than three,” he sighed.

“I wouldn’t rule it out,” she said, remembering the Gelemcaedus issue before. Nick meanwhile was looking for the book with the wildesheer passage in it. Sloane found it and set it in front of him while she looked through some of the other weapons.

“Let’s see,” Monroe said, going through the closet. “Kanabo. Crossbow. Ogre gun,” he said with a smile, pulling it out to look at it and find ammo. Finding none, he turned instead to a shotgun and started loading it.

“Listen to this,” Nick said. “‘The vile cloaks of scalped hair they wear into battle seem to protect them from weapons, making them nearly invulnerable. I do believe that, like Samson, they have a weakness. If one could take their hair as they had taken the hair of others, it would weaken them. But I was unable to get close enough and was forced to retreat before I could test my theory.’”

“Samson? Like Samson and Delilah?” Sloane asked.

“Oh yeah, there’s been theories regarding some of the legends and wesen. I know there was debate on Samson, but most agree Delilah was a Grimm in the wesen community. Wait, do we need to find a lady to seduce them?” Monroe asked worriedly. He looked at Sloane who frowned back.

“Not gonna happen.”

“Well, he didn't get a chance to test his theory, but just in case he's right,” he stood and went to the closet, plucking two daggers off the door and handing one to Monroe. “Let's take these for backup.”

“I got mine, and the crossbow,” Sloane said.

“Where do you want to do this?” Monroe asked.

“How about the quarry?” Nick suggested.

“Plenty of open ground. Should work. Let's go.” They were just grabbing their things when there was a rumble of thunder that shook the trailer, and then a crack of lightening lighting it up from the outside as the wind pushed and rocked the trailer. They all froze and looked at each other, remembering Monroe’s book saying that was like an introduction for the Wildesheer. Nick drew his handgun and went for the door, Sloane and Monroe filing up behind him wordlessly. Slowly he opened the door, stepping down with the gun raised, looking around. The other two followed, making a small triangle to see in all directions with their weapons up. But nothing seemed to be around them.

Monroe breathed out, lowering the shot gun. “Okay, so... My book could have been wrong,” he said.

The moment he let his guard down, there was what sounded like a crack of thunder a huge man came rushing out from behind another trailer with a roaring shout. He grabbed the gun before Monroe could raise it back up, forcing it away, and then around to actually flip him over. But he focused in on Nick immediately, moving for him. Nick fired several shots, but none of them seemed to even slow the man down. Raising the crossbow, Sloane tried to fire at him but he grabbed the arrow out of the air and broke it like a toothpick.

Sloane felt an actual stab of fear for a moment as he lumbered toward them, but pushed forward with her knife. He smacked her aside like a fly and she skidded over the ground, and he still moved for Nick. He slammed Nick against the trailer and struck him, and Nick’s retaliating blow was shaken off with no issue. Monroe was on his feet, trying to aim for the Wildesheer, but it was hard as they moved around and he had to adjust his aim quickly. So focused was he that he didn’t notice another already woged wildesheer moving in.

“Behind you!” Nick shouted. Monroe quickly turned and fired, but the creature only jolted with the blow and continued forward, once again wrestling with him and the gun.

Sloane looked between them for a moment before rushing for the one attacking Nick. She body slammed him, knocking him off kilter, then moved away before he could grab her. “C’mon, asshole! He’s not the only Grimm on the roster!” she shouted, giving Nick time to get back on his feet. He stared at her and then woged, his features turning more dog-like with gray fur and a snout, but with rows of razor sharp teeth. “Yeah, I see you! What are you going to do about it?” He snarled and rushed her, and she dodged and brought her hands up in a layered fist into his snout. There was a slight yelp and he moved back, a bit of blood trickling from his nose, but he just snarled more. Sloane backed away as Nick tried to punch him in his side. When she moved to rush him as well, they were both batted away and nearly into a large dirt truck. Sloane grabbed Nick’s arm and pulled him under with her to get out of immediate attack range.

Monroe meanwhile was struggling with his opponent, woged out and snarling back at him, but was tossed back against the truck and fell to the ground. He quickly rolled under with them when the grabbed him to get him away from their opponents, panting. He un-woged and looked at them. “Okay…what do we do now?”

“Get to the hair!” Nick said.

“Easier said than done-AAAH!” He tried to claw at the dirt as they dragged him out and both Sloane and Nick rushed back out with knives drawn. Nick jumped on the back of one, trying to gather his hair, while Sloane slashed at the other to get him to let go of Monroe and focus her. Nick was thrown from the thrashing Wildesheer and he cursed because he couldn’t cut any of the hair. He was then struck and went skidding across the ground. Monroe soon joined him, but Sloane danced out of reach and slid back over to them still on her feet.

“Slaone, you and I take the guy on the right. Monroe, go for the guy on the left.”

They all tensed and held their breath as another, even larger wildesheer stepped out from behind another truck.

“And…what do we do about that big guy in the middle?” Monroe asked.

“Told you not to just say there were two…Bad things come in three,” Sloane sighed. “I got him. If I can take down a Wolkeshaber, I can take down him.”

“I seem to remember we helped you with that…” Monroe said.

“We’re all going to have our hands full,” Nick said with a huff. “Better get started.”

They all adjusted their holds on their knives, Monroe woging again, and then rushed forward. Sloane dodged a blow from hers, while Nick and Monroe were immediately in the thick of a tussle. When he tried to strike again, Sloane grabbed his arm and plunged her knife into his bicep as hard as he could, through a seam in the hair coat— _oh god, I’m touching it!_ She thought with an internal scream. He roared and then grabbed her by the hair, pulling, and she yelled as her roots protested. He would just rip her scalp off if she wasn’t careful, so she took the knife out and aimed for his hand. He let go when she slashed him and she moved away again. Glancing at the others, she gritted her teeth to see them struggling still. Monroe was in a full body hold and it was moments before teeth would sink into his shoulder. She was trying to think what to do, who to go for while still dealing with the big man.

“GET AWAY FROM MY SON!” a shout came. Then another figure descended on the Wildesheer from one of the large trucks above, grabbing him around the neck and wrenching him away. It was the opening Sloane needed as for a fraction of a second the one she was up against was distracted and turned away from her. Jumping up, she wrapped her legs around his torso like she wanted a piggy-back ride, grabbed a fist full of his hair, and sliced her knife through. She was startled when the hair actually spirted blood, and he gave a shriek before un-woging. In shock, and perhaps sudden death, he fell to his knees and she quickly jumped up when he landed face first. “It…It works! Cut their hair!”

Nick was pushed down by the one he was fighting, a hand around his throat. One handed and the man above him was overpowering him easily it felt. He had his hand raised with a nasty looking stone knife reading to cut into him.

And then the world went blank. Nick felt his heart slow and the world around him become both too quiet and too loud. He couldn’t hear Sloane and Monroe yelling for him, but he could hear the wildesheer’s heartbeat above him. He paused for a fraction of a second as Nick’s skin went paper-white, briefly looking confused. Nick growled and suddenly gripped his fingers tightly into the arm of the hand around his throat. He tightened his grasp and then there was a sudden _snap_ as something broke beneath his fingers. With a grunt the wildesheer backed away, his hand dangling at a bad angle. Nick had just broken his arm with his bare hand.

But that wasn’t enough. Nick got to his feet, growling low again as he went for him and grabbed his face in his hand, smashing his head against the truck behind him before he could react, faster than he could normally move. And he pulled him back to do it again. And again. Tang. _Tang. TANG._

Sloane was shocked a moment before rushing forward and grabbing Nick’s arm. “Nick, stop! Stop, he’s down! You just need to cut his hair!” Nick turned his reddened eyes to her, wrenching his arm out of her grip with an angry grunt. He then turned to her, letting go of the wildesheer. He was dazed, and there was blood on the container where Nick had been repeatedly bashing his head. Given their hardy bodies, he must’ve been hitting him into it hard enough that it would normally crack a humans skull like an egg. And he wasn’t stopping there, he was advancing on her, hand raised as if to grab her. Before he could, she slapped him hard across the face. “Wake up, dammit!”

Nick blinked at the slap and then shook his head, his skin starting to turn pink again. “…Sloane…?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” she sighed. “You back in your right mind?”

“…What did I do?” he asked, worried.

“Nothing you shouldn’t be, exactly, just a little too mindless.” She then blanched and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulling him away as the reeling wildesheer made a swipe with his knife where Nick’s shoulder had been. “Get his hair!”

Nick dodged another swaying, almost drunken swipe with the knife. The wildesheer was apparently concussed but still trying to fight. Maneuvering around him while Sloane dodged back as well, he managed to get a grip on his hair, he quickly brought his own steel knife through the strands. They bled as they were cut, making him grimace and thankful that their own hair didn’t do that when he got a trim. The wildesheer seized up a moment, then dropped to his knees and to the ground.

Monroe had managed to get the upper hand against his own opponent during the whole scuffle and cut the hair of his as it tried to attack his father. All three wildesheers were down and they panted in relief. Monroe’s father was still woged, looking at the dead wildesheer in surprise and then up at them. Sloane was surprised how much it didn’t scare her to see the red eyes now. She’d really gotten used to Monroe.

Monroe meanwhile unwoged and reached down. “Dad!”

He grabbed his hand and let him help him to his feet. He turned back to his human form and looked down at the confused, disbelieving look on Monroe’s face. “You didn’t know what you were up against…” He glanced at Sloane and Nick. “Even if you are friends with a couple of Grimms, I couldn’t see you die…” He then looked down at the wildesheer. “How did you know how to kill them?”

“We didn’t. Nick’s ancestors did,” Monroe smiled.

“We can confirm the theory at least,” Sloane said, licking at her split lip and using a pack of tissues from her jacket to wipe her knife. “By the way, hair bleeding when you cut it? Gross and kind of freaky. Hair coat still freakier.”

Bart shook his head in disbelief. “I didn’t think it was possible to fight on the same side as a Grimm…”

Monroe frowned, ready to argue again. “I told you. They’re different.”

He nodded slowly, tense but not as ready to fight as before. “Sometimes you need to see something with your own eyes,” he said. He gestured to the wildesheer. “All my life, I've heard about these guys. Your great grandfather, whenever it would storm, he'd get scared. He told us kids, if the Wildesheers ever came back, it meant something really bad was going to come next.”

Monroe looked at Nick and Sloane, sharing their looks of trepidation, before he looked back at his father. “How "really bad"?”

He shook his head. “I don't know. Just something, somewhere, was going to happen that would change the world.”

“…Oh…fun,” Sloane sighed. Thunder cracked and they all tensed a moment, looking around. Nothing else came though.

Then a phone rang and they all got into a fighting stance for a moment before relaxing as Monroe patted his jacket. “Sorry, that’s me…” He pulled it out and paused. “It’s mom…” Bart perked up, then sighed in relief. Monroe opened the call, putting it up to his ear. “Mom…hey. Why am I out of breath? Uh…well…it’s a long story. Um, dad’s here though, he was looking for you. …You went to Rosalee’s shop?” he asked in surprise, glancing at his father. “…You did what?! No, I mean…I’m just surprised. How…did that go? …Good? Really?...No, I’m happy! I mean, that you would do that means a lot to me…Um, do you want to explain it to dad though? …In person? …Okay, but I’m bringing Nick. And, uh…another Grimm…Yes, there’s two…No, I think you’ll like her…Yeah, okay. We’ll meet you at my place. Um…if you can pick up some food, I’d appreciate it. …Thanks.” He hanged up and looked at his dad. “So…Mom wants to meet at my place.” He looked at Nick and Sloane. “You two are coming. She’s grabbing dinner for us.”

“Monroe,” Bart started, not looking pleased.

“Mom has spoken, dad. Do you want to disobey her?” he said seriously.

He paused and then sighed. “Fine…”

Nick nodded. “Can I invite Juliette?”

Monroe nodded. “Yeah. Knowing my mom, she’ll get enough food to feed a small army.”

“We should call Renard too,” Sloane said. “We’ve got our three killers, and they’re all dead. Gonna need a cover story of some kind.”

Nick nodded and patted his jacket before looking up. “I left my phone in the trailer, I’ll be right back.” He headed up inside.

Sloane looked at Bart and tilted her head. “…Are you the one related to Olaf Ackerman?”

He looked at her in confusion and narrowed his eyes. “No…That’s my wife’s uncle. Why?”

Sloane shrugged. “He worked with my grandmother in the war in a resistance group. Just wanted to let you know, your son is actually living up to a legacy of fighting for the greater good with us,” she said, walking towards her car. “Oh, and my oma thought he was funny! I’m guessing he gets that from his mom’s side too!”

Bart turned his incredulous gaze back to Monroe who was trying not to laugh. “Yeah…apparently Uncle Olaf had some wilder adventures than we thought…”

Bart sighed, rubbing over his eyes. “I’m not sure how many more surprises I can handle…”

\------------------------

“You did what?” Bart barked.

Alice just bolstered herself up. “Rosalee and I did the [Vertrautheiten](http://grimm.wikia.com/wiki/Vertrautheiten).”

Bart was at a loss for words. Nick and Juliette looked at Sloane, but she shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “No clue.”

“It’s a sort of sacred act of bonding,” Rosalee said, helping set the table with them. “A way to kind of…imprint ourselves on each other. A sign of trust.”

“It was my idea,” Alice said. She looked up at her husband with a determined glint in her eyes. “I refuse to cut ties with our son. He’s our family. He’s always been good and kind—more so than us it seems. And maybe he’s right. Maybe there’s a difference in being proud of who we are as Blutbader, and staying in the past. From what Rosalee’s told me, both of these Grimms have risked their lives for Monroe before, and he’s done a lot of good helping them. For humans and wesen. If they can evolve with the times, then so should we.”

Bart frowned, looking hesitant but not as confrontational. “…It’s not that easy, Alice…this is how I was raised…”

“I know, me too…but I want to try. For Monroe.”

Monroe smiled and hugged his mom. “I know it’ll be slow going, I’m not expecting you to be accepting of this in one night…You trying means a lot to me though.”

She smiled and hugged him back happily. Bart sighed and nodded. “Okay…okay, I’ll try too.”

Monroe smiled and hugged his father too.

Despite that though, it was an awkward dinner. Sloane, Nick, Monroe and Bart were all bruised and bloody from the fight. It was quiet, and tense, all of them sitting around the table. Nick, being closest to the ham—and Sloane was grateful she wasn’t kosher because it was good and she was hungry—was slicing off bits for them for another round. Monroe was eating mainly salad, roasted vegetable samosas and drinking wine.

Juliette, bless her heart, tried to lighten the mood. “So, this wedding stuff is pretty exciting, huh?” she said brightly. “Have you guys set a date yet?”

Sloane tried to catch her eye and make a subtle “No!” motion, but it was too late. Bart woged, then Monroe, then Alice, then Rosalee, all tense and ready for a fight. Both she and Nick stood, Nick holding the knife and Sloane grabbing the large serving fork. Juliette looked between them in shock.

“Okay, everyone calm down!” Nick said.

“We’ve all had one hell of a night already. Let’s just relax,” Sloane ordered tersely.

They all looked at them before woging back. Alice and Bart looked shamefaced after their talk earlier, and Monroe and Rosalee looked worried. “Sorry,” Bart said, chewing slowly. “This is just…going to take a little getting used to.”

Sloane and Nick put their cutlery down slowly and returned to their seats. Looking at one another, they both could tell they were hoping for the best to come.

Later, as Sloane was getting ready to head home, Alice walked up to her. “Um…Ms. Larson?” she said a bit awkwardly. There was a touch of wariness there, Sloane could tell.

“…Sloane is fine,” she said, adjusting her jacket.

“Sloane then,” she said, taking a breath. “Bart mentioned that you, um…that your grandmother knew my uncle?”

Sloane nodded. “Yeah, she did. They were part of a resistance group. Together.”

Alice blew out a breath and glanced back at Monroe. “…Uncle Olaf was a lot like Monroe. My mother tried stay in touch, but they butted heads a lot too…I remember one time though, he told me that it was smart to be cautious when it came to Grimms because some would kill you on sight. But there were some who knew what they were supposed to be.”

“Supposed to be?” she asked in confusion.

“Balance keepers is what he said. That they can be as human and as monstrous as we can be. I didn’t really get that but…if he had been friends with a Grimm once…” She looked down sadly. “A lot of our family and others looked down at him for saying such things…But I always remembering him staying funny and kind. Like Monroe.”

“…Did you want to read her journal that mentions him?” Sloane offered slowly.

She looked surprised. “You would…loan that to me? Really?”

“Yeah. Monroe’s read it, but it’s better reading it in person, right?” she said, nodding. It was odd to offer but it felt right.

“…Thank you, I’d like that,” she said, smiling slightly. “We’ll be sticking around for a little bit, getting to know Rosalee and such. But…we’re still going to stay at a hotel. Easing into things.”

“…Y’know, I did attack your son the first time we met. I was ready to kill him.” Alice tensed, looking ready to fight, so she pressed on quickly. “Nick saved him and Rosalee from me. And…I’m grateful he did. They’ve been good friends to me. Better than I deserve sometimes…”

She relaxed slightly, glancing at Nick. “He saved Monroe from another Grimm?”

“Oh yeah. He’s got this annoyingly persistent way of making you a better person,” she said with a long suffering sigh. “But you have my word, Monroe and Rosalee are safe from me. And Nick…we try to find alternate ways to stop wesen than just outright killing them.”

Alice smiled. “Well…Thank you then.”

“No problem. But, uh, I was trying to say, bringing that up, that I get the whole change is hard thing. I don’t blame you or your husband for being kind of resistant to the whole thing. I resisted this for a while too. But honestly…I’m…happy? Which is something I…didn’t think I would be,” she said honestly. _Ever…_ she added mentally. “So, change can be good, even if it’s hard. Though honestly, I kind of wish it would slow down a bit so I didn’t feel like I was in a tilt-a-whirl all the time. But then you gotta be adaptive I guess to live.”

She smiled a bit more. “My…you’re wise for your age.”

Sloane flushed a bit. “Yeah, well…I’ve been through a lot. Anyway, I’ll bring the book to Monroe and you can leave it with him if you rather.”

Alice nodded again, looking at her thoughtfully. “Thank you, again.”

Sloane nodded and headed back out the door to her car.

\-----------------------------------

For a few days, Nick and Sloane let Monroe and Rosalee have time with Monroe’s parents. Thankfully things quieted down. Hank had taken a look at their bruises and split lips when they came back into work and quipped that he was glad now he’d stayed behind. When they related everything that had happened, he was surprised but nodding his head. He agreed that giving them all some space was probably the best thing right now.

Luckily, crime was a bit quiet for those few days at least while their bruised skin, bruised ribs, and various scrapes healed. Sloane was getting grateful for those little moments. Before the hunt was all she had. Now she had a place to recuperate, people to share that with, and Cable and Netflix.

When her phone rang while she was watching an old Kung Fu movie and she paused it while grabbing her phone from the coffee table. Looking at the number, she recognized it right away and opened the line. “Gallin?”

“Good evening, Sloane. How are you doing?”

“Fine, I got the night off. You?”

“Fine, fine…I, um…I have the back room cleared out now. I’m ready whenever you two are”

Sloane took a breath but nodded. “Okay…I’ll call Nick and we’ll get over there as soon as we can. I’ll call you with a time.”

“That’d be good,” Gallin said. “I brought my camera here so I’ll be ready when you are.”

“Great. Thank you, Gallin.”

“Of course, we want to help as best we can.”

“‘We’?”

“My, uh, contact and I. Anyway, just let me know when you’re heading over, I’m free all this week.”

“Okay. Talk to you later then.”

They hanged up and Sloane sighed before quickly pulling up Nick’s number.

Nick was looking over some notes for a case at home when his phone rang with _Bad Reputation_ by Joan Jett. “Hey Sloane, what’s up?”

“Gallin called me,” she said, getting right to the point. “She’s set up for getting the video, whenever you’re ready.”

He sat back in his chair a bit. “Ah…okay.”

“I know this isn’t great,” she said, “but it’s the best lead we have right now.”

“No, I know…When I’m ready, huh? Not sure I can be…Is she free tonight?”

“Tonight?” she asked, surprised.

“I’d rather just get it over with,” he sighed.

“Okay…let me ask, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay,” he sighed.

Sloane exited the call and dialed Gallin back, feeling a bit like a the string between two cans.

“Sloane? You talked to him already?” she asked, surprised.

“Yeah. He’s not eager to do it, but wants to get it over with. He wanted to know if tonight was good.”

“Tonight? Um…yes, that should be fine, I can get back over there fairly quickly.”

“Thanks. We’ll meet you there.” She closed the call and sighed. She considered again if this was the best idea before picking the phone back up and texting Nick to meet them there. Turning the TV off, she quickly put on and laced up her boots and her jacket.

The drive to the library felt incredibly long, and also too short. It was already closed, as late as it was, but Gallin was in the parking lot waiting under a street light for them. Sloane stepped out and walked up to her. “Hey…thanks for this. We do appreciate helping.”

She smiled, twitching nervously. “It’s okay. I understand he probably doesn’t want to change if he can help it, so this is probably not ideal…”

“None of it is,” she sighed.

She looked at her with a strange expression, tilting her head. “…You like Mr. Burkhardt?”

Sloane blinked and then shrugged. “Yeah. He’s a friend.”

“…I’ll be frank, I didn’t think you had any,” she said. “I mean, from what I’ve heard you were always against attachments.”

“I wasn’t against them, within reason. I had other Grimms and librarians I was on good terms with. It’s just…they’re not easy to maintain, moving around so much,” she said. “When I broke off with some of the others, keeping to myself was easier.”

“Safer, you mean,” she said. Sloane looked at her with a frown. “Hey, I’ve met enough Grimm to know the signs and what they mean. When they’re like you, they’re terrified of getting close to anyone because it could mean losing them…usually they’ve lost someone before.” Sloane frowned a bit more and Gallin quickly held up her hands. “Um, but, I think getting close to someone is great! I mean, it’s lonely out there…and with putting up roots, it’s better to have company.”

“…Yeah. I can see that,” she said.

Nick pulled up then and got out of the car. He headed up to them, looking uncomfortable. “Hey…”

“Hey. You tell Juliette where you are?” she asked.

“Yeah, I said you were trying to help with my problem and had something…” He nodded to Gallin, looking uncomfortable but trying to smile.

Gallin smiled back. “I promise, my contact should be able to help. Follow me,” she turned and headed up to the doors, unlocking them with a key.

They got down to the Grimm Library the same way as before, through the hidden stairs under the table in the rare books room. They bypassed the rows of shelves however, heading for the back wall where there was a large door. Using another key, Gallin opened it and grunted as she pulled it open. Beyond it was another door that she opened. The room inside wasn’t large, maybe about the size of two of their cells down at the station. Against the back wall was about four sets of chains. In that small space the smell of bleach and sanitizer was almost overpowering. It was freshly cleaned and scrubbed. Nick didn’t want to dwell on that too long.

“You want to use these?” Sloane asked, lifting up one set of chains. “You don’t have to…”

“…Yeah. Let’s use them.” He took off his jacket, handing it to Gallin when she offered her hands after handing Sloane the key. She bustled out of the room while Sloane undid the cuffs and Nick stepped forward, turning his back to the wall while she fitted them around his wrists. Gallin returned with a video camera in hand.

“Okay, I’m ready. Go ahead and change,” she said a bit too eagerly.

Nick gave her a dubious look. “I can’t do it on command…that’s part of the problem. It just…happens. Usually when my life is in danger or I’m angry or something…”

“Oh, so like the Hulk,” she said, turning thoughtful.

“You did it that time I hit you, do you want me to try that?” Sloane said.

“Want is not quite the word…Also, not sure it counts if I’m prepared for it-” He oofed when she suddenly hit him in the stomach. Granted it wasn’t as hard as he knew she could hit but he still glared at her.

“Nothing?”

“No, just annoyed…”

“Well, I can keep trying but I’d like to avoid really hurting you…” she said honestly.

“I appreciate that, trust me…”

“Oh, I have something that might work,” Gallin said suddenly. She handed Sloane the camera before she could argue and headed out again.

“…She’s a little too into this…” Nick said.

“Yeah, she can be a little overzealous…when I came looking for something for the Volcanalis she tried to load me up with a lot of other stuff she thought might help. I opted just for the foam grenades, since I didn’t think a mini ballista would fit in my car…” Nick tried to smile and Sloane looked at him with a pinched brow. “Hey…we’ll figure this out, you know?”

“…What if we can’t? I mean…I can’t keep being a cop like this. What if I change on a suspect or during a case? It’s dangerous enough against wesen…” He looked at the cuffs around his wrists. They were heavy and a little rusty and he tried not to think how the rust rubbing off on him looked like dried blood. “I know I have to kill sometimes, when the situation calls for it, but I want to be in control.”

“You will be. We will figure this out,” she said definitively. “One way or another, we’ll figure out what to do. I’m not going to let you deal with this alone.”

Gallin returned then with something in her hands. “Okay, rolling Sloane?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said pointing the camera at Nick. She honestly hadn’t stopped it.

“Great. Mr. Burkhardt, I apologize in advance as this will hurt a bit.”

“What will-”

And without further warning, Gallin fired the tazer in her hands at him. Sloane gaped when the two prongs hit Nicks square in the chest and Nick seized a moment before dropping hard to his knees and almost down if it weren’t for the chains. “Gallin, what the hell?!” she yelled.

Gallin let go of the trigger and looked at her sheepishly. “It was the only thing I could think of that was non-lethal and wouldn’t leave much of a mark…”

“A tazer?!”

“I keep one in my purse for when I work nights!”

“You-” She paused when she heard Nick groan and turned back to him. “Nick?”

He groaned again and looked up, his skin pale again and eyes red. Growling, he lurched up to his knees, glaring at Gallin.

Gallin, for her part, looked fascinated. “Wow…amazing…”

“One word for it,” Sloane sighed, zooming in on the camera to get a close up of his eyes and skin. “Nick? You hear me?”

Nick didn’t answer, still staring at Gallin, rumbling low in his throat like an animal.

“Does he go non-verbal like this often?” Gallin asked, inching closer.

“Yeah, usually it’s grunts and growls. Wait, don’t get close-” she started, realizing Gallin was almost within reach.

Nick suddenly roared and made a swipe for her the moment she was near enough. Gallin shrieked and backed away. Nick growled when his swing was brought up short by the chains. He looked at them, moving them slowly before back at Gallin. He tried to push forward, stared at the chains again, then grabbed one and pulled. The first pull nothing happened, the second and there was the strain of the screws keeping the chains secured, pulling at the wall.

“Oh my God, is he stronger in this form?” she gasped, watching in morbid fascination.

“Stronger, better senses, basically it’s a primal instinct,” Sloane said. “Is this enough?”

“Y-yes, for now I think so. How do we change him back?”

“We gotta snap him out of it.” Sloane moved closer, keeping the camera rolling. “Nick? Nick, it’s me.”

Nick turned and eyed her, then back to Gallin. Growling and pulling the chain again, it actually came out of the wall with a crack and creak of metal failing. Sloane swore, moving back as he swung the end like a mace. He then started pulling at the other. Gallin quickly brought the taswer back up and pressed the trigger, as the anchors were still in his chest. Nick seemed to seize again for a moment, but then he started moving through the current, gripping the prongs and wrenching them from his shirt, then the gun from her fumbling fingers. “Oh no…oh no no no!” Galln said, getting a very bad feeling.

Nick pulled at the other chain again, starting to make it give away from the wall, looking at her like he was going to crush her.

Before he could get the other one free, Sloane moved in between them, blocking his view of Gallin. “Nick! Look at me! Okay? Look at me! You gotta calm down!” Nick stared at her, tilting his head. He was still growling and she inched closer, passing the camera back to a near panicked Gallin who was trying to breathe. “Calm down…easy…” Nick watched her as she came in close. When she was close enough he moved to grab her by the throat again with his one hand, but she grabbed his hand first. She hissed when the end of the chain with the wall bracket and screws swing around and scratched her thigh through her jeans like a mace, but didn’t back down. He was definitely much stronger than normal as he pushed at her block and nearly overwhelmed her. Thinking back to before, she needed to disorient him so his mind rebooted or whatever it did. “…Gallin, bring me your med kit!”

“What?”

“Do it!”

Gallin jumped and scrambled out. Nick roared and tried to get past her and she used all her strength to push him back. He glared at her, grabbing the chain to try and pull it out of the wall. Gallin came back in with the tackle box that was her medical kit and Sloane grabbed it from her to keep her back. She threw it open and grabbed a small amber glass bottle inside. She shoved the kit back before Gallin could ask and rushed Nick while she wrenched the bottle open. Nick was moving to strike her but she quickly pressed the bottle under his nose.

When he inhaled he reeled back and shook his head. Nick blinked, his hand dropping as if suddenly realizing the weight around it. “I…okay…Okay, I’m back,” he sighed, looking a little stunned and dizzy. “What happened?”

“You sure you’re back?” Sloane asked, not dropping her guard all the way.

“Yeah…yeah, I…I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay, though I’m worried you keep going to choke me. I’ll try not to take it personally…”

“Sorry…” he said again. He looked at the bottle in her hand. “What was that?”

“Smelling salts,” she sighed, closing the bottle.

“Oh!” Gallin said. “Pain wasn’t doing it, so another external stimulus did it!”

“I just figured it might bring him back to his senses,” she sighed, tossing the bottle back to her. Gallin flinched and fumbled but managed to catch it against her chest with the camera still in her other hand. “Can you get the key for the cuffs?”

“H-huh? Oh, right!” she quickly backed away, still looking shaken, and headed for her desk.

“…Did I hurt her?” Nick asked.

“No, just scared her. Honestly, tasing you all of a sudden, she might’ve needed it…”

“It worked though,” he sighed. He moved his head around, getting his barrings, and then froze. “Sloane, you’re bleeding!”

“Huh?” She looked down at her thigh where the screws had gotten her and saw she had four scratches staining her jeans. “Shit…Well, I’ve got my tetanus shot, no big deal…”

“No big-did I do that?”

“Not exactly. You pulled the chains from the wall. Screws are sharp.”

Nick looked at the at his wrists and lifted the chain with the broken wall plate in surprise. “I pulled this out of the wall?”

“Y-yes,” Gallin said, coming back in with a key. “They were old, but solid so…it’s rather impressive.” She paused, unsure about getting close. Sloane sighed and took the key, going over to unlock him. Gallin looked down, chagrined and a little shamefaced.

Nick rubbed his wrists, noting a little soreness. “I hope that was good enough…”

“Oh, yes, that should be fine,” Gallin said quickly. “Um…I’ll get it to my contact right away, and I’ll let you know what she says.”

“Okay,” Nick said. “Was there anything else?”

“Not right now, no.”

“Then I think I’m going to go home and rest,” he sighed.

“Agreed,” Sloane said. “Thanks again, Gallin. Though next time, clear it with me before you taze someone…”

“I thought the element of surprise would be best,” she said with a wry smile.

“Maybe, but it wasn’t fun watching…”

“Careful, you’re getting sentimental on me,” Nick said teasingly. Sloane rolled their eyes. Gallin looked between them, a little confused it seemed still. “Gallin, can you treat Sloane’s leg?”

“Ah, sure.”

“It’s fine,” Sloane said. “I can treat it at home.”

“Humor me,” Nick said, gently pushing her towards the doorway and the chairs at the desks beyond.

“I usually do,” she said with mock seriousness.

“Um…Mr. Burkhardt?” Gallin said.

“Yes?”

“…Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you should go.”

“Oh…right, I guess I, uh…freaked you out—”

“Yes, but more than that, um…Sloane’s going to have to take her pants off for me to treat her,” she said, blushing.

Sloane actually blushed as well, and Nick turned red. They glanced at one another and Sloane patted his shoulder. “Yeah, you should go home.”

“Right. I’ll, uh…see you at work.” He said, awkwardly moving around and heading for the door. “Thanks!”

Sloane waved and sighed.

“…He’s nice,” Gallin said.

“Yeah…you can see why I’d rather keep him alive…”

Gallin nodded softly, getting out what she needed to treat the other woman’s leg.

\--------------------------

The scratches were luckily not that deep. A little cleaning with the alcohol swabs and clean bandages and she was good to head home. Her jeans were likely not salvageable—blood scratches weren’t a fashion statement among the normal folk—but she could wear them home.

She was surprised when she pulled up to her house and of all people Monroe’s mother was there. She looked surprised when Sloane pulled up as well. “Oh, um…hello again.”

“Hey…what’s up?”

“I wanted to return this to you,” she held out the diary volume Sloane had loaned her. “I…wasn’t sure it was true at first, but I do believe that was my uncle your grandmother worked with. He never mentioned working with a Grimm in the war. But then again, if you think Bart and I had trouble with all of this, my parents and grandparents…” She grimaced and shook her head.

“You didn’t have to come all this way, I’m sure Monroe would’ve brought it back. But thanks,” she said, taking it.

“I…was hoping to talk a little too,” she said slowly.

Sloane frowned a bit but sighed. “We should probably talk inside I’m thinking.” She unlocked the door and headed inside. Alice looked confused but followed her in. “You want anything to drink?”

“Um, no, thank you. I just…I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly, closing the door. She inhaled and paused, glancing over Sloane and noting the scratches on her leg.

“…Had a little accident on the job,” she said. “What are you apologizing for exactly?”

“For…I…don’t know if you meant for him to, but Monroe told me about…well, what happened to your grandmother…That you were nine when it happened.”

Sloane paused on the way to the kitchen and arched her brow. “You’re apologizing for what happened to my grandmother? You didn’t have anything to do with that I’m pretty sure.”

“No, no, of course not!” she said, shaking her head. “I…I know that Grimms are traditionally our enemy and if one did threaten me or my family—not that you and Nick have, but if one did—I’d fight back for sure. But…attacking a grandmother with her young granddaughter? That’s just…I can’t say I don’t know Blutader can be like that, but it’s still monstrous. And I’m so…I just feel like I need to say sorry.” She looked at the book in Sloane’s hands. “Your grandmother…she didn’t deserve that. She saved my uncle and his friends more than once, she was kind, and when she fought because she had to and…I can’t excuse her death. Not even as a Grimm. Or what they would’ve done to you. I just feel like I have to say sorry even though I know I didn’t do it personally. With what Monroe has said though, I can’t say I was actively doing anything to stop behavior like that…”

She stared but then nodded slowly. “Okay…I…don’t think I can accept it on behalf of those guys if that’s what you mean to do. For one, I’ve, uh….taken care of most of them,” she said honestly. Alice nodded slowly, looking uncomfortable but not speaking out against her. “But...I don’t blame you. Or your husband. I definitely don’t blame Monroe. I _wanted_ too. I really, really wanted to keep generalizing wesen and just go on without feeling like this. But…I can’t. Because of Rosalee and Monroe and a bunch of other wesen who are so annoyingly _good_.” The last was said in frustration, but the heat wasn’t fiery like it had been before she came to Portland. “So…one way or another you raised a good son.”

Alice smiled. “Well…I just wanted to say that at least. And thank you again, I feel I know a lot more about Olaf than I did before.”

Sloane smiled a bit back. “You’re welcome.”

“I should head back. We’re actually extending our trip a bit though, for a few days. We have a lot of catching up to do and getting to know Rosalee. I…have to admit, I like her,” she smiled.

Sloane smiled, oddly relieved. “Good. Uh…We'll probably let you guys do that, so...I guess see you at the wedding?”

Alice blew out a breath. "Oh...that is going to be interesting," she said, laughing a little nervously. But she nodded and opened the door. “See you then.” She headed out and Sloane stood for a moment, looking down at the book. She knew the stories pretty well now, and tapped the book against her hand as if to shake out the morals and the past and the pain she was wrestling out in the words. Just make them _plain and simple_. She was missing when things were or at least felt plane and simple and not like she was being drawn and quartered by her emotions. Sighing, she went to put the book back with the others.


	13. Breaking the Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cure has hopefully been found for Nick's transformation problem--but some side effects apply and in this case they may be worse than the original affliction. Getting a true cure may come at a high price as well, but it's one Sloane is familiar with. Is she still willing to pay it though?

**_“I’d like to know,” she said, “do you really deserve to have someone run to the end of the world just for your sake?”_ **

\-----------------------------------------------

“You’re sure about this?” Gallin asked hesitantly. She watched the back of the woman in front of her as she took what looked like a black pearl from a crucible on a table covered in lab equipment from a mad scientist’s lab.

She didn’t even pause as she put it into a small box. “Doubting me now, Gallin?” she said lightly. She dropped the pearl into a pool of white, opalescent liquid.

“No, no, I just…doesn’t it need testing?”

“It’s a bit of trial by fire, dear. Do you think we have a line of Grimms who’ve been poisoned by a Cracher Mortal and been brought back to try this on first?”

“No…” Gallin admitted. She watched the pearl as it soaked up the liquid and turn a shiny, silvery metallic finish. “I’m just worried about giving it to him without any testing at all.”

“Nothing else would have the same reaction. So, best to give it a go now.” She closed the box and handed it to the librarian. “I’ll leave the delivery up to you.”

Gallin tried not to fumble the box and sighed. “Right…Will do.”

“Don’t be so nervous, Cynthia,” she said, squeezing her hands around the box. “We’ll find the answer, one way or another. This is just the first piece of the puzzle.” Gallin blushed but smiled and turned to leave.

\-------------

Nick was trying to keep calm. Calm was what was keeping him between sanity and potentially really hurting someone. But when his job involved running down criminals, and his life in general was fighting potential monsters on top of, it wasn’t easy.

There was still the concern of Monroe’s parents. They’d decided to extend their trip rather than go home early and had been there a week already and they may be there another week. Monroe had suggested Nick and Sloane hang back for a while they were there and that was honestly fine. Dealing with the awkwardness between the couple and his parents for one night was enough, and for Monroe mediating anymore meetings between them and the Grimms was a bit too much. Nick and Sloane agreed, and they were wrapped up in the aftermath of the Wild Hunt.

After the wildesheers were dead, they’d called Renard to let him know what happened and get him up to speed. They didn’t want police searching near the trailer—and Nick didn’t want Renard to know about the trailer in general—so they had already moved they bodies to the road near the outside of town. Sloane had found their most recent stolen car nearby and hotwired it to bring the bodies along. They set up a scene like there had been some sort of standoff. Then she set the car on fire. Nick and Hank had both backed up in shock when she lit the rag in the gas tank and started running back towards them as it quickly caught on fire. The cloak of scalps they left nearby with some of their other things so that they’d be identified as their hunted killers. Whoever killed them would be lost to the wind as Renard sent someone to make sure there was no incriminating evidence before having the techs out the next day. All the contacts Renard had were a little worrying at times.

Portland was warming up with spring trying to push winter out, and it was a relief to be honest. Nick was glad to hang his leather jacket up for his lighter windbreaker again. At the moment he was taking a rare day off to work around the house, changing out air filters and the like, while Juliette was at her vet’s office. It was strangely relaxing to focus on the mundane tasks of house work after fighting wesen and at times himself. Trying not to think about how he was always potentially going to hurt someone was the only thing he felt he could do to keep from going crazy. After all, there was no telling when Gallin might call them back he thought.

So he was surprised when his phone rang. He climbed down from the step ladder he was on, changing lightbulbs in the high light in the living room, and quickly grabbed his phone from the table. He didn’t recognize the number but it was local. Curious, he went ahead and accepted the call. He was ready to hang up if it was a spam caller. “Hello?”

“Mr. Burkhardt? It’s Cynthia. Um, Cynthia Gallin, from the library,” a somewhat nervous voice said.

“Oh, yeah, hi,” Nick said, more alert now. “Sorry, I didn’t have your number…”

“No, I usually call Sloane I know, but I had yours on file. I just wanted to let you know my contact wants to meet up with you to start treatment.”

“Seriously? That quick?” he asked in surprise. “It’s only been like two weeks since we recorded the footage.”

“Yes, but she thinks she has something and made it up already. She’s kind of quick like that. Is it a problem to do it so soon?” she asked worriedly.

“No, no, it’s fine. Um, when?”

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ve got the treatment with me to give you.”

“Okay…uh, well…what’s this going to involve?” he asked, trying to get his hope and excitement under control.

“It’s super simple, you just take it orally. We could meet at the library and I can give it to you today if you wanted.”

“Yeah that would be great,” he said, smiling to himself. “It’s actually my day off, I can come over now if you’re free.”

“Free as a bird,” she said back brightly.

“Okay. Um, what about Sloane? Should she come?”

“No, I, uh…I think we can handle this now, we’re not going to try and change you again,” she said a little nervously.

Nick frowned, picking up on it. He was used to tuning in people’s tones. But Sloane could make people nervous so he decided to let it go. “Okay…Then I’ll meet you there soon.”

“Great! See you there.”

They hanged up and Nick had an odd feeling in his gut. At the same time, this was his best option to get his transformations under control and it was the middle of the day. Plus, Gallin seemed a rather anxious person most of the time anyway, he was probably being paranoid.

Still, he quickly texted Juliette he was heading out, and then dialed Sloane’s number.

“Hey Nick,” she said. He could hear the sound of the station behind her—his day off wasn’t necessarily her or Hanks’ day off.

“Hey…Um, so, Gallin called and set up a meeting between me and her mysterious scientist or doctor…person.”

“Really?” she asked, alert right away. “So they have something?”

“They have something, I’m not sure what exactly,” Nick said. “Gallin was a little evasive on the phone. Y’know, Gallin hasn’t mentioned a name for this contact…”

“Names are a bit of a tricky thing in our line of work,” Sloane said. “If they aren’t a Grimm and just related or helping us, it’s a potential danger to know their names in case anything goes south. The fewer people who know, the less chance they’re in danger. If Gallin says this person is our best shot, I believe her though. She hasn’t steered me wrong yet.”

“Okay…I guess I just prefer having more info before I got meet them. Which is like…now.”

“Now?” she asked, surprised. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, it should be okay. Like you said, if Gallin trusts them we can.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” she said, relaxing a little.

“You put a lot of faith in Gallin, huh?”

“More in Librarians as a whole,” Sloane said. “But Gallin seems competent enough, as Deirdre would say.”

“…That’s good?” he asked uncertainly.

“That’s one of the highest compliments Deirdre can give,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Okay then…I’ll message you later.”

“Sounds good. Good luck.”

Nick hanged up and grabbed his windbreaker, heading out the door. The drive to the library was uneventful and he was getting out of his car when he heard someone call to him.

“Mr. Burkhardt!” He looked up and saw Gallin jogging up to him, cradling something. “Hi, um, thought it’d be better to meet you out here.”

“Oh, right…” He glanced around. “Is your, uh…friend here then?”

“What? Oh, no, sorry, I guess I gave the wrong impression,” she said, laughing a bit nervously. “She’s not really a people person, so she wanted me to deliver it for her.” She held out a carved wooden box about the size of a ring box, with an awkward smile.

“Oh…” Nick took the box, looking it over. “So how does this work.”

“It’s a pill. Take it tonight before bed and it should do the trick.”

“One pill? Really?” Nick asked in disbelief. “That’s…easy?”

“Well, it’s experimental…” Gallin admitted, shifting from foot to foot slightly. “But she’s a genius, so I’m not worried, really. If there are any issues, she’ll help figure them out.”

“Experimental?” he asked, hesitantly.

Gallin frowned, trying to straighten up. “There’s not a line of Grimms with this probably for us to work with, is there? She’s doing her best.”

Nick held up a hand. “Right, sorry, I didn’t mean to sound critical. I hope this works, really. Just not used to an easy solution with things like this…”

Gallin relaxed slightly. “I understand, but really, you don’t have to worry. We’re here to help.”

“Okay. Thanks, I’ll take this tonight then.”

“Great,” she said with a smile. “We may have to experiment and try to get you to change again though.”

“No more Tasers,” he said quickly.

Gallin blushed and smiled sheepishly. “No more Tasers…But something to try and do it.”

Nick nodded. “I’ll call you later then. And thanks again.”

She smiled much more brightly. “You’re welcome! I’m happy to help, really.”

Nick smiled and headed back for his car with a wave. He looked at the little carved box in his hand. It was carved with what looked like small angels around it and he wondered if that was meant to be a sign or somehow soothing. Setting it in the passenger seat he headed back for home.

\-----------------

Nick was in the bathroom, looking at the box in his hand. He was hopeful, but also worried given there was no telling what the side-effects might be. Sucking in a breath, he opened the box. Inside was a shiny, almost mirror like ball the size of his finger nail. Frowning, he tipped it out into his hand. It didn’t feel like metal despite its shine, more like a gumball.

“Well…here goes nothing,” he sighed. He popped it into his mouth and swallowed, grimacing a little as it went down. It was like swallowing a marble that tasted like aluminum foil—and it dissolved halfway down into liquid. He shuddered in surprise.

“Nick?” Juliette called.

“I’m here,” he said, running some water and splashing his face. Patting it dry, he turned to head out.

“Everything okay?” she asked, getting the bed ready to sleep in.

“Yeah, just…um…”

“Just what?” she asked, pausing with a pillow in her hands.

“…A friend of Sloane’s got me some medicine. It should keep me from “transforming” from now on. No more looking dead.”

“What? That’s great, why didn’t you say something before?” she said.

“It’s not a guarantee,” he sighed. “And I wasn’t even sure when and if they’d have something. It happened really fast. I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Or yours?” she shot back.

Nick sighed and nodded. “Yeah. But what they gave me is supposed to do the trick in one dose.”

She looked skeptical. “One dose? There’s hardly anything that works in one dose. Well, I say that, but I suppose a lot of what we work with does on the Grimm side of things…”

“Yeah, I guess this is magic? Maybe?”

She frowned. “Nick, you didn’t just take something when you have no idea what it was, did you?”

“…Look, in my defense, I don’t know half of what I’ve taken to reverse the spell on you, cure my blindness before, or save me from the Cracher Mortal in the first place. I kind of just accept that if someone with more expertise in this says it’ll help me, it’ll probably help me.”

Juliette huffed a sigh but finally nodded. “Fair enough I suppose...”

Nick walked over and took the pillow in his hands as well. “Hey, look at me.” She did and he smiled. “I’m going to be okay. I just want to be sure I don’t hurt you or anyone else in that state again.”

She nodded and smiled, kissing his cheek. “I just…want you to stop not telling me things.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I know, I don’t mean to keep secrets anymore, just…like I said, I didn’t want to get your hopes up. Or mine.”

“Okay…Well, let’s not get our hopes up and just…look forward to tomorrow,” she said brightly, patting his chest.

Nick smiled and nodded. “Till tomorrow.”

\--------------------------

When Nick woke to his alarm, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He didn’t feel off, he didn’t feel cold or foggy. He stood up and blinked blearily, fumbling to turn off the phone. Standing, he went to the bathroom to do his business and shower off quickly. When he looked in the mirror he turned his head left and right and didn’t see anything amiss.

“So far so good…” he muttered. He shaved and finished getting dressed.

“Nick?” Juliette called sleepily.

“Hey, I’m just getting ready for work. You still got a bit, keep sleeping.”

“Mmm…doing good?” she muttered.

“Doing good.” He kissed her temple. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay…” she sighed, settling back down.

Nick headed out, feeling more optimistic each step.

Getting to the station, Sloane and Hank were walking up as well.

“Hey man, how’s it going?”

“Good, real good,” he smiled.

Sloane smiled a bit. “The meeting with Gallin went well then?”

“Yep. Got a wonder pill apparently.”

“Sorry, you’re on the pill?” Hank asked, only mostly joking.

“Ha ha,” Nick said. “No, it was a pill for the whole zombie thing…”

Hank sobered. “Oh, so that’s…gone?”

“I think so. Gallin said it wasn’t a sure thing, but I feel good,” he said, holding up his arms with a shrug. “No side effects yet.”

“Yet being the key word,” Hank said, brow pinched in worry. “Where did this medicine come from?”

“Not sure. Gallin said she had a contact.”

“And who’s “Gallin”?”

“Ah, right…” He glanced at Sloane who looked thoughtful before nodding and looking up at Hank.

“Gallin is a Grimm Librarian. She helps acquire information and weapons for Grimms. There’s at least one in each capital city in the US—and several in other major cities around the world. Cynthia Gallin is the one here in Portland.”

Hank blinked as he absorbed all that before nodding. “Okay then…so she also gets medicine?”

“She can,” Sloane said. “Rare weapons, rare ingredients, rare information—that’s what Librarians trade in. Most of them were raised somewhere close to Grimm life, but aren’t Grimms themselves so can’t really hunt the same way. Others are Grimms who retired or were…unable to continue actively hunting.”

“Well, I’m glad she found something,” Hank sighed. “I was getting worried that might be a permanent condition.”

“You and me both,” Nick said, heading to their desks.

“Don’t get too comfy,” Wu said, walking over. “We got a call just a bit ago, someone found dead in their home.”

“I take it they didn’t slip in the bathroom?” Sloane asked.

“Not unless they did it a bunch of times and their face ended up caved in,” he sighed. “I’ve heard its rough, so prepare yourselves.”

They all eyed one another as if to say “what else is new” and rose to head to Hank’s car for the day.

The scene was a townhouse on the fringe between the city and the suburbs, brownstone with brown brick accents and an iron fence around it. Inside seemed well cared for and lovingly decorated and not suspect at all—until they entered the master bedroom. There was a body on the floor, beaten badly, with blood spray and splatter all over the walls and the floor, but not up very high Sloane noted. This happened on the ground. The man’s face was all but unrecognizable, bloody and broken.

“Damn,” Hank said. “Whoever did this was angry…”

“No kidding,” Nick said. “Do we know who the vic is?”

“Yeah. Home owner, Michael Creek. 34, works as an investment banker,” Wu summed up.

“So the kind of guy that could make you very happy or very not happy,” Hank sighed.

“Who found the body?” Sloane asked.

Wu nodded to another room where a man with dark hair and hawkish nose. “His brother-in-law, Anthony Westerman. Came over about 7, they were supposed to go fishing together. Found him like this.”

“We got a time of death?” she asked.

The ME looked up. “My best estimate would be between 5 and 6 this morning.”

“So just before he came over supposedly…Could he have surprised the killer?” Nick asked.

“He didn’t say he saw anyone, but feel free to ask,” Wu said, leading them to the room.

Mr. Westerman looked up when the walked over. He was agitated, which could be understandable finding a dead body, but he was looking around like he wanted to get out of there. Again, dead body, but it was also a little strange how he kept flinching from the cops.

“Mr. Westerman?” Nick asked.

“Yes? I mean, hi…”

“Hi. I’m Detective Burkhardt; these are detectives Griffin and Larson. I realize you probably answered some questions already, but we’d like to talk to you.”

“Right…okay, sure.” He stood, breathing in and wiping his hands on his pants. “Could we do this outside though? I just…I don’t think I can stay in here anymore, knowing Mike’s in there…like that…”

“Sure, okay. Out back?” Hank asked. Mr. Westerman nodded and headed out the back door with them to the deck overlooking the backyard. He took a deep breath once outside, running a hand over his face. “You need some water or something?”

“No…no, I’m…I’m just thinking how my wife’s going to feel…Mike was her only family left.”

“We’re sorry to hear that,” Nick said. “We understand you had a trip planned with Mr. Creek?”

“Yeah…yeah, we were going to go fishing. Start of the season.”

“Is that something you do often?” Sloane asked.

“At least once a year. Michelle—my wife—got us into it. Wanted us to get closer…He was a good guy…”

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Nick said. “Do you know anyone that would want to hurt Mr. Creek?”

“I mean…he had some angry clients I-I think…but I don’t know any by name, sorry. You, uh, you’d need his client list on his computer.”

Hank nodded to Wu behind them at the door to look for the computer. “No one else?”

“No…he’s a good guy…I just…My wife, she’s going to be so upset. What am I going to tell her? I-I can’t let her see him like this!”

“Calm down,” Nick said.

“I can’t, I just—he’s dead, there was blood, I just-” He suddenly croaked out a raspy caw, black feathers spreading from his neck up to the top of his head and a large black beak growing from his nose and mouth. He looked at Sloane and Nick and his beak opened in an alarmed squawk. “Grimms?!” He woged back and stumbled a little, flight or fight warring a bit.

“Whoa, okay, I know that sign,” Hank said. “Calm down, we’re all detectives, they’re not—”

Hank wasn’t able to finish his thought when Nick gave a shout and nearly toppled over. Sloane jumped in surprise and then quickly grabbed hold of him. “Nick? Nick?!”

“M…my eyes…” he gasped, holding his hand over them. “S-something’s wrong…” He looked up and Sloane tried hard not to react too much. Usually their eyes went completely black when they saw a wesen, or their irises turned black if they were heightening their senses. But the whites of Nick’s eyes were black, and the irises and pupils had turned a silvery white—like the full moon in the night sky.

“What the heck?” Hank breathed, looking over her shoulder. Sloane glanced back at him.

“You can see this too?”

“Y-yeah…Nick, what’s wrong?”

“Hurts…It feels like someone’s scraping the backs of my eyes with sandpaper!” he gasped. “It’s like the worms!”

Sloane felt worry come over her and then looked at Hank. “I need to get him to Gallin. This must be something with that treatment.”

Hank nodded, reaching into his pocket and handing her his keys. “Take the car, I’ll tell the others that one of you was feeling sick or something.”

She nodded and then looked back at Mr. Westerman. “You! Cooperate with him,” she ordered.

“Y-yes!”

Sloane put her arm around Nick’s shoulder and led him towards the gate nearby, past a couple of crime techs. Nick gave a small yelp when they came out from the shade of the trees and the sun beat down on him, covering his eyes. “The light…god, it’s so bright…” he hissed.

Sloane paused and pulled the hood of his windbreaker over his head. “Hold on till we get to the car, you can lie down in back…”

He nodded, following her to the car and lying down. “Nothing can go right, huh?” he said quietly.

“…We’ll fix this,” Sloane said, closing the door and getting in the driver’s side.

“This was supposed to be a fix…” he reminded her.

“You said she specified it was experimental. Maybe it needs an adjustment.”

“Hopefully…God, this I worse than before though. I’m conscious for this…”

“Suck it up,” she said, though it wasn’t as mean as the phrase might’ve sounded. She dug her phone out of her jacket and pulled up Gallin’s number, putting it on speaker.

“Hello, this is Cynthia Gallin at Sunset Shores Funeral-” she started, sounding professional.

“Gallin, it’s Sloane,” she said, getting the car into drive. “Nick is having one hell of a side effect and we need to see your contact, _ASAP!_ ”

“W-what?” she said. “Side effects? But, um…I don’t think she’ll see you directly, I c-can call her—”

“Gallin, if you do not tell me where to find her now, I will _make_ you,” Sloane growled.

There was a pause and Nick felt a little sorry for Gallin, imagining her very shaken. “I…If you can come pick me up, I-I can take you to her. Introduce you,” she said quietly.

“Fine. What’s your work address?”

“1782 River View…”

She plugged that into the GPS on her phone. “Be ready to go when I get there.” She ended the call and put pushed more firmly on the gas to speed up.

“S’not her fault, Sloane,” Nick said, trying to relax and not feel like he was going to vomit. It was too bright even behind his eyelids.

“She trusted this person to get you help, and I trusted her,” Sloane said. “So both of them are going to fix this. Just try to hold on.”

He hummed, breathing in deeply.

Sloane pulled up to the funeral home where Gallin worked, trying to break gently to not jostle Nick. Gallin was there, in bright pants suit, rushing over to climb in the front passenger seat. She glanced back at Nick and swallowed. “Wh…what happened exactly?”

“He saw a wesen woge and then his eyes…they don’t look right.”

“Don’t feel right either,” Nick said. “It’s gotten better, but they still hurt. The pain was awful for almost 10 minutes…And it felt like light was trying to stab me in the brain…I got my face covered and if I try to open my eyes for more than a few seconds it’s like an overload.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said honestly. “I-it was experimental…”

“Well she needs to fix it,” Sloane said. “Start directing me where to go.”

\--------------------

Monroe and Rosalee were showing Bart and Alice around the shop, the latter two curious about where Rosalee worked. “This is quite amazing,” Alice said, looking over the jars. “There’s not a lot of places like this left in the world…I remember my grandfather talking about their local apothecaries back in the day, who would help with wesen ailments.”

“Heck, my grandma was using lemon, clove and honey to treat nearly everything when I was a kid…” Bart agreed, sniffing a jar of cloves with a small smile.

“Well, there are still some things modern medicine hasn’t figured out,” Rosalee said lightly. “My father and brother were traditional, but I’m also trying to integrate a bit of the modern era too. I’ve been doing some stuff online and I’d like to make a website, but…that’s a bit complicated.”

“Oh, we know,” Alice sighed. “We’re still getting used to just using those new-fangled gadgets.”

“More headaches than they’re worth sometimes,” Bart said.

Monroe tried not to smile too much. He paused when his phone started ringing and gave an apologetic look as he pulled it out. He saw Hank’s name popped up. “I…should probably take this, hold on.” He moved away, accepting the call. “Hey, Hank. What’s up?”

“Uh…not something good I’m afraid,” he sighed.

“Wesen trouble?” he asked quietly. His parents were trying to be cool with this but he didn’t want to poke the jaegerbar.

“Not how you might be thinking. You know Nick was having some issues with going zombie still?”

“Yeah. Not often but yeah…”

“Well, Sloane got him in contact with someone to try and help, who contacted someone to find a treatment. And they did, but it either did not work as intended or it had some rough side effects. A suspect changed—er, woged—and Nick’s eyes…I could see it, it was freaky, man. And it hurt him.”

“Shit,” he bit out. “Is he okay? I mean, how bad?”

“Sloane got him out of there real quick and is going to track this person down to get him checked out. I haven’t heard anything yet, but I thought I should give you and Rosalee the heads up.”

“Yeah, we appreciate it. I’ll let her know and keep us updated if you can.”

“Of course. I better hit it; I’m flying solo on a case right now.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.” He hanged up and Monroe tapped his phone against his palm worriedly.

“Monroe?” Rosalee asked. “What’s wrong?”

“…Nick might be in a bit of trouble.”

“He’s not going to make you fight something again, is he?” Bart said.

“First, he doesn’t make me do anything,” Monroe said with a deadpanned expression. “Secondly, it’s not a fight. He took some medicine for a wesen-caused ailment and it’s not working…”

“The Post-Traumatic Zombification Disorder?” Rosalee said worriedly. Bart and Alice glanced at one another with eyebrows raised.

“Yeah. He’s apparently having some bad side effects. Sloane’s taking him to who made the medicine to get him checked out.”

Rosalee sighed. “I’ve been trying to find something as well…But there was nothing about Grimms being affected by a Cracher Mortal in my books. Most wouldn’t be concerned with curing one…”

“A Cracher Mortal? In Portland?” Alice asked in surprise.

“You’ve heard of them, mom?” Monroe asked, also surprised.

“Well…when I was younger, I went to the Caribbean on Spring Break one year in college,” she said slowly. “Haiti, more specifically. It was a popular destination then for tourists and I wasn’t sure about it but my friends convinced me. I’m not a big beach person but it seemed nice.”

“I remember seeing the pictures after we met,” Bart nodded, smiling a little. “Your cute little sunflower bikini…”

Alice smirked back and Monroe grunted as he tried not to imagine that. “And you met a Cracher Mortal?” he prompted.

“Briefly. He was a local doing these shows for tourists. Very hush hush kind of show about “voo doo”, though it was pretty obvious it wasn’t anything to do with what the locals believed and he didn’t want to get in trouble with them. One of my friends’ boyfriends started heckling him and he woged and spat at him. We all freaked out ran for it with him. Then he started…”

“We’ve seen what happens to people who get the spit,” Monroe said, nodding. “The whole zombie thing. But your friend, did he…?”

“We found the Cracher Mortal again and told him to fix Will or we’d call the cops. He came over and ground up a bunch of stuff, shook it in a bottle and made him drink it and Will was fine. We all decided to try and put that part of the trip behind us. I only found out what he was later when I asked around, I’d never seen one before.”

“Wait, he made some kind of cure? Do you have any idea what it was?” Rosalee asked.

“Not really,” she said, shrugging. “Not to date myself too much, but it was almost 30 years ago and I only saw a bunch of ground up bits and flower petals. Sorry…”

Rosalee shakes her head, disappointed but knowing it had been a long shot. “It’s alright…”

“Hey, your cure worked pretty dang good,” Monroe reminded her.

“Yeah, but one straight from the wesen’s mouth so to speak might’ve helped Nick…Grimms are just too different, I don’t think it had the same effect.”

Monroe nodded, knowing she was worried as much as he was. “At least we know there must be another kind of cure out there…”

\-----------------

Sloane followed Gallin’s directions towards the woods. “Your friend lives out here?”

“Yeah, she’s uh…not very social…” Gallin stammered. She was texting furiously on her phone, saying she wanted to give her contact the heads up they were coming.

Sloane glanced at her out of the corner of her eye before turning back to the front. “You seem more nervous than usual…”

Gallin gripped her phone a little tighter. “…I…may not have been up front about her…”

“How so?” Sloane asked. Her tone left no room for trying to escape again.

“…She is…Her name’s Gwyneth Zima…She knows a lot of old wesen medicine…I thought she’d be able to help.”

“…How does she know wesen medicine?”

“…S…she is one…” she said quietly.

“…Okay.”

Gallin blinked and then looked at her. “…Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“…You’re not angry?”

“…” Sloane sighed and slowed the car just slightly so she didn’t miss the elusive turn she’d been looking out for. “I’ve been working with wesen for a few months. Nick since he inherited.”

“Yeah,” Nick piped up, having stayed quiet for a while. “I’m invited to a wesen wedding soon by one of my best friends. I’m the best man actually if things work out. He’s a Blutbad marrying a Fuchsbau.”

Gallin looked between them both in confusion. “I…are you serious?”

“Yep.”

“But you-you are one of the most notorious hunters today!”

“Not lately,” Sloane said simply. “I’ve pretty much set up roots here. The Fuchsbau marrying the Blutbad is my best friend. And I even honestly like the Blutbad…”

“This was after a lot of threatening to kill him,” Nick clarified.

“Well yeah, Rome wasn’t built in a day…”

Gallin’s jaw dropped open. “You are…friends with a Blutbad?”

“Yep. Gallin, is that turn anywhere around here?”

“I…I’m sorry, I’m still a little reeling—”

“Reel later, turn where?” Sloane bit out, losing patience.

“U-up ahead, on the right!” Sloane saw the turn and slowed again to head down a barely kept road through the trees. It was quiet a moment before Gallin said quietly. “So you won’t kill her?”

Sloane arched her brow and glanced at her again. “…If she doesn’t give me a reason to, no. Plus, she needs to fix Nick.”

“Yeah, that would be appreciated…” Nick sighed.

“Okay…good…” she sighed. “I just…you’re known for…”

“…I know my reputation,” Sloane said. “And I plan to keep it that way, so there will be no telling anyone I’ve gone soft.”

“R-right, of course,” she said quickly.

They were quiet again Sloane followed the somewhat windy road to some of the hills beyond. Finally, a large, modern looking mansion came into view. It was sleek and angular, white concrete pillars and shaded glass, inspired obviously by Frank Lloyd Wright.

“This is pretty out of the way…” Sloane said as she parked the car.

“Like I said, she’s not much for people…” Gallin said, unhooking her seatbelt.

Nick sat up and took Sloane’s jacket off his face. He blinked blearily and grunted. It wasn’t as bad as it was before but the light was still hard on his eyes. Sloane got out and went to the back, opening the door for him. “How are you doing?”

“Still feels bad, but I don’t want to stab my eyes out…” he said tiredly.

She nodded and helped him out, putting his hand on her shoulder so he wouldn’t have to keep his eyes open too long at a time. They headed up to the door and Gallin pressed the button on the video doorbell at the front. “Gwyn? It’s us…”

“I realized. Come in.” A smooth, sultry voice came over the intercom, not really caring about the urgency. There was a click as the door unlocked remotely.

“We didn’t really have time to grab better jackets, so…Just brace yourselves,” Gallin said.

They weren’t sure what she meant until she opened the door and a blast of cold air hit them. “Whoa,” Nick said as they crossed the threshold. “It’s like an icebox in here!” The house seemed normal otherwise. It was two stories and the stairs were just to the side of them. With the modern build, they were made to look almost like they were floating in midair suspended from wires from the ceiling. The bottom floor was open and cavernous in it’s minimalism with white marble floors. The walls that weren’t huge windows were painted a creamy white with modern art in splatters of color hanging over it. Crescent shaped couch was actually sunken into the floor, made in white leather with the floor beneath it a blue shag rug.

“…What kind of wesen is she?” Sloane asked.

“She’s-”

“You don’t have a guess?” They looked up at the top of the staircase to see a tall, willowy woman standing in just a slinky nightgown in a shade of blue and a black silken robe despite the chill. Her hair was long and blonde and she was very lovely with wide eyes and pouty lips. Gallin was blushing looking up at her, and swallowed, looking nervous.

Sloane eyed her, keeping Nick behind her. “…There are plenty of wesen that like the cold.”

She smiled and padded down the steps. “True, but Cynthia said you were knowledgeable. I thought you might be able to put it together.”

She huffed a bit. “Listen, I stopped assuming I know anything about anything when I watched this shmuck fight a living, walking lava monster,” she gestured at Nick. Nick mouthed _shmuck_ in confusion and a little amusement despite the situation. “And then we dealt with Zombies, serial killers, Royals and a bunch of other BS. I’m not really in the 20 questions mood so woge or do whatever you gotta do to get this show on the road.”

Gallin looked at her in mortification but Gwyneth laughed. The laugh felt sharp and brittle like ice and Sloane frowned on instinct. “I suppose that’s fair. Well, just so we’re on even ground, knowing what I know about you…” She woged and it wasn’t the volatile twitch many wesen displayed. Instead it was like frost gathering on her skin—turning it a pale, translucent blue as it spread. Her hair seemed to retreat, replaced by long icicles in pure white like sloping quills, and flecks of ice clung to her skin. Further shards of ice grew from her forehead and strangely it was almost like a crown around her head. Her eyes became so white they seemed to glow, her pupils blue instead of black.

Sloane gaped, slacked in shock. “A…A Glitrende Hud?”

“Bless you,” Nick said, keeping his eyes tightly shut. “I take it you do know what she is?”

“Yes…a very rare wesen with a special affinity for ice and snow. They can actually freeze things, almost like liquid nitrogen. I’ve heard they age much slower than the normal person…” she recited, keeping her eyes on the wesen.

Gwyneth woged back and smiled. “Asking a woman her age? Very forward of you.”

“Just saying what I’ve heard…” She looked at Gallin. “How do you and she know each other?”

Gallin blushed. “I…I’ve been trying to research certain wesen. I managed to find a deep web message board talking about different wesen conditions and Gwyn was a member.”

“I prefer online interactions to face to face when I can help it,” she said, walking forward. “Cynthia was wonderfully curious and keen to learn so we had a few more private chats.” Gallin blushed again and it was no wonder the cold of the house wasn’t bothering her. “My specialty was researching wesen illnesses. Both caused by wesen and afflicted to them.”

“So Gallin came to you to see if you could help me,” Nick surmised.

“Indeed. I work from home so I can keep my own schedule. I usually sleep most of the day so excuse my state of undress.”

Sloane didn’t buy that she had no time to change given Gallin had been texting her but didn’t say so.

“That’s not why I have my eyes closed…” Nick sighed. “Sorry to say there’s some side effects. I saw someone woge and I thought my eyes were going to leave my head. Almost wished they did if it would stop hurting.”

“Hmmm…that is a problem, especially for a Grimm,” she said, though she sounded more inquisitive than concerned. She walked over and Sloane eyed her but didn’t stop her as she set a hand on Nick’s face. “Can you open them now?” Nick took a breath but cracked his eyes open. He looked like he was staring at the sun, squinty and pained. His sclera was still a dark gray but his eyes were slowly going back to normal it seemed. Gwyn hummed leaning in close enough Nick tensed. “Odd…Let me change. Cynthia, show them to the work room.” She turned and headed back up the stairs, still elegant and calm. Sloane would’ve appreciated a bit more urgency.

“Um, this way,” Gallin said. She led them down the hall and to a metal door. Opening it up, they stepped into a room that looked like a combination of the spice shop work area, a laboratory, and a doctor’s office. There were metal shelves with small drawers, all labeled and clean, and metal tables, a dishwasher, a fridge, and a couple of cabinets. It wasn’t quite as cold inside—more like a comfortable room temperature.

“…So she really is kind of a researcher?” Nick asked, looking around blearily.

“Yes. She, um, is older than she looks. She’s collected a lot of knowledge over the years and works to figure out old and new cures for wesen conditions.”

“Well she messed up this one,” Sloane said, glaring a bit at the door.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt her,” Gallin reminded her.

“I said I wouldn’t kill her if she didn’t give me a reason,” Sloane clarified.

Nick sighed and sat down. His eyes were back to normal but he looked tired and drained. “I get this isn’t a normal situation so I can’t fault her…”

“You’re too understanding still,” Sloane sighed. “But fine. I’ll try to keep calm.”

Her version of calm was tapping her foot as she waited and glared at the door. Finally Gwyn arrived and opened the door to step in and Sloane barely kept from commenting on what took her so long. She was dressed in long tan-colored slacks and a black long sleeved shirt, her hair pulled back in a bun. “Alright…I’m going to have to recreate what happened if I’m going to be able to try and figure this out.”

Nick looked put out, having just finally gotten back to normal, but nodded. “Okay…”

She walked over and looked him in the eyes before woging again. Nick’s eyes went black, like they should, but then his irises and pupils seemed to burn through the black in a bright white. He gripped the side of the table, having tried to brace himself for it, but the pain still nearly knocked him off his feet. He was sweating with exertion and tried to keep eye contact with her before groaning and closing them. Sloane pressed a hand to his back and tried not to look as worried as she felt when his tense muscles felt like stone. Gwyn hummed, straightening and changing back. “Interesting…Something in the treatment must be reacting negatively with your Grimm biology…”

“Kind of figured that one out,” Sloane said, crossing her arms.

“Well, I’d been doing research on the Cracher Mortal on and off every few years. Their venom isn’t easy to come across on the market and they don’t sell often. I tweaked my original findings to take into account that he’s a Grimm and still experiencing the effects…” She went over and started taking out ingredients from various slots and equipment from drawers. From a shelf she took down a binder and flipped to a page that had her notes scrawled over it. Let’s check and tweak this a bit…”

Sloane sat down on the stool next to Nick’s, watching her work with narrowed eyes. She had promised Gallin not to hurt her, but that didn’t mean she trusted her. Glitrende Hud were cold—in powers and in nature. She’d read plenty of accounts of them killing people with a touch, as though their entire body went through hypothermia in an instant. And at times even further. One book described opening a victim up to find their organs were nearly frozen. Not a pleasant way to die and she didn’t want to be on the receiving end if she let her guard down.

She worked quickly but more out of practice than any kind of urgency. Efficient, practical, and only pausing for moments as if to consider a change. It was maybe about two hours before she pulled a mirror-like marble out of the crucible.

“That looks like it did before…” Nick said hesitantly.

“I altered it slightly. I think the gist of what it was supposed to do—leveling out your transformations—was successful or you would’ve likely gone into your dissociative fugue state at the pain you said you were experiencing. We’re looking now to even out whatever it’s doing to your eyes when wesen transform,” Gwyn said, rolling the round pill around in a pan of soft, white powder. She then plucked it up and held it out to him, the powder absorbing into it so the mirrored finished was visible again. “Let’s see if round two is more successful.”

Nick was a bit more hesitant but held out his hand. It felt heavier strangely, and he eyed it. “And if this makes things worse?”

Gwyn didn’t look insulted or concerned. “We cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Sloane was dubious but Nick sighed and put the pill into his mouth and swallowed. There really weren’t many options at this point. “…How long till it takes effect?”

“Should be fairly quick…” Gwyn said.

Nick remembered that look from the time he took the potion to help cure Juliette and just like that time, it hit him like a mule and he had to grip the side of the counter. It felt like someone had dowsed him with ice water, then boiling water, then ice water again. Just as fast his vision was flashing light, dark, black, light, dark, black. Then he felt like someone was gripping his heart in a vice and he yelled and tipped off the stool. Sloane grabbed him before he hit the floor and managed to ease him down, but he was tense and shaking and his eyes were flashing between clear and black like a strobe light. He was shaking but trying to focus and reach for her and grabbing the front of her jacket. “I…I can’t breathe…My heart…”

“What the hell did you do to him?!” Sloane yelled, looking at Gwyn like she was ready to tear her apart.

“Give it a moment,” she said coolly. “Let’s see where this goes…”

“It’s going to kill him! And then I’m going to kill you!”

“Sloane!” Gallin said pleadingly.

Just then Nick’s shaking stopped and Sloane’s attention snapped to him with a lurch of her own heart. But he was still breathing, so that was an immediate relief. But he was staring blankly up at her. “Nick? Nick, you…hey!” she reached up to gently tap his cheek. He didn’t react.

Gwyn hummed and kneeled down to take his pulse. “His heart is beating but rather slow…same for his breathing.” She looked at his eyes and she let him move his head like he had no ability to resist. He just gave her the same glassy expression. “…Well, it seems the second dose took his cognitive abilities down to almost zero. He’s breathing on his own for now so that’s good.”

“For now? That’s good?! I am going to—” Sloane started, looking ready grab her by the throat.

Gallin put a hand on her shoulder. “Sloane, don’t! She might be the only one that can help!”

“We’ve seen her help so far and it’s made him catatonic!” She said back.

Gwyn just stood. “I’m doing what I can with what I know and what I have on hand. But it may be beyond me right now.”

“Well you better fix what’s wrong with him now!”

“Maybe it’ll go away over time?” Gallin said, trying to diffuse and calm Sloane down.

“Likely not, my goal is permanency. I’m not the sort to keep making doses for someone, I want permanent solutions.”

“Well this isn’t a solution and it better not be permanent, for your sake,” Sloane said darkly.

Gwyn looked at her with a pinched expression before finally folding her arms. “Quite frankly, I don’t think I can help him. I’m not a doctor, this is a hobby. I tried my best—”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Sloane spat.

“Then maybe you should take your catatonic friend and go?” she said coolly. “I’m under no obligation to help a couple of Grimms; I just thought it was interesting.”

“No obligation—you’re playing around did this to him!” Sloane made a move for her, reaching over Nick ready to try and grab her. Without even blinking she grabbed Sloane’s wrist and just her hand woged, turning blueish-white and a piercing cold went through her skin. Sloane didn’t scream—she’d been taught not to scream—but she had to trap the reaction behind her teeth.

“You’re not welcome here anymore,” she said, her breath coming out in white puffs, not of steam but of frosting the air.

Gallin looked panicked before quickly pulling at Sloane’s arm. Gwyn hesitated but let go and Sloane grunted at the cracking sound like chipping ice as her fingers moved to let go. Sloane glared daggers, wanting badly to fight her, but Nick was in no condition to be in the middle of a fight.

“Gwyn, please—” Gallin started.

“I did what I could. Help her get him out, you can find someone else.” She stood, shaking her hand out as she rose to return it to its flesh tone.

Sloane pulled Nick up and she was surprised when he stood but he was still staring at her blankly. “Nick?” He didn’t say anything back. She frowned and reached down to tug at his wrist. He followed wordlessly, all the way back through the house and out to the car. When she opened the front passenger side of the car he didn’t react. “…Nick? Um…can you get in the car?” He didn’t say anything.

“What’s happened to him? He can move but he’s…” Gallin said. “Maybe we should go back, ask Gwyn for more help. I’m sure if you apologize—”

“I’m not asking your sociopathic girlfriend for more help,” Sloane bit out.

Gallin blushed. “Sh-she isn’t—we aren’t—”

Sloane took a deep breath to try and steady her fraying nerves. “Gallin, I’m not that good at romance and attraction, but you are worse at hiding it,” she said as patiently as she could. “I’m not going to say I get the attraction to her, because I think she’s got the personality of cat that likes to toy with small creatures. But I’m not apologizing to her when she said this was done because it was _interesting_. Nick isn’t a lab rat! And for god’s sake, Nick, get in the car!”

And with that, Nick moved into the car and sat in the passenger seat.

Sloane paused. “…Buckle your seatbelt.”

He did.

“…Stick out your tongue.”

He did.

“Stop that.”

He did.

“…Gallin, tell him to do something.”

“What?”

“Order him to do something. I’m ordering you to order him to do something.”

“Uh…okay. Um, Nick, uh…clap your hands once?” He did. “Clap twice.” He did. “Bark like a dog.” He did and Sloane put her hand on Gallin’s shoulder before she could say anything else.

“…Oh god dammit,” Sloane sighed.

\----------------------------

Rosalee was finishing up to lunch with Monroe and his parents at a nice burger place when her phone rang with Sloane’s number. She excused herself and walked outside. “Sloane?”

“Rosalee, we got a big issue,” she said. “Can you meet us at the shop?”

She was on alert immediately and stood, nodding to the others at the table and walking over to a secluded corner. “I should be able to. What’s happened?”

“Nick is worse than before,” she said. “The one that made that first dose gave him another bit and now it’s…look, she’s not going to help us more, I need to bring him to the shop and get your help.”

“Okay, okay,” she said. Sloane sounded more on edge than ever so it must’ve been bad. “Are you heading there now?”

“Yeah, we just got back to the city, about twenty minutes away.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you there.”

“See you.”

She hanged up and walked back in as urgently but calmly as she could. Monroe saw the look on her face and almost rose up to meet her, turning his chair out. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Nick,” she said quietly. “Sloane said he’s in bad shape, we need to meet them at the shop.”

Monroe nodded and stood but then looked around. “We gotta pay and run-”

“We have this,” Alice said. “Go, we’ll meet up later.”

Monroe smiled at his parents gratefully and rushed back out to his car with Rosalee. He drove as much over the speed limit as he could without getting pulled over and maybe took a liberty with a stop light or two.

When they got to the shop, Sloane was waiting outside with Nick and a woman they hadn’t met before. “Well, he’s standing,” Monroe said, getting out with Rosalee. “Guys?”

The woman jumped, eyeing them both a little hesitantly as they walked up. Sloane sighed when she saw them. “Hey…” Getting closer, Monroe could tell there was something wrong with Nick. He was standing but was glassy-eyed and lax.

“Nick? Buddy?” Monroe said. Nick responded to his name but didn’t say anything.

“Let’s…get inside and I’ll explain…” Sloane sighed, looking tired. Rosalee nodded and opened the door, heading inside with them and to the side room. “Nick, sit in that chair.”

Nick sat down, looking not at attention but not relaxed either. It was like he was just…there.

“What happened?” Rosalee asked, looking him over worriedly.

“Sloane alienated your friend’s best chance—” Gallin started. She immediately clamped her mouth shut when Sloane turned her gaze to her, squeaking that she’d said it out loud.

“You’re friend did that all on her own pissing me off and not taking this seriously,” she said darkly. “I trusted you to help Nick and you got some hobby scientist glitrende hud, so do not even think of putting blame on me.”

“Glitrende Hud?” Monroe asked in surprise. “There’s one of those in Portland?”

“In the woods, yeah,” Sloane said. She pulled back her sleeve with a grimace, showing the red-purple bruise in the shape of a hand, the beginnings of 1st degree frostbite. Rosalee gasped and quickly went over to gently take her arm to look it over. “I got away with that, but her second dose of “medicine” did…this to Nick.” She gestured to him. “Nick, raise your right arm.” He did so, surprising Monroe. “Now lower it halfway…Give a thumbs up.”

“What…is going on?” Monroe said worriedly.

“The second dose took away his free will it seems,” Sloane said.

“How much?”

Sloane paused but then went over. “Nick…slap me in the face.”

“Wait-”

Sloane didn’t even bother protecting herself, rolling with the slap when Nick’s hand shot out across her cheek. “…Yeah, it’s pretty gone,” she said, blinking past the sting.

“I would’ve taken your word for it,” Monroe said.

“I wanted to test it too,” she said, rubbing her cheek with a sigh. He hit hard, but not too hard. “The Glitrende Hud said she tries to make her “cures” permanent, so this is a huge problem. If Nick can take the order to hurt someone, he’s dangerous to everyone right now. Especially if the royals want to get to him again.”

“Wait, what?” Gallin asked.

“Long story, later. Rosalee, can you help him?”

Rosalee looked him over again, frowning. “I…I’ll go over all the notes I have, but this is a bit tougher…I don’t know what she gave him.”

Sloane looked at Gallin. “Do you know the recipe?”

“No…Gwyn doesn’t really share notes when she’s experimenting. If she finds something that works she might, but when she’s not sure she tends to keep her notes close…” Gallin said.

She sighed and leaned against the table.

“…We need to call Juliette,” Monroe said.

“Right, probably a good idea,” Rosalee said, pulling out her phone. “I’ll go call her, maybe she can come over.”

“I agree she should know but I don’t think true love will cure this one…” Sloane sighed.

“You never know?” Monroe said, sounding hopeful as he looked at Nick worriedly.

Gallin looked at him. “…Are you really a Blutbad?”

Monroe looked up and nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

Gallin looked at Sloane. “…I never thought you would…be friends with wesen, Sloane. I mean, the first time I met you, you were covered in blood from a hunt…”

“Thanks for bringing that up,” Sloane muttered, straightening. “Trust me; I didn’t think I’d be here back when we first met either. Life is…strange.”

“…Dierdre would probably kill you,” she said quietly.

Sloane frowned deeper. “And that is why she is not going to find out, _right_?” she said meaningfully.

Gallin paled and held up her hands quickly in a placating move. “Y-yes, I’m not going to tell her…”

“When did you guys meet?” Monroe asked curiously. “You seem to know each other.”

“Uh…I was 13, Diedre and I went to meet up with the Librarian in Springfield, Massachusetts—” Sloane started.

“Missouri. It was Missouri.”

“What? No, it was Massachusetts…”

“No, Springfield, Missouri. I know, I grew up there,” Gallin pointed out, a tad more defiant.

“…Oh…Sorry, it’s been a while,” Sloane said, looking a bit awkward. “But anyway, she was apprenticed to her uncle as a Librarian, I was there with Dierdre.”

“We were about the same age so I tried to make friends…you weren’t really in the friend mood then,” she said quietly, glancing at Monroe and Rosalee.

Sloane frowned, trying not to feel a little guilty. She remembered being very brisk with Gallin then, brushing her aside when she tried to talk to her. She honestly didn’t know most of what she was talking about—tv shows and movies and something called Pokémon—so she wasn’t even sure where to start. It didn’t matter much anyway, they were there for a few weeks and then gone again. “…It wasn’t a great time for friends,” she said. She glanced at Nick, worried again. She didn’t want to lose the friends she had though.

“…I guess not,” Gallin conceded. “…I…I’ll try to talk to Gwyn, smooth things over. Maybe get the recipe at least.”

Sloane frowned. “Alright, but I’ll be honest, Gallin, I’m not sure I trust her…or at least trust she has anyone’s best interests in mind.”

“I do,” she said, crossing her arms. “Are you judging her because she’s a Glitrende Hud?”

“…A little, yes, but also she didn’t make a great first impression I might point out.”

“Yeah, they are kind of known for being _cold_ and calculating,” Monroe said. Sloane gestured at Monroe in an _I told you so_ fashion, glad the Blutbad was backing her up.

“She’s just…proud. You should get that.” Sloane frowned more when she gestured at her. “But she’s nice deep down. I’ll get her to help, _again._ ”

“Yes, because she was a great help this time,” Sloane sarcastically.

She glared and spun on her heal, marching to the door. “She would’ve figured it out if it wasn’t for you making things worse! I’ll just go get this done myself and you’ll see.”

“…I’m your ride, aren’t I?” Sloane pointed out a bit testily.

“I’ll call an Uber back to work and get my car,” she said, pulling the door closed behind her forcefully.

Monroe pursed his lips and then looked at Sloane. “That…could’ve gone better.”

Sloane rolled her eyes as she pulled out her phone. “Nick, give Monroe a rude gesture for me, I need to call Hank.”

\-------------------------------

Juliette had to finish up some emergency work at the vet’s office before she got Rosalee’s message. Then she’d immediately rushed out of work ahead of the late afternoon traffic. Juliette rushed over to Nick the moment she was through the door. “Nick? Nick, are you…” He stared up at her blankly. Juliette looked even more anxious, smoothing back his hair a little. “You…you really weren’t kidding, it’s like he’s a doll…”

“That’s part of the problem,” Rosalee sighed, pushing one book away and grabbing the next in a pile. “Whatever this is, it’s suppressed his emotions and his free will.”

“Super dangerous combination,” Monroe said. “I got nothing on that, and I doubt any Grimm texts will either. We’re trying to figure out anything from some of Rosalee’s texts…”

“But this isn’t exactly a common malady,” Rosalee finished.

“So what do we do?” Juliette asked, taking Nick’s hand to hold as she looked at them.

“Right now, we’re researching. I’m making notes, but we don’t know what was in that original dose.”

“Hank’s covering at the station,” Sloane supplied. “He’s let Renard know some of what’s going on and is buying us time before a lot of questions are asked. Said Nick and I got food poisoning from bad breakfast tacos, bought us some time.”

“Could Renard help? Or a hexenbeast?”

“I’d prefer to leave that for a last resort,” Sloane said honestly. “But if so…I guess that one we helped with the book does owe us a favor.” She glanced at Rosalee.

“Angela? Maybe…but this is less hexenbeast magic and more…alchemy or more like what I do. But extreme.”

“Well, Hexenbeast magic would be an extreme solution,” Monroe reasoned.

Sloane sighed but then pulled out her phone again, dialing Renard’s number.

“Sloane. How’s Nick doing?” Renard asked. He didn’t exactly sound worried, but maybe there was a touch of concern. It was hard to tell.

“No improvement. We’re still looking through Rosalee’s books, but…Your friend Angela, is she around?”

“I’m afraid she’s away at the moment,” he said. “She’s visiting some family in Vietnam and won’t be back till next week.”

“Oh, well, that’s great…” she sighed.

“You all must be desperate to want a Hexenbeast to help,” he said slowly.

“Just fielding our options,” she said, trying to sound chipper.

“Uh huh. I’ll ask around. But anyone else, they may have a higher price in return. That’s assuming they’d even help him.”

“Yeah, no. I’d rather not bring a stranger into his,” she sighed.

“Alright. If I think of anyone or anything else, I’ll call,” he said, sounding more genuine.

“Okay…thanks,” she said, hanging up. “So, that’s a no go. The one hexenbeast I would maybe be okay with is out of the country till next week.”

“Dammit,” Monroe growled.

“He’s going to be okay,” Juliette said, squeezing Nick’s hand. “We’ll figure this out…right?”

Rosalee tried to smile. “Of course…but I don’t know how long it might take. I think for now, someone should be with him at all times. And…we’re going to have to monitor him and make sure he eats and takes care of himself.”

“It’s like having a baby but with less crying,” Monroe said. “Well, from Nick…”

Sloane looked at Nick again, and Juliette fretting over him, rubbing over his hand and arm as if to comfort him though she was the one needing comfort. Nick’s glassy eyes were haunting in a way—like when he’d become enraged, yet without even that emotion or the paleness of his skin to give away his condition. It was jus like someone had flipped a switch and turned off the light inside his eyes. She didn’t like it.

“…I’m going to go see if I can get some more information. Maybe the book on the Cracher Mortal at the trailer has some info we over looked.”

“Maybe. Do you want some company?” Monroe asked.

“No, just let me borrow the key and I’ll be back a little later.”

He nodded, pulling the key off his key ring and handing it to her. Rosalee put a hand on her shoulder. “Call us if you find anything or need us.”

Sloane tried to smile. “I think Nick needs you more right now…” she said honestly. Sloane turned to head out to her car. She sat for a moment, breathing deeply and fingering the key. Finally she sighed and put the key in her glovebox, reversing and heading back out to the highway.

\--------------------

Gallin had to take care of some things at work—after all she was a mortician, there were bodies waiting to be taken care of in the freezer—before heading back out to Gwyn’s home in the woods about 2 hours later than she wanted. The time to think didn’t help her calm down. She was too nervous to call her first. She was always nervous it felt. Being the only non-Grimm in her family, she’d never been taught to be brave. Or taught much at all.

She sighed and tried not to think on that. It was a familiar route, one she’d worked through in therapy. But that didn’t stop the desperate need sometimes to do _something_ when she could. But this didn’t turn out like she’d hoped. She’d hoped maybe to get someone on her side about Gwyn—maybe not other wesen, but Gwyn specifically. And then it ends up that Sloane, who she’d always wanted to impress, was suddenly…okay with wesen? Best friends with them?! _With a Blutbad?!_

It burned a little, she had to admit. Burned more how she was so open with them, so caring or at least more caring than she’d ever seen before. She’d seen it before when they were experimenting with Nick’s transformation, how she tried to make it better for him and protect him at her own expense. How she’d smiled and joked freely with him.

It had been a surprise when Sloane first came to the library. It’d been almost 14 years since they’d last seen one another and they’d both changed, but she could still recognize her. Sloane took a while to remember her name and even then kept calling her Gallin even when she said she could call her by her first name. Sloane had said she needed something for a wesen made out of fire basically because otherwise an idiot new Grimm was going to get himself killed. They’d traded—information on the Volcanalis for the foam grenades—and she’d headed back out without many pleasantries even if she was respectful. Then months later she called again and the difference was startling. She was still in Portland, which was a shock, and she was asking for more help for a friend—and it struck Gallin how she’d said a friend. It was honest. She honestly cared about him and there was a hint of worry in her voice. And she remembered trying to get any kind of response out of her when they first met and being met with annoyance and barely tolerance. It stung a little.

But then, she also remembered Dierdre. Sloane’s mentor was…well, it explained why Sloane was how she was as a kid. Maybe more than a decade away from her influence was finally being undone. Even so, to befriend wesen? Sloane Larson, one of the finest Grimms of their generation, going soft? Maybe this was good though. Gallin thought she was alone, thought she’d be ousted even more from the community like Marie Kessler was after she claimed to love a Steinadler.

She blushed on reflex thinking about if she said she loved Gwyn. Then worried more about what Sloane said.

Gallin almost missed the turn in the woods and headed back up to the house. She pressed the button the video doorbell once again. It was a wait in silence and she bit her lip, hoping that Gwyn would still accept her company after the issues earlier.

She jumped when the door opened and Gwyn looked at her coolly. “Cynthia…Didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“I…I wanted to apologize for Sloane. She can be a hot head, but she’s just worried…” She looked down, wringing her purse strap. “I…I still think you’re our best chance to figure this out.”

“…Come in,” Gwyn said, turning to head back inside. Gallin quickly headed in and closed the door behind her. Gwyn walked over to her immaculate, modern kitchen with perfect white countertops and gray cabinets, opening a wine fridge and pulling out a bottle of merlot. The red as she poured it into a glass was startling amongst all the white. She gestured to the glass and Gallin shook her head, not feeling like drinking. Gwyn recorked the bottle and set it aside, sighing and leaning against the counter as she sipped. “Cynthia…Clarify something for me. Why do you care about that Grimm?”

“Huh?”

Gwyn swirled the wine thoughtfully. “You don’t know him well, correct? So why do you care?”

“I…well, he needs help,” she said, trying not to sound like a question.

The other woman sighed and took a longer sip as if to compose herself. “Very noble, but that’s too much to go through for a stranger.”

Gwyn frowned a bit. “…Because Sloane wants to help him,” she finally said a bit more honestly.

“Hmmm. You’re still trying to prove yourself to you and your family and anyone else who knows you’re not a Grimm.”

“Gwyn, I told you that—” she started, blushing.

“It’s true though,” she said, setting the glass down and walking over. She reached up and set a chilled hand on her cheek, making her blush more. “Dearest Cynthia…you need to stop being that little girl desperate for approval from everyone.”

“Y…you’re not my therapist, Gwyn, I told you that in confidence…”

“And I’m telling you this for your own good,” she said more firmly. She leaned in, brushing their lips together and Gallin sighed at the slightly chilled but soft feeling of them. But Gwyn didn’t go further, backing away to keep talking. “Stop putting yourself out there for people who aren’t going to give you anything in return. It’s sad and it gets you into trouble.”

Gallin looked down a bit. “…I just…thought we could help…”

“I could help you mean,” she said, taking her hands away. “You were the middle man in this case.”

“Okay, yes, that you could help! And he still needs help! I mean…it’s interesting, isn’t it? You always complain about nothing being interesting anymore. I thought you would enjoy helping…you did all those tests on his blood…”

Gwyn sighed again. “I did what I could but without keeping him here I don’t have many options to keep treating him. And I don’t think that other Grimm is keen on letting me keep him. Pity, having a Grimm in hands…I could’ve maybe discovered a few other things,” she mused.

Gallin had to admit, the way she said that gave her a bad feeling. “Gwyn…?” She jumped when a chime went through the house.

“Another visitor?” Gwyn said, looking put out. She walked back to the door and pulled it open. “Oh. Well, I wasn’t expecting you.”

Sloane eyed her and sighed, looking profoundly uncomfortable. “Can we talk?”

She looked her over before turning. “I suppose. I was just speaking with Cynthia.” Gallin blanched a bit when Sloane walked in but she Sloane just nodded to her and turned to address Gwyn.

“I have someone looking over Nick and what…happened,” she said, trying very hard to be delicate and not state blame. “We might be able to figure something, but she needs to know what you used.”

Gwyn hummed, still unruffled but thoughtful. She glanced at Gallin and then smirked. “So…you still need my help?”

Sloane sighed. “In a way, yes…though I would settle for your notes.”

“And you think your friend can manage this?”

“She managed to find a cure the Cracher Mortal’s other victims,” Sloane said, smiling in a bit of pride. “And Nick’s girlfriend figured out how to turn it into a gas for easier treatment.”

“…Well that is rather impressive, I admit,” she said, frowning a little.

“So give us your notes, we’ll figure it out more, and we’ll share it with you,” Sloane said. “You can still research, but have help.”

She frowned more, her finger tapping against her forearm. “…No.”

Gallin looked at her in surprise. “What? But Gwyn—”

“That’s not really enough for me. I prefer having my hands working in what I do, and I’m not going to just trust my notes with anyone. If you brought your friend back, maybe left him with me—”

“Yeah, no,” Sloane cut her off. “I’m not “leaving him” with you, and neither would any of the others. If you want to work with them, you’ll have to either let Rosalee in here or preferably come to her. One of us is always present, and we part ways when Nick is cured.”

Gwyn looked at her with an outright sneer. “I’m not putting myself to your level.”

They glared at one another and Gallin looked between them worried. “Gwyn…I know you can do this, b-but maybe working together would be best?”

“I can do this,” she acknowledged. “I know what I need, it would be easier if…Hmmm…” she turned thoughtful again and then a smile spread over her lips. “Well…actually, there may be something we can work out.”

Sloane had a bad feeling but kept her face a mask of neutrality. “Work out how?”

Gwyn sauntered past her, pacing as she talked. “Well, as you surmised, I’m much older than I look. My kind age much more slowly—it’s almost a form of cryogenics just naturally in our bodies. So I’ve had a lot of time to acquire my knowledge and resources. I actually make my money in antiques. Typically I buy something cheap and wait a few years. Then I got into herbology and wesen illnesses and collected many things regarding that.”

“Fascinating,” Sloane said blandly. “I take it this is leading somewhere?”

“Oh let me brag a little, dear, I don’t get to do it in person often. But fine. Years ago, I had an apprentice, let’s say. She was very bright, very enthusiastic. We worked on many things together and we were…close.”

“…Like friends or more?”

“We blurred the lines a bit,” she said with a mischievous smile. Gallin blushed and felt suddenly disappointed as well. She had not known there had been others.

“Lady, I was helped raised by a couple of lesbians and I’ve slept with women before, you can’t really scandalize me,” Sloane scoffed. Gallin was looking at her in shock again but she kept her gaze on the wesen in front of her. “What does this have to do with now?”

Gwyn pouted but sighed. “Well, I suppose it was…40 years ago now, she betrayed me. I had a greenhouse at my old residence where I grew my plants that I used for my experiments.”

“…I’ll be honest, you don’t seem like the green thumb sort,” Sloane said.

“I’m not. It was a pain for a long time trying to do it myself. She—Lucretia—took care of the plants after we met. And now I contract that work out at a separate facility. My touch is a little too dangerous for plants,” she sighed. “Lucretia was quite good with them. And then…she burned it down,” she growled, a flash of anger going over her face.

Sloane frowned. “Why?”

“I have no idea,” she said flippantly. “She’d managed to drug me and I woke up in the night to a fire and her gone. The only thing I can think of is greed because she also stole some of my most rare samples when she disappeared. But I finally tracked her down recently.”

“…You’ve been hunting for her for 40 years?” Sloane asked. “I am a Grimm and that seems freaking excessive.”

She leveled an icy gaze at Sloane and the hunter had to admit some part of her tensed up at the look. “My kind don’t trust easily, so betrayal cuts deep. And our long lives make for long memories.”

Sloane nodded. “Okay…so you know where she is?”

“Yes. But it’s not a place I want, or possibly _can_ go. She knew that but I’ve been trying to think how to get to her.” She smiled and walked to her again, leaning in. “You don’t have the same weakness I do though. You could do what I’ve been wanting to do. And it would benefit you as well because one of those ingredients I’m fairly sure would let me make a cure for your friend. A real one, the one I wanted to make but couldn’t.”

“You think?” she asked dubiously.

“Yes. It’s a very rare species of rose called, coincidentally, ‘The Melting Heart’. It actually used to grow in the Caribbean, the only known species to do so, but was wiped out many, many years ago. I was able to save a few samples to keep it going at that time despite it being awful to be there with that heat and humidity. And I know for a fact it is used by the Cracher Mortal in their own cures, it’s a small bit of a recipe I found. But I couldn’t recreate it without it…I doubt she would let it die, so if you can get it and bring it back, I think we’ll have a much better chance.”

Sloane tried not to look interested. “…I feel what you want to do isn’t just say hi and ask for your stuff back,” she said slowly.

Gwyn smiled and this smile really made Sloane’s skin crawl. “No no no…I need you to get my stuff back, one way or another, and preferably ending with putting that lovely knife at your side through Lucretia’s chest.”

Gallin gasped and Gwyn glanced at her, having forgotten she was there apparently. “Gwyn…I…but she’s…”

“Oh don’t look so shocked,” she sighed. “As I said, no one crosses me. Getting this done would bring me a lot of relief.” She looked back at Sloane with a smile. “You find her, make her tell you where my samples are, _kill her_ , and bring them back to me. I’ll let you keep a rose or two and give you my notes for your friend.”

Sloane stared at her for a long moment before her gaze hardened. “You know, I could just kill you and take your notes.”

“Sloane!” Gallin nearly yelled.

Gwyn didn’t look fazed. “You could try, but then I might kill you. And then, even if you did win, you don’t know where I keep my notes do you? Do you think I’m foolish enough to keep them out in the open? And you want to search this whole house? Risk maybe a failsafe I might have if say I don’t check in regularly somewhere? Thank you for the idea, Cynthia” she laughed. Sloane narrowed her eyes and Gallin winced. “If you want them, we make an agreement. Otherwise, you’re on your own to flounder around and figure it out while your friend remains a vegetable.”

Sloane looked ready to kill her right then, her hand tightening, before she breathed out in defeat. “Where?”

“Sloane-” Gallin started. She turned a glare to her and Gallin flinched back.

Gwyn smiled. “Phoenix, Arizona. I don’t melt, but the heat doesn’t agree with me, which she knows. I’ve been considering my options, so maybe this is fate.”

“I don’t put much stock into that. Get me the information, I’ll consider it.”

“You can’t be serious!” Gallin cried, getting up and going between them. “Sloane, this-this isn’t a hunt! It’s an assassination!

Sloane glanced at her and then back to Gwyn. “Grimms have done those as well. Not much difference.”

She gaped before shaking her head. “You don’t even know if she’s wesen! And I thought you changed!”

“Also doesn’t matter,” she said, squaring her shoulders.

“What?! No, it does, you’re—”

“I am a Grimm who has spent the last 20 years of her life training and hunting,” Sloane snapped. “You? You’re a librarian. You’re not a Grimm. What do you know about actual hunting? Traveling, putting yourself in danger, actually having to make life and death decisions? Nothing. So don’t preach to me.” She stared in shock and hurt. Sloane turned her gaze back to Gwyn expectantly. “So? Details?”

Gallin shook her head slowly before quickly heading for the door. “I-I’m not going to be a part of this. I’m not coming back, no to-to this craziness!”

Gwyn watched her throw the door open and slam it shut, and that Sloane didn’t even flinch. She smiled coldly again. “Well…Let me tell you what I have in mind.”

\------------------------------

Hank arrived at the spice shop later in the afternoon, almost evening, after clocking out at the precinct. He came bearing food. “Hey…I brought this, since I wasn’t sure when Nick might’ve eaten last…”

“Oh God, I didn’t think of that,” Juliette gasped. “He hasn’t eaten since early this morning!”

“It’s okay,” Rosalee said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Hank. It didn’t occur to any of us…”

“It mainly occurred to me because I hadn’t eaten either and was starving come five o’ clock,” He pulled out the burger and fries, setting it down for Nick. Nick just looked at it blankly. “…Nick? Buddy? It’s the bacon burger from Barrett’s, you’re fave.” Nick still just stared at it.

“…Nick, eat.”

Nick picked up the burger and obediently began eating. He didn’t appear to get any enjoyment from it though, just automatically chewing and swallowing. Hank frowned more, feeling his heart ache a bit. “Man…why does this keep happening to you?”

“Grimm luck,” Monroe muttered. Juliette frowned at the book she was helping go through the books, and then took a deep breath to keep going.

“Is there anything we can do?”

“We’re researching right now,” Rosalee said. “I’ve found a few small references, but not an actual recipe…Sloane went to see if she could find anything at the trailer.”

“Okay…I think I’ll go help her,” Hank said. “You got a few eyes here already. Maybe some more over there might make things go faster.”

“That would be good,” Monroe nodded. “Might be all hands-on deck right now.”

Hank nodded and turned to head back out. Rosalee sighed, looking at Nick again and then suddenly lunged across the table to smack an orange berry the size of a cherry tomato out of his hand he had taken out of a jar nearby and was about to eat. “Nick! That’s a Jerusalem Berry, don’t eat it! It’s poisonous!”

Nick blinked but then set the jar back down exactly where it had been—too close to the food now Rosalee could see, just behind the burger and the fries—and went to the fries instead. Monroe quickly took the jar and cleared anything else out of Nick’s view, putting it up and away. “It’s like watching a kid…”

“I can’t believe he doesn’t have…anything, any kind of survival instinct or personality,” Juliette said. “How can he just be not there? Just…obedient?”

“I don’t know what combination of ingredients this glitrende hud used, but I’m definitely suspicious…” Rosalee said.

Monroe finished putting things away and Nick-proofing the shop, sighing when he was done. There was a knock at the door and he slumped in frustration but motioned for the girls to watch Nick while he went to answer it. He was shocked when he saw his parents on the door step. “Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?”

“We got a bit worried when you didn’t return our texts,” Alice said.

Monroe patted himself down and pulled out his phone, grimacing at the 5 messages on screen. “Sorry, it’s on silent…we’ve been pretty busy. Um, little bit of an emergency. I’ll turn that back on…”

“Emergency for the Grimm?” Bart asked.

“Nick…” He hesitated but then gestured for them to come in. “When they tried to get a better cure, it…it really messed him up.”

He led them into the back of the shop, where Nick was back to just staring ahead. Alice frowned, looking him over. “He does seem…out of it.”

“To put it lightly,” Juliette said.

“I’ll catch you guys up if you like,” Monroe said.

“Maybe while we grab you all dinner?” Alice said.

“Hank, Nick’s partner at the police station, grabbed him something…but I guess we all need to eat too.”

“I’m not sure I can but I’ll try…” Juliette said.

“There’s a café place nearby that has a good salad for me,” Monroe said. “I’ll right everything down for you.” He went to go do so, everyone setting their orders. Bart was eyeing Nick curiously still. “Dad?”

“He seems…weak like this…like a normal human…”

“He is,” Juliette said, not looking up. “I mean, he’s human. He’s always been. Being a Grimm doesn’t change that, just like being wesen doesn’t make you all monsters…”

Bart blinked, not sure how to take that. “I didn’t mean…It’s like seeing a wax figure of someone you were scared of as a kid. It can’t hurt you, but it’s still creepy…”

“He can hurt you though,” Monroe said. “That’s part of the problem. He can still fight, just on someone else’s order.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Alice said.

“I’ll explain more when you get back,” Monroe said, handing her the list.

“Right, we’ll bring it back here to eat while you stay.”

As they were getting ready, Monroe’s phone buzzed and he pulled it up. “Oh, Hank’s calling. Maybe they found something?” He quickly opened the call. “Hank?”

“Hey, uh…Sloane isn’t at the trailer.”

“What?” Monroe asked, surprised.

“Yeah, it’s locked up and I don’t think anyone’s been here since that wildesheer thing. I tried her phone, she’s not picking up. I even stopped by her house and I don’t see her here.”

“That…is weird. Um, hold on.” He put the phone to his chest and looked at Rosalee. “Sloane has, uh, gone AWOL? Hank can’t find her. She’s not at the trailer or at home.”

Rosalee looked surprised as well before reaching into her purse for her phone. “Let me try.”

\-----------------

Sloane was sitting at her car at the airport, looking over flight itinerary and prices. She had a small duffel bag full of clothes she always kept packed in her car. She’d considered stopping at home for more weapons, but she didn’t have time to contact a pilot through the Grimm network and going through security was not an option with cross bows swords.

Her finger hesitated over the buy button and she growled at herself, tipping her head back. This had been her routine for almost an hour, hesitating and rethinking her routine. Hank texting her had startled her and she hadn’t answered, too unsure about everything to even try to explain. She then had to go back through to find the tickets again and kept arguing with herself about times, cost, etc. But all that she knew was stalling, and she hated herself for it. She stared at the roof of her car for a few moments, trying to get her mind to slow down and just focus. She knew what she had to do. It wasn’t any different than what she did before.

But she was different than she was before. And all of the tickets she looked at were one way.

She started when her phone rang and seeing Rosalee’s name didn’t bring her the usual good feelings. She hesitated but then hit accept before it went to voicemail. “Hey…”

“Sloane? Where are you? Hank went to the trailer to help and you aren’t there?”

“Yeah, I…went home to look at my stuff first.”

“Well you aren’t there either according to him,” she said bluntly. “And you didn’t pick up for him.”

Sloane grimaced. Usually she was better at lying but she usually had more control over the situation she was in—there were too many factors now. Too many people she didn’t want to lie to even when it would be easier to do so. Too many people that actually _cared_. “I…I went to go see Gwyn. The glitrende hud.”

“What? Why?”

“I wanted to see if I could persuade her to get a sample of what she used on Nick and her recipe. Then you’d have a lead. It was spur of the moment.”

“Alright…but why try to lie about it?”

“I really wish you weren’t so astute sometimes, Rosalee,” Sloane said honestly, groaning deeply and covering her face in mortification. She then sighed and dropped her hand as she gave up trying to be covert. _I’m usually better at this…_ “We made a deal for the research. She’ll give me it if I…take care of someone for her.”

“Sloane, no,” Rosalee said, and she could hear a stool scrape across the floor. Still at the shop, standing now, agitated. “You can’t do that.”

“It’s someone who stole some rare plants from her,” she said quickly. “And she says one of them may be the key to helping Nick.”

“And you believe her?”

“I believe we don’t have a lot of options,” Sloane said evenly. “We can’t keep Nick under wraps for long, we don’t know if that will wear off or get worse, and he’s a danger to himself and others as long as he’s like this. So I’m doing what I am _good_ at and taking out our problem. If I do this, we’re at least a step closer.”

Rosalee frowned and sighed. “…Okay.”

“Okay?” Sloane asked, surprised.

“No, not okay,” she clarified. “But…I get what you mean and you have some good points. I don’t like it but you did. Where are you going?”

“…Phoenix, Arizona. I’m still figuring out flights at the airport.”

“I can help there, if you come back and wait and let us help.”

“Rosalee, you would be an accessory—”

“This isn’t my first time figuring out how to kill something,” she said. “I have a contact that can help. It’ll take him just a while to get ready. But it’d be more direct than a commercial flight.”

“…Okay. But the sooner, the better.”

“I’ll let him know, we can probably leave first thing in the morning. In the meantime, come back here and eat and we’ll talk this out together.”

 _Together…_ Why did that make her happy and sad at the same time?

“I…let’s meet in the morning,” she sighed. “I might need some sleep if I’m not going to just straight up kill someone…”

“Okay, that’s fine too,” she said. “Just don’t go getting on any planes till then. Promise me.”

“…I promise.”

\---------------------

Juliette took Nick home as there wasn’t really a great place for him to sleep at the shop. Getting him there wasn’t hard with how obedient he was, but it irked her at the same time how quiet he was. Not even a thoughtful kind of quiet, just an eerie sort a statue has—a statue that breaths and blinks. He’d been like that as the rest of them ate, and it kind of unnerved everyone in the room.

Once home, she had him follow her upstairs to their bedroom. “Okay…you get changed for bed,” she said, pulling out some pajamas for him. She was talking more to herself to keep calm. “In the morning we’re all meeting back up to get a game plan going to get you back to normal…”

Nick didn’t say anything, just continuing to change robotically and then stand in front of her. “…Go to bed and lay down—under the covers!” She added as he moved to just lie on top. He stepped back and slid in under the covers. He lay on his back, blinking up at the ceiling. “…Close your eyes and go to sleep.” He closed his eyes and though she didn’t think he was asleep yet, she couldn’t deny he was eerie in how obedient he was and how still. If it wasn’t for the rise and fall of his chest she’d think he was back in his zombie state again. While part of her was tempted to sleep in the guest room, she sighed and walked over, climbing into bed on the other side. Looking over at him, she kissed his temple. He didn’t even flinch. “Why does this keep happening to us…?”

\-------------------------------

Sloane managed to sleep since she’d slept through worse feelings than anxiety, but was actually the first at the shop. Rosalee and Monroe arrived soon after, opening it up and going in to make coffee. They looked much more tired and Sloane was trying not to let her impatience show. The coffee was about done when Hank, Juliette and the still catatonic Nick arrived.

“Hey…how did he do last night?” Monroe asked.

“He slept like…I don’t want to say the dead, but I told him to go to sleep and he did,” Juliette said. “And he didn’t move all night. Honestly it’s like before but also worse because it was all night. I had to check he was breathing more than once.”

Rosalee sighed and looked at Sloane. “So, care to explain this whole thing about Phoenix, Arizona?”

Sloane sighed and rested her arms on the table. “The glitrende hut said there was a rose that this person took from her that she thinks would help cure Nick. Some rare breed called Melting Heart.”

“Melting heart?” Rosalee asked, straightening. “I’ve heard of that, and it is super, super rare…but it used to be used in a lot of old folk remedies in south America and the coastal islands…”

“Maybe it was in that potion my mom said that Cracher Mortal made?” Monroe guessed. “She mentioned flower petals.”

“Possible…But I have only ever heard of it, we’ve never had any in the shop. It’s thought to be all but extinct.”

“Well, she says this Lucretia Solsgard person took it.” Sloane picked up a file folder she had and held it out. “She was her apprentice and lover and they had a messy break up to say the least. Arson was involved which is only mildly worse than my worst break up I guess…”

“Not mine,” Hank said. They glanced at him and shrugged. “My last divorce got real ugly…”

“Back to this,” Sloane said, pointing at a map of Arizona Gwyn had given her. “She’s located here. Gwyn’s convinced she wouldn’t destroy these plants and must be keeping them alive, and in Arizona that means she must have a pretty nice green house. So she tracked her down that way once figuring out the state and somehow confirmed it. I didn’t want to ask a lot of questions about that part…But she said if I go there and kill Lucretia and get back her stuff, she’ll let us have her notes.”

“Sloane, you can’t be thinking about really going there and killing someone?” Hank asked, frowning.

“I’m not sure we have a choice right now…She wants proof when it’s done.” She held up her hand and wiggled her little finger. “Her left pinkie finger. Not sure I can get that without killing her…”

“I want to help Nick too,” Monroe said. “But we don’t have a guarantee that woman is telling the truth! Or that this woman deserves to just be killed. Further, what if we need some of those samples? If we can’t take them, she might have another request for you. And Nick…Nick is not going to like us killing someone for him—”

“I know that!” Sloane snapped, slamming her hand on the table. “Don’t you think I realize all of that? But look at him!” she gestured to Nick, sitting quietly at the table. “It’s been 24 hours and he’s not better or worse. That could mean this is permanent—unless we figure out how to reverse it.” She slumped a bit, trying to calm down. “We can’t keep his condition secret for long so time is kind of essential. Gallin didn’t find anything with the other librarians, although I’m not sure she asked at the moment. But this is the only lead we have.” She looked back at them. “I know Nick is not going to like this and I will take all the blame for it. And yeah, I don’t know if she’s even telling the truth. But I’d rather get that damn flower and give it a shot than just let him stay like this. And I already have blood on my hands so my doing it makes sense.”

“Sloane,” Rosalee said, frowning, “You’ve been so much better that here though. You’ve worked with us to figure out other ways and get through tough situations without just killing everything…”

She nodded, understanding and agreeing but at the same time it brought up feelings she was still trying to avoid thinking about how that _would_ be what she would’ve done a year ago. “I’m just saying, I can deal with the aftermath of this,” she said, not quite looking at her. “It’s what I was trained for. Let me at least use it to help Nick and not get you guys pulled into it…”

They all looked at one another and then seemed to all come to the same conclusion and nod.

“Okay, that’s the plan for now…My friend will be at the airport soon. He flies small aircraft and he should have a plane that will get us to Phoenix ready.

“Us? I just said—”

“I want to help too,” she said firmly. “Plus, he’s wesen and not big on transporting a Grimm, I’m there to keep him calm. _And_ do you don’t know what a melting heart looks like.”

“I know you’re talking about a plant, but that sounded real creepy,” Hank said.

“It’s a creepy flower,” Rosalee said. “And poisonous. Like foxglove it has a lot of digoxin in it, good for heart failure—It speeds up the rhythm of the heart. But the Melting heart has about five times the dose of foxglove—meaning like foxglove it has to be handled carefully.”

“More carefully if it’s five times as strong,” Monroe grimaced. “You sure you don’t want more company?”

“The two of us can handle it I think,” Rosalee said with a smile. “I think you staying here to help watch Nick would be best right now.”

Monroe frowned but sighed. “Alright…but be careful.”

“I will,” she said, kissing him gently.

\------------------

Sloane looked at the plane on the runway with a leery expression. It was a six seater she could tell—sleek bodied with two propellers and engines, a tail that angled up with two stabilizers on either side, colored in white with red and black details around the windows. It didn’t look like it was falling apart, but it looked like it had seen better days and could use a good wash. It had a couple of dents as well and she wondered if it had been hit by a flock of large birds recently. More than that what irked her was the pinup girl on the side: a rather questionably drawn blonde wearing skimpy camo and a dear stalker hat, holding a gun rather suggestively in a way that would likely blow her head off if the trigger went off. That looked new, so she had to guess the current owner had it done or did it since she wasn’t sure who would pay money for that.

“Rosalee…?” she asked uncertainly.

“I know, I know…but I promise, he can help us out. His taste is questionable but he can fly this really well…From what I’ve heard.”

“From what you’ve _heard?_ How do you know a guy with a plane anyway?”

“He…works with the resistance, those fighting against the royals,” she admitted. “A friend of mine is deep in the resistance and he forwarded a few contacts. I’ve helped a few of them with some medicinal issues from time to time and he came to me for some, um…personal issues. So he owes me still.”

Sloane pulled a face but sighed and followed her.

“Hey, Rosalee!” A rather animated, lanky man wearing an AC/DC shirt and old bomber jacket and very stained jeans popped out of the plane and practically jumped down the steps. He had long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, a little peach fuzz across his jaw like he didn’t shave this morning. “Good to see you!”

“You too, Clint. Sloane, this is Clinton Herschel. Clint, this is Sloane Larson.”

Clint looked at Sloane curiously and then suddenly woged. From his head, pronged horns sprouted, with. They weren’t quite as big as a real reindeer’s, but they curved from their roots at his scalp forward over his head, and back gracefully with small prongs, all covered in a velvety layer of fine fur. His face went from human to a more snout like face, and wide eye a little further on his face now. Sloane tried not to tense at the sudden change but then looked him over. “Fløyelshorn?”

He woged back and looked at her in surprise. “You really are a Grimm…” He looked at Rosalee, now the uncertain one.

“She won’t hurt you,” she promised.

He didn’t look convinced. “I’m doing this for you really. You have an emergency in Phoenix?”

Sloane nodded but let Rosalee do the talking. “Yeah. It should only take a day.”

“I’m fine with that; I don’t have much else going on right now. Just got the flight plan approved so, uh…” He gestured. “Ladies first.”

Sloane was still hesitant—mainly because Rosalee was already climbing up. It was scary to think about her coming with her…But hiding fear was something she was good at.

Buckling up, Clint got the plane going fairly quickly and up in the air. Sloane tried not to tense at being jostled as took off, and made their ascent, relaxing just slightly when things evened out at their cruising speed. “The wind is working with us, so it should be about 4 and a half to 5 hours to get to Phoenix!” he shouted back from the cockpit. “It’s going to put us just at this baby’s limit on a tank of gas!”

“As long as you remembered to fill it up!” Rosalee shouted back.

“That was one time and I told you that story to impress you!”

Sloane tried very hard not to think about jumping.

\--------------------

Hank stopped by around one after picking up lunch for everyone again with them owing him later. “Hey. How’s he doing?” he asked, setting the bags of burgers down on the table in the side room.

“No change,” Juliette sighed. “I had him lay down because the way he just… stares out was creeping me out a little.

“Yeah…not used to him being so quiet either. I’m starting to miss his snark…Bright side, we got our murderer from the case yesterday,” he sighed. “Wasn’t the brother in law like I thought—it actually was one of the guy’s clients. Creek dropped him as a client when he found out he was moving dirty money and killed him because he was worried he’d tell the police what he was doing. He grabbed the guys’ laptop to try and erase the info but ends Creek uses cloud tech and everything was backed up. His sister figured out his password for us…It was their dad’s birthday.”

“Well that’s good at least—she helped bring him in for her brother…” Juliette said.

“Yeah. But there’s always a new case…I need my partners back. Both of them.”

Juliette nodded softly, looking at Nick with a quiet sort of anxiety. “…Do you ever wish…I don’t know, that you didn’t get pulled into this?”

Hank blinked at her then sighed. He knew what she meant without asking. “Sometimes, yeah…but hey, I’m here. No use in asking not to be now. Even if I just try to ignore it, I know this world exists now. I’d rather be prepared than let it catch me off guard again.”

She nodded softly. “I guess that’s one way to look at it…I just wish it would give Nick a break, jut for a while…”

“Yeah…he’s part of this world too now, so I don’t think that’s going to happen…Just gotta do our best to have his back and Sloane’s.”

She nodded a bit more determinedly, standing straighter.

“Hey, Hank!” Monroe came in. “Just got off the phone with Rosalee, they’ve landed in Phoenix. They’re going to find this lady and she’ll update us after…”

“Do you really think Sloane will killer her?” Juliette asked, worried. “I mean, I know she burned down a green house and stole some stuff, but that doesn’t really equate to capital punishment for me…”

“I don’t know,” Hank said honestly. “I think she’s trying not to be that kinda Grimm anymore…but I also think she’ll do what she thinks she needs to in order to save Nick…”

“Yeah…I will say, I don’t want Sloane hunting me down,” Monroe said honestly.

\---------------------

Sloane had rented a car with cash when they miraculously arrived unscathed to the airport in Phoenix. She had the address that Gwyn gave her and it was about a half hour before they arrived at a quaint little house with a zeroscaped with decorative designs in the rocks out front. It was one story, white with a black roof and looked perfectly mundane like the other houses around them.

“…What are you going to do?” Rosalee asked.

Sloane took a deep breath and got out of the car. “Stay here, act normal. I’ll flash my badge, tell her I have some questions, and get inside. Then I’ll do what I have to do and you don’t have to be involved.”

“Sloane—” she started.

“I’ve done it before, even before being made a detective,” she said. “We don’t know what she is, if she’s dangerous or what she’s capable of. I’ll do what I have to, but that doesn’t mean you should have to get blood on your hands too,” Sloane said seriously, not looking at her.

Rosalee hesitated but then went around anyway. “Sloane…what are you going to do after this?”

“…whatever keeps you and the others safe.”

“I don’t know if I like what that implies,” she said seriously

“This might be stepping back into old habits, Rosalee…Not sure I can get back.” She looked over. “I mean, you really want me around if I do this? Would Nick? He didn’t take killing a man when he couldn’t control himself. I know what’ I’m doing. I’m willing to do it, I just…” _Will it undo everything else I want to keep? Will I have to leave?_

Rosalee put a hand on hers. “Sloane, we all know your past. I accepted it a while ago because, well…you worked hard to change. The fact you’re worried shows that. And Nick won’t be happy but he needs to feel anything to be upset with you.”

Sloane sighed but nodded a bit and tried to smile, but then looked down. “I also gotta make sure this stays quiet so you don’t get wrapped up in a murder plot…”

“I would appreciate that,” Rosalee said, a little strained. “But maybe murder isn’t the answer?”

“I don’t think Gwyn would go for that. If that glitrende hud turns on me, I’d probably have to run for it anyway to avoid her hurting you all,” she said seriously. “Or kill her, but she’s not a push over I can tell…”

Rosalee frowned more, not liking the idea of Sloane having to leave. “You know, there is always an option B?”

“Plastic surgery?”

Rosalee snorted and shook her head and Sloane smiled a bit more that she broke the tension a little bit. “No. Talk to this woman. Maybe she can help.”

Sloane wasn’t so sure but gave Rosalee’s hand a squeeze before turning to get out of the car. She headed up to the door before Rosalee could inquire further.

Knocking on the door, she breathed out and readied herself for a fight. She tried not to drop her guard when the door opened and an elderly woman with short white hair and glasses stared back at her curiously. “Yes?”

“…Lucretia Solsgard?” she asked. It occurred to her that Gwyn had said this was forty years ago and that she didn’t age as ‘gracefully’ as the wesen did.

“…No, my name is Lucy Sanderson…” she said, looking suspicious now.

Sloane eyed her, reaching for her badge in her jacket pocket. But she just felt like her heart wasn’t there. All the years of deception, stealth, killing…it felt far away and she was suddenly _worried_ to look back. To go back. Would going back mean letting go of now? Would it mean Rosalee, Nick, all of them looking at her like a time-bomb again? She didn’t want to admit that was what she was worried about but she _liked_ her life in Portland…would she have to leave it?

Sighing, she dropped her hand, letting the tension drain from her. “Screw it, option B it is,” she muttered. She had blood on her hands, but she wasn’t getting fresh blood on them for a dammed glitrende hud. “Look, I don’t care what you call yourself. I’m a Grimm and Gwyneth Zima asked me to find you.” Her eyes widened and she moved to close the door but Sloane slammed her hand against it. “Don’t,” she warned. “I honestly don’t want to hurt you for this. But I have a friend that needs help and that glitrende hud said you took something from her that could do it and she’d give it to me if I got it back. And told me what she wanted in return.”

“…I can guess,” she said slowly. “Why tell me?”

“Because I don’t like being used,” she said honestly. “And I don’t want to be that kind of Grimm anymore. But I’m a professional at this so I can if it’s the only option to save him…but is it?”

She looked her over a moment before sighing and stepping back. “Come in…is that another friend by that car?”

“Yeah…”

“Her too then,” she sighed, turning to head inside.

Sloane hesitated but looked back and gestured for Rosalee to come over. She jogged up, looking confused. “What happened to going in alone?”

“…I remembered I wasn’t alone,” she said softly. Rosalee smiled and followed her inside.

The inside was homey, a stark contrast to the modern mansion Gwyn had. It was earth tones, and wood, and flowers. There were pictures all over of a full life—traveling a lot, a husband, children, and grandchildren, nothing that spoke of a life on the run so much as just _living_ it. “So, Gwyn did something to someone you know?” Lucretia asked.

“In a manner of speaking,” Rosalee said, also looking around. “Our friend, Nick, is a Grimm…um, you know what that is?”

She looked up at her and smiled. “I do. My mother was a Mellifer and my father Keirsheite. I didn’t inherit the wesen gene however.”

“You’re a keirsheite-getranger?”

“Yes, though where I grew up we usually called it having “unseen traits” or “Unseeners” for short. No transformations like my mother, though I did inherit her love for knowledge. And flowers.” She walked over to the kitchen. “And sugar. I have some lemonade if you girls are interested.”

“Um, thank you, that’d be great.”

“You don’t seem that concerned I told you Gwyn sent me to kill you,” Sloane said, watching her warily.

“I always knew she’d try it someday,” she sighed, taking out a jug and then a couple of glasses covered in painted daisies. “She always was _spiteful_. That she’d find a Grimm to do it is a surprise, but I didn’t grow up naturally fearing them like a full wesen. Plus you said you didn’t want to, so I’m rather banking on that.” She poured the glasses and offered them both one before gesturing to her dining table in the other room. “Tell me the whole story, please.”

Sloane glanced at Rosalee, who nodded to her and together they explained. Starting from the attack by the Cracher Mortal, to Nick’s infection, to the side effects, Gallin recommending Gwyn, and the ultimate issue of the treatment itself. It took some time but by the end Lucretia was nodding slowly.

“The Melting Heart…it’s a dangerous flower if you don’t know how to handle to make medicine,” she said sagely.

“My books said as much. I think I can do it though,” Rosalee said.

“I’m supposed to take your pinkie finger back to Gwyn to get her notes though,” Sloane said. “Your left one, she specified. She’d know it was yours?”

“Ah…” she held up her hand and Sloane saw she had an old tattoo on her pinkie of what looked to be initials, _IB_. “Of course…”

“…Can I ask,” Rosalee said slowly. “Why did you burn Gwyn’s greenhouse and run off with some of the flowers?”

Lucretia sighed and sipped her lemonade to wet her tongue. “…I met Gwyn when I wasn’t much younger than you. While my mother and I were quite a bit alike, I was much more interested in botany and science than news like she was and in the end we had a bit of a falling out over what to do with my life. I decided to travel and she let me know a few wesen spots to check out, learn more about that part of my life even if I’m not… _part_ of it. That’s when I started getting interested in herbology and wesen medicine. I decided to keep traveling and try to find out information on as many as I could. I met Gwyn in Canada, trying to find some special roots and mushrooms for a research group. She was looking for them as well and finding someone with a similar interest was…it made me feel more like I wasn’t an outsider in this world. The wesen world.”

Rosalee frowned. “I guess I never considered what it would be like growing up with a wesen parent and not…being one.”

Lucretia just smiled. “It’s alright, I’m sure many don’t. It’s like…I’m a part of that world, but I’m not a citizen of it. Gwyn feigned to understand, saying her slow aging and long life made her feel similarly. She convinced me to return home with her when I showed her I knew how to take care of plants. At the time she lived in Michigan, in an impressive mansion out on its own on the edge of a small town called Hilding. Her green house was…amazing. I loved it. She asked for my help tending to the flowers and I started living there, doing this and that to help and…well…”

“She said you two had a relationship that _blurred the lines_ ,” Sloane said.

“Yes. I’d known I was bisexual for a while, so it didn’t really shock me to have feelings for a woman. And I thought…I thought she truly felt something for me back.” She looked down at her pinky. “I stayed for a couple of years actually. We learned from one another, and I tended the garden so she didn’t have to work so hard not to kill the plants.”

“Sounds nice so far…”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I thought it was…I didn’t realize how isolated she made me though. Pulling me away from friends and family, keeping me just working all the time. But she made me feel special. Until I got suspicious when she would leave to supposedly make some money selling antiques, but I never saw her pack anything. And when she came home she smelled—so strongly I could smell it, just this smell of flowers mixed with potent chemicals and…” She shuddered. “And some of my plants were being very deliberately cut up or had gone missing. I knew something was wrong, so I followed her…”

“Followed her…?” Sloane prompted when she grew quiet.

She breathed deeply. “I found her at a small hospice facility. There she was experimenting with homemade drugs, administering to wesen and humans alike. Very harsh experiments—sometimes involving surgery and very little equipment to do that safely.”

“Oh God,” Rosalee breathed.

“That’s sick…” Sloane said.

“Oh, that’s just the start. I don’t know where she got all of them—some were homeless I think but it was hard to tell. She’d make them sick if they weren’t already, and then try to cure them. And the cures didn’t always work.” She looked at her pinky. “I found out what was going on sneaking questions to “patients”. Most wanted out but were too sick. There was one that trusted Gwyn though... Her name was Ivy Briggs, and she was desperate enough for help to ask Gwyn to try and save her from a wesen illness. It was Bellman’s Sarcoidosis.”

“Oh…” Rosalee said, grimacing. “That is not an easy disease to treat even today…It usually affects bovidae-like wesen.”

“Yes, she was seelengut. A sheep…” she laughed a bit bitterly. “She could hardly breathe. Her blood cells were swelling and filling the veins and membranes in her lungs. But she still tried to smile through it…she was happy to have someone to talk to; she was kept alone in one of the back rooms as her roommate was “gone”. We were just able to talk through her window. She believed Gwyn was trying to help and I wanted to believe that too. But…part of me knew I couldn’t let her know I knew what she was doing. She was keeping it secret for a reason. So I tried to act like I knew nothing. I tended the garden, I tended Gwyn, and I dueled between suspicion and guilt for that suspicion.”

“Sounds rough,” Sloane said.

“Yes. I’d go and check on Ivy when Gwyn was busy. And she didn’t seem to be getting better. Almost like she was getting worse. But we talked about her family, her brothers and their farm and how much she missed it. And then one day…I watched her die.” She blinked rapidly. “I held her hand while she gasped like a fish, woged for a moment…all pretty white wool and her skin just as pale…and died. And I cried under that window as quietly as I could. Then I heard someone coming and let go and hid, but I could see them…Two of Gwyn’s “helpers”, little more than hired goons. They just picked her up like she was nothing. Like she was something to be thrown away. And I heard Gwyn, who I thought I loved, say “Well, that was a waste of resources. Where am I going to find another test subject like her? That virus takes forever to incubate.””

A few tears slipped out recounting the words and Lucretia wiped at them with an angry purse of her lips at the memory. Sloane and Rosalee weren’t sure what to say but Rosalee leaned forward to pat the older woman’s knee. Lucretia smiled softly but shook her head. “She didn’t care at all. And I realized she was using my plants to make these cures but not out of the goodness of her heart but because she was _bored_ and it was something to take up her time. And that I was also just something to take up her time. I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t know what to do, it was driving me insane. I got this tattoo when I finally made a plan. She noted it and I told her it was for an old friend that died. I think she didn’t like me having other connections, but I told her I just wanted to remember her and distracted her enough she relaxed. Then I brewed up a tea to make her sleep, loaded up as many samples of the plants I just couldn’t stand to see destroyed as I could, and then set fire to everything else. A lot of hard work still went up in smoke but she couldn’t use it anymore for her experiments…” She looked at Sloane. “When you said you didn’t want to be used, I knew exactly what you meant. Gwyn will get her hands dirty, but if she can get someone else to do it, she will. And she’ll find ways around what should be her weaknesses.”

Sloane sighed deeply. “…We still have to do something for Nick.” Rosalee nodded but looked as conflicted as Sloane felt.

“…You said that it was involving the Cracher Mortal, correct?” Lucretia asked.

“Yes. The cure I came up with seemed to work on humans and other wesen, but Nick kept having these additional transformations…”

“A Grimm might need a stronger version, the kind the cracher mortal have used for centuries. It does use the Melting Heart rose.” Grunting, she stood. “Follow me.”

Rosalee and Sloane glanced at one another before standing to follow. She led them to the back door and they were shocked to find it led out to a greenhouse that took up Lucretia’s entire backyard. Rows and rows of flowers lined the glass enclosure and it even had separate rooms for those that needed a special environments.

“Oh wow…” Rosalee gasped, looking around with wide eyes. “I’ve only seen some of these in pictures…”

“I know,” Lucretia smiled proudly. “With the help of new friends, I was able to keep the samples alive for many years until I was finally ready to settle down. I chose Phoenix out of paranoia even though I’m not a fan of the heat, but I’d made enough and saved enough to create this.” She gestured at the green house. “Got even easier when I got solar power, let me tell you.”

Rosalee was excitedly looking at some of the plants before pausing. “Oh…that’s the melting heart…”

Sloane looked over to see a solitary bush on its own. It was in a large pot and stood about to her chest, with a full well trimmed globe of leaves about as large as big beach ball. And Sloane understood the name now—the blossoms adorning the leaves and branches were a deep, bloody red and their petals tapered and rolled to look almost like they were melting even though they were healthy. They looked honestly like a melting heart. There were about 5 blossoms on the bush, and several buds on the branches.

“Yes. I admit, it’s one of my favorites even though it’s so dangerous.” She looked at them again. “Considering you don’t want to kill me, I feel like I should help your friend. I know the recipe you need, I found a Cracher Mortal in the Caribbean who taught me.”

“Seriously?” Sloane gaped.

She smiled. “Seriously. I’d still prefer to keep my pinky though.”

“No, yeah, keep it,” Sloane said. “I’ll just tell Gwyn too bad, so sad.”

Rosalee frowned slightly. “Do you think she’ll accept that?”

“She won’t,” Lucretia said. “You’ll be her next target.”

“All things considered, I’m less broken up about fighting her than I am you.”

Lucretia smiled. “Well…if you’re a Grimm, I hope you can handle yourself against her. But more than anything, I hope this helps your friend. Now, I won’t have everything, but I should be able to get you the recipe and what you need that I do have. From the sound of it, Rosalee can do the rest I’m sure,” she smiled, Rosalee smiling back. “Help me gather what we need. I should have a list in my note book…”

\------------------------

Gallin knocked on the door to the modern mansion again, trying not to fidget too much. The doorbell next to her buzzed and Gwyn’s voice came over it. “Cynthia, dear, I’m fairly sure you told me yesterday you weren’t coming back?” she said, sounding amused.

She blushed but frowned. “I want to talk…”

There was a pause before she came to the door, dressed in jeans and blue, flowy shirt. “Well…by all means, come in.” Stepping inside, she closed the door behind her.

“…Did Sloane really agree to…kill someone for you?” she asked slowly, staying near the door.

“She did,” Gwyn said, walking casually back to her living area.

“Gwyn, why?” Gallin asked. “Why won’t you just help when she came to ask? I thought you got into medicinal remedies because you wanted to help people?”

Gwyn actually barked out a laugh. “Help? My dear, no. I mean, occasionally my work might benefit others, but it’s not intended,” she said, slipping into a more outdated way to talk. “I told you before, I like the challenge. The puzzles. If there’s not challenge, what’s the point in doing anything with this long life of mine? Everything gets old and boring eventually.”

“…Everything?” She asked, looking down.

A cool hand went to her face and gently turned her back up. But her gaze wasn’t comforting like the action, it was pitying. “Oh, don’t look like that, dear. But yes, _everything._ ” She let go and walked off. “Revenge is another puzzle. I worried Lucretia had me beat but well, this is an answer as good as any other.”

“Murder isn’t an answer!”

“You’re the daughter of a Grimm, aren’t you? I would think you’d know murder is always a Grimm’s answer,” she said icily.

Gwyn flinched but then glared. “N-not the Grimm I asked you to help or Sloane. They’re friends with Wesen. That’s why I brought them to you—I thought they were like us! I thought you wanted to help! But now-now Nick is catatonic and Sloane blames me and is turning to her Fuchsbau friend to cure him!”

“Jealous?” Gwyn said with a smile. “But is it of her friends or that Grimm stealing your little childhood crush from you?”

“I’m serious, Gwyneth!” she nearly shouted. “This is going too far! Whether I know him or not, he can’t stay like that! He’s unfeeling, unspeaking, following any order he’s given and Sloane is willing to kill for him—”

“What was that?” she said, looking up with more interest.

“She’s out there killing for you, for him—”

“Not that,” Gwyn said, moving closer. “You said he’s “following any order he’s given”. This was after I gave him the second treatment?”

Gallin had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Sloane hadn’t wanted anyone but her friends to know about that and perhaps she’d been right from the look in the glitrende hud’s eyes. “Y-yes…?”

“That’s interesting,” she said, her mind already turning. “I had no idea it might result in that…That could be very useful…”

“Useful?” Gallin asked. “It’s awful!”

“Depends on who’s under the influence,” she said. “Can you get him here?”

“What? I—probably not, he’s with his friends. A Blutbad, a Fuchsbau, and probably a couple of cops. Oh, and Sloane. Sloane would probably kill me…”

Gwyn sighed, rolling her eyes. “If she’s still there. She may have already left.”

“She’s not going to just do what you say,” Gallin said.

“…No, likely not, that’s true. After all, she’s not you.”

“What?”

“You’ll take me to them and I’ll deal with them. No blood on your hands, but I get what I want. That sounds fair, doesn’t it?” she said with a smile.

She backed up slightly, swallowing. “Gwyn, I-I can’t do that! Sloane—”

She gasped when the hand came up again to grab her much more roughly by the chin. A painful chill was emanating from Cynthia’s fingers. Gallin shook, more from fear than the cold as she looked at her with a terrifying gaze. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear, my little bookworm. I am going to get my things together and you are going to take me to where they are or I’ll freeze the blood in your veins. Because I always get what I want, even if it takes eternity.”

\--------------------------

Sloane and Rosalee helped gather the ingredients once the recipe was found. It was a lot of flowers, and then a few other ingredients that Rosalee was certain she had at the shop.

“These are pretty close to what my book said to use that helped the other victims…just with a few more powerful ones I didn’t have.”

“I think that supports the idea that he just needs a more powerful dose.”

“It definitely does something to us beyond the pale. Nick got the same stuff but his reflexes and physical stats went through the roof,” Sloane said. “It’s like Grimm steroids, complete with roidrage…”

“Well, best to get him off of them now then.” She closed up the old wooden box she used to put the ingredients together for them and handed it to Rosalee. “I wish I could return with you but I’m a bit beyond my adventuring days…”

“Best not to have to meet Gwyn face to face either,” Sloane said. “At least if you have a choice about it…”

“I wish you the best of luck against her,” she said honestly. “It’s almost night time though…Would you two like to stay tonight? I had all the ingredients I was saving for my famous lasagna I was saving for my family’s visit, but I don’t mind breaking them out now.”

Sloane hesitated, wanting to get back to help Nick, but looked at Rosalee. “Think Clint gassed up the plane yet?”

“Probably, but…I’m not sure I want to fly with him at night,” she admitted.

“Is that somehow worse than when he flies during the day?”

“I don’t know, but if he’s tired it might not go well…”

“Fair point,” Sloane said quickly, not wanting to think about that.

“I’ll text him that we want to leave early in the morning instead.”

Lucretia nodded, smiling a bit. “It’s nice to have company, this will be fun. I’ve got a guest room with a couple of twin beds for you.”

Sloane smiled a bit and had to admit, Lucretia reminded her of her Aunt Mim and Aunt Jean. She wondered if they’d get a long…

\------------------------------

Monroe grabbed up his phone like he was saving it from the jaws of death when it dinged with a message. He opened it and smiled in relief.

Rosalee: _We got the ingredients without killing anyone!_

Monroe: _Really? That’s great!_

Rosalee: _Yeah, but it’s so late that we’re going to head back in the morning rather than risk a night flight_

_That okay?_

Monroe: _Little disappointed : < but I want you both to be safe so if you think it’s best_

Rosalee: _We want to get home to help Nick ASAP, but I think this is going to best if we don’t want to get back too tired to do anything._

_Lucretia is pretty awesome though, she’s putting up us for the night and got us a RECIPE for the cure!_

Monroe: _Holy shit! Awesome! Do you need me to pick you guys up in the morning?_

Rosalee: _No, my car is still at the airport, we should be fine. I can get right to work when we get back to the shop ^3^_

Monroe: _After you kiss me you mean. But sounds good, we’ll see you then._

He rushed back over to the side room. “Good news! They got the stuff for a cure and no one died in the process.”

“Oh thank god,” Juliette sighed. “I don’t know how much more of Nick being so…quiet I can take.”

“No kidding,” he sighed. “Bad newsish, they’re coming back tomorrow.”

“Well, I guess I can handle one more night,” she sighed. She looked over at Nick, who was lying back on the chaise in the corner. His eyes were closed, though he didn’t really seem asleep. “I guess on the Brightside, he’s catching up on a lot of rest…I wonder if he dreams or he’s aware of any of this…”

“Good question… I’ll text Hank and let him know.” There was a knock at the door and he frowned. “Can no one read a closed sign nowadays?” He walked over and looked through the window, pausing when he saw who was there. He opened the door and looked at Gallin curiously. “Hey, you’re uh…Cynthia, right?”

She looked surprised he remembered her name but nodded. “Y-yes…Is Sloane here?”

“Uh, no…she had to, um…she went to go get help for Nick somewhere else,” he said, a little awkwardly.

She looked scared suddenly for a moment but then took a deep breath. “And how is Nick?”

“Uh…no change. Did you want to come in?”

“We would love to,” a new voice said. Monroe tensed when a woman in a blue-black suit came in from the side and pushed him back with surprising strength.

“What the-who are you?” He got his footing back and looked at the woman with her long blonde hair pulled up into a wrapped bun.

“Gwyneth Zima,” she said, smiling coldly. “And I’d like to take another look at your friend. Back at my house though.”

Monroe tensed and looked at Gallin, who looked away in shame. He looked back at Gwyn and shook his head slowly. “I don’t think we’re going to okay that…”

Gwyn smiled. “I’m not looking for your okay, I’m just looking for the Grimm.”

Monroe glared. “Back off, lady, or I’ll throw you out that door,” he said, growling in his chest. Gwyn smiled and then raised her hand. Ice gathered there and lengthened it an icicle with a deadly point to it. Monroe snarled and woged, giving a howling roar and moving to rush her. The icicle slashed across his arm but he got her to move back.

“Oh, a Blutbad! I haven’t seen one of you in a while,” she said with a smile. “I froze one like an ice statue once in Russia. I just have to get my fingers with enough pressure I can freeze you through to the bone in a few seconds if I really try.”

“Gwyn, no!” Gallin said. “You promised, no one else dies!”

“Oh honestly,” she sighed. “Fine…” Monroe tried to rush her again, and got in a good swipe across her side, but her fist was encased in ice in a moment and came down hard on his head. He reeled, seeing stars, and then the ice fist came around again and smashed upside his head, sending him sprawling. “Little mongrel!” she swore, looking at her side where he’d clawed her. A normal person might be worried about their liver, but the edges of the wound were already freezing like frostbite setting in and stopping the bleeding. Monroe tried to get up but he yelped when she brought her ice fist down into that sensitive area on his spine, his legs turning to jelly, and then another whack to the head was lights out.

“What’s going on?” Juliette came out from the side room and stopped, taking in the scene. “Monroe? Monroe!” She started towards him but paused and took another look at Gwyn and Gallin, who was looking at her guiltily.

“Are you going to put up a fight too?” Gwyn said, sounding bored. “Or will you hand over the male Grimm.”

“What do you want with Nick?” she said, inching back towards the room she’d come out from nervously.

“I want to know why he’s apparently obedient to suggestion. Something like that could be quite valuable to know.”

“Then no,” she said, getting bolder.

“Please, Juliette,” Gallin said softly. “She’ll hurt you.”

“She’ll hurt Nick too, won’t she?” she said, not taking her eyes off Gwyn.

“Honestly, it’s just a little experimentation,” Gwyn said. “I might even end up curing him eventually.”

Juliette glared and then turned and grabbed her purse off the table, pulling out the small handgun she kept there. But Gwyn was already moving and when she turned to bring the gun up and turn off the safety, Gwyn grabbed her arm around the wrist. Juliette yelled at the contact, the freezing touching already moving through her. Her nerves started going numb and the gun tumbled from her hand before she could get a shot off.

“I could freeze your hand off right now and you might survive, but it would be such a shame for such a pretty little thing…”

Juliette glared and brought her fist around, socking her across the face. Gwyn blinked in surprise then smiled slightly. “Well, you’re no shrinking violet I see.” She let go and suddenly put her hand over Juliette’s head. “But you’re a bit too distracting trying to deal with.” Juliette felt a sudden flash of frigid temperature rush through her and she reeled, stumbling back.

“What did you do?” Gallin said, watching as Juliette ended up holding the table for support and then dropping to her knees. She looked like she couldn’t find her footing under her and the world was spinning.

“A little trick of creating the symptoms of hypothermia. Disorientation, confusion, drowsiness and the like. Temporary though.” She turned, apparently forgetting Juliette as quickly as she’d been interested her, and walked over to where Nick was laying down. “Let’s see…Nick? Open your eyes.”

Nick opened his eyes, still glassy and unfeeling it seemed.

Gwyn smiled. “Very good. Now, I want you to stand up and follow me outside to my car.”

Nick wordlessly rose and waited. Gwyn took a step back and he followed without protest. She smiled and turned heading for the door. “Coming Gallin?”

Gallin hesitated, looking down at the prone Juliette and the unconscious Monroe worriedly.

“Nick…” Juliette slurred, trying to pull herself up.

“We don’t have all day,” Gwyn said impatiently.

Gallin swallowed and followed them both out and to the car.

\--------------------------------

“Okay, you’ve got the box of ingredients and the box of leftover lasagna—don’t mix those up,” Lucretia said. They were on the porch of her home, getting ready to leave early the next morning at the break of dawn. “And I put my info in the box too. If you ever need my help further, let me know. I trust you with my flowers,” she said with a wink.

Rosalee smiled and gave her a hug. “Thank you, Lucretia.”

“No, thank you,” she sighed, hugging her back. “I kept up with all of this but I was scared to share it again after Gwyn…knowing there are people out there that will use it for good makes me so happy I didn’t just burn it all and give up. A talented apothecary like you is going to go far. Now, I can’t say this will cure him outright though. You might still need to figure out what Gwyn used in her own cure, but I wrote down some ideas from what you said. She’s not the only one who kept up on her studies; I just didn’t have her budget!”

Rosalee smiled more and pulled back. “Thank you so much, really. I don’t know how we’ll repay you.”

“Keep in touch! I can’t talk like this with the girls at bunko. It’s always gossip and the latest on the TV. If I have to hear about one more home renovation show and how wainscoting is in again, I might poison them…” she said jokingly. Lucretia then surprised Sloane by hugging her. “And you! You are an interesting one. I know you must’ve killed before now, but you didn’t want to kill me. You’re not like the Grimms I was told about.”

“…Well…it’s not easy…”

“Doing good rarely is,” she said wisely. She pulled back and patted Sloane’s shoulder. “But keep going. I want to see what you do with your life from here.”

Sloane smiled back and nodded before they turned to head out and back to the car. “…I’m glad you didn’t kill her,” Rosalee said.

Sloane took a breath but nodded. “Can’t guarantee it’ll always go like that, but…Nice that it did.” They smiled at one another and drove back to the airport, where Clint had finished gassing up the plane to leave.

When Clint landed the plane—and his landings weren’t smooth but they could walk—Sloane and Rosalee were tired and hungry but feeling hopeful.

“So, you two don’t wanna get some dinner?” Clint asked. “I, uh, know a good place nearby.”

“We need to check in with the others,” Sloane said.

He glanced at her but back to Rosalee. “Sure it can’t wait?”

“Clint, I told you before, I’m taken,” she said, holding up the ring on her finger.

“It’s just dinner,” he said innocently.

“Not tonight,” she said, smiling but much more firmly. “Thank you though, for helping us. Consider us even for the, um…”

“Yeah, no, don’t mention it. For real,” he said, holding up his hands. “The less I remember of that the better.”

“Same here,” she muttered.

They climbed down the plane and Sloane glanced back and then to Rosalee. “What did he have again?”

“It was, um…pinworms,” she said delicately and quietly as they got out of earshot.

“…Are those usually around the…”

“Yep,” she said tightly.

“Ew…”

“Yeah. Even if I wasn’t with Monroe, treating that takes a lot of the charm factor out of a person.” They glanced at one another before laughing and getting to the car. It was dark already, but Rosalee didn’t mind driving back to the shop. When they pulled up, they could see Monroe and Rosalee were already there and headed inside. “We’re back! …Guys?” She walked to the back and both Juliette and Monroe were there, looking down and shame faced. Monroe had bandage over his temple as well, and an ice pack pressed to his head at the back. “Monroe! What happened?” Rosalee said, rushing over to look at him, setting the box down on the table.

“Guys,” Monroe said, taking the ice pack away. “I tried to call you…”

Rosalee and Sloane grabbed their phones. “We had them off for the plane ride,” Sloane said, booting it up. She saw they had tried to call more than once. “What’s going on? Where’s Nick?”

Monroe looked down, guilty and shamed looking, as did Juliette. “That… Glitrende Hud came for him last night,” he said. “She knocked me out with block of ice around her fist—which, good to know they can do that I guess—and then did something funky to Juliette, and ordered Nick to come with them. We were both out till almost morning.”

“What? But how, how did she even know he was here?” Rosalee said, looking him over. He had quite a knot in his head.

“Gallin brought her,” Juliette said bitterly.

Sloane was shocked a moment before a hard look came over her face. “Goddamit…” She turned to head to the door.

“Sloane?” Rosalee asked.

“I know where her house is, I’m going to get Nick back. I’ll get you her notes too, one way or another.”

“We’ll come with you,” Juliette said. She stopped when Sloane held up a hand.

“No. I know you want to help, but in this case I’m going to do better focusing just on her and not worrying about someone else.”

“But Sloane—”

“Juliette, if something happened to you, Nick wouldn’t even want to be brought back to his right mind,” she said seriously. “Not to mention I can see you favoring that arm. How bad did she get you?”

“…Second degree frostbite,” she admitted. “I don’t think I’ll have any scarring or nerve damage but it’s not pretty…”

“It hurts even making a fist, right?” Sloane asked, looking concerned. “You can’t hold a weapon or fight like that and with one arm it’s even more of a problem. Stay here, make a cure for Nick. I’ll text you Gwyn’s address once I’m there and you can bring it if I haven’t gotten him back yet.”

“Let me come then,” Monroe said, standing. “I want a rematch with the white witch of Narnia.”

“I…sort of understand that I think, but you sure you don’t have a concussion?” Sloane asked.

He smiled. “That fact that you’re concerned is touching, really, but I’m fine.”

“Monroe,” Rosalee said, sounding more worried as well.

“I’m _fine_ ,” he said more emphatically. “I’m just pissed.”

“…Okay,” Sloane sighed. She reached into her pocket. “Rosalee, catch.” She tossed her a protein bar and smiled. “I don’t think we’re getting lunch so eat that and get to work on the cure.”

Rosalee smiled a bit and nodded. “Be careful.”

“As we can be,” Monroe promised, giving her a kiss before following Sloane out to her car. “So…what’s the plan?”

“You get Nick out, I deal with the Glitrende Hud.”

“You sure? I’ll be ready this time,” he said.

She smiled a little as she pulled on to the highway. “I’m not doubting your skills Monroe, but I think you’ll be able to get Nick to safety fast and I’ll be better at pulling her attention away from you.”

He nodded slowly. “…You planning on killing her?”

“At this point, yes,” she admitted. “Problem with that?”

“No, yeah, do what you gotta do,” Monroe said. “We at least _try_ the peaceful route—when that doesn’t work, well…whatever you think, we all have a little blood on our hands.”

Sloane breathed out a little but nodded slowly. “Yeah…I just hope she hasn’t hurt Nick…”

\--------------------

Gallin had opted not to join Gwyn in her lab when they had arrived, but she didn’t leave the house either. She had sat for hours on the couch, trying to wrap her head around everything. She had honestly thought Gwyn wanted to _help_ people. How could she be so stupid? How could she not realize she was only interested in her own goals and desires?

Admittedly, the sex was a bit distracting, but that didn’t make it better in her eyes that she fell for a wesen that was literally cold as ice.

And Sloane…Sloane worked with wesen. Good wesen that tried to protect their Grimm friend. Good wesen that were trying to help him because they wanted him back. Sloane cared about them, obviously, and part of her resented that. But a bigger part of her knew that Sloane was never going to look at her that way now.

At some point she fell asleep on the couch, exhausted despite the anxiety rolling around inside her. When she woke in the morning she nearly rolled off and caught herself with a jolt. Sitting up, she rubbed over her face and groaned. She still felt shaky with anxiety, but now she was at least a little rested. Standing, she made her way up to the bedroom, only to find it empty. Confused, she padded back down stairs and to the hall. The light in the lab was still on. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up but swallowed and opened it.

Nick was thankfully in one piece, and Gallin breathed out in relief that her vision of Dr. Frankenstein with a pile of body parts wasn’t real. He was without a shirt on the table, eyes closed and she noted what looked like headphones in his ears as well. But he was also looking paler than he did before. Not like how he was when he transformed before, more like he’d been through the proverbial wringer and washed the color out of him.

Then she saw the two bags of blood on the desk. What was more concerning though was what she knew to be a spinal tap syringe—and it looked used. Gwyn was looking at something on the table, her back to her as she worked at something.

“Gwyn, what did you do to him?” she asked before she really thought about it.

The glitrende hud looked up and smiled a bit. She looked as though she hadn’t slept at all and likely she hadn’t if she’d just kept working through the night. “Ah, you’re up. Come, look at this! It’s rather fascinating.” Gallin frowned but walked over. She could see a few boxes of things on the table now—various ingredients and bits and pieces. And in the center a new pill, this one pearl white. “When you brought me those samples, I found traces of a substance in his blood. But it wasn’t being treated like an infection, his white blood cell count was normal. When exposed to adrenaline, the substance would attach to the cells—and turn them black! This effect is part of his transformations, but I had the feeling there was more, that it must be affecting his brain.”

“Gwyn, you didn’t do something to his brain did you?” she asked quickly.

“No, no…I’m not that desperate yet,” she said. “I took a spinal tap. I have a little left, watch.” She picked up a test tube of clear fluid. “This is perfectly normal looking, no sign of infection. But look at the slide there, in my microscope. I mixed this spinal fluid with the activated blood.”

Gallin hesitated but her curiosity got the better of her and she looked. She could see the cells were still moving about and they were interacting with each other in a way she hadn’t seen before, attaching to each other and bulking up. “What…?”

“This blood reacts with the brain to create the effects you see when he “transforms”—increased strength, heightened senses, but a decrease in in his cognitive abilities and eventually his heart rate moving to a near undetectable state. It makes so much more sense now! The obedience effect is because it turned off centers in the brain and it’s an effect I’ve heard of in only the most powerful spells by hexenbeasts. And I created it here!”

“That’s…impressive…do you know how to reverse it?”

“I’m still studying how it happened. I wanted to discern the cause of that strength first, and I managed to isolate that effect into this pill I believe.”

“I…you made a pill that would do all that? The heightened strength and reflexes?”

“Yes, or at least it should. I need to figure out how best to test it and determine if this effect only occurs in Grimms…I’ll need test subject for that and the other.”

“The other?” she asked, growing more and more worried.

“The obedience portion. Granted, I only have notes on that one at the moment, but I should be able to whip up an idea for it. Trying to keep him from fallowing any order is a concern. For now I put some wireless headphones in, he can react to a message I send through a microphone. But together these could be very profitable in the right markets…”

“I thought you didn’t need money,” Gallin said, her mind racing.

“I want to study this sort of thing more. For that, I’ll need money. I can buy supplies, more equipment, and test subjects. I once had a small hospital to myself before my samples were burned and there wasn’t anything I could do with it. And get to see this all in action.”

“I…Gwyn, no. Y-you can’t do that.”

Gwyn turned to her, the smile fading slowly. “Pardon me?”

“This could be used for _very bad things_ ,” Gallin said. “You can’t just make this and let anyone with money use it!”

Gwyn smiled again and reached up to cup her cheek. “Cynthia, don’t you see? This is an amazing opportunity. For you as well. You could help me—”

“Stop that!” Gallin snapped, smacking her hand away. “Stop using my feelings like that! You don’t care about me! You just used me for the information I had on-on wesen and Grimms and getting things you wanted. But I’m not going to help you use people like lab rats! You need to let him go and just-just stop!”

Gwyn stared for a few moments in shock before her gaze grew icy. “You chose a poor time to grow a spine, sweetheart.”

Gallin gasped when her hand came up around her throat, icy and hard and _painful_. She gripped her wrist, trying to pull it away. She wouldn’t budge her grip tightened, sending painful cold through her neck. But Gwyn forgot: she was the daughter of Grimms, even if she wasn’t one.

Reaching for the table, she grabbed the spinal tap and brought up, stabbing through Gwyn’s arm. She screamed and let goon reflex. Gallin stumbled back, taking a gulp of air, before grabbing the pill on the table and running for the door.

“Cynthia!” She roared as she pulled the needle from her arm. She grabbed the microphone remote and barked into it. “Nick! Get up and go get Cynthia!” Nick opened his eyes and stood, stumbling a moment before he righted himself and headed for the door.

Gallin threw open the front door and ran out into the night. She reached for her side where her purse should be as she rushed to her car and then cursed when she realized it was still inside near the couch. She turned to try and judge if she could run back, but Nick was in the doorway already, casting a shadow over the drive way. Gasping, she turned and instead kept running up the road, clutching the pill hard in her hand. She thought about whether to go to the woods or not but her shoes were not the best for running period let alone over rocks and turf. So she kept going up the road. When headlights were coming towards her she waved her arms. When she realized it was Sloane’s car, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or more scared.

“Gallin?” Sloane asked, rolling down the window and sticking her head out. She didn’t look happy to see her but she didn’t look ready to kill her.

“Gwyn has gone insane!”

“I’d argue she’s been insane,” Monroe said.

“She tried to kill me when I told her to stop experimenting on Nick! And now she’s sent him after me!”

As if on que, Nick was there, standing in the headlights, striking an imposing figure.

“I got this,” Monroe said, getting out. “Nick! I order you to stop trying to kill Gallin!”

Nick eyed him but then started forward.

“She put Bluetooth earbuds in his ears, he can’t hear anything unless you talk into the remote she has,” Gallin panted.

“Freakin great…” Monroe said, tensing for a fight.

“Gallin, get in the car and stay in it, I’ll go deal with Gwyn.”

Gallin looked at her a moment but nodded and quickly climbed into the back seat. Sloane got out and locked the door. “Monroe, can you keep Nick occupied?”

“I’ll do my best,” he said, woging and growling to get his attention. Nick just advanced like a machine, going for the car. Monroe rushed and tackled him like a linebacker, pushing him back into the woods.

Sloane meanwhile ran for the house. The door was still open and she rushed in, and then rushed for the lab. Gwyn looked up, dabbing something over a wound on her arm. “You…” she said coolly.

“You really shouldn’t have made this worse than it is,” Sloane said darkly.

Gwyn glared. “I’m discovering things others, even hexenbeasts, only dream of.”

“Is that what this is? You’re a wanna be hexenbeast? Or a wanna be mad scientist?” she reached up and unsheathed her knife.

“Neither,” she said breezily. “I just enjoy experimenting on things.”

She glared more. “Nick is not a _thing_ ,” she snarled, rushing her. Gwyn was woged in an instant and she dodged back, bringing up a hand with claws made of ice. Sloane ducked under the swipe, bringing her foot up to kick her in the chest. It sent her back against another table and Sloane moved in to stab her. She encased her fist in ice and moved to strike her in the head, but Sloane jumped back and felt an icy breeze pass by her face with how narrowly it missed her, smashing against the table and causing a dent in the metal. She was grateful Monroe mentioned that move.

“I guess I should have known a Grimm would put up a good fight,” Gwyn said.

“You got the drop on my friends,” Sloane replied. “They can take care of themselves.”

Meanwhile, Monroe was trying hard not to kill Nick, and just as hard not to be killed by him. Nick was robotic in his movements, but he was still showing that innate Grimm fighting ability and strength. Monroe tried more than once to reach up and get the earbuds out of his ears, or break the connector at the back that was wrapping around his head, but he was moving away from him and trying to get around with the single-minded focus on the car on the road beyond the trees.

“Dammit, Nick, wake up!” he yelled in his ear as he grabbed him from behind. “I really don’t want to hurt you! You’re my best friend!”

Nick seemed to freeze just a second before shaking his head and then shoving him off. He took a swing at Monroe and Monroe caught his arm, woging again with his eyes red, and his teeth bared.

Sloane felt an icicle slash in her shoulder as Gwyn tried to stab. The cut stung and was oozing blood but she’d had worse. She swung the knife up to give her a slice of her own across her clavicle when she moved back. Her blood was red, but it turned black almost instantly in the air and the wound itself began to freeze to stop the bleeding. Sloane brought her free hand around to grab icicles cresting her head, bringing her forehead down to try and smash it to the table. She shouted but the ice on her forehead took most of the damage, cracking and then trying to repair the damage immediately with more ice. Gwyn glared and in showing that bit of emotion, her face cracked like ice as well, the cracks looking deep and painful.

“I was lamenting lacking another Grimm to work on—but I’m going to enjoy experimenting on you!”

“You’ll have to beat me first,” Sloane said darkly. She rushed her and they danced around the tables a bit, Sloane flipping over one to try and stab at her. The she felt her foot slip—she’d iced the floor when she was distracted!—and Gwyn body checked her hard enough to send her down. Sloane had to let go of her knife and bring both her hands up to stop an icicle coming for her face. Gwyn was strong and it was coming dame close to her eye before she managed to force her strike to the side, just nicking her face, and elbow her in the temple to get her off. She scrambled back on the ice, accidently knocking her knife away to where it slid to rest just in front of the table with the remote. Sloane marked the places in her mind but kept her attention on Gwyn as she rose, healing the ice at her temple.

Gwyn smirked. “Well, beating you doesn’t seem that hard. I’ve iced over stronger wesen than you. And now you’re unarmed.”

“You’ve never fought someone like me if you think that will stop me,” she said.

Outside, Nick and Monroe were wrestling. Nick would hit Monroe and get up to move to the car, and Monroe would jump up and pull him to the ground again. Gallin was bunched up against the other side of the car, shaking and trying not to scream every time Nick came close enough to try and open the door.

Inside temperature in the room went down several degrees very quickly, to the point Sloane’s breath was coming out in white puffs. She then saw what must be the microphone for the ear buds she put on Nick. Weighing her options, she grabbed a heavy piece of equipment and threw it at the knife, knocking it out of the ice and onto the ground and making Gwyn back up. Then she moved for the microphone, her hand outstretched. Gwyn was quick as well and grabbed her hand, encasing both their hands in ice. Sloane gritted her teeth at the flash of pain, the burning, sharp pinpricks of freezing cold as it tried to invade her skin and nerves. Gwyn then reared back and head butted her, using that crystalline crown of hers to try and disorient her. But she stood her ground, glaring at her and socking Gwyn across the face. Once, twice—Gwyn cracked and glared each time until she reached up and grabbed her by the head and Sloane suddenly felt the cold invade her senses again. _Hypothermia…_

She didn’t have long she knew, but Gwyn was smiling like she won. The anger Sloane felt in that moment, seeing that smug grin, was enough to clear her mind for a moment and she reached out over the nearby table and grabbed a beaker of greenish fluid. Not caring what was in it, she broke it over the glitrende hud’s face. A piercing shriek erupted from her and her hand passed through the ice like water, leaving Sloane’s encased, as she cradled her face. Sloane then used her foot to slide her knife back over, flipping it up with a flick of her foot and catching it by the handle. Grasping it with her palm up, she brought the knife into the wesen’s side, just below her ribs. Gwyn jolted, a soft gasp escaping her. Her hands pulled away from her face, showing the deep cracks and blotchy, chemical burned bits melting and blackening and freezing all at once. She tried to stagger back but Sloane didn’t let her. She lurched forward, wrapping the arm with her hand in ice around her, the other digging the knife in harder, not letting her pull it out to close the wound.

She de-woged, staring at Sloane with wide, confused eyes, the burning skin pink and raw but not melting anymore. “What…?”

“I told you, you haven’t fought someone like me before.” She wrenched the knife up through flesh, and then pulled it out, only to quickly stab it through her chest into her heart. The wound was too big for her to try and ice over to stop the bleeding and she couldn’t woge again.

She stared at Sloane in shock. “I can’t die…”

“Everything can die.”

She gave a shuddering breath, just a small bit of frost puffing out, before giving a twisted smile. “Yes…you would know…natural born killer…” Sloane felt her gut twist for some reason and glared, twisting the knife to do it to her back. Gwyn convulsed a moment before her eyes rolled back and she fell backwards, off the knife and onto the floor.

Sloane sighed and then looked at her hand, which was going numb and it was moving up her arm. The remote microphone was still in her fist as well. Taking a breath, she set her knife down and used her other hand to lift the ice one up, and smash it against the metal table. She gritted her teeth at the feeling of the ice breaking over her skin, a few bits scratching her up, but her hand was in one piece and she’d gotten it out quick enough to avoid the worst of the frost bite. She grabbed the remote from her limp, numb fingers and pressed the button. “Nick, whatever you’re doing, stop!”

In the woods, Monroe had Nick in a full Nelson. Nick struggled to get out of his grip, but suddenly he stopped. “…Nick? Nick, I didn’t strangle you did I?” he asked quickly.

“Nick,” Sloane’s voice came over the frequency. “Take the headphones out of your ears.”

Nick reached up and pulled the head phones out. Monroe breathed out and pulled away, knowing Sloane must’ve won. “Okay…good, cool…Nick, stand up.” Nick did so and Monroe stood up as well, grunting. “Somehow fighting you and trying not to kill you is always harder than I think…Hoping you don’t get brainwashed again,” he groused, rubbing over his jaw. “Now, no more trying to kill Gallin. We’re going to go up to the car nice and calmly.” He gently turned him around and pushed him towards the car. Nick let himself be led up calmly. Gallin flattened back when she saw him, but Monroe gave her a thumbs up with a smile. She opened the door slowly, sticking her head out. “He’s not going to try and hurt me?”

“No, Sloane won I think, he took the earbuds out.”

Gallin paled a bit but looked down in resignation. “…That’s…good…”

They looked up when the saw Sloane lurch out of the house and Monroe cursed and rushed over. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive,” she said, clutching her hand to chest. “And I got the notes too. How’re you and Nick?”

“Bruised but alive,” he said with a smile.

“Screw your bruises, I can’t feel my hand…” she muttered.

“Oh, shit, okay,” he said, quickly helping to support her and bring her to the car. “Um, Gallin? You need a lift?”

Gallin looked at Sloane and then away. “No, I…I have my car, I just need to go get my keys…” She looked at the house hesitantly. “And take care of…whatever is in there. I-I can do that.”

“Are you sure?” Monroe asked hesitantly.

“Yes, I…can do it. Let me do that much…” she said a bit more firmly.

“She’s in that lab…we'll leave it to you then…” Sloane said, moving for the car without looking at her. Gallin hunkered down a little, knowing she didn’t expect anything different really but it hurt obviously. Monroe looked at her sympathetically. “Monroe, you’ll have to drive.”

“Right. Uh, Nick, get in the back seat and buckle up.”

\----------------------------

When they arrived back at the shop, Rosalee had immediately worked on treating Sloane and Monroe. Sloane’s hand was dipped into a bowl of slightly warmed water and then treated the blisters and bandaged it up. The other scratches and cuts were also treated on both of them and they sighed as they sat down to try and relax again. Sloane was quiet through all of this, looking thoughtful. Hank and Juliette arrived as well, listening raptly to the account of what happened.

“Okay…now that you’re both okay, I think we’re ready to cure Nick,” Rosalee said.

“You have it ready?” Monroe asked in surprised.

“I worked on the initial cure while you were gone and went over the notes while you were talking. I think I see how to reverse the whole thing from what that…woman did. It’ll just take a little bit.”

They all rose and watched as she gathered up around him while Rosalee brought over a bowl. “Nick, drink this.”

Nick took the bowl and tipped it back, drinking from the frothy green liquid that had bits of flowers in it without protest.

“This is the cure for the cracher mortal, right? Is it really going to help with this?” Hank asked.

“I tweaked it a bit. Lucretia and I made some separate notes going over the reaction Nick had, and it should flush out his system of what Gwyn did to him and the problem with Zombification,” Rosalee said.

They all watched, holding their breath as Nick brought the empty bowl back down. There was a few moments of nothing, then he closed his eyes as if suddenly reeling from a stiff wind. He took a gasping breath and dropped the bowl, grabbing the table behind him even as Juliette and Monroe moved to steady him. He blinked slowly and then looked at them all. “…Guys?”

They all smiled widely. “Nick?” Juliette said hopefully.

“I…yeah, I’m back,” he croaked. “I…God, I’m so sorry guys…”

“Sorry?” Hank asked, giving him a hug around his shoulders.

“I…I was conscious of what I was doing,” he said, looking tired and guilty. He looked at Monroe. “I…I was fighting you so hard, so that I could hurt Gallin…But I couldn’t stop. No matter how hard I tried. It was like I was a spectator in my own body!” He breathed out, moving into Juliette a little. “I could feel it all too…she took a damn spinal tap on me!” he groaned, the pain catching up through the relief as he doubled over a little.

“She what?” Juliette asked, outraged.

“She was working on something,” Nick said. “I didn’t hear much after she put those headphones in me.” He looked up at Sloane and smiled gratefully. “I was pretty relieved when you spoke over them and got me to stop…” He looked at her hand and frowned. “But you got hurt …”

Sloane smiled slightly, though she looked tired too. “Don’t worry. I get to keep my hand. It’s just going to be kind of tender for a few days…”

“She almost killed you didn’t she?”

“Part of being a Grimm is nearly getting killed,” she said, reaching out with her good hand to set it on his shoulder. “I’m alive, and I’ll heal. So will you.”

He smiled again and then sighed and leaned against Juliette. “I feel tired though after everything…”

“Can’t say I blame you,” Monroe said.

“I bought you a few days at the station with the food poisoning excuse,” Hank said. “Take a bit of time, I think Renard will understand.”

“I’ll make him if he doesn’t,” Sloane said.

Nick sighed and looked around. “I really don’t know how to thank you guys for all of this…”

“Thank you is fine,” Rosalee said with a smile. Nick smiled back and shakily got up to give each of them a hug. He hesitated with Sloane, knowing she wasn’t always keen on that sort of thing, but he finally circled his arms around her gently. “Thanks for having my back….” He said quietly.

Sloane was quiet a moment before reaching up with her good hand and patting his back, smiling softly. “You’re welcome…”

\---------------------

The next few days, things started to quiet down. Nick got his strength back at home and thus far, there were no worrying side effects. His energy came back after sleeping almost an entire day, with Juliette staying with him to keep an eye on him. Monroe’s parents were not keen on him being more bruised, but Monroe managed to smooth things over in time to take them to the airport. They’d also warmed up much more to Rosalee when she showed them how she had worked out the cure for Nick. Alice was openly amazed and happy that her future daughter in law was smart. Bart was a little less open about it but he smiled and shook her hand when they parted ways.

Sloane…was wrestling with a few things of her own. Her hand was healing thanks to the Grimm salve, but she kept going over the events in her head. It was strange to think how different she was from just a year ago. It was something she hated thinking about because it brought about all kinds of feelings. She wanted to be more like her grandmother, but knowing what other Grimms might think…

There was a knock at the door while she was trying to meditate on that thought and she sighed and pushed herself up from the couch. Through the peephole she saw Gallin standing there, looking nervous. Sloane hesitated but ultimately opened the door. “Hey…?”

“Hi, um…can we talk?” she said, trying to look brave. Sloane hesitated but finally sighed and stood aside. Gallin quickly stepped in before she changed her mind. She stood awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“…I…am sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean to put Nick or anyone else in danger, I-I honestly thought Gallin would help. Or wanted to help…But you were also right that I don’t really know what it is to be a Grimm…My father and brother both were always gone on hunts and I just…I wanted to help but I never could.”

“…You were part of that world but not a citizen,” Sloane said, remembering Lucretia’s words.

“Yeah, that’s a good way to put it. I was just a spectator till I began training as a librarian. But it never felt like enough…But I don’t know if it was enough for me or enough for my parents. I wanted to do more, to _be_ more, but I didn’t have the funds or the smarts or the skills besides just bartering goods and dealing with dead bodies…”

Sloane sighed and sat down. “You did plenty doing that. You had things we needed.”

“I know, but I wanted to feel like I was part of something! I barely felt like I was part of my family sometimes, being the only non-Grimm. Even after losing my brother to a hunt, I still wanted to be out there. But being out there last night, I realized how unprepared I was despite thinking I could do it. I never even really learned to fight, just use weapons—and even then, not firsthand…” She took a breath and sat down. “When we were young, I thought you were so cool…You were everything I wasn’t.”

She was quiet a moment as she took that in. “…What do you think of me now?”

“…You’re…someone who spent the last two decades killing a lot of wesen. Last night was a taste of what you go through and it was bitter as hell…”

“Actually, it’s not. I never had people like Monroe or Nick having my back,” Sloane said. “It was just me, going around hunting any pretty much any wesen I could get a lead on. I never let myself stay longer than a couple of weeks anywhere if I could help it. And honestly, that’s how it was for most Grimms.”

Gallin nodded slowly. “I remember. My mother died young and yet it never clicked for me it was because of this…And then my brother. And my dad…well, we don’t talk so I’m not even sure. Do you ever think you would stop?”

“…I kind of have stopped traveling,” Sloane said. “But hunting? No. I’m a Grimm. Its part of what I am. Maybe I’m a bit more discriminating now, but I can’t just not see the signs now and do nothing…”

Gallin smiled a little. “I kind of figured…I, um…I quit though. Being a librarian.”

Sloane actually looked at her in surprise. “You did? But…”

She smiled sadly and shrugged. “I based my whole life around the Grimm life but…After all of this, I want to live for myself. I’ll be helping out on and off till they find a replacement, but then…I think I might move. Find a new job. Just…stop doing what’s convenient for other people and live.” She looked at her, nervous. “Is that…okay?”

Sloane stared and then her lips twitched. “You want to live for yourself, what are you asking me for?”

Gallin blushed but then laughed. “Yeah, it’s a reflex. I…really wanted you to like me. I kind of had a crush on you when we were younger.”

Sloane was surprised again, blushing. “Oh…Um…”

“Yeah…being a lesbian also didn’t really make me any more of an asset to my family…”

“What’s their problem?” Sloane said, affronted for her.

She smiled at her again. “Just…old traditions,” she sighed.

“…Yeah…Tradition…Kinda sucks sometimes,” she agreed.

“Yeah…So I want to kind of get away from that.” She pulled out a small ring sized box and Sloane paused.

“Uh…I know you said you had a crush on me, but isn’t a proposal moving awfully fast?” she said, leaning away as if about to run.

“What? Oh! Oh no, that’s not, this isn’t-” She blushed and then laughed. “No, I’m not doing that. I…you don’t feel that way about me, right?”

Sloane sighed but nodded. “Yeah…I…thought we were becoming friends…I mean, admitting I have _friends_ that weren’t just part of a hunting party was already a big deal…”

“…I’d still like to be your friend,” she said honestly. “But I kind of realized my crush on who I _thought_ you were and…I really don’t know you.” Sloane nodded, agreeing and wondering if she knew herself at this point. “But I know you well enough to trust you with this. I put some of Gwyn’s notes in the library because they might come in handy—and the recipe Ms. Calvert found too. But this…” She opened the box and Sloane saw a round pill similar to the one Gwyn gave Nick. “Gwyn derived this from Nick’s condition. It’s a Grimm steroid.”

“A steroid,” Sloane asked in surprise. “Like…it would do what it did to Nick?”

“She thought so. But obviously it’s untested. I haven’t told anyone about this…Given what it did to him, I don’t want some of the others trying to recreate this and test it…but I could also see how it might come in handy. I thought you’d know what would be best to do with it.”

“…Thank you,” she said, taking the box once she closed it. “I agree though, it’s dangerous when we don’t know what it does and I don’t really wish that effect on anyone.”

“Yeah…So, um…that’s most of what I came to say and do.”

Sloane looked at her and then nodded. “You said you won’t leave till they find the next librarian?”

“Yeah, there’s no one else here right now…Not gonna lie, I look forward to having just one job hopefully. My social life is pretty non-existent. Then…I might go back to school. Maybe build on my Mortician training…become a Medical Examiner or something. Actually help find the answers I thought I couldn’t before and help people…”

Sloane smiled a little. “That sounds like a good plan, Cynthia.”

She was surprised at the use of her first name for a second before smiling back, finally relaxing. “Thanks…”

\-----------------------------------

“So they need a new librarian then?” Hank asked. The group was gathered at the spice shop so Nick could get a check-up. Rosalee was checking his reflexes, his eyes, everything.

“Yeah. They’ll have to look through the network for a bit for someone qualified.”

“So not just anyone can become a Librarian?”

“No, there are a few pre-requisites and hoops to jump through. After all, sensitive information and weapons and all that would be handled by them. We have a network of vetted people—family members of Grimms or other Keirsheite—and some apprentice themselves when they’re younger like Cynthia did.”

“Apothecaries are the same in a lot of ways,” Rosalee said, looking at Nick’s throat. “Though my brother got more training than I did.”

“You’re doing pretty darn good I’d say,” Monroe said.

She smiled and then looked back at Nick. “Well, physically you seem alright.”

“Yeah, I feel good,” he said, nodding. “Better than I have in a while. My senses still seem sharp, but not like…”

“You’re using performance enhancing Grimm drugs?” Monroe supplied.

“Yeah.”

“Well…one way to be sure. First, let’s check that your eyes are okay.” Nick breathed and nodded. Rosalee woged, looking him in the yes as they turned black. “…It looks normal from here. How do you feel?”

“Fine…I see you and nothing hurts,” he said, relieved.

Rosalee changed back with a smile. “Great! Okay, so now we need to try and get you to change.” Nick looked nervous again but nodded slowly. He hadn’t noticed Sloane sneaking up behind him when he focused on Rosalee woging though and then yelled out at the sudden pain when she pinched his thigh—the sciatic nerve—hard enough his leg went numb.

“What the hell?!”

Sloane backed up, eyeing him. “You still with us?”

“…Yes. But I’m not sure I appreciate that method either.”

“It might not work if you were expecting it,” she said, though she was smiling a little.

Nick rubbed his leg and huffed but then started laughing. “Well, at least I’m apparently cured.”

They all smiled, congratulating Rosalee once again for figuring it out.

“We should have a congratulatory dinner somewhere,” Hank said. “You for being cured, Rosalee for curing you, and me for solving a case without either of you two. Maybe I should go Solo…”

“Ha, yeah right,” Sloane said. “I heard he confessed, is that technically solving it?”

“Hey, I tracked him down and got him to confess. Someone has to do the whole detective thing to keep our jobs while you’re all doing the Grimm stuff.”

“Well, I do appreciate the keeping our jobs,” Nick said. “How about sushi?”

“Good by me, I can get veggie rolls and a nice seaweed salad,” Monroe said.

“Sounds good…Maybe I should invite Clint? He did really help us out.”

“The guy with the plane?” Hank asked.

“Yeah. Kind of a weird guy but okay I think,” Sloane said. “He’s a fløyelshorn, a…” A look of horror slowly dawned on her face.

Rosalee tensed, going over. “Sloane? Sloane, what’s wrong?”

She looked up at her, still looking stricken. “Rosalee…he’s a _flying reindeer…_ ”

Rosalee stared before she whispered. “Oh my god…you’re right…” They stared at one another and then began laughing. The others only barely got the joke but they started laughing as well and things finally felt like maybe they would get back to whatever normal was for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you hadn't guessed, this was loosely based on the Snow Queen. I had fun adapting this one, though I ended up with a lot of characters to juggle it felt...But I like them and a couple may show up another time.
> 
> Glitrende Hud-"Glittering Skin" in Norwegian, a reference to her sparkly skin (why did I not make a twilight connection till now...). I also the german "glitzernde Haut", but I wanted to branch out as far as names.
> 
> Fløyelshorn-"Velvet Horn", also in Norwegian. I had to include the reindeer somehow!
> 
> Both of these are google translated, so if someone with further knowledge sees a mistake, let me know!


	14. Question and Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 14 of THE CASEBOOK OF SLOANE LARSON  
> Rewrites of Mommy Dearest, Once We Were Gods, and The Show Must Go On
> 
> When a wesen attacks a friend of Wu's, Sloane surprises Nick and Hank by considering telling him the truth.
> 
> Then they deal with a people risking their lives and killing to get back a woged egyptian mummy.
> 
> And finally the carnival is in town, and some visitors are turning up dead--but more than that, it's Sloane's Birthday?!

Mommy Dearest

\-------------------------

After the events of curing Nick, Sloane opted to take a little time off. She took about a week, recuperating her hand which thankfully did not turn black and fall off. Nick called it a “Stay-cation”, since she didn’t go anywhere, but he didn’t blame her for needing a breather. As the rare 3-person team at the station it wasn’t a big deal for her to be out while he returned sooner to catch up on work.

In the past she would usually despise “taking it easy”. It was hunt, travel, hunt, travel, maybe sleep and heal when the time was available. But suddenly she was giving in to the decadence of lounging on the couch and watching TV, going out for food casually. She walked neighborhoods, ate out leisurely, and even checked out some of the local culture—art shows and live music and such. It was strange but it made her feel more like she was a citizen of Portland. And when the outside world got to be too much, it was back home and catching up on shows she didn’t let herself even think about watching before. And it felt _good_ to finally do it.

But it couldn’t stay quiet for long.

It was the last evening of her staycation when there was a knock at the door. She was confused but paused the show and went over slowly. Her bat was still in the umbrella stand if necessary. Looking out the peephole, she saw Hank and Nick standing on her porch, and they looked concerned. “Guys?” She opened the door, blinking in surprise.

“Sloane, sorry we didn’t call first but…uh, what is that on your head?” Nick asked, distracted by the blue cap on her head.

Sloane rolled her eyes. “It’s a shower cap. I’m touching up my hair.”

“Your hair?”

“Yeah, this isn’t my natural hair color so it’s gotta be re-dyed sometimes. Sorry to ruin the illusion, but surprise,” she said, with a mock wave of her hands. “Now what’s up?”

“Uh, right,” Hank said. “We got something weird again. Mind listening to us go over it?”

“No, yeah, of course,” she stepped aside. “Come on in. It’s about time I rinse this out, just give me a second.” She turned and then quickly ran over and turned off her TV. Her hair was one thing, but she had no intention of them seeing her watching _Dancing with the Stars_. Nick and Hank looked at her oddly, but she just dropped the remote and went to wash out her hair.

Coming back out, she was toweling her hair while that was now a fresher platinum blonde all over. “Okay, so what’s happened now?”

“Something attacked a friend of Wu’s,” Hank said.

Sloane stood a bit straighter and removed the towel. “Shit, what happened?”

“A friend of his moved here with her husband from the Philippines. She’s like 6 months pregnant and something came through the window and attacked her.”

“And you think it’s wesen?”

Nick pulled up pictures on his phone. “Came through the window on the second floor. She was wounded with no obvious marks—except through her navel. She fought back and the result was spray up the walls.” Sloane flipped through, frowning at the pics and wondering who would do that to a pregnant woman. Then she got to a pick of a windowsill with deep scratches in it. “And then there’s those scratch marks. There’s ones on the tree by the window too.”

“What did it do to her?”

“It seemed to stick something through her navel,” Hank said with disgust, shuddering. “And pulled out a lot of amniotic fluid.”

“And the baby?”

“They said it’ll be okay. But it’s definitely worrying. The doctor said the only thing he can think of for this is stem cells but doing it like this…” he shook his head.

“We questioned the neighbor who came to check on her and found her on the floor of their bedroom. She didn’t see anything, but she did mention a “ticking” nose though,” Nick added.

“Ticking…” she muttered.

“Does this sound familiar?” He asked hopefully.

“It does…But only vaguely. You said they’re from the Philippines?”

“Yeah, where Wu grew up. Apparently, they’ve been friends since they were toddlers, him and Dana.”

Sloane blew out a breath. “I stayed in Japan for a while a few years ago and there’s a bit of cross relation with the two. I remember seeing some documents at the Tokyo library about Filipino wesen—and man they had some scary ones. Like ones that freaked even me out. And a lot of them liked going after pregnant women…”

“So, it narrows it down to a region but not a species necessarily,” Nick sighed.

“More information might help. Wu’s friend, how is she?”

“She’s alive,” Hank said. “But she was sedated somehow during the attack and is still out of it. Doctors are running tests to see what exactly caused it. They said she might be ready tomorrow. We already talked a bit to the husband; he was out picking up her pre-natal meds so he’s got an alibi, but we can’t be sure he’s not in on it yet. I know some wesen have some messed up family traditions…”

“We just wanted to see if you knew what it might be and how to get it sooner,” Nick added.

Sloane sighed. “I wish I did…”

“…Huh. Usually you’d get a lot more frustrated that you didn’t know,” Nick pointed out.

Sloane shrugged. “I’ve kind of come to accept that Portland is just going to be a wesen magnet for the weird. Also, I’ve thought about it and…well, before, I was looking for public wesen attacks or issues. Reading papers, keeping my ear to the ground, getting requests from libraries...But for those, they have to generally make the news or ping the radar, so to speak. Being a cop, I’m seeing stuff people would write off as just weird murders. They have those hidden depths and means though that Grimms see…I’m learning stuff I didn’t even know I needed to learn because these crimes are much more than what they seem on the surface. It’s good and I just gotta accept I wasn’t prepared for everything despite Deirdre’s efforts.”

Nick smiled. “Well, glad at least I’m not the only one still on a learning curve.”

“Hey, you two are like Mr. Miyagi compared to me,” Hank said, holding up his hands.

“Who?” Sloane asked.

“Okay, next movie night we watch, Karate Kid,” Hank said. “At least parts one and two.”

Sloane just smiled quizzically but nodded. “Okay…Well, I’m back tomorrow. I can go over stuff until we get the okay to check on her and join you for the rest.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Nick said, standing. “Sorry if we made your last night less relaxing.”

“Eh, I can’t relax for long. Eventually I’d need to fight something,” she said with a shrug.

Nick nodded a bit then paused. “Oh, one other thing…Wu asked us to keep him updated on the case. He’s real close to Dana.”

“Hmmm…Might not be easy if it is wesen related, he might recommend us for a psych evaluation,” she sighed.

“No kidding,” Hank sighed. “We’re not sure what we’re going to tell him though. I mean, best I can come up with is a ring of stem cell thieves, but that’s kinda out there even for human crimes…”

Sloane nodded. “I think we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it. We won’t even know how what it is till we do more research.”

They nodded and Nick smiled. “Hank’s joining me and Juliette for dinner, you interested?”

“Beat you to it and ordered in I’m afraid,” she smiled. “Give me more than a few minutes notice and we’ll see about next time.”

“Fair enough,” he laughed. “We’d better get going though.”

She walked them to the door. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“See you then,” Hank said.

“Night, Sloane.”

She smiled and closed and locked the door again. Sighing, she leaned back and had to admit it was a bit disappointing to return on a rough case. Someone attacking a pregnant woman? Even at her most brutal hunts she would not go that far. But hunting down the one that did sounded at least satisfying. Right at that time though, finding out who was going home for their dance was a bit more tempting.

\-----------------------

Sloane met them at the station, where Hank updated her on the case again officially. They started work looking through records for Dana and Sam Tomas for anything that stood out. Sam’s company had only glowing reviews for him however, both in Manila and the US, and nothing stood out regarding Dana either. Her prenatal vitamins had no red flags, and nothing had been tampered with they could find, so how she got drugged was still a pressing issue. Nick got the call then that Dana was awake and could have visitors.

Before they went in, the doctor offered to walk them over with a look of concern to go over the results they found. “We determined what she was drugged with. We found a large amount of an over-the-counter sedative called valerian root in her system.”

“Valerian root?” Sloane asked in surprise.

“That's not on her list of prescribed medications?” Nick asked, glancing at her.

“She wouldn't be taking this for pregnancy,” the doctor said. “And in large doses, it can cause blackouts.” They arrived at the door and he glanced in. “She doesn't seem to remember much about what happened.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Sloane muttered.

Nick nodded and then nodded to the doctor. “Thanks.” He knocked on the door, then opened it and stepped in first with Hank and Sloane close behind. “Dana, I'm Detective Burkhardt. This is Detective Griffin and Detective Larson.”

“How are you feeling?” Hank asked gently.

“A little weak, but better,” she said slowly, looking very tired. One hand was moving over her stomach in worried but protective fashion.

“Do you feel up to answering some questions?” Nick asked.

She sighed but nodded. “All right.”

The detectives glanced at one another to see who wanted to start. Sloane decided to step up to the plate. “What do you remember anything about that night?”

Dana licked her lips and looked thoughtful. “I remember reading and then falling asleep and then waking up because of this pain.” She swallowed, looking haunted. “It hurt more than anything I've ever felt…” she shook her head softly, trying to clear it. “I can't remember anything else. It was like a dream.”

Hank nodded. “Did you see anything outside your window?”

“I-I can't remember,” she said, shaking her head again.

“Did you hear anything... A ticking sound?” Nick tried. “Your neighbor Liz says she remembers a ticking sound.”

Dana frowned, trying to think, but then sighed. “Not really…”

Nick sighed but pushed forward. “Dana, the doctors found a sedative in your system called valerian root.”

“Root? As in a kind of plant?” came an incredulous voice behind them. The detectives all turned to see Wu in the doorway behind them, looking tired as well and very concerned. He held up his hands at them guiltily. “I'm sorry. I just got here. Keep going.” He smiled comfortingly at Dana, who tried to smile back but just looked tired.

“Did you take any or eat anything that contained valerian?” Nick continued.

Dana shook her head. “I have a strict list of vitamins and meds to take, and sedatives are not on it.”

Hank nodded, trying not to sigh. “That's all we need for now. Get some rest.”

She nodded, watching them leave, Wu waving at her a moment before joining them by the front desk of the floor. “So, what do you think?”

“We don’t have much to think on yet,” Sloane said honestly.

“No prints, no motive, no suspects,” Nick agreed with a sigh.

“You come up with anything?” Hank asked. “Anybody or something that came to mind?”

Wu looked hesitant. “Well, it's gonna sound really strange, but, uh... What if...” He bit his lip, looking unsure.

“What if what?” Nick asked.

“What if it's...” he tried again but finally just sighed. “Ah. I am overthinking this. I should just let you do your job.”

Sloane frowned, watching him head back to Dana’s room. Wu had something in mind for sure, but he was hesitant voicing it. There could be a lot of reasons behind that, but she knew from experience people—especially those who worked where logic should reign, like law enforcement and sciences—were hesitant to voice the “supernatural” ideas. She wondered if Wu would be more open the wesen idea than they thought.

\--------------------

Their next stop was the spice shop and Rosalee’s expertise. The moment they mentioned valerian root she was grabbing her ladder and climbing up a shelf.

“Here it is, valerian root.” She grabbed a jar and brought it down for them to look at more closely. “It's a natural sedative used in teas and oils, but it can be really dangerous in large doses. Some call it nature's valium.”

Sloane opened the jar and smelled it. “Yeah. Deirdre used to give me some when I was younger.” Everyone paused and looked at her in shock and a bit of horror. “…what? I didn’t always sleep well, and it helped. She never overdosed me.”

“How young was younger?” Monroe asked seriously.

“…Since a little after she took me in, so I guess 9 on until I learned to deal with things,” she shrugged. “I mean, I know it’s unorthodox, but given what was going on with me it was easier on both of us.”

Rosalee looked ready to fight something but took a deep breath. “That’s still…you were a kid. That’s even more dangerous.”

“Well we got someone feeding it to a pregnant lady, so let’s focus on that one for now,” Sloane said, handing the jar and conversation back to Nick.

Nick nodded but agreed with Rosalee that drugging a kid to sleep through what was probably a lot of post-traumatic nightmares was cold to say the least. “Whoever attacked Dana wanted to make sure she was out cold.”

Rosalee refocused as well. “Maybe valerian was used instead of something with harsher chemicals that could potentially harm a fetus.”

“Why pump out the amniotic fluid but keep the fetus intact?” Hank asked, taking the jar and looking it over again before setting on the counter.

“There are ancient rituals where it's believed the health and youth of a baby can be absorbed. Your case could have something to do with that,” Rosalee said, looking a touch grossed out.

“Yeah, I have an aunt and Uncle that used to eat their newborns' placentas, you know, fry 'em up with a little butter and honey. But I'm sorry. This is going too far.”

Sloane looked at him askance. “This is going too far—you just gave a recipe for a placenta omelet!”

“Hey, it’s very natural, okay? Plenty in the animal kingdom do it,” he said defensively. “Also, all omelets are placenta omelets when you think about it. Kinda glad I’m vegan again...”

“Oh, come on!” she said, looking at him in disgust. “That’s my breakfast!”

“Regardless of how or why it’s ingested, we have a slight lead here,” Nick said. He looked at Sloane and Hank as he pieced it out. “Maybe if we cross-reference attacks on pregnant women with valerian root, we can find something in the trailer.” Hank and Sloane nodded, turning to head towards the door.

“Need help?” Rosalee called.

“Wouldn't hurt!” Hank called.

“Anybody else got the heebie-jeebies?” Monroe asked.

“Yes, you heebie-jeebied my omelets!”

\-------------------------

Having five sets of eyes was a huge asset, Sloane had to admit. She’d also been helping to organize Marie’s library in the trailer, getting Nick a rolodex. He considered a digital one, but when she brought up that the lights and an occasional phone were about what the trailer could handle on its battery, he agreed a rolodex might work best. They hadn’t had time to go through all of them and copy down a reference for each, but she was able to flip through and make a few general notes on dates and places and modus operandi.

“Got something,” Nick said. “"I arrive in the Philippines at Manila, May of 1904, after a long arduous voyage from..."”

“Do we have to start at the beginning?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, pick it up right before the "and then I cut off his head" part,” Monroe agreed.

“All right,” he said, looking okay with that suggestion. “Let’s see…"snuck down the putrid alley…Fetid smell of blood," blah, blah. "Cut off its..." okay, too far.” He back tracked to his previous page and scanned it again, Rosalee looking over his shoulder. “Okay, okay. "After the midwife was able to quell the hemorrhaging, the young woman gained consciousness. She told me it was an Aswang that had caused the tragedy.””

“Aswang,” Sloane murmured. “It does sound familiar…I think I saw something in Japan on them, but I don’t remember everything. Does it detach in half at the waist with a lot of organs hanging out as it flies around on bat wings?”

“What the hell?” Monroe asked.

“Hey, I saw that in a book and it stuck with me, okay? I’ve always thought what the hell I’d do if I saw that thing in real life.”

“Yeah, I’m wondering too. Screaming like a little girl comes to mind.”

“Well, there’s no detaching in half here and but doesn’t get prettier…” Nick said, sounding relieved. “"She had been sold as a bride, to be impregnated so that her firstborn may be consumed as a means for a prolonged, healthy life.””

“Consumed?” Sloane asked, grimacing.

“This is what we're looking for,” Rosalee said, looking over the book with Nick. Monroe stood to come look with them. “"Aswangs use their long tongues to inject chewed up valerian root to sedate their victims as they attack."”

“That explains why Dana can't remember much,” Nick said, nodding.

“"These attacks are often incorrectly diagnosed as miscarriages,”” Rosalee went on, ““and for the process to work, the fetus must be a blood relative to the Aswang."”

“That's some messed up family obligations,” Hank said.

“Wait, what does that say?” Monroe asked, pointing at a note in the column. “"I've also learned that Aswang have an alternate name...tik-tiks, due to the ticking sound they make with their tongue."”

“The neighbor said she heard a ticking sound coming from Dana's house,” Hank said, Nick nodding. Nick turned the page and Monroe Recoiled.

“Whoa! There it is. Now we're talking ugly.” Nick turned the book to show them the face that looked a lot like a rotting corpse, with a long, forked tongue snaking out of its mouth.

“Eh, I’ve seen worse,” Sloane said. “But not by much.”

“Now that we know what we're dealing with, what do we tell Wu?” Hank asked.

“Oh, no, no,” Monroe said quickly, shaking his head. “I don't think an Aswang is a very good gateway wesen for a Kehrseite.”

“I'm not sure there is a good gateway,” Hank said, remembering his own experience.

“It's more of a hellgate,” Rosalee agreed.

“We can't risk involving him in something that he doesn't understand,” Nick said.

Hank frowned. “But we can't let him think he's going crazy. I know that feeling too well. And I can't just stand by and...”

Nick sighed but looked back at Hank a bit more firmly. “I don't think we should give him any premature information.”

“Yes, premature information can be very messy,” Monroe agreed.

“Hearing the truth is not the problem. It's seeing and not being able to explain what it is that pushes you over the edge,” Hank said more emphatically.

“You were confronted with it. You had no choice,” Rosalee said sympathetically.

“Hank, I'm sorry. I kind of agree with 'em. I mean, this is life-changing information we're talking about.”

“Wu needs to know what he's going up against. You leave him unprepared, anything could happen. Like that blind hunter, Patrevski,” Hank pointed out.

“Look, I don't want to drag him into this, not unless we absolutely have to,” Nick said. He looked at Sloane, who was apparently deep in thought. “Sloane? What do you think?”

She sighed a bit. “I think you’re both right…It’s a catch 22. We tell Wu the truth, he can think we’re crazy or go into paranoid survival mode knowing there’s monsters out there, no offense,” she said, looking at Rosalee and Monroe.

“None taken, we know what you meant,” Rosalee said, Monroe nodding.

“But at the same time, if we don’t tell him and he sees something he can’t explain, he might still fall down. Honestly, I’d prefer we were there to catch him if that happens. Something I’ve learned, if someone sees something that “normal” people can’t explain, it’s better to be upfront with them. They’ll understand if you explain that no one else would believe them most of the time but having someone who understands helps. I’ve done it with past hunts—heck, I’ve done it with some folks here in Portland.” Hank smiled but Sloane sighed. “Then he’s stuck on this side though and knowing what might be out there…that can be a lot to take in too. Especially in this line of work and hanging around us. We could still be able to take care of this without Wu seeing anything if we play our cards right. Then it would just be a matter of damage control, same as any other case. But the moment he sees something, we need to pull him out of there and explain if we don’t want him ending up worse for wear. But until then, he still gets to live not thinking there’s a world of things that might try to kill him. Ignorance might be bliss so long as it’s not going to kill him.”

Hank frowned a little more but nodded a little. “If that’s what you all think, I guess that’s a good way to put it…”

“Yeah. I can see that,” Nick nodded. “We’ll make sure he’s got a safety net if something gets to him. Like I should’ve had for you, Hank,” Nick said. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth…”

Hank smiled a bit and sighed. “Okay. Let's go see if Dana and Sam have any blood relatives in town.”

\-------------------------------

They were working on tracking down the family history when Sloane’s phone buzzed on her desk. Pulling it over, she frowned slightly—it was a text from Gallin, but it was a business one despite the innocuous subject. _Give me a call when you have a chance. I found a dress in purple I think you would like, but it might be taken already._

 _Purple for royals…_ “Guys, I need to take this.”

“Everything okay?” Nick asked, looking at her in concern.

“I’m not sure but I’ll find out.” She stood and headed for one of the interrogation viewing rooms that were empty, pulling the door closed behind her. She dialed Cynthia’s number. “Cynthia? Did something happen?”

“Possibly,” Cynthia said. “I’m still pulling duty at the Library, and we got word from one of our contacts in Austria is keeping tabs on the Royals. There’s something that’s gone down. They said the royals scrambled at some point a couple of weeks ago and seem to be looking for something. They haven’t found it and are growing a lot more agitated finding it.”

“Any word on what they’re looking for?”

“No. There are a few Laufer in the area we’re trying to contact. Including, well…you said Nick’s mother is Kelly Kessler, right?”

Sloane sighed. “Yeah…She mentioned she was around Austria last time she called, so maybe she knew something was already going down. I take it she may be taking the purple dress?”

“Hey, cut me some slack,” Cynthia said with a laugh. “You try making a simple, easy to understand message that won’t immediately look like “Hey, the royals are doing something we might want to look out for.”. I know you keep your phone from being tapped or traced but if it fell into the wrong hands…”

“No, yeah, I get it,” Sloane said with a chuckle. “Do you think she might need help though?”

“Knowing Kelly Kessler, probably not. But I’m sending out warnings to any Grimms I have contacts for to be safe in case the Verrat are on high alert worldwide. We’re already seeing a lot going through some local towns around Kronenburg Castle for some reason, and they’re causing some issues. Um…would you mind letting Mr. Burkhardt know though?” she asked hesitantly.

Sloane arched her brow. “You’re still scared to call him?”

“Not scared, just…after everything that happened, I don’t know if I can ever make up for that. He’s cured, but he had to go through so much…”

“Honestly, that’s part of being a Grimm,” Sloane sighed. “We’re going to always be going through so much…”

“Yeah…I’m kind of looking forward to a quieter life on my end. But there’s not a lot of Librarians available right now.”

“Look, if they’re having trouble finding someone, just go,” Sloane said honestly. “If the Library is closed for a while, we’ll find our ways around it. I don’t want you getting second thoughts if this is what you want, you should do what you need to for yourself.” It was quiet a moment and Sloane flushed in surprise when she thought she heard crying. “Uh…Cynthia?”

“S-sorry,” she said. “It’s just…it’s been a while since anyone’s said something like that to me. It’s always been about what’s best for others…”

Sloane sobered a bit. “Yeah…I get that. But don’t worry, I’ll tell Nick about the royal situation. If you get more info, just let me know.”

She took a breath on the line and said a little brighter. “Right, thank you. I’ll, um, talk to you later.”

“Right, talk to you later.” Sloane hanged up and sighed, tapping her phone against her chin. Royals on the move could be very bad. Nick had dealt with the Verrat before, but they had luckily retreated after the Cracher Mortal and the death of Renard’s brother. _Renard_ …She looked at the direction of the Captain’s office as though she had x-ray vision to see through the walls. _Does he know about this? What they’re looking for? I gotta imagine he does…_

Sloane exited the room, intent to question Renard, but paused when she almost ran into Wu. “Oh, hey!”

“Hey! Sorry there Sloane,” Wu sighed. “I’m just heading out…”

“Okay…You alright?” she asked, eyeing him a little.

“Yeah, just…shared a weird theory with Nick and Hank. Hank told me to trust my instincts, but my instincts are superstitious assholes I think,” he said tiredly. “I need to go get some sleep.”

“Right…do that and just…let us know if you need anything,” she said.

Wu smiled. “Thanks.” He headed out and Sloane looked up the hall where Hank and Nick were watching Wu with concern.

“Wu told you guys a “weird theory”?” she asked, walking up.

Nick looked like he didn’t want to admit it but leaned in to say quietly. “He said he thinks Sam might be trying to hurt Dana and make it look like an Aswang attack.”

Sloane’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh…so he knows?”

“He doesn’t know,” Hank sighed. “He thinks it’s just his mind playing tricks on him because he knows the legend. But he is on the edge, in more ways than one. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him still though. You guys are right, it’s not an easy thing to just come out and say…”

“Well, either way we might be needing to sit him down and have the talk with him.”

“…Okay, I know what you mean, but odd choice of phrase,” Nick said.

“It was on purpose,” she smiled.

He snorted a laugh. “Well…one other thing he told us was that Sam’s mom is in town. Staying at the Viking Inn, supposedly returning to Manila soon.”

“I can guess what our next stop is then,” she said.

They nodded, heading for the car, but Sloane paused and glanced back through the windows at Renard’s office. She’d have to question their captain later she supposed, but her gut was certain he knew something.

\-----------------------

They arrived at the hotel just after sunset and the manager was easily convinced to let them into the room. He said the older woman who rented it had gone off in a cab shortly before they arrived. In the room they saw the suitcase still there, open on the luggage stand, and another bag on her bed. Going around the bed, Nick found the plane ticket to manila torn up on the floor. Hank immediately asked what cab company the car was from and called them for a destination address while Sloane searched the suitcase. She cursed finding a jar of valerian root under several layers of clothes and showed it to Nick. The manager was worried about a drug dealer, but the detectives were already moving to get to Dana and Sam’s house.

When they arrived, the door was already busted open. Sam was lying at the foot of the stairs, apparently unconscious. Hank called in for paramedics, and then they heard a yell and a crash upstairs. Rushing up, Wu was on the ground and the Aswang was standing over him with its whip like tongue swaying like a snake ready to strike. Nick didn’t hesitate and shot the creature before it could strike Wu again. Wu yelled and backed away, looking at the creature with wide, terrified eyes. The look turned to pure horror as the purple, corpse-like visage melted back into what looked like a harmless old woman.

“I…It was an Aswang! Did you see it?” he said desperately.

“Wu, calm down—” Nick started.

“She wasn’t like that!”

Hank was checking on Dana for a pulse. “Dana’s alive,” he called.

But Wu wasn’t listening, shaking his head. “It changed…I know what I saw, it changed…”

“Wu, calm down! Dana’s alive-”

“It wasn’t her! It wasn’t her; it wasn’t her…it wasn’t her,” he kept repeating.

Sloane set a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Nick…we’re not explaining that away. He saw and he’s losing it,” Sloane said quietly.

Nick stared at her a moment but sighed. “What do we do?”

“You and Hank need to handle this,” she said, gesturing at the room. “I’m taking Wu somewhere quiet I can work this out with him. Get him to calm down and explain things. Because it’s not going back in the box and he’s not going to think it’s a cougar.”

He nodded. “Okay…you can do that?”

“You’re the one that discharged your weapon, I’m not filling out that paperwork,” she said quietly. Nick rolled his eyes but smiled just a little. She walked over to Wu who was still muttering and staring at the woman on the ground. “Wu? Wu!” she clapped her hands as if to get him out of a trance. He looked up at her, shaking a little and Sloane tried to gentle her expression. “You and I are going to go take a walk.”

“I’m not crazy, I saw it—”

“I know. I did too.”

Wu blinked. “I…y-you did…”

“Hard to miss a tongue like that. But here is not a good place to talk about it. The paramedics are going to take care of Sam and Dana. We’re going to say you helped protect Dana, but you thought you saw someone else and took off after them—but really, I’m taking you somewhere we can talk, and I can explain some stuff to you. Does that sound okay?”

“You…you’re going to explain stuff? Explain this?”

“I have the answers. But we’re running out of time and we need to get out of here now if you want them tonight.” Wu breathed a little easier. Maybe just knowing someone else had seen helped. He nodded slowly. Sloane nodded to Nick and Hank as they headed downstairs. “Give me the keys. You’re in no state to drive,” Sloane said.

Wu shakily got his keys from his pocket and climbed in the passenger seat while Sloane got in the driver’s side. She drove to her house as calmly as she could, glancing at Wu now and then as he ping-ponged between freaking out and calming down or trying to rationalize what he saw. “You…you really saw it…the…”

“Aswang. Yeah, we saw it.”

“We?”

“Nick and Hank definitely saw it too. But it’s not the first for any of us,” Sloane said, pulling into her driveway. She turned off the car and paused before looking at him. “Wu…Generally we try to keep what I’m going to show you under tight wraps. People who see what you did tonight, they usually go two routes. Thinking they’re insane and maybe pushing that down and far away as a repressed memory to try and move on. Or go into it and latch on for all it’s worth and go insane or end up locked up. I don’t think option 1 is looking like something you’re going to do without a fight, and I don’t want to see you go down option 2. Which you would’ve gone down if we didn’t get out of there I’m thinking…”

“…I…thought I was going to have to check myself in somewhere,” he admitted. “I just…that thing…” He reached up and winced at the scratches on his cheek.

“It was real, you’re not crazy. You are lucky you know me and Nick and by extension Hank though because we have a 3rd option for you.”

“Y…you do?” he said.

She nodded and opened the door. “Follow me.” Wu hesitated just a second before scrambling to unbuckle his seatbelt and follow. Sloan opened the door to her home and walked on in. Wu looked around hesitantly, not having come over to Sloane’s house before, but nothing seemed strange so far. “Over here,” Sloane said, going to her spare room. Opening the door, Wu walked in and frowned more.

“I…Sloane, I don’t see anything…”

“Give me a sec, I don’t keep this stuff just out in the open here,” she said. “Sit on the daybed.” Wu slowly said down, flinching and jittering his foot. Sloane opened the closet and Wu could see from where he was that rather than clothes, she had several medieval looking weapons hanging up, and a shelf of books on the side he could see. His eyes widened a little and he swallowed and wondered if he should run for the door. But instead of a weapon, she grabbed a book and walked over to sit next to him. She looked at the book and sighed a bit. “So…I want to reiterate, you’re not crazy. But the world kind of is.” She set a hand on the cover of the book. “This book was written by one of my ancestors. It’s about various kind of creatures we call “wesen”.”

““Wesen?”” Wu asked, his curiosity overriding the trauma for a moment.

“Yeah. So…I’m going to show you one…and I want you to try and stay calm, okay?” Wu nodded slowly and Sloane opened the book to a page and showed him an entry on the wolkeshaber—the wesen that brought her to Portland a year ago. Wu tensed and leaned away with wide eyes.

“What the hell is that?!”

“Calm down,” Sloane said again, taking the book away. “This is called a Wolkeshaber. You’d think of them more like the giants from fairy tales.”

“…giants?” he said, looking more alarmed but also incredulous.

“Look for yourself.” She handed it over to him and Wu hesitated but took it. He started reading and then flipping pages, seeing new wesen on every other page. “I…these are all…”

“Wesen,” she repeated. “Yeah. There are hundreds of kinds in the world. They hide in plain sight because they have a human form, and a wesen form.”

“…Lani Tomas…sh-she…”

“She is, or was, an Aswang,” she nodded. “Nick has that book, so I don’t have the reference with me.”

“Nick has-he has a book with an Aswang in it? Why does he have that?” he asked.

Sloane blew out a breath. “So…this is part of where it gets complicated,” Sloane said. “Nick and I are what are called “Grimms”. We hunt wesen. That’s what these books are for. Before you ask, we’re not quite all human. We can see wesen even when they don’t want to be seen. Not like constantly, but if they betray their nature—as my mentor put it—we can see them. So, we hunt them, to protect people from those that would hurt them. But that’s not every wesen out there.”

“…So, there are ones that…don’t?”

She smiled a little bitterly. “If you had asked me that a year ago, I’d have said they’re all monsters in some way…but I can’t say that now. Nick, Hank and I…we have friends who are wesen. It’s the same with people, there are good and bad ones. And they help us hunt the bad ones. That Aswang? Bad. Very bad. Her son? Maybe a wesen, but…he was trying to protect his wife and child I’m pretty sure. He didn’t want his mom doing that to them or she wouldn’t have pushed him down the stairs. That was her right?”

“Y-yeah, he was like that when I kicked the door in,” he said. He was calming down, looking at the pages again. “So…how do normal people deal with them?”

“…I’ll be honest, we try to keep that from happening as much as possible. Knowledge is power but it’s also danger because wesen generally don’t _want_ people to know what they are. It makes a lot of what they do harder, and generally people might do things to them. And then there’s other factions in the world that don’t want that either. Because it gives them more power to be able to keep things in the shadows. Generally, we Grimms prefer to keep it to a need to know basis so that innocent people don’t get caught up in things. Or try to hunt them and end up missing the mark. That’s happened _a lot,_ so normal humans have ended up dead and probably some innocent wesen too. So, if things work out, they do nothing. Although some have romanced wesen apparently so what do I know?”

Wu sobered a bit. “…Would it be okay for me to…look through these a bit?”

“…Depends, you’re not going to start trying to hunt them, are you?” she asked worriedly. “Like I just said, I dealt with one guy like that already this year and that ended badly, and I really don’t want to have to hurt you.”

Wu shook his head quickly. “No, I…Hunting’s never been my thing unless it’s for information or a perp. I just…I still think I’m dreaming or going nuts…But this lets me know I’m not, if that makes sense. That you already have this stuff. Unless you’re crazy too…”

“…Wu, I’m showing this to you because I know what it’s like not to be believed when you say you saw a monster. Granted I was a kid, but I remember after I saw my grandmother murdered, everyone thinking I was explaining away a traumatic event and giving my psych evaluations. My mentor Deirdre was the first one to show she believed me and get me out of there before they just locked me up…I didn’t want that happening to someone else.”

“God, I’m sorry,” Wu said with a wince.

She nodded but pressed on. “Hank knows that feeling too. And I’ve seen what seeing wesen as a regular human does to some other people. But this world is really, really dangerous. You can take heart knowing you’re not alone in seeing them, but I’d really think hard about how involved you want to be in this world. I can’t shut the door on you again but you gotta decide if you want to step in. Otherwise…I would say leave it to us unless you’re stepping through.”

Wu nodded slowly again, looking down at the book. “…I get what you mean about the door, but…I want to know a bit more before I decide.”

Sloane nodded back. “Okay…you can look through them but try not to do much to the weapons—just for your own safety. I’ll get you something for your scratches too.” She stood and headed for the door.

“…Why didn’t Nick or Hank tell me?” Wu asked.

Sloane looked back and saw that he was hurt by the thought his friends keeping this valuable information from him. “…Would you have believed them?”

“…Heh, probably not, I’d think they were making fun of me,” he admitted.

Sloane nodded. “Hank wanted to tell you but…it’s not easy. I think they just wanted to spare you having to see all this. They’re annoyingly soft-hearted like that.” She said with a small smile. “I wasn’t around for Hank, but he told me he thought he was going nuts too when he saw a wesen the first time. Nick…Grimms don’t get a choice. We’re shoved through the door at some point and it’s done a lot to mess up his life. Mine too, I guess. Hank chose to step through and now he still gets mixed up in dangerous stuff, even if he knows what it is. You got an out if you want. I know someone moving to leave the life behind because she can, but you never really leave it once you know.”

“…So, I might get caught up in more of…this?”

“It’s possible,” she nodded slowly. “That’s why Nick hesitated. Again, they are soft-hearted.”

“But not you?” he asked.

“…Let’s just say I got a higher body count than all of you combined and leave it at that,” she said, turning to go and get her first aid kit. Wu somehow believed her.

\-----------------------------------

In the morning, Nick and Hank went to see Dana and Sam. Dana was sleeping, but Sam was in the chair beside her bed, his head bandaged up. He looked at them and tried to smile, speaking quietly. “She’s resting up but doing well. The baby too.”

Hank smiled. “Good. Uh, we need to talk about some things though…in private.”

Sam’s smile faded and he hesitated but finally stood. He kissed Dana on the forehead and followed them out of the room, to another room nearby that was empty. “Before you ask…yes, I was aware my mother was here and that she had some awful plan for Dana and our baby. I tried to get her to leave, I did, but—”

“Aswangs are stubborn,” Nick guessed.

Sam faltered and then tried to laugh. “Oh, has Drew told you some of our stories? Really, sh-she was unstable but…”

“I’m a Grimm,” Nick said. “I have books my ancestors wrote about meeting Aswang in the Philippines more than a century ago. Or do you prefer “tik-tik”?”

He stared at nick wide eyed a moment before woging in the way Hank couldn’t see. But the rasping gasp was hard to miss as his tongue flickered nervously in his pale purple face. He changed back and stepped away. “You…”

“Yep. Now, I’m going to ask this, and I want an honest answer. Were you helping your mother?”

“No! God, no!” he said, shaking his head. “I…I loved her. I did, she was my mother. But I also saw what she was under that—a selfish woman.”

“Harsh,” Hank said.

“It’s true. She had always been somewhat like that, though it took me a long time to come to terms with it. Much of our lives were planned out by her to make her look good or please her. And if we didn’t, well…tongue lashings for Aswang are very different.”

“I can imagine,” Nick said with a grimace. “But selfish enough to do this?”

He sighed and rubbed over his face. “Fear does awful things to everyone. I knew the traditions…But I was never intending to hold to them. I’d seen the grief they caused in my cousin’s family, when my Uncle feared death enough to do it. It broke my cousin’s wife…she saw monsters and dead children everywhere and eventually she couldn’t take it any longer and…” He shook his head, disgusted. “I didn’t want to do that to Dana, or our baby. My mother was growing sick and frail and wanted me to have a child so she could extend her life. But I told her no. I moved across an ocean to protect Dana when we wanted to start our family. But she still sought us out because she was a scared, selfish woman that put herself above me and her grandchild…” he said bitterly.

“…I’m sorry. I was the one that shot her, to save Wu and Dana.”

“…Then I’m not sorry,” he sighed. “She made her choices. She could’ve died peacefully around family and loved ones who would miss her and instead she died as a true monster in my eyes.”

“…So, Dana is safe with you,” Hank clarified.

“Yes! I would never hurt her. I’ve loved Dana since the night we met, and I just want to give her a good life. And our baby.”

“You’re going to have to tell her the truth eventually,” he pointed out. “She doesn’t know you’re Aswang now, but what if your kid is?”

“…I know. I do. But I’m…scared,” he admitted, looking down. “My aswang form is pretty terrifying I know. And to know why my mother did that…even if I say that I refuse to follow those traditions, what’s she going to think of me? Of our child?”

Nick frowned sympathetically. While not the same, he knew he’d resisted telling Juliette the truth about his heritage in part because he wasn’t sure how she’d take the whole “my ancestors as close as my mother travel around the world killing people”. Admittedly she took it surprisingly well so far. “…I can speak from experience, waiting to tell someone something like this when they are more than likely going to find out isn’t a good idea. Generally, they’re angrier when they do find out that you kept it from them…”

Sam nodded softly. “You make a good point I know…”

“Plus, Wu kind of probably knows by now,” Hank added. “Our other partner is also a Grimm and has been…inducting him into the wesen world after your mom attacked him.”

Sam looked down, further shamed. “…I said some awful things to Drew…Truthfully it was jealousy, thinking Dana would’ve been safer with a normal man like him…Should I worry about him coming after me?”

“We’ll try to convince him that’s a bad idea,” Nick assured him. “But I think your best bet is to just…figure out how to be friends with him. I mean he did save your wife and child.”

“We wouldn’t have been there in time if Wu didn’t distract her,” Hank added.

“Yeah…I definitely owe him,” Sam sighed. “Tell him please, I would never hurt Dana and I’ll…I’ll tell her the truth soon. And thank you. I’ll tell him myself when he’s ready, but I understand if he’s perhaps not.”

Nick and Hank nodded and let Sam go back to Dana’s room to rest with her. Nick had no idea how their conversation might go, but he didn’t doubt Sam loved Dana deeply. He hoped that was enough for a happy-ish ending at least.

\-----------------------------------

In the afternoon Sloane was woken by her phone ringing on her bedside table. Grunting, she fumbled for it and accepted the call. “Larson…”

“Sloane, hey...What happened last night?” Nick said quickly. “We can’t find Wu, and we wanted to know how it went…”

“Mmm…just a sec.” Sloane swung out of bed and padded back through her house to the side room. “…Yep, still here.”

“What?”

“He’s here, I brought him to my house.” She took the phone away from her ear to snap a picture and send it to him. She noted it was almost 3 PM with a bit of surprise but took the picture anyway. She centered it on Wu, sleeping on the daybed, surrounded by pretty much all her books. He had a bandage on his face for the Aswang scratches, but after that she’d left him alone to read. Occasionally in the night she’d come in and check on him, explain some things, then go rest. Wu had been near constantly reading, however. He had one book still open on his chest.

Nick was surprised to say the least but relaxed slightly. “So, you showed him the books?”

“Yeah...We went over a few things last night too. That you and I are Grimms, what that means, what we do. He’s officially Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen now, but the fact he’s able to sleep is a good sign.”

He sighed a little, but she heard the resigned tone of his voice. “Yeah…that’s good.”

“He’s not pleased with you or Hank right now though,” Sloane said matter-of-factly.

“I can imagine,” Nick sighed again.

“How about you two pick us up breakfast—or lunch? Dinner? Whatever, pick up food and we can talk a bit more here?”

Nick smiled a little. “That sounds like a plan. How about breakfast tacos? Good any time of day.”

“As many bacon and egg as you can get me. I’ll wake him up here in a bit. Also, I will need a lift to the station to get my car…”

Nick and Hank were over within the hour with a bag of breakfast tacos. By then Sloane had managed to make coffee and lure Wu out of the room. He looked beleaguered still, but clearer headed. “…Hey…”

“Hey,” Nick said, setting the bag down. “…Wu, man, we’re sorry…”

“Yeah,” Hank agreed. “We just weren’t sure how to say you’re Aswang theory was _really_ in the right direction.”

“Aside from Sam making it look like an Aswang and it really being one,” Wu said, sitting at the small dining table near the kitchen. The men grimaced a bit but nodded. “…I get it. I mean, I thought I was crazy, I don’t know how I would’ve taken this till I actually saw…” he shuddered a bit.

“How you holding up?” Hank asked sympathetically.

“…A lot better than last night. Sloane explained most things and I read others in the books…And she made me promise not to try and hunt anything on my own.”

“Yeah, please don’t,” Nick said.

“So…you see these things too?” Wu asked.

Nick nodded, pulling over the bag to start handing out food. “Whether I want to or not…generally I would not, but then we end up helping people so…”

“It’s a double-edged sword,” Sloane agreed. “We can do good, but we see a lot of bad.” They toasted one another with their taco’s in hand before starting to eat. Wu reluctantly took a chorizo and bean and started eating.

“…I’m not sure…I’m ready to be on the other side of the door,” Wu said.

“…what door?” Hank asked.

“It’s a metaphor, roll with it,” Sloane said offhandedly around a mouthful of food. She swallowed and looked at Wu. “That’s up to you. But remember, you can’t go around talking about wesen and all this. For one, it could be bad for you and people thinking you’re crazy _or_ attacking you if they think you’ll out them.”

“Right, I remember,” he sighed.

“And not just that,” she added. “If the wrong people knew Nick and I were Grimms, they’d try to kill us and the people we’re close to. We’re really trusting you with this Wu, whether you’re in or not.”

“I get it!” Wu said again, a little sharper. Then he sighed again, looking regretful but resigned. “I need some time I think…to get all this in order. Get myself in order.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Nick said, “Dana and Sam are okay. And the baby. You probably saved Dana and the baby surprising Lani like that.”

Wu took a breath but nodded. “Good…good…Sam though, he’s…?”

“He’s an Aswang,” Nick confirmed. “We talked with him at the hospital. He doesn’t follow the old ways though, and he was trying to keep his mother away from Dana. He’s planning on coming clean soon to her about the whole Aswang thing.”

“He said he wants to thank you for saving them,” Hank added. “Dana and the baby. He understands if you’re unsure about him still or don’t believe him, but…I think he’s telling the truth. I’ve seen some awful wesen ritual stuff and he seemed pretty intent to keep Dana safe and make her happy.”

“Feels like I was panicking like a little kid rather than saving anyone,” Wu said.

“That’s most people’s reactions the first time,” Sloane said.

“Yeah. I…almost shot my god-daughter when she woged in front of me,” Hank said, remembering. “Nick managed to stop me in time.”

“Damn…” Wu muttered. He sighed. “I…got vacation saved up, I think I’m going to take some time off and try to get my head around all of this…”

Nick nodded. “Okay. Just don’t forget we’re here for you, okay? You’re our friend and we wanted to protect you, and we still want to help you.”

Wu smiled a tiny bit, but there was something fragile about it that worried Nick. “Thanks…I, um…I better go give my statement and figure out what I’m going to tell them as far as not coming back to the scene last night...”

“Okay…Let us know if you need anything,” Hank said, also worried.

“Right.” Wu stood, taking what was left of his taco and heading out the door.

“…Is he okay?” Nick asked.

“Time will tell,” Sloane sighed.

\------------------------------

Once We Were Gods

\----------------

“So, Wu knows now?” Monroe asked. They’d met up the next day to go over the fact that there was someone else in the police force that knew about wesen. They chose Nick’s house as he had the bigger dinner table, and Juliette made a pot of coffee for them all.

“Yep,” Sloane sighed. “There’s no forgetting or explaining away an Aswang tackling you and scratching you up. We can get away with a lot with misdirection and trauma explanations, but when it’s right up in your face and we can’t blame drugs or mass hysteria or something…It didn’t feel right letting him freak out like that.”

“You old softy,” Monroe teased.

“Watch it,” she warned, though it wasn’t as snappy as it might’ve been once. “We’re going to watch him on and off, make sure he doesn’t do something he shouldn’t. I explained why it’s best to keep it a secret but he’s not sure where he wants to go from here.”

“Can’t say I blame him,” Hank said. “I mean, when I saw my first beast—”

“Hey,” Monroe said, a little outraged. He gestured to himself and Rosalee, who looked a bit awkward at the description. “We’re right here, man.”

“Sorry,” Hank said quickly. “When I saw my first _wesen.”_

Monroe nodded but then shrugged. “Not that some wesen aren’t more bestial than others,” he admitted. Rosalee rolled her eyes a tiny but nodded too.

“I remember how messed up I was,” Hank continued. “Put a few bullet holes in my closet, couldn’t sleep without my shotgun. But once Nick explained things—and you did too,” he gestured at Monroe he nodded, “Took some getting used to but…here I am.”

“But that’s because Nick is your partner. You already trusted him,” Rosalee said.

Juliette nodded. “Yeah. If I hadn’t already been connected to Nick’s world and loved him and trusted him, I don’t know what my reaction would’ve been,” she said. Nick looked at her, a tiny bit worried.

“Yeah, but your life is better now, isn’t it?” Hank asked.

“My life is better with Nick but if I wasn’t with him, I’m…just not sure I’d want to know,” she said honestly. Nick frowned again, unsure how to take that.

“Being in the know isn’t for everyone,” Rosalee said.

“It's one thing seeing a Fuchsbau or even a Blutbad, but an Aswang?” Monroe added. “I mean, they scare even us. If that was your introduction to wesen and then you were told you're not imagining things, that could fry your brain. I mean, I know I'm repeating myself here, but it could fry your brain for good.”

“That’s what we’re worried about,” Nick said. “But he seemed to take it okay for the most part…”

“And his brain was already about to be fried seeing that thing,” Hank said. “I don’t know what might’ve happened if we hadn’t gotten him out of there. He knew what he saw.”

Rosalee and Monroe both looked worried as well, unsure how to feel about it.

“…The first wesen I saw was my school bus driver,” Sloane said. “A car at a four-way intersection ran a red light and almost hit the bus and I saw her woge from behind…Not sure exactly what she was, but the ears were hard to miss. I was scared to tell anyone because even then I knew it was not what I should be seeing. I told a friend though and…”

“And?” Rosalee asked.

“…I didn’t know she was wesen too. A Male Piora—hedgehog. She woged and we freaked out together and I was confused why she was scared of me. She ran away and wouldn’t answer when I tried to call her, then her mother stopped picking up. A couple of nights later my grandmother was killed…Realized later that she must’ve told her parents who told others there were Grimms in town…”

“Oh Sloane…” Rosalee said softly.

She shrugged, but her fingers were tapping idly at the mug in her hands in agitation. “I hadn’t told oma, thinking it was a bad thing. After oma was murdered, I tried telling the police and others about the “monsters”, no offense. I ended up in a mental hospital for a couple of weeks before Deirdre came and got me out. I remembered just…wishing someone believed me…That’s why I prefer just saying I do. Even if they convince themselves it’s not real someday, having someone not just try to tell you it wasn’t real when you were sure what you saw…I just know after weeks doubting myself, it meant a lot when Deirdre came for me and what I saw was real. I was finally able to focus on something other than what happened that night and how I could remember those things so clearly if they weren’t real.”

Rosalee sighed and nodded a bit. “Okay…I see your point there.”

“Yeah…but we can’t be telling everyone who glimpses a wesen they’re real,” he said.

“I know, I do try to avoid making it a habit, especially when it was dark or happened fast. But it was a bit more than a glimpse this time around. I’ve told others who eventually just thought I was humoring them and moved on with their lives or got therapy. Like with the Wolkeshaber—the girls who saw it last I heard believe it was a big animal that attacked them, and a man kidnapped the girl in the aftermath. But I told her I believed her and that made it less likely she was going to freak out on me at the time. Memory is a weird thing. But having Wu saying he saw an Aswang in front of everyone didn’t seem like the best thing to do to him…he might’ve been committed, which may have helped but he’d have to live with the memory and the stigma. And he works closely with us so what about the next time he sees something?”

Everyone looked at one another, agreeing but also scared what Wu would do with his knowledge.

\--------------------------

The next day they find out Wu has gone ahead and taken his vacation but didn’t tell anyone where he was going. The three detectives were worried but decide not to press the issue with him in case he needs space. But a couple of days with him gone made them all worried more and more.

“…I need to talk with Renard,” Sloane sighed, standing.

“About Wu?” Nick asked. “I’m not sure we should tell him. He might be more concerned with more people knowing.”

“Yeah…I’ll put that aside for now but there’s something else too. I want to see what he says before I tell you guys though.” She headed over to the office and knocked on the door before opening it.

Renard was at his desk reading a file but turned to give her attention. “Larson. Something wrong?”

“Maybe…” She closed the door. “I got some information the other day I’d like to discuss with you. It concerns some…relatives of yours.”

“Ah,” he said, setting file down and more attentive now. “And that information is?”

“Apparently the Royals in Austria having a bit of a freak out. Something went missing, they’re looking for it, and have been for a while now,” she said.

“…Well, I don’t know much about that I’m afraid.”

Sloane narrowed her eyes, tilting her head just slightly. “…You’re lying.” He arched his eyebrows and Sloane shrugged. “You’re a very good liar, but I don’t believe that you wouldn’t be keeping tabs on as many Royals as you could after what happened with your brother unleashing a dangerous wesen on the public here. Or at least that’s the nice version of what I can say I think,” she smiled.

Renard smiled just slightly. “Well…I appreciate trying to be nice.” He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Alright, I do know a bit of what’s going on. It’s a someone that they’re looking for, not a something. But that’s all I really want to say for now because I’m doing my best to coordinate with others to help get them out of there. The less who know, the easier that will be.”

“Fair enough I suppose,” Sloane said slowly. “But do I need to worry about Royals or verrat coming here though?” she asked seriously. Her expression dared him to try and lie again.

“…It’s a possibility but I’m trying to avoid it,” he admitted. “If it does, I promise you, I’ll be warning you, Nick and Hank.”

Sloane thought about adding Wu but instead nodded. “Okay…as long as we’re on the same page.”

“You still don’t trust me?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” she asked back. “I trust you as much as I can given what I know about you. You want more, change my mind like Rosalee and Monroe.”

Renard actually smiled a little again. “Fair enough,” he shot back. “If there’s nothing else though I do need to actually do work. And so do you.” He held up a file. “I’ve got one I think you three will need to handle.”

“So you do give us the weird ones,” Sloane said, taking the file.

“I give you the ones that I think need _special_ attention. And this one is very special. It involves a mummy.”

“…I’m sorry, what? I thought you said mummy. Like…a mummy mummy?” He gestured to the file and she opened it to see the photos and her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, no, that is a sarcophagus so…mummy.”

“It is indeed. Have fun.”

Sloane rolled her eyes but headed out. “We got a case, fellas.”

Nick and Hank got their computers locked and rose. “Renard gave it to you?” Nick asked.

“Yep. Also, he does try to give us the weird ones.”

“I knew it,” Hank said. “What’s it this time? Vampires? Mothman? The loch ness monster?”

“How’s your ancient Egyptian?” she smiled, handing them the file.

The gist of the case was unfortunate and sad: A security guard surprised a couple of thieves and gets knocked out after a shot went off and killed one thief, then the guard’s partner comes in and the remaining thief shot him with the original guard’s gun and killed him. At least that was the working theory as they had one guard in the hospital, one dead on the floor, and one man dressed in black also dead on the floor.

“Was he able to get a look at who attacked him?” Nick asked officer Franco who had arrived on scene.

“Sort of, I guess,” Franco said. “He said he looked like that.” Franco pointed at the sarcophagus on the table in the middle of the room. Sloane and Nick both faltered and glanced at one another. The sarcophagus’ face was shaped like that of a jackal—Anubis, the God of death. That was a red flag. “It was dark. Figured he must have been wearing a mask,” Franco said, shrugging a little. “And also, the cop said that the lid to the sarcophagus was open, but it's closed now.”

Hank was going over the thief’s body as Franco spoke and sighed. “Nothing in his pockets, no wallet. Have C.S.U. run his prints when they get here.” Franco nodded.

“Got two shell casings here. 9 mil, same as the cop's gun,” Nick said, noting the casings under a nearby desk. “Could be the dead guy or his buddy grabbed the other cop's gun, shot this cop coming through the door.”

“Worst thing that can happen... your gun gets used to shoot somebody,” Hank said, shaking his head.

“And now you see one other reason they’re not my favorite,” Sloane muttered just loud enough they could hear. She was looking at graffiti left on the wall over some brown wood cabinets facing the sarcophagus. She’d joked about knowing ancient Egyptian, but now it would come in handy. “But what did they want in here? It’s not like this is a jewel exhibit…The sarcophagus is a bit hard to just walk out with.”

“Doubt they keep any cash in here,” Nick agreed. “Maybe they broke in to steal the computers?”

“Why'd they open the sarcophagus?” Hank asked, walking over to look at it.

“Curiosity,” Nick smiled.

“Yeah. I'd be curious,” Hank agreed.

“Not me, let the dead rest…” Sloane said.

There was a sudden commotion near the door, and they turned to look when a blonde woman in a white lab coat tried to push her way in. “Oh my God, what happened?”

“Sorry. You can't come in here. Step back outside, please,” Franco said.

The blonde frowned at him and patted her coat till she pulled out a pass from her pocket. “No, I'm Professor Vera Gates. This is my lab. I need to check the sarcophagus,” she said brusquely.

Nick waved a hand at Franco. “Let her in. We were just about to take a look.”

She didn’t wait for a further invitation, ducking under the red crime scene tape and rushed over to the sarcophagus. Without touching it she walked around, examining the jackal head painted in gold and black with piercing blue eyes, the body painted almost entirely gold with stripes of black and green and white made to look like the kind of livery an ancient god would wear and his arms crossed over his chest. When she moved to open it, she paused and looked at them for help. Hank quickly grabbed hold of the top by the snout and the side and helped to push it open.

Inside was a mummy for sure—but not how they expected. Like the top, the mummy’s head was wrapped in the shape of a dog-like animal. Sloane’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Thank God it hasn't been damaged,” Professor gates sighed.

“That's a kind of strange shape for a mummy, isn't it?” Nick asked, also surprised and more than a little worried.

“We haven't started our examination yet,” she said. “It could be a deformed human or some sort of manufactured religious artifact. C.T. scan will let us know for sure. Until then, let's close it.”

Hank moved to help and grunted as they closed it. “Any idea what those painted symbols mean?”

She narrowed her eyes, annoyed at the vandalism, but read it easily enough. “"I protect the dead."”

“Mean anything to you?” Hank asked.

“It's part of an inscription found in Tutankhamun's tomb. Some people think of it as a curse.”

“What do you consider it?” Nick asked.

She looked like she was losing patience with them and sighed. “I just want my lab back. I have a lot of work to do.”

Sloane frowned. “Well, we’re kind of investigating a murder that took place here. Double homicide. I know they aren’t in a fancy box but…” Sloane gestured behind them at the two men dead on the ground.

Professor Gates flushed a bit and looked down. “I…of course, I apologize.”

“We’ll let you know when we’re done,” Nick said a little more gently. Professor gates nodded and then quickly made her way out.

“Little harsh,” Hank said, glancing at Sloane.

“I’m not going to coddle her; this one has been dead long enough he can wait. Besides, we might have bigger problems considering his head shape…”

They all looked at the sarcophagus. “Do you…think the mummy walked?” Hank asked.

Sloane shook her head but was unsure. “Doubt it…but what do you two think?”

“No idea…I really hope not though,” Nick sighed, Hank nodding. Nick pulled out his phone. “Open that back up, I should get some pictures.”

\----------------

Wu sighed, looking out over the lake. He’d opted to rent a place out in the country, away from the city, away from people and just…relax. It wasn’t easy. Every sound made him flinch, every tickle of sweat or fabric made him jump when he thought something was moving over him. He had to take the clock down and turn it off because the ticking nearly gave him a panic attack. He’d hoped the quiet would help him think this through and figure out what to do, but it was started to just make every sound _too much._

Sighing, he looked down at the pen and paper on the table in front of him. He’d drawn a picture of an Aswang without really thinking and the long, forked tongue curving around it and forward. Grunting at himself, he ripped the page off and crumpled it up, then pressed his forehead against his hands with it between them. It was real. Now what?

\-----------------

“Dead intruder is Robert Jason Taylor. 24, Canadian. Records for civil disobedience and vandalism,” Hank was telling Renard, leading him back to their little huddle of desks.

“What about the other man?” Renard asked.

“Just got confirmation from Interpol. Karl John Herman, 27. Dual Swiss-U.S. citizenship. His prints were on the gun,” Nick said.

“That means Karl Herman's our killer,” Renard said, nodding.

“Well, he is on the terrorist watch list,” Sloane said. “Wanted for arson, theft, and homicide. He targets museums, breaks in, leaves graffiti protesting the desecration of the dead. So, it fits with what happened at the scene.”

“Could explain his interest in the sarcophagus,” Renard nodded.

Nick stood, edging closer and speaking more quietly. “Campus cop said whatever attacked him looked like what was carved on the sarcophagus.” Renard’s eyes widened slightly, and he turned fully to Nick. “The mummy inside is also in the shape of an Anubis.”

Renard glanced around, maybe wishing they’d done this in his office, but then spoke quietly back. “So, you think it's possible that it's wesen, fully woged, mummified, and alive?”

“Not alive,” Sloane clarified. “That thing was _dead_. Unless you know a dog-like wesen that can live in a room sealed behind a wall for several decades without food or water and still be moving around.”

“Not off the top of my head,” he admitted.

“But we do think that Karl Herman could be wesen. Same kind as the mummy,” Nick clarified.

“That's a hell of a connection,” Renard said.

“Strong family ties?”

“Well, let's try to untie them,” he sighed. “Keep me updated.” He glanced at Sloane and then headed back to his office.

“I think we need a wesen point of view here,” Nick sighed.

“Already texting Rosalee, she’ll met us at the shop after lunch,” Sloane said, putting her phone down. He hadn’t even seen her pick it up.

Lunch came and went, and they headed over quickly to the Spice Shop. Nick had the pictures on his phone and brought them up to look over. “That is definitely not Kehrseite,” Monroe said, frowning deeply at the mummy.

“Is it even possible to mummify a wesen in full woge?” Nick asked.

“I guess so. I mean, if the wesen were kept alive in a heightened state of fear or agitation,” he said, frowning more at the thought.

“And if the right drugs were used to preserve the woge,” Rosalee added, troubled as well. “Like that hunter that wanted to preserve the Glühenvolk’s skin…”

Sloane looked at her in surprise. “Okay, A) You met Glühenvolk? And B) a hunter wanted to what now?”

She smiled happily at the memory. “Yes. A man and a woman, and she was pregnant! But this Raub-Kondor hunter was trying to kill them and preserve them in woge to skin them! Including the baby!”

“Wow…I missed out on a lot before coming here…”

“I missed a lot just being in the dark. But back to our friend under wraps; once it's mummified, it couldn't wake up, right?” Hank clarified.

“No, when you're dead, you're dead,” Rosalee said with finality. Hank looked a bit relieved at that.

“So, this is a mummified Anubis,” Nick said, asking for confirmation.

“It could be. Hence the carving on the sarcophagus,” Monroe nodded.

“Anubis are wesen?” Juliette asked, shocked by the revelation.

“I was just going to ask that,” Hank said.

Rosalee was nodding. “Lots of Egyptian gods were wesen. That's why we're depicted as animal-like creatures on the tomb walls.”

“Huh…that makes sense actually,” Sloane said. “I never really thought about it that way.”

“Yeah. Way back when, wesen were actually, well, worshiped. Tefnut, Ammit, Bast, Khepri. Total rock stars. Literally,” Monroe said, laughing a little, maybe a touch proud.

“The campus cop said he was attacked by something that looked like an Anubis, so they're still around,” Hank said.

“Well, yeah, they're not extinct, if that's what you're thinking, but it wasn't this dude. He be _dead_.”

“So is one domestic terrorist and a security guard,” Sloane sighed. “We already determined the mummy didn’t do that.”

“Yeah. Our perp is still alive, and is a cold-blooded killer with a political message,” Nick said, bring out some other pictures from his file of the pictographs painted on the wall.

“Sorry, I'm not really up on my hieroglyphs. You, uh... you know what this says?” Monroe said, tilting his head at the pictures.

“"I protect the dead,”” Nick said with a wry expression.

Rosalee took a breath. “Beati paoli.”

“Beati paoli, right,” Monroe said, looking just as on guard. He gently led her aside, away from the others, but they could still hear his hushed voice. “But you really think nowadays around here?” Rosalee looked conflicted and worried as she thought that over.

“Somebody wanna tell us what this Beati Paoli is?” Hank asked.

They hesitated but Rosalee nodded finally. “It's a Sicilian vendetta society made up of different wesen, dedicated to the protection of wesen culture.”

“…I’m sorry, I kind of had to pause at “Sicilian vendetta society”. You mean a _mafia_?” Sloane asked in disbelief.

“In some ways, yeah,” Monroe said. “It was created in the 17th century. They go after, like, museums, archeological digs, antique auction houses. They'll even go after private wesen collectors if they're trafficking in stolen wesen antiquities.”

“Growing up, every angry young wesen wanted to join their cause,” Rosalee said, maybe remembering a time when she was an angry young wesen.

“And I'm not saying I condone their methods, but if this mummy really is wesen, I have to agree, displaying it woged is totally grotesque,” he bit out.

“It's immoral. It's a sacrilege. This mummy is not only a part of our heritage. It's our ancestor,” Rosalee agreed, getting a little worked up as well.

They both breathed and calmed down, Monroe handing the photos back to Nick. “Sorry, I just... we feel kind of passionate about this.”

Sloane nodded, a little surprised. She’d never really thought about how they might view this she realized. “I can see that…”

Nick gathered up the photos and put them in the file. “Well, I guess it's time we hit the trailer. You guys wanna come?”

“Oh, yeah,” Monroe said, looking rearing to go.

Rosalee however paused him with a hand on his chest and a smile back on her lips. “Love to, but our wedding planner's coming, so this tall guy is stuck with me. Sorry.” They all smiled in understanding, waving goodbye as they headed for the door. Monroe watched them go with a bit of a hang-dog expression. “Oh, hey, it's not gonna be so bad,” Rosalee said.

“No, that's not what I was thinking. It's just... Maybe we should inform the council about what's happened,” he said, looking worried.

Rosalee shook her head slightly. “No. It's been all over the news. I'm sure they would have heard it by now. Besides, if it really is the Beati Paoli, the less we're involved, the better.”

He sighed and nodded. “I guess so. But we were gods once,” he scoffed, looking at her with a bit of wounded pride. “What happened?

\------------------------

Wu was trying to sleep in the cabin. But once again he saw the Aswang’s face as he rushed him in Dana’s room, its claws scratching at him, and the _tik tik tik_ noise echoing in his ears as it got into his face. He woke with a start, screaming. He shuddered, trying to calm down.

_Tik tik tik_

He froze, hearing the noise.

_Tik tik tik tik_

Standing, he looked wildly around the room. “No…No no no, it’s not here…”

_Tik tik_

He started breathing heaving, shuddering breaths as though he had run a mile at top spead despite standing still. He grabbed the chair in the corner of the room and raised it as a weapon, looking around.

_Tik tik tik tik_

Whirling, he looked at the window and the darkness out beyond it. He could imagin the Aswang’s face coming from the darkness for him and he raised the chair, ready to strike. Then he saw it…the branch of the tree, tapping against the window.

_Tik tik tik_

He released the breath he was holding with a shudder and slowly he lowered the chair. “Its…it’s not here…it’s not here…” he said quietly. His legs gave out and he slumped to the ground. “I…what the hell am I going to do?”

\-------------------------

They’d been at the trailer for a couple of hours, going through all the books, before Juliette piped up.

“I found something,” she said, sitting up from where she’d been almost laying down as she flipped through the book. “"Cairo, June 11, year of our lord, 1928. Five days ago, I received an urgent request from lord Herbert of the royal geographic society. Two of their Egyptians been brutally murdered at a dig near Karnak. From witness statements, I suspected the murderer was wesen. As luck would have it, I had brought my bell and Howell eyemo, which enabled me to film some of my investigation." You don't happen to have that film, do you?” She asked, looking hopefully.

“I might. There are a lot of old films in that cabinet down there,” he nodded to one near where Hank was standing.

Hank opened the cabinet, pulling out a several tin film cannisters. “Hmm. "Cult of Kali”, “Tunguska,”” he read them off, setting them down on the desk next to him.

“Does one say Cairo? Or something equally Egyptian?” Sloane said, glancing at the first tin over Nick’s shoulder curiously.

He pulled another up and paused before turning it to show them. It was a picture of Anubis, with what looked like a bow, some squiggles, a bird and a statue of a dog underneath him. “How about a hieroglyph?”

“That’ll work,” Nick said. “Now where’s that projector?”

It took a little time to get it all set up but when it was, they all sat back to watch on the screen that was included. “I thought Karate Kid was our next movie night?” Sloane said, smiling at Hank. He smiled back but they settled to watch the movie. Nick operating the hand crank for the projector and as it started, they watched as a man and whoever was using the camera entered a tomb of some sort. In a large room was another Anubis box. The man in front moved into view, setting his torch in a holder. He was tall, with dark hair and eyes and a carefully trimmed, closely cropped beard. He moved to open it. “Same type of sarcophagus that's in the university,” Nick said.

“He looks a little like you, Nick,” Hank smiled.

“Please, no full beard. Ever,” Juliette said, not approving.

“Eh, I don’t know. It kind of works,” Sloane said.

They watched him open the sarcophagus, and inside was a mummy just like the one they saw as well.

A few moments after looking the mummy over, the scene changed to the dark-haired man, prodding an Egyptian man changed to the wall with a sharp stick. The man looked like he was hurling insults at him until suddenly he woged into a wesen with a canine muzzle full of sharp teeth, and long pointed ears.

“Why’s he doing that?” Hank asked, frowning.

“He just woged,” Nick said.

“You can see that?” Juliette asked, looking at him in surprise.

“Yeah. Can't you?” he asked.

“No.”

“Me either.”

“I can,” Sloane said, nodding. “He’s another Anubis…I’m not sure why we can see them woge in footage like this, it’s something we’re still studying as far as Grimm abilities.”

Nick sighed and stopped the projector, not really enjoying watching his ancestor cajoling the wesen or wanting to see him possibly kill him. “Is there anything more in the book?”

“Yeah, there's more,” Juliette said, turning on her flashlight to read in the dark. “"After some coercion, the Anubis confirmed he was a member of the Beati Paoli."” She looked surprised and then up at them. “That's what Monroe and Rosalee were just talking about.”

“I guess they’ve been active in Egypt for a while,” Sloane said. “Makes sense with all the mummies that got taken out of there over the years…”

Juliette nodded, looking over the entry again. “"He told me that because Anubis were seen as gods by the Egyptians, pharaohs in the old kingdom believed that if they were buried with a mummified Anubis, they were assured of becoming gods themselves. They tortured to death thousands of slaves in search of Anubis, but only a few were ever successfully mummified in full woge." That's terrible,” she said in disgust.

“No wonder they're pissed about displaying their ancestors,” Hank said.

“Yeah…You’d think torturing Gods would be frowned upon though…” Sloane said.

“I guess anything to become a god,” Hank said.

“A little more. “"The Anubis further confessed that it was his intention to steal the mummy and give it a ceremonial burial. After assuring him I would do that, I…dispatched him to his ancestors.”” She finished, turning off the flashlight with a disapproving huff.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Sloane said.

“Well, at least we now know Karl Herman wasn't there to redecorate the walls... he was there to steal the mummy,” Nick said, turning on the lights.

“Well, if he tried once, he'll try again,” Hank said, standing and grabbing his jacket.

“We better warn Professor Gates. I don’t think she can take a live Anubis on,” she sighed.

\--------------

Professor Gates was analyzing the CT scan and x-rays done on the mummy when they tracked her down at the university. She seemed even more interested than she was before in the body and Sloane glanced the screen with a frown. She was no doctor or scientist, but from what she saw it was kind of obvious the animal head was not just some molded headpiece. _That can’t be good…_

“Professor Gates, sorry to disturb you,” Nick said. “We just need a couple of minutes.”

“Not now,” she said, not looking happy at being disturbed. “Now check out the claw-like hands. There's no evidence of fabrication. If this mummy has been faked, I have no idea how they did it.”

The detectives glanced at one another uneasily and Nick tried again more firmly. “Professor, we need to talk. Now.”

Professor Gates looked at them again and seemed to realize they were serious and not interns she could order around. She nodded and turned away, leading them to the other side of the room. “What is it?”

“We have reason to believe that the people involved in the break-in will try again,” Hank said. “We…suggest you move the sarcophagus to a more secure location.”

“Soon,” Sloane added.

“There is no more secure location. The entire building is secure,” she said.

“Well, it wasn't the other night,” Nick pointed out.

“Well, it is now,” she said more impatiently. “And do you have any idea who this man is?”

“Yes, we have. It appears their agenda is political,” hank said.

“He feels this is desecration of the dead,” Sloane clarified. “Also, not too keen on having them taken from their home.”

“Well, I don't care what their agenda is. This is science. I won't be scared into not doing my research,” she said indignantly.

“This man is not your normal radical. He's already killed once, and I don't think he's gonna give a damn about your science,” Nick said, trying to reason with her.

“I've already hired additional security. My lab is guarded both day and night. Now, why don't you do your job and catch this guy and let me do mine? I think this is one of the most important discoveries of the century, and I will not be intimidated by some activist thug. Excuse me,” she brushed roughly past them and Sloane glared after her. She did not like this woman, and she definitely did not want someone focusing on “scientific discoveries” knowing about wesen. That would end badly she was sure.

“I think you did a pretty good job there,” Hank said.

Nicks phone rang and he rolled his eyes at Hank as he pulled it out. “Oh, yeah. I convinced the hell out of her. Burkhardt,” he said to the phone. He was listening to whoever was on the other side, so they only got half the conversation, but it soon pulled their attention. “What's up?...Don't tell me he's back,” Nick sighed. “…Are you and Rosalee okay?” Sloane looked at him, alert now. She focused her hearing on the phone and heard Monroe’s voice.

“He says he just got back into town and he wants to talk to you…”

“Put him on the phone,” Nick sighed. He caught Sloane looking at him somewhat concerned. _Alexander. Wesen council,_ he mouthed at her. Her eyebrows shot up. The Pflichttreue who came to dispose of Daniel Keary during the Grausen issue?

“Nick, how are you?” a smooth voice said over the line.

“What do you want?” Nick said impatiently.

“I'd rather not do this on the phone. If you're nervous about us meeting, you pick the place,” he said.

Nick looked annoyed but finally sighed. “Just stay there.”

“All right. Oh, but both of you please. I’d like to speak to both Grimm,” he replied, then hanged up.

Nick growled softly at the phone but put it back in his pocket.

“What's that about?” Hank asked, paying more attention now.

“Wesen council. Alexander's back,” Nick sighed, turning to head out the door with them.

“The cat guy?”

Sloane snorted a soft laugh but nodded. “Yeah. What’s he doing here?”

“No idea. But he wants to talk to you and me.” Nick looked at Hank. “I don’t know what he’d do if a Keirsheite came. You mind waiting in the car?”

Hank held up his hands. “No, yeah, I get it. Safer the less people know about me. I’ll let you two deal with him.”

\--------------------

Sloane tried not to get too agitated as they drove to Monroe and Rosalee’s but both she and Nick were worried. Getting there, they nearly bolted out of the car and up to the front door, where Monroe looked relieved to let them in. “Glad you're here.”

“Are you okay?” Nick asked. Sloane’s eyes went immediately to the man in the suit, with his dark hair and pale features. He looked at her back and seemed curious.

“Yeah…” Monroe sighed. Rosalee was hanging back in the living room, trying to stay calm.

“Thank you for coming,” Alexander said smoothly.

“I wish I could say the same,” Nick said, putting his hands in his pockets but still on guard. “How long have you been here?”

“Oh, a couple hours,” Alexander said, much more casual. “I need your help.”

“Really? You’re asking us for help?” Sloane said, folding her arms.

“I didn't know you asked Grimms for help,” Nick added.

“Depends on the circumstances…and the Grimm.” He looked between them as if considering which one would be best.

“Well, what is it you think that we can do for you?” Nick asked.

“The Beati Paoli. You've heard of them?”

“We have,” Sloane said.

“Are you aware that the man you're after is a member?” he asked, pacing slightly but appearing relaxed.

“Karl Herman,” Nick stated. “Look, I don't care what group he belongs to. He's a murderer.”

Alexander nodded, understanding and apparently glad they were all up to speed. “We don't condone what the Beati Paoli does, but we also don't usually get in their way. We also feel strongly that wesen remains should not be put on display. It's disrespectful and dangerous to the wesen community. But by killing the guard, he's gone too far. The council wants him stopped.”

Monroe and Rosalee looked at one another, a little antsy at discussing this with a member of the council who was, to put it nicely, the one they sent to enforce the council’s decisions. Nick frowned as well stepping forward. “If you came here to kill him, I'm just gonna tell you right now, I'm not gonna let that happen.”

Alexander didn’t even flinch. “We know. That's why the council would prefer you to stop him. Which is why I'm going to tell you what I know. Karl Herman will make another attempt.”

“And you know this how?” Sloane asked dubiously.

“Because he called the council and asked for help in stealing it tonight.”

Sloane and Nick glanced at one another then back to him. “What did you tell him?” Nick asked.

“That he's violated council law by killing the Kehrseite, which is a capital crime,” he said with an amazing amount of superiority.

Nick stared at him, then glared. “You want us to kill him.”

“You’re Grimms. That's what you do,” he said with a hint of bitterness as he walked around them.

“I'm not going to execute him for the council,” Nick said.

Alexander eyed him and then looked to Sloane. “And you?”

Sloane didn’t answer immediately, and Nick looked at her. “Sloane?”

“…I’m not sure I like being a hitman for the wesen council either,” she said slowly.

“But you had no qualms killing wesen in the past,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “I believe, if you are indeed Sloane Larson, you had quite the reputation as a hunter. Willing to do almost anything to get your target. Expert at extracting information. Marksman. Took down wesen twice your weight and size as a young girl. Taking out an entire hive of Nensho Toge on your own just a few years ago. This would likely not be hard for you.”

Sloane frowned more, eyeing him with suspicion. Nick and the others glanced at one another, having forgotten that Sloane really had been very active in the hunts before her time with them. That she had a reputation even “…First of all, your pronunciation is awful,” she said with a straight face. Nick had to hide a small smile at Alexander’s look of surprise he let slip. “Secondly, I’m glad my reputation precedes me, but that doesn’t mean I take requests.”

“But you have no qualms about killing, do you?”

“If the situation calls for it.”

“I didn’t think you were so discerning before…” he said, a touch snide.

Sloane narrowed her eyes, knowing he was trying to get a rise out of her, but she was ready to stand toe to toe with him. “Considering I’ve never killed a child, I don’t think I’ll take that criticism from the council’s errand boy,” she shot back.

He glared and there was a touch bright green leaking into his eyes. “No children, just any wesen that stepped into your path. It’s a wonder you haven’t killed your so-called friends yet, though perhaps it’s just a matter of time before your nature comes out as a murderer.”

Sloane glared hard enough they had a feeling blows would start flying soon, so Nick grabbed her around the shoulders and Monroe quickly got between her and Alexander. “Okay, there is no murder in our house please! We get the picture, so please stop.”

Alexander sighed softly, his eyes going back to brown as he calmed down. “He needs to be dealt with soon. I believe he's going to ask Professor Gates for her help, whether or not she's willing to give it.” He looked at his watch and frowned more. “Yes, you don't have much time. Neither do I. I have a plane to catch.”

“What, not even going to stick around?” Sloane asked.

“I’m a busy man,” he said, turning for the door. “Good luck.” He left and closed the door behind him.

“…Is it me, or was that weird?” Monroe asked, looking between them and the door.

“The council asking Grimms to kill a wesen? Yeah, that was a little unnerving,” Rosalee said testily.

“It does seem kind of the opposite of what I would expect…” Sloane said. “But also, he wanted to fight me. I know he did.”

“And you would do it,” Nick said, though he didn’t sound as judging as she’d expected.

“I would and I would win.”

“I believe it. Maybe the council likes how it turned out the last time they sent Alexander here, you know, when you beat the crap out of the guy,” Monroe said with a slight grin.

Nick and Sloane smiled a bit. “Maybe…” He pulled out his cell phone. “I’m going to call Professor Gates, try and warn her. If Alexander is right, she might be in danger.”

Sloane nodded, and then they all turned when the door opened again and Hank stepped in. “I saw Alexander leave. Everything okay?”

“Eh…weird. He wants us to _take care_ of Karl Herman,” Sloane said.

“Whoa, seriously?”

“Yeah. He also said that Karl Herman's gonna try again tonight, and he's gonna use Professor Gates to do it.”

“And I can’t get ahold of her,” Nick added, looking at his phone in frustration. He looked at Hank hopefully. “Did you get the plates off Alexander's car?”

He nodded. “Yeah, he drove away in a rental. Called in an APB. Watch, don't engage. Just in case we need to know where he is.”

“I’m not sure he just showed up tonight,” Nick said.

“I was thinking that too. If Herman called him with plans to try again tonight after the last time, it’s convenient he arrived so soon,” Sloane said.

Hank nodded, thinking that over. “I'll check Alexander's rental. See when he picked it up.”

“And we should check on Professor Gates,” Sloane said, the other two nodding.

“Guys, what happens to this mummy is important to us,” Rosalee said quickly, looking concerned.

“We know,” Sloane said.

“Yeah, we'll let you know. But we need to get to Professor Gates' house,” Nick said.

\------------------------

Two things didn’t surprise Sloane. One, Professor Gates was not at her house when they went to check. So, Herman had already gotten to her.

Two, Alexander lied. Hank got the confirmation call while they were checking on the house that Alexander had picked up his rental car three days ago, not one, and hadn’t returned it yet.

Nick saying he was ready to take care of Herman was only somewhat surprising, but Sloane agreed and was ready to seriously take him out.

They headed immediately to the university campus. A guard there let them in and was confused as he said Professor Gates had called and said the police had apprehended the suspected. Hank had him stay to watch the front as they quickly headed to the lab. Hank got a call that Alexander’s car was tracked to the university itself, so he wasn’t far. Nick called Monroe and Rosalee for back up to be safe.

When they got the lab, they heard a snarl and a woman cry out “Oh my god!” Nick drew his gun and Sloane grabbed her knife as they entered the room. Karl, woged into an Anubis, was crowding Professor Gates against the back wall and looking ready to tear her throat out.

“Karl, stop!” Nick yelled. Karl looked back at them, snarled again and threw the professor across the room where she smacked into a cart and crumpled to the ground. Then he rushed for Nick. Sloane moved to try and pull him back, but Nick met him head on, deflecting his attack and getting around him. Karl elbowed him a couple of times in the stomach and face, but Nick took them and then managed to flip him over onto the ground hard. He got up and tried to get Nick with his claws, but Nick evaded him and got in several good hits before upper cutting him and sending him sprawling.

“…Damn…good form,” Sloane said. Nick smiled a bit, panting. Both she and Hank moved into the room, Hank training his gun on him and Sloane watching him readily.

“We’re done,” Nick said.

Karl dewoged, panting and looking defiant but as though he knew he wouldn’t win. “It’s not done…” He turned his gaze to the sarcophagus, lingering with a sad, resigned look. “Not until it’s done right…”

Nick had a flash of sympathy but turned to go alert security when they heard the sirens pulling up. Hank handcuffed Herman and Sloane checked on Professor Gates. She was alive and starting to come around but had a nasty bump on her head. She got her on her feet slowly, helping her to move out of the building. Hank loaded Herman into a squad car while Sloane got an ice pack from an EMT for the professor.

“How long was I out?” she asked groggily.

“Just a couple of minutes, not that long. I’d still take it easy,” she advised.

“I don't understand... that man, he…he changed, and it looked exactly like the Anubis,” she said.

Sloane didn’t miss a beat since this was not a case of telling the truth—she had an immediate out. “You took a pretty bad bump to the head. The mind can play tricks on you. Trust me, I’ve thought I’ve seen all kinds of weird things on this job, especially when I’m tired and stressed.”

She nodded slowly, frowning “I couldn't have seen what I thought I saw….”

“Exactly. What you've been through is very stressful. You feel up to making a statement?” Sloane motioned another officer to come over and lead the professor away.

“What happened to being open about seeing things?” Nick asked, having watched her. Hank walked over to them as well.

“I said _sometimes_ it’s called for. Her? Absolutely not. Scientists are awful at being Kennen if they’re not watched like a hawk or raised in it. They always want to experiment and dissect and figure things out and then _share_ it with the world. Absolutely awful and selfish of them.”

Nick smiled and nodded. “Probably for the best…”

“And what about Alexander,” Hank asked. “Do we believe he came here to have you stop this guy?”

“Nope,” Nick said, turning to head back inside. Sloane and Hank followed quickly. Sure enough, in the lab the mummy was missing. Nick pulled out his phone, knowing he couldn’t have gotten far, and dialed Monroe. “Hey, you guys have eyes on Alexander?”

“Yep, he just got to his car in the parking lot,” Monroe said. “We’re looking right at him.”

“And the Anubis?”

“Loading it into the car,” Rosalee said. “What do you want us to do?”

Nick took a breath, quickly thinking but speaking again. “Nothing. Just sit tight for now.” Nick looked at Sloane, who nodded and followed him out quickly. They saw Alexander’s car starting to pull out and Nick ran and got in front of it with a determined look on his face. Alexander sighed, looking put out but stopped the car. He watched as Nick went around the side and opened the door, climbing in. Sloane came over to the other side and tapped on his glass without him noticing, finally eliciting a small jump from the council member. He rolled down the window, looking between them.

“You're a thief,” Nick accused.

Alexander just sighed. “Among other things.”

“You lied to me. To us,” he amended.

“You did what we needed you to do.”

“Provide a distraction to give you enough time to get the Anubis out?” Sloane clarified. “By the way, Herman’s alive, he came surprisingly easily.”

“Well, you got your murderer then. Even trade,” Alexander said breezily.

“You should have just told us what you wanted in the first place,” Nick said with a glower.

“You might not have agreed.”

“I still haven't,” he pointed out. “You agree to anything Sloane?”

“No, I didn’t agree to anything,” she said.

Alexander looked like his patience was wearing thin and he glared at both of them despite his calm nature. “I don't expect you to understand why this is so important to us, but I can't let you stop me this time.”

Nick looked at him and then at Sloane. Both of them remembered Alexander did actually walk away when it came to the Grausner and Daniel Keary. Sloane still eyed him with a bit of annoyance but finally straightened from bending over the window and sheathed her knife. She gestured to Monroe and Rosalee that they’d be heading out.

“We're not going to,” Nick said. Alexander looked between them, somewhat surprised. “This time.”

And so, in the wee hours of the morning, in a secluded clearing in the woods, they built a pyre of branches and sticks and logs. Monroe knew how to build a pretty good fire from survivalist training, and they all pitched in to get it ready. Alexander brought the mummy from his car and laid it over the pile of brush. And then the pyre was lit by the three wesen present. Nick, Hank and Sloane stood a bit more off to the side as it went up, the bandages slowly browning and blackening as they were consumed. Then the fire began to eat a the leathery, desiccated remains below and turn them to ash to mix with the brush. Alexander, Monroe and Rosalee all woged as if sending him off in company of his fellows rather than watched by strangers.

“This is really kind of touching,” Hank said, though he sounded more concerned than anything. “Y’know…aside from the part where we helped them steal a 3000-year-old mummy and burn it.”

Nick smiled and shrugged a bit. “Not like we do it every day.”

“Not the weirdest funeral I’ve been to either, if we call it that. Although I want to be sent off similarly,” Sloane said. Both men looked at her, not sure if she was joking. “No, yeah. I want a Viking funeral. When I die, put me in a boat with stuff you want me to take to the afterlife with me, push me out into a big body of water, and then set me on fire. I don’t want to decompose in a box somewhere.”

“Seriously?” Hank asked.

Sloane shrugged a little. “Well…the part about giving me stuff is new. I kind of figured I’d probably die on a hunt alone so…Nice to think someone might send me off and…miss me?” she added quietly, blushing now. What was wrong with her? Was seeing the three wesen work so hard to honor a dead man they never knew affecting her that much. “Never mind, um, just whatever works.”

Nick and Hank glanced at one another before going to either side of her and putting their arms around her. “We’d definitely miss you,” Nick said.

“But we’re not planning on letting you go any time soon,” Hank added. Sloane smiled just slightly and for once didn’t snark about them being saps.

\-------------------------

The Show Must Go On

\-------------------------

A couple of days passed relatively quietly after their mummy caper. Karl Herman confessed and stated he regretted that the guard and his friend were killed, but that he still believed that putting dead people on display was sacrilege, especially when stealing them from the country they were interred in. He didn’t woge again, blanketing the statement as all dead. He had a point really, but it wasn’t going to save him. He’d be as much a martyr for his cause as his friend.

Wu returned after a week away and Sloane was the first to spot him walking into the precinct, nodding to him subtly for Hank and Nick to see. Nick took a breath and walked over. “Wu, hey…How you doing?”

Wu smiled, seeming oddly chipper for him. “I’m fine. Yeah, just needed a little time off after everything. Ready to get back to things.”

Nick blinked but nodded slowly. “Well, that’s great. Um, so about the whole thing with…Dana and the, um…”

“Dana’s fine, I talked to her and she and Sam are doing good. She said he told her some big family secret and it was kind of strained, but she still loves him. Hopefully that all works out.”

Nick blinked again, frowning. “Uh…well, I’m guessing the secret was his…heritage?”

“Wouldn’t know, she didn’t want to go into it, I didn’t ask,” Wu said brusquely.

“…So, did you want to talk anymore about the whole…Aswang thing?”

“Aswang thing? Uh, no, no, I’m good,” he said quickly. “We’re just going to…not talk about that and never talk about it again.”

“…You sure?” Nick asked slowly.

“Yeah. I peaked inside the door and that’s enough for me. Probably never going to come up again, so why bother?” He seemed much firmer and Nick held up his hands quickly.

“Okay, okay. That’s fine,” Nick said.

“Good. Now…I gotta get back to work.” He headed over to join the other police officers and Sloane and Hank walked over.

“So, how is he?” Hank asked.

“He’s…decided to just say it’s a one-time thing and…not talk about it ever again.”

Hank was surprised and looked where Wu was, smiling and laughing with the guys. “Well…I guess if that’s what he wants…”

“Denial…not the reaction I expected but…I guess it’s one of the better extremes…” Sloane sighed.

“Just hope it doesn’t make him snap,” Hank said.

“Well he knows we’re here if he needs us,” Nick said.

\---------------------

Sloane got a text near the end of the day, Rosalee asking to meet her at the shop. It didn’t sound like an emergency, so she headed over when she was free. “Rosalee?”

“Hey, come on in!” Rosalee climbed down from her ladder, smiling brightly.

Sloane smiled back. “Hey. Did you need help with something?”

“No no, I just, um…There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“…That you couldn’t over the phone?” Sloane asked, a little teasing and a little concerned.

“Yes. Um…” She hesitated, looking at Sloane with anxiety and nerves before seeming deflate slightly. “When’s your birthday?”

Sloane tilted her head a little. “My birthday?”

“Y-yeah? I never asked before and I try to keep track of things like that. Mine’s September 18.”

Sloane had a feeling that was not what she was going to ask but huffed out a breath as she thought. “Uh…”

“…Do you not remember?” Rosalee asked, a little concerned.

“Not exactly, I just had a few fake ones for different covers so I kind of gotta make sure I’m not getting mixed up. But my real birthday is March 26.”

“…Did you say March 26?” she asked, not sure she heard right.

“Yep. March 26, 1985.”

“…Sloane… …that’s just like seven days from now!”

Sloane was a bit surprised by the shock and almost outrage. “Yeah?”

“What do you mean “yeah”?!”

“Rosalee, calm down.”

“I, but…you also came to Portland about this time of year…It’s your anniversary and your birthday…” she said, pacing a little now as she thought. “You came here practically on your birthday and we had no idea…”

“Anniversary? Well…I guess so, yeah. God, it really has been a year…” she said, surprised. “But Rosalee, it’s not a big deal. I haven’t really celebrated my birthday since I was a kid. Last time…well, Deirdre gave me my car on my 18th I guess.”

“That’s…nice…” she said, a little surprised. From what little she knew; Sloane’s mentor didn’t seem the type.

“Yeah, it was a parting gift. Got home, she left me some of the books in a chest and keys to a new car and was gone. Her note was pretty sweet for her, told me it was time we parted and to not get killed.”

“…That’s not as nice.” She shook her head. “Sloane, I just…birthdays were a big deal in my family, we always celebrated with a party...”

“…Not really much point for me. I was usually moving around, no real friends to invite over. Most of the time I was alone if Dierdre was out. I usually just treated myself to something and called it good.”

“…Can I throw you a party?”

“Rosalee—” she sighed, already feeling exhausted.

“Please. You’re my friend, I want to celebrate you,” she said almost desperately.

Sloane closed her mouth and stared at her. Why did Rosalee know just what to say to get to her? Why did that feel so _good_ to hear someone say that? “…fine, but nothing crazy, okay?”

Rosalee smiled. “Really? Because I was thinking a princess theme. Lots of pink and glitter and I’d get you a tiara and a big poufy dress and maybe a bouncy castle—”

“Oh my God, no,” Sloane laughed. “I trust you not to do that to me, so keep thinking. Just something simple. This is all on you since I’m good without a party, so don’t go overboard.”

“Got it. Ugh, but I don’t know what to get you for a present!”

“The party can be my present, and no one else needs to get me one, _don’t go overboard,_ ” she said again. “Really.”

“Okay, okay,” she sighed, then suddenly hugged her. “I wanna make it nice though.”

“…Thanks,” Sloane said honestly. “But that’s not why you asked me over.”

Rosalee blushed and then laughed. “Ugh, that obvious?”

“A bit…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, I just…” She sighed. “I’m a bit too nervous and now I’m distracted. I’ll ask later, okay?”

Sloane frowned but then nodded. “Okay…So, um…is there anything else I can do?”

“Well, some help closing up would be nice?”

Sloane just nodded, going to grab the broom to sweep up.

\-------------------------

Monroe huffed out a breath as he waited. He’d thought about doing this over a nice dinner, but if they did then they’d have to invite Juliette as well and she would be a bit left out…So they opted to get their respective best friends alone.

At the knock on the door, Monroe quickly got up to open it. “Nick, hey. Traffic okay?”

Nick smiled, used to Monroe’s nervous chatter. He stepped in, at ease in the Blutbad’s home and the blutbad equally fine. “Not too bad. Everything okay? Your text was a little vague.”

“No, yeah, I’m fine. I just, um…Had something to ask you and I wanted to do it in person.”

“Okay…”

Monroe rubbed his hands together a little nervously but smiled. “I want to thank you for changing my life, because if it hadn't been for you, I never would have met Rosalee, and for that, I am truly grateful.”

Nick smiled warmly. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Monroe…”

“I do, really. So, because you are the reason in some ways I’m getting married... Will you pay for the wedding?” Nick barked a laugh and rolled his eyes and Monroe grinned. “Sorry, just... I was kidding. Um, but seriously, I want you to be my best man. No pressure, you don't have to answer right away,” he added quickly.

Nick was surprised by that, sobering a little but still smiling. “Really, for sure?”

Monroe smiled back. “Well, dude, you brought us together. I mean, you are kind of the responsible party here, I wasn’t joking about that. And you are also one of my best friends maybe ever.”

Nick smiled widely, honestly touched. Moving around with Marie as a kid teen he’d had trouble really connecting and making friends. Connecting with Hank had been easy once they settled into being partners and not beat cops. Connecting with Monroe, despite their many differences, had been easy once they stopped thinking so much on the Grimm and Blutbad thing. Really, he was one of Nicks very best friends and being asked to be his best man felt like a huge honor when he must have wesen friends he could’ve chosen. “Then I'd be honored,” he said honestly.

Monroe smiled. “Really? You’re sure?”

“Of course!”

Monroe smiled and opened his arms, moving in to hug him. Nick smiled and hugged him back without hesitation, and it was nice to get some good news for once.

\------------------

Monroe perked up when he heard Rosalee’s car pull up. He knew it was a little bit like a dog getting excited when someone gets home, but it was hard not to be excited when he knew she’d be through the door in a moment. He stood, going to the door to meet her as she unlocked it and walked in. “Good afternoon,” he said, intentionally a little flowery.

Rosalee smiled and let the door fall shut behind her. “Good afternoon.” She leaned up and gave him a kiss, which made him smile more.

Pulling back, he put an arm around her. “So, I asked Nick and he is officially my best man,” he grinned.

“That’s great! I mean, I figured he’d say yes, but it’s great.”

“How’d it go with Sloane?”

“Ah…”

“Uh oh, what happened?” he asked, frowning with worry.

“Nothing bad, exactly. I just…chickened out,” she sighed, going to set her purse down on the table.

“Chickened out? Why?” he asked, following her with concern.

“I don’t know, exactly,” she said in frustration. “I just…I was about to ask, and I remembered how she is sometimes, and I was scared she’d say no…and it’d be a thing between us, after how far we’ve come…”

Monroe gave her a sympathetic look and walked over to take her hand. “She’s gotten a lot better as far as social stuff…I don’t think she’d say no.”

“Yeah, but it spooked me so much I asked when her birthday was instead!” she laughed. “And get this, it’s the 26.”

“…Of this month?” Monroe asked in surprise. “That’s just a week away!”

“I know! So, um…I’m going to throw her a party.”

His eyebrows ticked up higher and he smiled in amusement. “Are you now?”

“Yes. Nothing big, she doesn’t want big, but…she hasn’t really celebrated her birthday for a long while…And it’s also an anniversary party because she’s been with us for a year now.”

Monroe smiled because he agreed. As much trouble as Sloane was this time last year, she was now kind of an integral part of their lives. “Sounds like fun, I’ll help however I can. But then you need to ask her.”

Rosalee sighed but smiled and kissed him again. “I will.”

\------------------

Sloane, Nick and Hank were called in early the next morning for a double homicide. Wu was there and brought them in, but he was very standoffish to the whole thing and didn’t make any snarky remarks or talk to them more than he needed. The detectives shared worried looks but knew that bringing it up might cause more problems. And they had two dead girls to try and find justice for so that had to be their focus.

“Their neighbor Bob Gumer found them about an hour ago as he walked past with his dog,” Wu said. The two girls were lying close to one another on the floor of their little house in pools of blood running over the Persian style rug in the center. They were in their mid-twenties and fairly pretty, but now they just stared unblinkingly at the walls and door. “Noticed their door was wide open, didn't really pay attention until his dog ran in. Upon seeing the victims, Mr. Gumer lost his lunch over in that corner,” he pointed with his pen, and the detectives grimaced, “then called 911.”

“Any forced entry?” Hank asked.

“Not that we could find. Rest of the house is intact. That's Dolores Kulikowsky. That's Monica Duncan. Roommates for about two years, according to Mr. Gumer,” Wu said, still very matter-of-fact.

“What about the car in the driveway?” Nick asked. Sloane noticed a purse on the floor and knelt with her gloves on to poke around in it.

“Registered owner is Dolores. It's locked, so we haven't opened it up yet.”

Nick nodded to him. “Open it up.” Wu nodded back and turned to go do it without another word.

“I got some photos,” Sloane said, pulling a roll of photo booth photos. Monica and Delores looked happy in them, giving funny faces and poses. She looked at the bodies and then to the pictures. “I think they must be from not long before they were killed, they’re wearing the same shirts.”

Hank was looking over the bodies, grunting and shaking his head. From the tears in their clothes, it looks like they were cut and stabbed multiple times. “Pretty brutal…”

Nick was going over the jackets on the couch and pulled out a slip of paper. “I got a ticket stub here, dated yesterday.”

“From where?” Hank asked, still looking them over.

“Carnival Metamorphosia,” Nick pronounced slowly, frowning. Sloane stood to go look at it. It looked like it was trying to emulate an old-timey carnival with it’s 20 style fonts and red and white stripes around the border.

“Never heard of it,” Hank said, looking up in confusion.

“Says it's in Sellwood River Park.”

Sloane picked up the other jacket, going through the pockets. “I don’t have another one here…”

Hank on a hunch went through the jeans pockets of the girls and then pulled a second ticket. “Well, I do,” he sighed. “What do you want to bet this is where they were before they were killed?”

“I’d rather bet where we’ll be heading once we’re done here,” Sloane said.

Sure enough, once they’d investigated the house as much s they could and the girls were taken to the ME’s office, they headed for Sellwood River Park. A huge carnival was set up there, with rides including the kind that drop you from high heights strapped in a ring around the center, a Ferris wheel, carousel and more. Despite the modern rides, there was an air of nostalgia for a long past time as well in the old-style posters and game booths and tents set up. A man dressed like an old-fashioned carnival barker was taking tickets at the front.

“Tickets, tickets, let me see those tickets. No tickets, no fun,” he said, speaking like a man from the 1920s radio in the staccato rhythm. “Tickets, tickets, let me see those tickets. No tickets, no fun. No show like it, it's the only one. Tickets, tickets, let me see your tickets.” The detectives moved around him on either side, and he blinked but then turned. “Hey there, boys, missy, I need those tickets.” They turned and Sloane opened her jacket to show her badge on her belt while Hanks’ hung around his neck and Nick’s was in his jacket. He blanched slightly but then smiled. “Those will do, go right on in.”

“Just a sec,” Sloane said, pulling the photobooth photos from her jacket. “Do you remember these girls coming through yesterday.”

He glanced at the pictures, but then gave her a withering look and dropped the carni-accent for a normal voice. “Do you have any idea how many people come through here in a day?”

Sloane shrugged, tucking them away. “Worth a shot.”

“Who’s in charge here?” Nick asked.

“That would be Mr. Hedig,” the barker sighed. “He’s in the last tent down the midway. Ah, but he’s getting ready for a show so he might not be able to talk!” he added quickly.

“We’ll just have to hurry and get good seats then,” Sloane said, following the guys down the midway. The headed for a large striped tent at the end that appeared to be used for shows and attractions. They could hear a deep, booming voice inside, giving a well-rehearsed, mysterious speech.

“A warning, my friends. What you're about to see will live in your fear for years, for this is no nightmare, and truth truly is stranger than fiction.” They walked in as he was speaking to see a man in a steam-punk ringmaster’s outfit speaking into the mic. He cracked a whip and a new light came on, showing a dark-haired man with large muscles in a leather jerkin and pants standing imposingly on stage. Flame tattoos ran up his arms to his biceps. “Behold Damien, the last of the dragons on God's green earth. His ferocious nature proves that we are lucky that they did not devour us all.” The whip cracked again, and Damien turned around. When he turned back, his body was covered in green scales and horns sprouted from his head. From a lizard like face, he opened his fanged mouth and breathed a sweep of fire. The crowd gasped in shock and a moment of rear and then cheered with delight. Sloane looked at Nick, who was as shocked as she was, and then then looked back as he changed to his human form and turned away.

“Witness Ivan,” Hedig went on, the spotlight coming on over a huge, bald man with even bigger muscles dressed like an old-time strong man. “Vile Ivan, who crushes skulls and breaks bones with his bare hands.” He turned away and when he turned back his features were like that of a monster. He took two plaster sculls and crushed them into dust like nothing, delighting the audience.

“Are you seeing this?” Nick asked quietly, though he knew the answer.

“Oh, yeah,” Hank said, looking a bit disapproving at it all.

“The beautiful Genevieve,” Hedig said more sweetly, casting the light on a beautiful woman in a satiny aqua and purple and gold dress like you’d see on a show girl. She swayed with a sultry look at the audience, framing her face with her hands. “Who proves that beauty is but skin deep and that a beast resides within us all.” The whip cracked and she turned away, but with an animalistic snarl turned back as a fuchsbau. The crowd reeled with a gasp but then cheered again, the woman turning away and changing back.

“Is this some kind of wesen carnival?” Hank asked, looking at them all in confusion as they continued woging and doing tricks to shock the audience.

“Looks like,” Nick said, frowning more.

“Can they do this? Like, in front of people?”

“They’re not supposed to,” Sloane said, angry and disapproving.

“No one's taking this as real,” Nick whispered. “They all think it's a trick.”

“And it will stay that way,” she said. “This many people finding out is going to cause a riot if we aren’t careful…

“Now, every so often, something appears that is so horrible, so vicious, it cannot be tamed,” Hedig said. As he spoke, four men came on stage to a large rectangular shape on the far stage left hidden by a black curtain draped around it. “For this beast is the demented turmoil of man himself, hidden from view until it is too late.” The men pulled the curtain off and away, showing a dark-haired man inside dressed in a white linen shirt and dark pants and boots. He looked a little spooked, like he was unsure where he was for a moment or what to do. “Do not be fooled by the way he looks now. Show us. Show us what you are!” He cracked the whip. The man groaned and looked almost sick to his stomach. “Show us.” He cracked the whip again and the man just looked sicker, turning away. “I command you to show us!”

Another crack of the whip and the man whirled—now a Blutbad. The extra hair, the long teeth, the clawed hands and blood red eyes were hard to miss in the spotlight on him. Sloane tensed shook a little, trying to keep from thinking about the blutbad who killed her grandmother as he snarled and bared his fangs. Nick glanced at her and subtly patted her back. She glanced at him and tried to relax but didn’t say anything.

“Back! Stay back!” Hedig said, cracking his whip at the blutbad. The blutbad growled low and then bent the bars of the cage. The audience began to scream as he stepped through the opening he made and jumped down the steps. The audience screamed louder as he snarled at them, looking ready to spring. Sloane’s hand went up to her knife on instinct, but Nick squeezed her shoulder again to keep her from rushing in. “I said Back!” Hedig pulled out a gun from his waist band and aimed, firing one shot as the blutbad lunged and with a yelp he was on the ground. The audience gasped, still clamoring to see. The ringmaster stepped over, pressing to fingers lightly his neck. “He's dead.” The audience gasped, though it was obvious this was all part of the show. Sloane relaxed slightly, knowing the difference between a real gunshot and a fake in this case. “Let this be a warning to you, ladies and gentlemen, that there are monsters amongst us in the world. Beware!” They rolled the blutbad’s “body” onto a canvas tarp and dragged it away behind the stage. “Beware…” They took their bows and the audience applauded loudly before rising to leave the tent.

The three detectives moved aside from entrance to let them through, watching the performers as they descended the stage and moved behind it. “We need to be careful,” Sloane said. “They’re different wesen but live and work together…I’d guess they’re pretty protective of each other.”

“And the ringmaster,” Hank said. “You know what those all were?”

“Blutbad, Damonfeur, Fuchsbau, Siegbarste,” Sloane listed off, pointing to where all of them had been. “Out of them, the siegbarste worries me most to be honest…strong, feels less pain, determined as hell…”

“No, yeah, I’m with you there,” Hanks said, nodding.

“Let’s not go in expecting a fight just yet,” Nick said. “Otherwise we might find it.”

They gave the performers a few moments before they moved around to the side. Sloane thought she caught the ringmaster’s voice yelling, but he’d grown quiet by the time they got there.

Hedig was all smiles when he saw them come around the corner. “I'm sorry, no one's allowed back here.”

The badges were flashed and he straightened, growing more serious. “I'm Detective Griffin. This is Detective Burkhardt and Detective Larson,” Hank said.

“You Hedig?” Nick asked, though he already knew the answer.

“The one and only,” the ringmaster replied, bowing just slightly. His head was shaved but his facial hair was carefully trimmed and added to his old-time ringmaster look. “Is there a problem?”

“We're investigating the death of two women who were here last night.” Nick pulled the evidence bag with the pictures out of his jacket and held them up. “You recognize 'em?”

Hedig leaned in, humming as he looked them over. “Mm, don't remember them, no. Sorry.” Nick showed the picture to the others, who shook their heads. But he and Sloane noted, with a bit of worry, that the blutbad’s eyes turned from brown to an eerie red when he saw them and he looked away, looking troubled. “Look, we'd love to help, but we perform in front of a lot of people every evening. You can't expect us to remember two faces out of a crowd,” Hedig said, laughing a little at the idea.

Hank smiled. “That's a nice trick you guys do onstage. Want to tell me how you do it?”

Hedig smiled back, giving a flourish with his hands. “Magic.”

“Really?” Nick asked, not believing him.

Hedig chuckled and folded his hands in front of him. “Gentlemen, it's how we earn a living. Illusion's important. Without it, we'd be left with what? Reality. And as you know, reality can often be not very pretty.”

“We’re detectives, we’re aware of that,” Sloane said.

“Indeed, I’m sure. But I assure you, whatever magic we do in the show did not kill those women.”

“Maybe, but right now your carnival was there last known destination,” Sloane said.

“So, we're gonna need a list of all your employees,” Hank said.

He didn’t lose his smile, nodding thoughtfully. “Of course, yes, yes. My records are in my trailer. Would you like to follow me?” They nodded and followed Hedig out and around the carnival grounds to several trailers parked beyond. They were like brightly colored play blocks set down on the grass. One was painted bright red with the _Carnival Metamorphosia_ painted in green and gold on the side. He unlocked it and led them inside. It reminded them a bit of Marie’s trailer in that it was both Hedig’s sleeping quarters and office, with a low day bed along one wall, several books and chests about, and a desk and filing cabinets against the other wall. He sat at the desk and pulled up a laptop and booted up a small printer. “Just a moment and I’ll print you out a copy of that list,” he said.

They looked around as they waited for him to pull it up, noting a few souvenirs from all over the country. “How long you been doing this?” Hank asked.

“Ever since I was a kid,” he said honestly, sitting back while it started printing. “I ran away from home when I was 13, even though it wasn't much of a home to run away from. I worked for the man who started this, Major William John Beeman. He was a real performer. I bought it from him ten years ago,” he sighed, feeling nostalgic.

“Any of your employees cause you or someone else any trouble?” Sloane asked.

“Of course, it's the nature of our business,” he said matter-of-factly. He picked up the new printed sheet and offered it to them. “Here's the list of all the people that work here. Now, just because some of my people have been in trouble in the past, it doesn't mean to say they're in trouble now,” he said seriously and Sloane almost believed he was truly looking out for his workers but something didn’t feel sincere to her.

Nick seemed to agree, smiling but there was a hint of bite to his words. “You know, those masks you use, they seem so real.”

“Mm. It's all part of the illusion,” he said brightly. Hank took the page from him, glancing over the names, while Nick continued.

“You make them?”

He sighed, feigning resignation in confessing and yet also pride. “No, they're made in China. It's a tradition that goes back 4,000 years of mask making. These people are real craftsmen.”

They glanced at one another. “Uh, thank you for your time. If we need anything else?” Hank asked, leading him with the question that they could come back.

Hedig smiled. “Please. We are here through Sunday.”

They nodded and headed out. “We all agree he’s full of it, right?” Sloane asked when they were to the midway again.

“Oh yeah,” Nick said.

“Definitely,” Hank agreed. “But we can at least run some of these names for matches too.”

“I think we might go check with Monroe and Rosalee first,” Nick said. “I know we just had to deal with Alexander but if this is something the council needs to know about or if they have an insight on it, it could be handy.”

The others nodded, heading for the car.

\------------------------

Monroe was helping Rosalee at the shop luckily, so they were both there when the detectives pulled up.

“Hey guys,” Monroe said as they walked in. “We’re always glad to see you but I get the feeling this isn’t a social call.” Rosalee stepped down from a ladder to join them.

“I’m afraid not,” Nick sighed. “We have two victims found recently and we traced their movements to this carnival called “Carnival Metamorphosia”. And they, well…”

“They got wesen woging in front of an audience,” Sloane said. “Like, a lot of them.”

Monroe set the herbs he was looking over down in surprise. “A wesen carnival? Wow.”

“In Sellwood park,” Nick nodded. “Ever been to one?”

Monroe quickly shook his head, frowning. “No. It's not something the community is particularly proud of, but they still exist.”

Rosalee chimed in, setting down her own jars. “They aren't as common as they used to be, but it goes all the way back to Rome, from Circus Maximus to P.T. Barnum. Long history of wesen exploitation. Forcing wesen from all over the world to woge for the cheap thrill of a paying audience,” she said with disapproval.

“Which is offensive on so many levels,” Monroe added.

The detectives exchanged looks but nodded a bit. “Well, the council doesn't have a problem with that?” Nick asked.

Rosalee sighed, taking an old jar with her to the back room to wash out and motioning them to follow. “The performers present it as one big magic trick, so it technically doesn't go against the code of Swabia, but in situations like this, it's recommended that local wesen perform a sort of intervention.” She looked at Monroe who didn’t argue.

“Why?” Hank asked.

She sighed and tapped out the jar after she rinsed it in the utility sink. “The real danger isn't the exploitation of wesen. It's the Umkippen.”

They blinked, looking at one another but Sloane didn’t know what she was talking about either. “Oom-what?” Hank asked.

“Umkippen,” Monroe said. “Essentially...” He sighed, obviously a little worried about admitting this. “If we force ourselves to woge over and over again, the wesen side can, like, take over. Leaving us at the mercy of our primal urges, which is a little problematic for civilized society.”

They were quiet, taking that in and thinking it over. “If someone in this show is suffering from the Umkippen, they are a ticking time bomb,” Rosalee added, coming over to put new herbs in the jar.

“And they could've killed the two victims,” Sloane said.

“Absolutely,” she nodded. “Why do you think it was one of these performers?”

“They got pretty tight-lipped when we started asking,” Hank said.

“The Blutbad seemed a little more worked up than the others,” Nick added and Sloane nodded.

“If someone was going into this Umkippen, is there a way to tell?” she asked.

“Eventually, yeah,” Monroe said. “Look, when there's not a shred of humanity left, it's pretty obvious. And in the meantime, it's a pretty intense struggle.”

“Could there be a pattern of violent behavior?” Hank asked. They nodded and he looked at Nick and Sloane. “We gotta get to the precinct and do some background checks.”

They thanked Monroe and Rosalee and moved to head out but Rosalee quickly went over and put a hand on Nick and Hanks’ shoulder. “Can I talk to you two really quick?”

They paused, turning to look at her while Sloane was already out the door. “What is it? Something else about the umkippen?” Nick asked.

“No. Something else. I found out from Sloane yesterday her birthday is coming up. Like, it’s on the 26th,” Rosalee said.

“Seriously?” Hank asked, surprised. Nick glanced towards where Sloane went in surprise.

“I know! But I convinced her to let me plan a party for her. Nothing big she insists, and not a surprise after last time we tried that, but a little something. I wanted to tell you two so you can make sure you’re free.”

“No, yeah, we’ll be there,” Nick said. “Not a lot of time for a gift though.”

“I know…” she sighed.

Nick paused as a thought came to him and smiled. “Actually, I might have an idea…It’s a little expensive, but we could all chip in on it.”

“Really?” Rosalee asked, looking hopeful.

“Yeah. I’ll send you an email later about it.”

She smiled in relief. “Thanks, I’d appreciate that. She said no presents, but we need to get her something I feel.”

He nodded and they all jumped when the door dinged again, and Sloane stuck her head in. “Hey! Are you guys coming?”

“Yeah, sorry, just wanted to ask a quick question,” Nick said. They quickly headed back out the door and Rosalee sighed and went back to the back room to keep freshening the herbs.

She and Monroe worked together in silence for a moment before she looked up at him. “We should check that place out.”

Monroe blinked. “What? No, I... why? I hate carnivals, they give me the creeps,” he said, shuddering a little.

“But we would be able to tell if someone is suffering from the Umkippen. If they are, they need our help,” she pressed.

“Even if they've killed somebody?” he asked, worried.

“Then we tell Nick and Sloane,” she said, looking worried but firm.

“Well, okay, why don't we just bring them with us, at least?”

“Uh, because they’re Grimm. It would only make things worse,” she said, implying all that could go wrong when an umkippen saw a Grimm.

Monroe stared at her with a look of hesitancy but finally sighed loudly. “Fine.”

\-----------------------

After a full day of research, they went to Renard the next afternoon with all the information they had to run it by him. They pointed out that 4 other questionable murders had occurred along the carnival’s route. The employees came and went frequently—the longest there aside from Hedig hanging around a few years but many leaving after a few weeks. One however had been present during all the murders: Max Robbins, the blutbad from the show. Renard seemed to agree but pointed out there was no evidence yet. With two days before the carnival left, they needed to get evidence that Max was their culprit.

Pulling more records though, they determined a more worrying pattern—there were mysterious murders going back nearly 10 years. Max hadn’t been with the carnival 10 years, none of the current workers had. Except of course for the ring master.

They were piled into the car and driving back towards the carnival when Nick’s phone rang. Hank was driving so he pulled it out and answered it. “Monroe?”

“Hey, Nick,” Monroe said, and he knew from that tone of voice he was about to admit something Nick may not like. “Remember that carnival we talked about? Yeah, well, Rosalee and I thought we'd, you know, check it out for ourselves, and I think we might have gotten in a little over our heads here.”

“You're at the carnival?” he asked, glancing at Sloane and Hank. Sloane frowned.

“Yes, and the Umkippen issue is worse than we thought,” Monroe said seriously.

Nick was on alert even more. “You need to get the hell out of there.”

“I know, but see, that's where the "in over our heads" part comes in, 'cause, uh...” he sighed. “Rosalee kind of got herself put into the show.”

“What?” Nick asked, and it reminded Hank of a disapproving parent.

“But we found out who's got the Umkippen, and you were right, it's the Blutbad, Max,” he added quickly.

Nick sighed, looking heavenward for a moment, before back down. “We're almost there.”

“Good, 'cause...Oh, show’s starting, I gotta go!” he hanged up and Nick put his phone away with an annoyed grumble.

“What’s wrong?” Sloane asked.

“You weren’t listening in?”

“You told me not to do that if I can help it.”

“Right…well, um…they went to the carnival and Rosalee is now in the show. And the blutbad is definitely the worst off in the Umkippen.”

Sloane stared a moment before looking at Hank. “Faster.”

“On it,” he agreed, not arguing with that tone of voice.

Sloane was out of the car at the carnival before the car was even stopped, running and pushing her way through the crowd. Nick and Hank were close behind, calling for her to wait but was focused on getting through to the main tent.

She heard screams when she was a few feet away and people started streaming out in real fear. Sloane pushed her way through in time to see Max, fully woged, snarling and advancing on Rosalee who was in Genevieve’s costume. She was about to rush him, knife drawn and already planning where to stab him— _shoulder, incapacitate; bring it out and down to his heart, twist and bring him down till he stops moving._ But before she could, Monroe was woged and snarling as he rushed and tackled Max to the ground. They started to wrestle with each other, flashes of teeth and claws and snaps like animals.

Nick and Hank were inside the tent by then, watching the chaos unfold with dropped jaws. “Monroe!” Nick yelled.

Hedig’s head whipped around to them, knowing the Blutbad he didn’t know and with Sloane’s knife in hand. He woged into a Lowan, his bald head sprouting a more luxurious mane and his face becoming feline in nature with a huge muzzle filled with teas and clawed hands. _Those could’ve wounded the girls,_ they all thought. Hedig changed back and then ran for the side of the tent. Nick and Hank took off after them, but Sloane paused and looked back at Monroe and Max. Growling, she rushed over, intent to put Max down though Monroe was trying to tear out his throat.

“Monroe, stop!” Rosalee yelled, going over to grab his shoulders. “Stop, he’s sick! We have to help him!” Monroe paused and woged back, looking down. Sloane skidded to a stop at the front of the stage, looking unsure now. Max changed back, pale and shaking and looking confused.

“W…what happened? Where am I?” he asked. He looked close to tears. “What did I do…?”

“It’s okay,” Rosalee said softly. “It’s okay, we got you…”

His eyes fell on Sloane and he tensed, trying to back away. Rosalee looked at her pleadingly and she sighed and put the knife in her belt. “You sure about this?” she asked.

“We can help him. It’s not irreversible,” Rosalee said.

“He tried to kill you,” she pointed out, looking at him again. Monroe was nodding a little.

“But I’m okay,” Rosalee said.

“And if others weren’t that lucky?” she reminded her.

“I…I didn’t kill those girls,” he swallowed. “I woged in front of them, but…but I blacked out. I didn’t remember anything after and Hedig made me think I did it. But he told me earlier it was him…that he ‘took care of them’…” he sobbed a little.

Sloane stared a moment. He looked like he’d been through the wringer and honestly freaked out by everything. She sighed. “Well, that adds up. But if you woge again tonight, I make no promises you won’t be next.” She didn’t wait for a reply, running for the side of the tent again where Nick and Hank went.

“Hey! Sloane!” Nick yelled. She turned and spotted them in the crowd, rushing over.

“Hedig?”

“We lost him in the crowd,” Nick sighed. “I tried opening my senses but there’s just too much noise here.

“What happened with Max?” Hank asked.

“Rosalee convinced Monroe and me not to kill him. She says the umpkippen may be reversible. He woged back and seems out of it, but he said Hedig convinced him he killed the girls but actually did it himself. It was because Max woged in front of them.”

“Makes sense…he couldn’t have them spilling their secrets,” Nick said.

“But we need to find him before he escapes,” Hank said.

They heard screams coming from up the midway and glancing at one another, raced to the funhouse. Sloane put a hand on Nick’s shoulder when she saw someone coming out the back. Three someone’s actually—Genevieve, Ivan and Damian were all woged. They changed back, panting Ivan straightened when he saw them though. “Grimms…” he said in his deep voice.

Sloane eyed them and then Nick. Nick stepped up and looked at them all. “…Hedig?”

“…Inside,” Damian said. “We…I took care of him.”

“Given the burnt smell I can guess how,” Sloane said.

“If you have to punish someone, punish me,” he went on. “But we aren’t going to be his pawns anymore, not after what he did to Max.”

“We all went in there thinking how to do it,” Genevieve said. “We’re all in it together.”

“I wanted to crush him, but Damian was faster on the draw,” Ivan agreed.

“Okay, let’s all stop talking now,” Sloane said. “I’m going to pretend that last minute of conversation didn’t happen.” She looked at Nick.

Slowly he nodded. “You all just found your boss’s charred body in the funhouse, right? No idea how he got there?”

They all looked surprised at them. “I…seriously?”

“Well, we can’t guarantee anything. We’ll have to investigate the scene,” Nick said. “But off the record, we know what’s been going on and why it happened. And what Hedig did.”

“Exactly,” Sloane said. “But you might go check on Max. Rosalee and Monroe are looking after him. They’re friends of ours and they want to help.

Genevieve didn’t need further convincing as she turned to limp back to the tent as fast as she could with a walking stick. Ivan and Damian followed.

“…Surprised you let them go so easily.”

“Well, they killed the wesen I wanted to kill,” she sighed, putting her knife where it needed to go in her side holster. “But I don’t have anything on them killing innocent people. And Rosalee wants to help them, so…my hands are tied.”

Nick smiled a little. “Well…we better secure the scene.”

\----------------

In the end, Renard agreed that there was not enough evidence to convict anyone of Hedig’s murder—but they did have a bit of circumstantial evidence that Hedig may have killed several of the victims in the past. As Renard had said, it wasn’t exactly justice in the eyes of the law, but Sloane was okay with it. That had been her brand of justice for a long time.

Rosalee knew a place that Max could find help for the umpkippen and start the long road to recovery. Genevieve, Ivan and Damian took Max secured in the back with them to get him there. They weren’t sure what they’d do from here on out, but they knew anything was better than what they had been doing. And they took Rosalee’s advice to look out for one another to heart.

A couple of days passed in relative quiet before it was the 26th. Sloane was a little apprehensive of what Rosalee had planned, but she’d agreed to meet her at Nick and Juliette’s house for the party. Mostly because they had a bigger dining table than Sloane did, and a little bit bigger living area. Rosalee was waiting for her outside when she pulled up, smiling more excitedly than the birthday girl.

“Hey!” she hugged her with a grin. “Ready?”

“Yeah…no glitter, right?”

“No glitter,” Rosalee confirmed. She opened the door and inside there were just a few tasteful decorations, like a nice “Happy Birthday” banner, put up. No surprises, everyone just cheered and toasted her when she walked in. Hank, Nick, Juliette, Monroe, Bud, and Cynthia were all there. Sloane was a bit surprised that Cynthia came but smiled none the less.

“Hey…Um, Ms. Calvert invited me…hope that’s okay.”

“Of course. Good to see you.”

She smiled, looking a little nervous but that could mostly be because she was surrounded by wesen, so Sloane did appreciate she came.

“My wife hopes you like the cake,” Bud said. “She had to go help finish stuff for another party, but she was happy to make you something.”

Sloane smiled. “Well, thank her for me when you see her. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it whatever it is.”

He grinned and they made small talk, pouring a little wine for her and just having a good time. She noted Nick checked his phone at one point and walked off but figured it was just last-minute work stuff because he came right back.

“So, I think we should do presents first, then cake,” Rosalee said.

“Presents? Guys, really, I didn’t want a big fuss…” Sloane said, looking a bit worried.

“We needed to get you something,” Hank said. “Nick had an idea and we all chipped in.”

Juliette smiled as she handed her a box that was large but relatively thin. She sighed but it was a fond sound and she worked to unwrap the silver wrapping paper, then open the box. She couldn’t help a soft “oh” that escaped her. “Guys…” She put the box top down quickly and ran her hands over the soft leather inside. It was a charcoal grey leather jacket—and it wasn’t just a run of the mill kind if the tag laid on top was to be believed. Durable, protective, weatherproof, all kinds of features that made it expensive enough she’d never splurged on one like for herself because she’d have to probably order it.

“You keep having to replace your jackets,” Nick said. “So, I suggested this. Managed to get it shipped extra quick—the company has a police program. Any thing happens to it, they’ll repair at no charge other than shipping it back to them, or a big discount on a new one if they can’t fix it. Hank and I have taken advantage of that.” He patted his own jacket.

“But this thing is made to take a beating,” Hank added. “We got you the kind meant for motorcycles. You can fall from a moving cycle and this thing will protect you from road rash, so it’s tough. Not sure what wesen stuff it can handle, but it should be better than cotton or polyester.”

Sloane pulled it from the box, looking over it. Gussets in the arm pits for cooling, the zipper at a slight diagonal for fashion, nice wide lapels that can be pulled up for protection, pockets on the inside and out. Sloane blushed when she realized this was like a dream jacket for her. “I…love it,” she said honestly. She set it on her lap and took off her rather threadbare hoodie, setting it aside to pull the jacket on.

“Looks like the right size,” Rosalee said in relief. “How does it feel?”

“Awesome!” she said. She zipped it all the way up, moving her arms around, moving like she would in a fight. “It’s got a little room, but I like it that way.”

“It looks great,” Cynthia said.

Sloane smiled warmly. “Thank you…really.”

“Well, we’re not done!” Rosalee said. “We still have cake!”

Sloane nodded, taking off the jacket and folding it back into the box. While she did, two more guests brought out the cake with a sparkler on top. Sloane turned back around and gasped again. “Aunt Jean?! Aunt Mim?!”

“Hey there, girly,” Mim grinned.

“Surprise!” Jean smiled, setting the cake down on the table. “Did you think we’d miss your birthday now that we know where you are?”

“We were planning on coming up over the weekend, but Nick called us to let us know about the party. Managed to get here, but the traffic was awful! And then we couldn’t find the house and—”

“We made it, that’s what’s important,” Jean said, taking her girlfriend’s arm. “And we get to meet your friends!”

Sloane smiled and walked over to hug them. “Yeah, you do. I’m so happy you came…”

They smiled back and hugged her hard. “But look at this cake!” Mim said. Sloan looked over. It was dark blue and decorated with stars and a sparkly sprinkle streak that looked like the milky way, Sloane blushed at how pretty it was, but had to snort to stop a laugh when she saw a small toy Enterprise Starship from Star Trek on it.

“That was my idea,” Jean said. “Nick texted us a picture of the cake and I made a quick stop. Your grandmother would definitely have done it.”

Sloane’s smile turned nostalgic and she hugged them again. “Almost 20 years…” she muttered. They didn’t say anything though they must’ve heard, hugging her back tightly.

The cake was of course delicious, chocolate with vanilla buttercream frosting. They ate and chatted and to Sloane’s horror her aunts brought photo albums. She knew she wouldn’t live this down but had to laugh at some moments. There were jokes about her ballerina days, first days of school, missing baby teeth, the whole messy childhood. Mim and Jean took photos as well with a camera to print later.

The evening started to wind down and leftovers were divided up and sent home with pretty much everyone. Mim and Jean had already gotten a hotel and would be staying a few days to catch up and see the sights. Sloane accepted and reciprocated hugs from all of them as things were ending. As she headed out with a Tupperware of cake and her new jacket in a box to put in the passenger seat of her car carefully.

“Sloane, wait, um…there’s one more thing,” Rosalee said, following her quickly. Sloane closed the door of the car but walked back to meet her halfway.

“What, more? Seriously, this has been enough,” Sloane laughed. “It’s…been the best birthday I’ve had in decades.”

Rosalee tried not to think how such a minimal effort birthday had that title but smiled widely. “I’m glad. But actually, there’s something I need to ask for from you—or, regarding you. I wanted to ask before but part of me kind of thought you might not want to do it so I’m…not sure I should ask, even though I really want to.”

“…Okay, that’s vague and kind of worrying,” Sloane said, frowning. “I mean…does it involve hurting someone? Did someone hurt you? Who do I kill?”

“No, no,” she said quickly, laughing a little. “Nothing like that, at all.” She took a deep breath and looked at Sloane to be braver. “Sloane…You’ve never been married, right?”

Sloane blinked rapidly, confused again. “Uh…not technically?”

“Not technically?” Rosalee asked, not expecting that.

“Well, I mean…” she said, flustered a bit. “There was a time I was with someone and we kind of thought we would but…” She shrugged, not wanting to go on if her expression was anything to go by.

Rosalee knew not to push so let it go even though her curiosity was burning. “Well…I’m having my sister as Matron of Honor, but…I was hoping you’d be my Maid of Honor.”

Sloane’s eyes widened and her hand went slack. “I…you want me to be your Maid of Honor?”

“Yes,” she said, a little nervous now. “If you want, I mean…”

“…Isn’t that like…for your _best_ friend?” Sloane asked slowly.

Rosalee blinked before smiling. “You are my best friend, Sloane. One of the best I’ve ever had, I think. The last year has been…wild and up and down but once we got to understand each other…It felt like I’d known you forever. And there’s no one else I can think of I’d want as my maid of honor more.” Sloane stared and for a moment Rosalee thought she saw her eyes get shiny and a little misty. Rosalee gasped when she suddenly pulled her close and wrapped her arms tightly around her. She had never seen Sloane get like this. She thought she’d be a bit more standoffish, maybe not interested in being part of the pomp and circumstance of a wedding. Being emotional…she wasn’t anticipating it, but she smiled and hugged her back. “Is this a yes?” she asked after a moment.

“Yes!” Sloane pulled back, blushing. “Yes! I…thank you,” she said sincerely. Rosalee smiled, hugging her again. She wondered why she had been nervous now. Nick smiled, watching them from the porch. It was funny to think Sloane tried to kill Rosalee a year ago—now Sloane was ready to kill a anything that threatened her. And hugging her. People laugh at the whole “power of friendship” idea, but it really was amazing what could change with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I really figured Sloane wouldn't let Wu just freak out and get committed. She's much more direct most of the time unless she can lie really well. Except she didn't want to do that to him. But the truth doesn't always set you free obviously and poor Wu is still going through a lot of shit. There will be a few more changes with him knowing the truth so much sooner...
> 
> Also, I decided on Sloane's birthday and wanted to include it :D I chose March 26 because, well...it's Leonard Nemoy's birthday ^^; I chose September 18 for Rosalee mostly at Random because I wanted it to be coming up.
> 
> I'm more excited for the next chapter though as we keep moving forward through the show's storylines!


	15. Bringing Up Trubel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rewrite of Syncronicity, Law of Sacrifice, Nobody Knows the Trubel I've Seen, and My Fair Wesen (whew...)
> 
> Kelly brings Adalind Schade back to town, with a baby in tow, and that brings the royals calling. After working through that and a lot of mixed feelings with their plans to keep the baby safe, more trouble comes to town. Theresa Rubel comes to Portland and despite a body count in her wake, Sloane wants to try and help her. But is she ready to be a mentor? And will she and Nick see eye to eye in how to mentor her?

Synchronicity and Law of Sacrifice

\----------------------

It was a couple of days after her birthday and she was lamenting it was getting to warm to wear her new jacket, but the April evenings were moderately cool at most. But going day to day in just her jeans and t-shirts was normal for her. Mim and Jean had insisted on seeing Portland however and Sloane was only too happy to oblige. What she didn’t anticipate was it being an excuse to splurge on her.

Jean had taken her to nicer boutique style shop, holding up blouses and shirts and other bits. Sloane was resistant at first. She didn’t like paying full price for anything, since money had always been tight on the road, and she didn’t want to wear things that could be ruined by a hunt. She only had one dress in her closet, black and slinky, and it had seen better days she knew. And then there was her suit, also black and not properly fitted since she got it on clearance. It was Mim who pointed out that she wasn’t _always_ hunting or traveling now. Having some more playful, nicer clothes would be a good thing now.

“Plus, don’t you get called to court?” she asked.

“Not yet…” Sloane said. There hadn’t been a need for them to go to court yet, though she knew it was a possibility.

“Well, you need to look presentable if you do! Your grandmother got me my first suit for my college interview, I’m gonna get you one,” Mim said, folding her arms. “A good one, and get it tailored.”

“And you’ll need some shirts and blouses for that suit,” Jean said with a persuasive tone. “And some new jeans don’t hurt. We haven’t gotten to spoil you for two decades, let us have this.”

Sloane sighed deeply but finally smiled. “Okay, okay, I know when I’m outnumbered…”

She ended up with two suits, one black and one navy, and a skirt and pants option for both. Mim wasn’t the fashion lover but knew that mixing and matching was integral. Fifteen blouses that were much more colorful and expressive than she was used to were added by Jean, as well as some casual pants. She tried to decline getting a dress but Jean convinced her a new little black dress was a must. And shoes—new boots for work and a couple sets of heels and sandals. Sloane felt bad for all the money they spent but they insisted they wanted to do it and help set her up for her new life.

“You guys really didn’t need to do all this…” Sloane said, looking at all the bags in her living room once they got home that evening. The suits were being tailored to be picked up later. “I mean, can you afford it?”

“We’re not poor, honey,” Jean said. “We made some wise investments before I retired to do jewelry full-time. We’ll be fine.”

“And I saved up plenty. We missed a lot of birthdays in the past, so expect us to do plenty for the ones we’ll be here for,” Mim said.

“I just…all this for me? It’s…” she said, feeling awkward.

Jean walked over and put an arm around her. “You deserve it. Whatever voice in there that says you don’t, that’s just what you told yourself when you wanted something but couldn’t have it, right? I used to do the same thing. “I don’t deserve a new jacket, my old one is fine. I don’t deserve to eat like this, I just need the basics. I don’t deserve kindness, I’m a bad person.”” Sloane looked at her in surprise and Jean smiled. “Growing up in the family I had, it was hard not to feel that way…”

“You are not a bad person! You’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever known,” Sloane said.

“But that’s what my brother and my parents always told me.” She took a breath and squeezed her. “I know we don’t talk about Deirdre, but…I get the feeling she said similar things.”

“…Maybe, but…money was usually tight so it was true,” Sloane said.

“But money isn’t tight for us, and it’s not tight for you now,” Mim said, coming over as well. “Treat yourself sometimes and let other treat you. It’s not about owing them but accepting that, well…they care about you and want to make you happy.”

“You make me happy without all this,” Sloane said quietly, embarrassed at the sentiment of it.

They smiled and hugged her together. “We appreciate that. But it also makes us happy to spend time with you like this and get to know you all over again and what you like.”

“Which apparently, once we finally got you to loosen up, is a surprising amount of color and elegant details!” Jean grinned.

“And leather!” Mim added approvingly.

Sloane blushed but laughed.

\---------------------

Before, Sloane often only shopped from thrift stores and made do with jeans and simple T-shirts, so having an actual wardrobe for the first time in forever was a little jarring. Her next day at work had her flip-flopping on whether she should wear something new or something old. Finally she opted for a simple shirt heather gray shirt, but put a new short turquoise blazer on. She also opted to wear the earrings Jean had made for her and given her before they left for home. She gave her dangles for casual days and studs for work—both were art deco inspired which was up Sloane’s alley. The studs were a trapezoid shape with a white stone set in the center of black enamel and a gold diamond shape coming off them.

Nick and Hank looked up when she walked in and did a double take. “Hey, you look good,” Hank said. “More than usual I mean.”

Sloane smiled and sat down. “Yeah. Mim and Jean took me on a shopping spree before they went home. Apparently my clothes needed some new life.”

“Eh, nice to have some options that aren’t work clothes,” Nick said.

“I suppose so…It’s just weird actually having a closet I guess.”

She started to catch up on her paper work and eventually put the blazer over her chair. When she got up to go get something to drink, she noticed one of the other detectives looking at her. “Larson, never noticed you have some mean looking arms.”

Sloane arched her eyebrows and looked at her bicep. Admittedly, compared to some women, she supposed she had some more obvious muscles. “…Thanks?”

“Just saying, I don’t normally see women with arms like that, even here.”

She shrugged. The Detective was Eric Denver she remembered now. They’d never really talked before. “I mean, to each their own. I just work out regularly.”

“How much you lift?

“Uh…last I checked, about 200,” she said. That sounded about right but Grimm strength could fluctuate things a bit.

“200?” He asked, surprised. “That’s almost as much as me!”

“Oh, cool.”

He frowned, looking her over. “How much do you weigh?”

“…Pretty sure you’re not supposed to ask a lady that number,” she said, trying to smile as it felt a bit awkward now.

“I don’t believe you can live that much,” he said, frowning at her.

Sloane frowned back. “Why would I lie?”

“Trying to show off for the boys,” he said, smirking, a couple of the others chuckling as well.

Sloane arched her eyebrows. “Yeah…Pretty sure I’d have to want to impress you to show off. So…no,” she said, opening her soda and taking a sip as she walked away.

Denver blushed and then glared a bit, following her. “Well, I’m still not believing you. So how about a demonstration?”

“Not interested in deadlifiting or squatting in the station, thanks,” she said.

“Then how about arm wrestling?”

Sloane paused and looked at him. “You’re serious?”

He smiled and spread his hands. “What do you got to lose? Except maybe your pride.”

Sloane rolled her eyes but then went back to the break room. “To quote your girlfriend I’m sure: If I do this for you, will you leave me alone?”

He flushed again and glared while the others snickered. Walking over to sit in the chair, he rolled up his sleeve and set it down. “Sure, though you’ll have to admit you were full of shit trying to give a high number.”

Sloane sat down and sighed as she put up her arm. The grasped hands and one of his buddies came over. “Okay…1…2…go!”

Denver started immediately trying to push her hand down. Though Sloane budged a little she didn’t go down. Debating with herself, she decided she did not want to give him any satisfaction. Summoning her own strength she pushed back, getting him back and straight up again, trying not to smile at the surprise on his face. Cheating just a little—well, it was her natural ability—she summoned the Grimm strength and then forced his hand down.

The other cops stared in shock as Sloane stood and shook out her hand. “There. We good?”

“I—no! There is no way a woman should be able to do that!”

“S’cuse you?” Sloane said, putting her hands on her hips. “I just did, so you might rethink that.”

“Rematch!”

“I just beat you, I’m not interested in doing it again.”

By now they’d drawn a small crowd of officers and detectives and other brass.

“You scared?”

“Really? You are honestly doing this elementary school bully thing?” she asked, not impressed.

“All I’m saying is you’re refusing because you know I’m right.

Sloane glared before sitting down again.

Denver tried and failed again. Then his friends—Sartoli and Muhn—tried and failed. The crowd and gotten bigger, the woman in the precinct cheering when she beat them. Nick and Hank finally wandered over on the 3 time and were both smiling as she shook out her arm.

“You’re cheating!”

“How?” Sloane asked, honestly curious.

Denver couldn’t answer and he glared. “Push up contest!”

“…Use your words, is that a challenge or are you just spouting out random words now? Are you have a stroke? Do we need to call a doctor?” she asked in mock concern. The crowd all chuckled a bit.

He turned even redder than before. “Yes, I challenge you to a push up contest.”

“Okay. Limit?” she asked coolly.

“None. Go till you drop.”

“If you insist,” she sighed, getting down into perfect form. Denver managed to get the others down as well and started doing push ups. 15 marks they were doing fine. At 30, Sartoli was getting a bit winded, and he was down at 34. Muhn only made it to 39. The whole station had gathered around them now and were cheering one or both of them on. A few bets were made too. Denver kept trying to go but by 50 he was straining while Sloane was still going.

She smiled a bit and on an up, repositioned to one arm, continuing to push with the other as she extended her hand. “Need a hand there?”

Denver puffed and then stopped, panting. Sloane kept going and did 25 on one arm and another 25 with the other. By the end she was panting and a little sweaty, but stood up to loud applause from the station. Nick and Hank raised her arms in victory, and they were a little jelly-like when they did.

“And that’s why you don’t mess with our partner,” Nick smiled.

“You guys didn’t participate,” Muhn said, stretching his sore arms.

“Because we already know she could kick our butts,” Hank said. There was no shame in his admission, in fact he sounded proud of Sloane.

“Yeah, well…” Denver groused. “If I didn’t overdo it yesterday it’d be different.”

“I work out every morning, maybe you need to stretch more,” Sloane said, convincingly concerned though her partners knew she was digging right back at him.

Before Denver could reply, a tap on the break room window and a voice cut over them. “If we’re done turning the station into a sports arena,” Renard said, though he looked amused, “I’d like to see some police work get done.”

The men all blushed and quickly got back to their desks and Sloane just grinned. Renard smiled slightly and nodded to her before entering his office again. “I should’ve bet someone lunch,” she said, stretching and grunting. Honestly, given her usual routine it wasn’t that bad. “I used to do arm wrestling contests to get extra cash, brought back memories…”

“Well…I need to talk with you about something. I can treat you to lunch,” Nick said.

She looked at him, picking up on the slight worry in his voice. “…Okay. Is something wrong?”

He hesitated but nodded a bit. “At lunch though…” She nodded.

When lunch rolled around, she was surprised that Nick drove to Monroe and Rosalee’s house. She knew they were both taking off today to go over wedding plans. “Why are we—” Nick didn’t wait for her to ask, getting out and heading to the door. Sloane frowned but followed, getting there as he knocked. Monroe opened the door and looked just as surprised as Sloane felt they were there.

“Guys, hey. What’s up?”

“We have a problem,” Nick sighed.

Monroe deflated, looking a little put out given the stresses of planning his wedding were already enough at the moment. “Who died?”

Nick gave a rather morose smile. “No one…yet,” he said, coming in when Monroe moved aside. He looked at Sloane who shrugged, not sure what this was about either.

“I…we have a problem,” Nick said.

“We do?” Sloane asked.

“Yeah, we do,” he replied.

Monroe frowned but looked towards the dining room. “Rosalee, Nick and Sloane are here. They say they have a problem.”

Rosalee stood and came out with a smile. “Hey, guys. What’s wrong? Is it a case?”

Nick shook his head. “No, it’s not about a case. It’s…about your wedding.”

They looked at one another in concern and then back at him. “What about it?”

“I…can’t be your best man,” he sighed. “And Sloane can’t be Maid of Honor.”

“What?” Sloane snapped.

He looked at her, a little surprised. “Sloane…think about it. Their families will be there. Along with their wesen friends. We’re Grimms so if they woge…”

Sloane’s eyes widened and she blushed a bit, not having thought of that and feeling stupid for not realizing. “Oh…” she breathed, her heart twisting a bit. She’d been excited, really. She’d never been to a wedding before—well, once where she had to kill a groomsman, but that didn’t really count.

Nick looked back at Rosalee and Monroe. “I am so honored you asked me, and I know Sloane was too. But I don’t want to hurt anybody or them to get hurt because of me.”

“But you have to be there,” Rosalee said. “We never would’ve met if it weren’t for you, Nick! And Sloane, I have to have you there.”

Sloane’s heart twisted again, but she knew Nick was right.

“We want to be there,” Nick said. “There’s nothing we want more, but we don’t know how to make that work.”

Sloane perked up. “Wait…there might be a way.”

They all turned to her in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. Correct me if I’m wrong, but how you normally identify us as Grimms is our eyes, right? When they turn black?”

Monroe nodded. “Yeah…”

“Not exactly black,” Rosalee said.

“No, you're right, actually. Black's too weak a word,” Monroe agreed. “It's more like infinite darkness. And we see ourselves reflected in that darkness. We see our true wesen nature. Took me a while to get used to that…”

“Really? You see that in my eyes?” Nick asked, surprised.

“Yeah, it's actually very unsettling,” Monroe nodded.

“It explains why you get some of the reactions you do,” Rosalee said. Sloane didn’t look displeased by the description like Nick did.

“So to hide it…I mean, we could use some sunglasses for you?”

“Oh, that could work!” Rosalee said with a smile.

Sloane smiled. “I’d say keep that as plan B. We, that is Grimms, have a way to suppress that reaction for a short time.”

“You do?” Nick asked excitedly.

“Yeah, but it’s generally frowned upon. It leaves us vulnerable because we it actually means we can’t see wesen woge for a short time either. It’s for extreme situations, like infiltrating a wesen heavy area when you already know your target. It’s also, um…technically a poison.”

“What? Oh no, no poisoning yourselves for our wedding,” Monroe said. Nick looked equally worried now.

“No no, it’s okay,” Sloane said quickly. “In very small doses it suppresses our Grimm side with no issues. High doses or regular doses are when it’s dangerous. Kind of like the umpkippen we talked about last week. In the past some Grimms tried to take it like a medication, to stay out of the life and, well…it worked kind of in that they stayed out of _all_ of life.”

“Have you taken it before?” Rosalee asked hesitantly.

She nodded. “Once. Had to get into a club full of wesen to get to a Heftigauroch arms dealer. No side effects in the small dose aside from a little heartburn,” she said honestly. “It lasts for about 3 hours, so maybe not all of the wedding but it could be good for the main parts and pictures?”

They were nodding slowly, looking hopeful. “Okay, that would be great,” Nick said, smiling widely. “I didn’t even think that might be an option!”

She smiled back. “I don’t have any on hand right now and the recipe a closely guarded secret. But I got some contacts that owe me favors, so I might be able to get some in the next couple of weeks. I’d say maybe four doses, two for each of us. I wouldn’t do more than that in 24 hours and saving a dose if we can.”

Nick nodded. “Okay, that sounds good.”

She smiled back and then oofed when Rosalee hugged her. “This is great! I was worried there for a second you wouldn’t come.” Monroe hugged her too and she smiled and hugged them back. Then he pulled Nick over for an even bigger group hug and she hummed. “Okay, feeling the appreciation, but also a little suffocated.”

“Deal with it,” Rosalee said, making them all laugh.

\--------------------

Two days later it was time for Rosalee’s dress fitting. She wanted to wear her grandmother’s dress—which her mother had worn and her sister. But she needed to make sure it fit and found a dress shop that already cleaned it up for her and was ready to start tailoring it. Sloane and Juliette, who was also in the bridal party as a bridesmaid it was decided, went with her to the shop for moral support and to start looking at bridesmaid’s dresses. She promised they wouldn’t be ugly.

While Rosalee was changing, Juliette walked around admiring the wedding gowns on display wistfully. One hanging up caught her attention and she pulled it down, walking over to a mirror and holding it up. “What do you think?”

Sloane looked her over and opened her mouth, but a shop clerk beat her to it. “That would look great on you!”

Juliette smiled. “Yeah?”

Sloane nodded. “It would.”

“Yes. When are you getting married?” the clerk asked.

“Oh, no, I, um…” Juliette stuttered, a little flustered. Sloane arched her brow. She knew Nick had asked her to marry him once, but neither of them brought it up in front of her now that she thought about it so she had no idea what that status was now.

Rosalee coming out of the dressing room diverted attention for all of them and Sloane honestly nearly wanted to laugh. She knew the dress would be rather old fashioned but didn’t expect an all lace straight-jacket. It had a high collar with more lace embellishments, long puffy sleeves, a simple belt that wrapped around her middle and cut her in half and it reached to the floor in a cascade of flowers and lace and gauzy netting that 80+ years ago was probably very fashionable.

And dammit, she still looked beautiful. Just very stuffy.

“Well, looks like alterations won’t be needed after all,” the clerk said with a smile. Juliette was beaming too.

“Thanks…you think my grandma’s dress fits okay then?” Rosalee asked nervously, stepping up to the stage to look in the mirror.

“Absolutely,” Juliette said.

“The silhouette’s perfect,” the clerk nodded.

She smiled but then looked at Sloane, still nervous and picking at it in a few places. “What do you think?”

Sloane took a breath but smiled and stepped up with her. “You look beautiful, Rosalee. So beautiful, I think it’s wasted on Monroe. You should marry me instead.”

Rosalee barked out a laugh and Juliette snorted. “Sloane!”

“What, I’m serious,” she said, obviously not. “We could have a double wedding with my aunts, make a big gay affair, save on catering…I see no downside other than maybe fighting Monroe for you. But I can take him.”

“Ha ha,” she said, batting at her shoulder.

Sloane smiled back and grew more serious now that she wasn’t focusing on the dress. “You look stunning. But do you like it?”

Rosalee sobered as well, looking at herself and nodding. “I do, really. It’s just…hard to believe it’s me. Is it really me?”

“Calm down,” Juliette said, seeing she was getting flustered. “It’s not like you’re going to wear this everyday.”

“Well, your sister wore it two different days,” Sloane muttered. Rosalee batted her shoulder again, trying to fight a smile.

“You’re right…Okay.” She giggled a little giddily at the realization that her dress was ready so much sooner than she thought. Sloane smiled, glad that she was happy.

\------------------------

Sloane was sleeping, having relaxed to the rain beating on her roof and windows. Getting regular sleep for the last year was a blessing she hadn’t known she needed. In a bed was even better and she often wondered if it was the cause of her being more able to question things now as far as how she grew up.

Of course, it didn’t always last. She grunted when her phone rang and sighed, grabbing it and sitting up. And stifling a yawn. “Larson.”

“Sloane,” Nick breathed out, sounding flustered. “We’ve got a situation.”

She was alert in an instant. “A case?”

“No. Much different. You remember I told you about a Hexenbeast named Adalind Schade?”

Sloane frowned but nodded to herself. “Yeah. The one that put a spell on Hank, so you took her powers away by giving your blood, but then she cursed Juliette and disappeared, right?”

“Yeah. She’s reappeared though, at my house, with her powers back.”

“…Okay, I’ve got some iron shackles with runes on them—they aren’t 100% effective but if we can get them on her they’ll drain her batteries and then we can maybe toss her into the river because that thing about witches not floating is actually true, though it might be the shackles—” she said, getting up to get her jeans on as her mind and mouth raced.

“No no, we’re not going to kill her,” Nick said quickly.

“…Nick, you know I’ve come to sort of respect some aspects of your bleeding heart nature, but given her history I’m going smack you if you aren’t careful.”

“I get it,” he sighed. “I do. Normally I would be ready to go witch hunter on her too. But her powers aren’t the only thing she came back with. She also has a baby.”

She dropped the shirt she was grabbing in surprise. “A _what_?”

“A baby. And the person who brought them to me was my mother.”

“Kelly?” she asked, further shocked.

“I take it she didn’t mention coming for a visit?”

“It wasn’t really planned, Nicky,” Kelly said, sounding close. “Hi, Sloane. Thank you for looking after my son.”

Sloane smiled a bit. “Eh, he does pretty well for himself at this point…”

“But you’ve stuck around?” Kelly asked curiously.

“Ah…well…I like it here,” she admitted.

“That’s good,” Kelly said with a smile in her voice. Sloane let out a breath she’d been holding, realizing she’d been nervous what Kelly would think about setting up roots. “But, as we were talking about, we’ve got an issue. I didn’t know it was _Adalind_ when I rescued her.”

“Rescued her?”

“Yes. My mission with the resistance was to get Adalind and her baby out of Austria. Her baby is very powerful. She’s barely a few days old and she has her powers,” she said, her voice turning serious.

“That’s…terrifying,” Sloane said honestly.

“Yes, but more terrifying would be what the Royals might do with her.”

Sloane remembered Gallin talking about the Royals being in a panic for a while, and that Kelly was working with he Resistance on a mission and put it all together. “So you guys are…protecting them?”

“As best we can,” Nick sighed. “There was a bit of a problem since well, she and I have history. She got away from us and went to Renard’s.”

“…Why? Oh,” she gasped softly. “Oh, Renard mentioned he was trying to get someone away from the royals…”

“He did? When?” Nick asked, confused.

“It was last month—I was questioning him to see if he knew about the Royals being up in arms about something according to Gallin. I couldn’t get a straight answer out of him aside from hew as helping to coordinate getting someone out of there. I forgot about it with everything else going on with Wu and then the Mummy and all that…”

“So I guess he didn’t mention he’s very possibly the father of Adalind’s baby.”

“…No, he definitely didn’t…When did this turn into a soap opera?” She sighed.

“Not the half of it, I’m sure,” Kelly said. “Best part is, we just saved them from getting shot up by the verrat at Renard’s apartment.”

“Any wounded?” she asked.

“Just the other guys,” Nick said. “But we’re taking Adalind to Monroe and Rosalee’s now.”

“Excuse you, why?” she asked, her tone sounding ready to smack again.

“It’s the safest place I can think of,” he said. “They agreed to it.”

“…I’m heading over too.”

“You don’t have to, I just wanted you to be in the loop—”

“I’m already dressed,” she said, her tone daring him to stop her.

“Then I have a better idea,” Kelly said. “There’s a man we need to…question, who led the verrat to Renard’s apartment.”

“…Okay, I can help with that,” she said, switching gears.

“I know. I’ll have Nick text you the address.”

“Am I the middleman now?”

“Just a little,” Kelly chuckled.

\--------------------------

The man’s name was Weston Steward. He was an FBI agent who was also in the Royal’s pockets. They found the safe house the royals set up for him by tracking the car he used. Kelly popped the lock on the safehouse door and softly sneaking in. He was drinking and bemoaning that the royals would kill him when they found out he failed. Kelly, Renard and Sloane got the drop on him though he still woged int a Hundjager. It was Renard who knocked him out this time surprising him from the side, and Sloane tied him to a chair expertly with knots and loops that would get tighter if he struggled. Renard pulled his phone out from the coat over the nearby chair, unlocking it with Weston’s fingerprint and going through it. Once he was satisfied, he walked back over to the prone man while the Grimms gathered around him.

“Weston, wake up,” Renard said. He slapped the side of his face. “Wake up, Weston.” The blinked groggily. He was older, with silver hair and bright, angry eyes once they cleared and he saw all of them. “Now why don't you tell me how the royals got a federal agent to work for them.”

“Why? Am I supposed to be scared?” he asked snidely.

Sloane arched her brow but Renard had asked to handle this for the most part. “Really? You wanna play that game?” he asked.

“You see the white light?” Weston asked lightly.

“What white light?”

“You’ll see it soon since you're a dead man. And you don't even know it.”

Renard’s nostrils flared, losing patience, and he punched Weston across the face. None of the Grimms even flinched as Weston blinked the stars from his eyes. “Don't threaten me. Not after trying to kill me. That's just bad manners.” He punched him again for good measure and Weston snarled, his face rippling. “Now do you see white lights or just color?” He held up Weston’s phone. “Last number to have called you was from Vienna. Who was that from?” Weston kept his lips tight but Renard just shrugged. “I can just call it for you.” He did so, putting it up to his ear. “I'm sure they'd love to hear from me on your phone.”

“Turn it off,” Weston barked.

Renard hit the disconnect button, still eyeing him. “Who was it?”

Weston still tightened his lips and Sloane sighed. “I don’t think he’s going to just talk. He might need some more persuasion.”

“Are you offering?” Renard asked.

“He’s going to be missing pieces if I do,” she warned.

“I usually start with the ears,” Kelly said.

“Really? I go with the fingernails. They can see you do it. Also painful for a long time depending on what you do,” Sloane sad, wiggling her fingers.

“You’re not scaring me,” he growled. Sloane reached over and grabbed his left pinky finger and, in a fluid motion, wrenched it to the side with a snap. Weston screamed but it was cut off by Renard woging and grabbing him around the throat.

“You better be careful because they will hurt you. I’m actually trying to be nice despite my desire to see you in pieces,” Renard said, his words still clear despite the scared looking skin tugging at his mouth on one side. “I would be very open to my friends here continuing to get the information from you, but I’ll give you a chance now. Talk.”

He tried to breath against the hand but finally gasped out. “Verrat.”

“Who in the Verrat?”

“Rus... Ruspoli,” he managed.

“And where's Ruspoli now?” Weston glared, trying to fight saying more.

“You're gonna wanna answer that question,” Nick said.

“Oh, just kill him,” Kelly sighed.

“I know a good place to dump him,” Sloane agreed.

He choked out. “On his way…here.”

Renard finally let go of his throat, changing back to his human form. “Alone?”

Weston panted. “I don't think so.”

“Is Viktor with him?”

“Yes…” He sighed and looked at him like he was trying to work with him. “All they want is the baby. Just give it up, and your problems go away.

“I'm not giving anything up,” Renard growled. “And your problems have just begun.”

“Here's how it's gonna work,” Nick said, smiling a little. “You're gonna be arrested for the attempted assassination of a police captain. We can tie you to the two men who were killed.”

“Not to mention, you're on the payroll of the royals,” Sloane pointed out. He was looking between them all in confusion and growing fear.

“FBI forensics will pull financial records and make that connection, and that's prison time,” Nick grinned.

“Or, more likely, death by royals,” Renard finished.

“Or us,” Sloane added.

“What do you want from me?” he finally asked, looking unsure and trying to find a way out.

“You're going to deliver a message,” Kelly said. Sloane stepped to his side and pulled one particular loop of the loop that undid his arms, surprising him as he rubbed over his wrists.

“What do you want me to tell them?” he asked uncertainly.

“Where the baby is,” Renard said. Nick offered him a piece of paper and he took it, confusion plain on his face.

“You're gonna give 'em the baby?”

Renard gave a humorless smile. “Just deliver the message.”

Grabbing the rope she used, Sloane followed them all out and down the street as they parked their cars a couple of blocks away.

“This better work,” Nick said, referring to their plan.

“It'll work,” Renard said. “He's more afraid of them than he is of us.”

“That’s a mistake,” Sloane said.

“But let’s hope it’s a mistake that works in our favor,” Kelly said.

Renard nodded. “Keep in touch.” He veered off to get to his own car while they kept walking.

Nick sighed and pulled out his phone. “Now it's time to tell Hank that Adalind's back…”

Kelly paused in surprise. “Hank knows Adalind?”

“And how,” Slaone said, laughing a little.

“She tried to kill him,” Nick said, scrolling for Hank’s contact. “Twice.”

“And you think he'll still help?” she asked uncertainly.

“I think once he understands it's about her baby...” Nick said, Sloane nodding.

\-------------------------

“She has a baby?” Hank asked, jaw dropping. Nick had gotten him to meet up back at his and Juliette’s house with the rest of them, waiting till he arrived to break the news to him. “You're kidding me.”

“Nope,” Nick said.

“When did this happen?” he asked, getting a little flustered. “I mean, when did she give birth? I mean, how old is the baby?”

“It's not yours,” Juliette said with a smile. Kelly was surprised since Nick had not mentioned that Hank had slept with her.

Hank visibly relaxed with a deep sigh of relief. “Thank God. I mean, _thank God,_ ” he reiterated, now a bit more ready to joke. “That's not a woman you wanna have a baby with. Who's the idiot father?”

“Our idiot captain,” Sloane said with a wry smile. Hank’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Popular, this Adalind,” Kelly said, a little amused.

“That's one way to look at it,” Nick said. “Three Hundjagers tried to kill Adalind and Renard to get the baby tonight.”

“And I missed that part,” Sloane muttered bitterly.

“Hey, you got to help intimidate the FBI agent Hundjager we left alive,” Kelly pointed out.

“You left one alive? And he’s FBI?” Hank asked, surprised.

“We have a plan,” Nick said. “But not a whole lot of time to get it done.”

He was nodding slowly. “…Okay. What do you need me to do?”

Nick smiled gratefully and they set about explaining the plan.

\--------------------

Sloane had her doubts about the plan, but it was going surprisingly smoothly. One hiccough was Viktor coming to the station to confront Renard and threaten him, Adalind, and Renard’s mother if they didn’t get the baby. But Renard had figured that Weston wouldn’t just give them the address and they’d ambush them. Viktor was too paranoid. But it didn’t really alter the plan too much, just added a step.

Step 1) Find a used truck being sold privately. Had to be one previous owner, and under 50,000 miles. Kelly was going to front the money, but Sloane actually had a good amount of cash on hand for emergencies hidden in a space between her wall and the kitchen cabinet. Nick promised to pay her back but Sloane wasn’t too concerned so long as the car was running, and she’d insist on inspecting it.

Step 2) Arrest Kelly for the murder of Adelind’s mother. That had been a surprise, but once it was explained she was fine with it. It sounded like more of an accident than anything, though a Grimm confronting a Hexenbeast generally never ended well. The cops that went with them were all loyal to Renard and didn’t question or gossip about the arrest or what was going to happen after.

Step 3) Get Adalind to the station for questioning. Adalind didn’t know about Sloane—something they’d kept up intentionally—so she was at the station for back up. Sloane had to admit she was a very pretty blonde and could see why she was good at pulling men in. But she also seemed to love her daughter…

Sloane shook her head at the thought. Maybe she did love her daughter, but neither of them were safe together. There was no guarantee Adalind wasn’t going to be an evil witch and raise her daughter as such. And if that baby had as much power as Kelly believed, that would be a huge problem to say the least. Maybe even worse in the hands of the Royals who would no doubt use her as a weapon of some kind. Nobody brought up the idea of killing a baby though. Even so, this still felt a little heartless.

Step 4 was separating Adalind and the baby. Adalind was taken to the interrogation rooms for questioning, leaving the baby with Renard. Once she was in the interrogation room where Kelly was waiting—just to talk and distract her—he came out with the baby wrapped in the green throw from Monroe and Rosalee’s house. Renard was looking resigned as he rocked her and Sloane walked over. “You sure about this?” she asked.

“Yes…Until we can stop the Royals, it’s for the best,” Renard said softly. “It’s best for us, and for Diana.”

“Diana?”

He smiled, a touch wistful. “Adalind was able to figure out a name…”

She looked down at the baby again, who was still toying with Kelly’s locket and nodded. It was hard to believe something so small and innocent looking could inspire people to kill for her at just days old. And could be this powerful. But she nodded. “I’ll keep watch. Go.”

He nodded and headed to the door. From there he would walk to where his brother’s limo would be waiting to hand Diana over.

Sloane put the earbud back into her ear and lifted the mini mic to her mouth. “He’s out.”

There was no reply and she really wasn’t expecting one, it was just an update. Over the earpiece she heard Kelly and Adalind talking.

“…talk to you,” Kelly said. “If nothing else, I owe you an explanation.”

“You killed my mother,” Adalind shot back, though she didn’t sound angry. Just as though that’s the way it was and it wasn’t a big deal. “What other explanation is there?”

“I went there looking for you. Because of what you did to Juliette. Your mother didn't want to tell me anything.”

“So you made her,” Adalind said knowingly.

“My choice was to let Juliette die,” Kelly said cooly.

There was a moment of silence and Sloane imagined Nick probably didn’t like hearing that from his and Hank’s post in the observation room.

“Your son took my powers. I was angry,” Adalind finally said, sounding defensive.

“But you got them back.”

“I did.”

“That couldn't have been fun. Who died in the process?” Kelly asked.

Adalind sounded annoyed now. “Why are we having this conversation?”

Kelly took a deep breath. “I had to give up my son because of who I was. If I hadn't done that, he might have been killed.”

“That’s your problem, not mine,” Adalind bit out. “I mean, if you're looking for some sort of forgiveness, I don't have any.”

“I'm not asking for forgiveness. I want you to understand. Sometimes we have to sacrifice what we love most.”

Sloane thought about her own mother for a moment. A woman who left her with her grandmother when she was just a couple of months old to go back to hunting wesen. Was that for love? To protect her? No, she rather doubted it. Her mother had visited maybe a handful of times in the 9 years before her grandmother died and then... Well, Sloane didn’t even recognize her when she saw her then. And when she did visit she acted like Sloane didn’t exist. No calls, no letters or birthday cards, no hugs…Most who knew her were surprised when they found out she had a daughter. Kelly would talk about Nick as though she was missing a part of herself sometimes. She tried to stay with him, to make a home. A familiar sting welled up but she pushed it down.

The way Adalind rushed out when she realized what was happening, desperately searching…Sloane felt a slight twinge inside. It was a little painful and strange. There was a hint of guilt she knew, but there was something there too. Something she hadn’t felt since she was a child watching parents pick their kids up from school. She had to rouse herself and moved to try and intercept her, but she was grabbing Wu and asking where Renard had gone.

The captain was just entering the station and Adalind ran to him, angrily asking where he took her baby. Sloane didn’t wait to see how he handled that, instead she headed quickly to the interrogation area. “Adalind’s confronting Renard, we should get out of here and get ready.”

They nodded, heading for the back door and out to the street behind the station. As they headed to their car, they heard a shriek that made them wince and cover their ears. In her bones Sloane felt pain and despair and the others seemed to feel it too. Adalind knew her baby was gone.

“…You really sure not telling her was best?” Sloane asked.

“Adalind’s past speaks for itself,” Nick sighed.

She didn’t argue and climbed into the car.

Step 5 came that evening. They’d gone to Monroe and Rosalee’s where Renard’s contacts had dropped off a crate full of what they needed. They had a little time as Viktor had to now get supplies to care for an infant before leaving in the night according to his flight plan that was approved quickly.

“You okay?” Rosalee asked.

Sloane looked up and sighed a bit as she looked over the semi-automatic to make sure it was operational. It wasn’t loaded of course. The men were planning routes and getting together what else they might need. “I’m fine…”

“…You feel conflicted over this?”

Sloane looked at her and frowned. “…How do you read people like that?”

“It’s a gift,” she said, sitting down. “Also, I feel the same way…I know Adalind’s done awful things in the past, but…Having a baby can change people. And taking away a baby from its mother like this feels…wrong.”

“Yeah…I can’t help but feel this is going to bite us in the ass,” Sloane said.

“It might. Adalind’s pretty keen on revenge…” Rosalee said, nodding.

“…Kind of makes me glad I’m not gonna have kids.”

Rosalee looked at her curiously. “Ever?”

“Well…” Sloane sighed. “I…have thought about it, but…”

“The Grimm life kind of puts a damper on it?”

“Yeah…that and who would I have them with?” She frowned in distaste. “There were a few older Grimm who talked about “good breeding”. How best to go about making a strong next generation, trying to pair us up. Left a bad taste in my mouth that they treated me more like livestock.”

“I don’t blame you.” Rosalee hesitated but sat next to her on the floor. “You mentioned before you almost got married…”

Sloane glanced at her and hesitated before sighing and setting the gun aside. “When I was young and dumb, yeah. But it’s not like you and Monroe.”

“It’s not?”

“No. His name was Collin…I’d known him since we were pre-teens, a Grimm from Ireland. I see now Dierdre and Collin’s mentor were pairing us up, but at the time well…he was the only boy I knew my age that was also a Grimm. “Dating” him seemed expected. And I…think I loved him, but it’s hard for me to really tell now when I think about him…I don’t actually have much for a frame of reference now that I think about it and I certainly felt stronger for others…”

“…What happened?”

“…He was a bit too traditional. In a lot of senses. When we were younger I only saw him every couple of months maybe if I was lucky and we’d just kind of hang out. It was nice. But then we eventually were both on our own and we and a couple of other Grimms decided to travel together. We got a bit more official and for about 2 years it was fine, really. Then when I turned 20 he started talking about marriage and having kids. I thought it was a bit early for that but he said the sooner the better because he wanted a lot of kids. Can’t say I was thrilled but I knew it would be expected of me someday and I always figured we’d probably get married. Just…I wanted to be later.”

“And it caused a fight?” Rosalee asked, thinking she knew where it was going.

“Uh…sort of…” she said hesitantly.

“…Sort of?”

Sloane took a deep breath. “I’ve never really talked about this…It’s something I prefer not to think about because it’s scary to think how many things could’ve gone _worse_ than how they did.”

“What did he do?” Rosalee asked slowly.

She sighed. “We fought on and off but I still took my birth control religiously. Then I found Collin tampering with it. He wanted to get me pregnant, whether I wanted it or not. Tie me down, as he literally put it, so I’d be his because he knew others had their eyes on me.”

“Oh my God!” Rosalee gasped in disgust.

“Yeah…I knew he was the jealous type, but that was scary. I’d never felt actually afraid of what he’d do to me before. That was a _fight_ , like in all senses of the word. I told him that it was over. He didn’t want it to be and I had to get away from him because he tried to convince me…physically.” Rosalee looked ready to kill something herself so Sloane set a hand on her shoulder. “I ran from him and by extension the others I was traveling with, got in my car and sped off. He tried to track me down, apologize and get me to come back but his hunting techniques were also just out of control at that point. I told him no.”

“Good! I hope you kicked him in the balls!”

Sloane snorted a laugh and looked at Rosalee. “I didn’t, but sometimes I wish I did. We did meet up for a hunt some years after and he said he’d changed but I was still not interested. Then we met on and off in other places. When he set fire to a building in Prague and said anyone else but our targets were collateral I knew I was never going to stay with him. Haven’t seen him since and sometimes he tries to send me messages through the library system but I only ever reply if it’s an emergency. I really don’t want anything to do with him.”

“Yeah, you deserve better than that,” Rosalee said.

Sloane looked down at the guns by her side. “…Do I?”

“What?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head. “Just…I’m almost 30, only been with maybe 3 people in my life, I think I’m just going to say no thanks at this point.”

“Well…its up to you, but as long as that’s what you want. But 30 isn’t too old to start a family…”

“No, yeah, obviously,” she said, blushing when she realized Rosalee was her own age after all

“And there’s not wrong time to fall in love,” she said. She put an arm around her. “But if you do decide to settle down with someone, don’t be surprised if I interrogate them very hard to make sure they are worthy. And I don’t mean for just giving you kids because you don’t need a partner when you got us.”

She chuckled and sighed, feeling better now. “Thanks…”

\-------------------

Step 6, after getting dressed in black from head to toe, was getting to the airport. Rosalee drove them and Renard got them behind the scenes. While Monroe was one of their team, Rosalee headed back in the car so that it couldn’t be seen or traced. So together Kelly, Nick, Sloane, Renard, Monroe and Hank found the hangar Viktor’s plan would be leaving from and went to hunker down and find cover.

Viktor showed up after the sun was down, in a limo as expected. When he was out of the car they rushed in from their nearby hiding places. Sloane and Monroe shouted in German, pointing their weapons at all of them. Monroe ordered them to give them the child in German and since Viktor’s hubris thought he’d won and there were not enough guards to stand up to six of them with semi-automatics. Viktor reluctantly handed the baby over to the nearest masked assailant—Kelly—and they ordered them on the ground.

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” Viktor said coldly. None of them responded to the threat. Once they were sure the limo was clear, they piled in and took off.

Once they were far enough away they took the masks off to breath. “We did it…” Sloane sighed. “How is she?”

Kelly smiled. “Still asleep…”

“Let’s hope she stays that way for a while,” Renard said, looking at her with an expression that was hard to read.

“How was my German?” Monroe asked, looking excited.

“I believed it,” Hank said from the driver’s seat next to him.

Monroe smiled but then frowned. “But…you don’t speak German…”

“It was fine, Monroe,” Sloane said. “Hopefully they’ll assume it was the resistance or someone else…”

Renard was still staring at Diana. Kelly looked at him back sympathetically. “It has to be done,” she said.

He didn’t look completely convinced but nodded slowly. “I hope you’re right…”

The final step was setting Kelly up in the used truck with a proper baby seat and supplies that would get her far away.

“You sure you can do this alone?” Sloane asked.

“I’m sure. We’ll have to travel around for a while as long as the Royals and the Verrat are on alert, but hopefully we’ll try to avoid major stops and cities.”

“You better take good care of her,” Renard said.

“I will. If we can work out a system, I’ll try to send you updates, but it’ll be too dangerous right now.”

He nodded, though he didn’t look happy. No one could blame him.

“You’ve got our numbers if you need them,” Nick said.

“I know…” She framed his face and smiled. “I’m sorry I keep having to just run off…”

Nick smiled and patted her hands. “Someday we’ll get to visit a bit more.”

She nodded, kissing his forehead with a deep sigh before hopping into the truck just as dawn was breaking.

“…Your mom really does love you,” Sloane said quietly. “She talked about you a lot. Has your picture in that locket—something other Grimms saw as a liability.”

Nick nodded slowly. “I know…Just…I wish things could be different sometimes still…”

“We all do,” she said.

\-------------------

Nobody Knows the Trubel I’ve Seen/My Fair Wesen

\-----------------

There was no rest for them it seemed as the next morning there was a case. Two men found dead in the woods just outside of town. Wu was with them and though he looked troubled a moment he was quickly back to business as usual. He still was insistent on not talking about wesen or anything like them.

“The attack was pretty violent,” he said, leading them down the hilly embankment. “Hard to tell how many people were involved. Looks like we've got at least three sets of footprints.”

“These look like drag marks.” Nick said, noting the deep rivets in the muddy ground. The embankment evened off and there, out in the open, were two bodies of middle-aged men. Both Caucasian, one balding the other with brown hair, and both sporting several stab wounds and blood smeared across their body.

“Somebody had a really big knife and a really bad temper. Wow,” Wu said.

“Somebody really wanted to make sure they were dead,” Hank corrected. He kneeled down to start patting them down. “Well, nothing in the pockets on this one. No wallet.”

“Me either,” Nick said.

“I don’t think it was a straight up robbery,” Sloane said. “Unless we have multiple assailants, I don’t see one of these guys waiting for his turn while a robber stabs the other guy.”

Nick nodded in agreement. “You know how they got here? Any cars parked nearby?”

“No, not a one,” Wu said, shaking his head.

Hank sighed. “All right, let's get some fingerprints.” Wu nodded, going to get the digital finger print reader. The detectives started looking around in the leaves and brush around them.

“So we got two dead guys, but one set of drag marks,” Nick said.

“So who got dragged?” Hank asked.

“Probably not either of our victims, there’s no blood trail or marks to where they’re laid out, or mud on their heels or tops of their shoes,” Sloane said, looking through one nearby stalk of tall grass.

Nick smiled. “Good eyes.” She smiled proudly.

Hank paused near its base and crouched down. “Hey, I think I got something here.”

The others came over and there in the brush was a black chess piece. “Looks like a black knight...” Nick said.

“With blood on it. I don't think anybody was having a game of chess out here.”

“Could have been here before the attack.”

“But if it has blood on it, it was visible during the time of the attack at least so it would be fairly recent, right?” Sloane asked.

Hank nodded and gestured to one of the techs. “Office, mark this.”

They heard a series of beeps and looked over to Wu. “Huh, got some IDs here.”

“All right, let's run 'em,” Hank said, standing and heading to the computer resting on the trunk of one of the squad cars. Wu put the information into the database and pulled up the profile for the bald gentleman first, a mugshot popping up of when he was a bit livelier.

“The first vic is a real model citizen,” Wu said dryly. “Richard Hector Dunn, impressive arrest record. A few assaults, assorted DUIs, robbery.”

“What about number two?” Nick asked.

The second man’s mugshot came up. “Model citizen number two is Kirk Lewelyn Firebaugh. Huh, doesn't look like a Lewelyn to me…Anyway, more of the same. Assaults, B and Es...Oh, here we go... rape. More than once.”

“A lot less sympathetic to him now,” Sloane said. “If there was a place to do something like that, out here might be it though…” She looked at the drag marks with a deep frown. “Maybe someone interrupted them. Or brought them out here for revenge.”

“Possibilities for sure,” Nick nodded. “We need more information though.”

“Well, how did Mr. Dunn and Mr. Firebaugh get way out here to tangle with somebody?” Hank asked.

“I'll see if they have any vehicles registered to them,” Wu said.

“And get us the next of kin,” Nick reminded him. Wu nodded and they went to continue looking around the scene to be sure there were no other clues.

“…Adalind came to see me last night,” Nick said quietly when they were farther away from the others. It was pretty obvious there wasn’t much else there.

Hank and Sloane looked at him in surprise. “She didn’t figure out what we did, did she?” Hank asked worriedly.

“No…she wanted my and my mother’s help to get Diana back from the Royals…”

“Ah…awkward,” Sloane grimaced. “What’d you do?”

“I told her they released my mom—which is technically true—and that she left right after and I couldn’t get ahold of her.”

“Which is mostly true,” Sloane nodded.

“And that there was nothing we could do to go up against the royals.”

“How’d she take that?” Hank asked.

“Not…great. She’s determined and she’s ready to go on a warpath. Right now it’s to the Royal’s door but that might not be all if we aren’t careful.”

“How long is she sticking around?” Sloane asked.

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think you and she should meet still. I don’t think she knows about you and it might be best to keep it that way.”

“I’m fine with that, but can we keep her from finding out the truth about who took her baby?”

“I don’t know…I’ll talk with Renard, see if he has any ideas. He’s known her the longest.”

“That would be good,” Hank agreed. “I think we got what we can here, lets head back to the station.”

“Actually, you can go meet the next of kin on the way if you want,” Wu said, handing them a note. “It’s a different part of town but that would be Mr. Firebaugh’s brother, Cameron.”

“Thanks,” Nick said, taking it. Wu turned and walked off before saying anything else and Nick frowned. “…It feels like he’s really avoiding us now…or just doing the bare minimum.”

Hank and Sloane looked after him with concerned looks but Wu was acting normal otherwise. “He doesn’t want to talk about wesen,” Hank sighed. “Best to just let him work through it in his own time.”

“Provided something else doesn’t kick him in the face,” Sloane agreed.

They headed to the address marked and on the way Wu texted them the Firebaugh’s car information. The neighborhood they went to was about what they expected—a little run down and old, with houses that needed a little or a lot of TLC and some that maybe should not be inhabited by anything bigger than some rats and mice. Cameron Firebaugh lived in one of the slightly better looking houses, but it still had the musty feeling of stepping into a place that had no love for it.

He came to the door when they knocked, glaring at them. “Hello?”

“Cameron Firebaugh?” Nick asked.

“Yeah? What do you want?” he snapped. He had the same brown hair as his brother, but was a little thinner and more wiry, a short beard coating his chin and wearing a leather jacket despite the summer temperatures.

They showed their badges but rather than telling them to get the hell off his property, as they’d somewhat expected, he just sighed loudly and opened the door. “What is it now?” They followed him in and he went deeper into the house. It was the beginnings of a hoarding situation it looked like, lots of stacks of magazines and papers and books and dishware and bits of electronics of all kinds balanced on every surface that could be found.

“You have a brother? Kirk Firebaugh?” Hank asked, holding up a photo.

He looked at the photo—a mugshot—and nodded. “Yeah, that's my brother.”

“He live with you?”

“Eh, sometimes,” he said, shrugging. “But he didn't come home last night. You got him?”

“We found your brother's body off of St. Helen's road,” Nick said, bracing himself.

Cameron turned around from heading toward the kitchen, eyes wide. “What?”

“We found another body with him. We’ve identified him as Richard Dunn, do you know him?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, coming back around to them. “What the hell happened?!” He snarled and then woged suddenly—his features flattened and his body became covered in green scales. Large, yellow eyes with slit pupils looked at them and a forked tongue flicked out in agitation. He looked at Nick and Sloane and his eyes widened further. “Grimm!”

“Take it easy,” Nick said quickly.

He bared his fangs and then woged back, pointing at them with an accusatory finger. “You killed him!”

“No, we did not,” Nick said calmly. “But they were murdered, and we need you to calm down and talk to us.”

“We’re honestly trying to find out what happened,” Sloane added.

Cameron looked to Hank, the human in the room, but Hank didn’t look phased in the slightest. “I'm just a cop, and we're just trying to do our job. Now, do you know where your brother was last night?”

He still looked suspicious and on edge but nodded slowly finally. “Oh, yeah. Him and Rick went out drinking.”

“Anyone else with them?” Nick asked.

“Not that I know,” he said, still eyeing them as if sizing them up.

“Do you know where your brother's truck is?” Hank asked. “A 2004 Chevy Silverado...”

“I know what it is,” Cameron snapped. “It's not here. He drove it last night.”

“Now, your brother's friend, was he a Lausenschlange too?” Nick asked.

Cameron looked down and away, not meeting his eyes. “I don't know what you mean…”

“Seriously?” Sloane said, putting a bit more bite into her words. “You woged in front of us just a second ago and called us Grimm, you think we’re here to play that game? What kind of wesen was he?”

He shook his head, glancing at them but away again. “No, not like us…Klaustreich.”

“Anything else we need to know?” Hank asked.

He glared at him. “Look, I don't know what you think happened, but nobody could have taken my brother _and_ Rick and lived to tell about it.” He looked back at Nick and Sloane. “Except maybe you.”

Sloane stared him back. “If it was me, I wouldn’t deny it,” she said simply.

He sighed and turned. “…I know my brother is…was all kinds of messed up, but he’s my brother,” Cameron said.

“We’ll let you know if we find anything,” Nick said, turning to head out with Sloane and Hank close behind.

\---------------------------------

“We got some possibilities here on the vics,” Hank said. “Firebaugh and Dunn have some known associates here in the system. Three of them are dead, two are still in prison, and a half a dozen here in the area.”

“Too bad there's not a box you can check if they're wesen,” Nick joked, setting the file he was reading to the side.

“Yeah. Wouldn't that just make our lives so much easier?” Hank laughed.

“But it would take all the fun and surprise out of life,” Sloane said sarcastically as she stood to go put a file back where she got it.

“Got a hit on the victim's vehicle,” Wu announced when she was heading back. She noticed Nick was on the phone and looking a little flustered but Wu went on. “Firebaugh's truck was found in the southeast industrial.”

“I got to go,” Nick said to his phone, standing and heading out with them. They headed down to the car and it was hard not to miss that he was agitated.

“Nick, what’s wrong?”

He glanced back at her and sighed. “…Monroe called before we left. Adalind’s gone back to their house.”

“Oh, great,” Hank sighed. “Are they okay?”

“Yeah, but they say she’s a wreck and she doesn’t have a lot of options…I told them keep her there for now, try and calm her down and we’ll see what we can figure out.”

“The fact that is our best option does not make me feel good,” Sloane said.

“I know. But right now we also got a case to work on so…let’s work on it outside of our jobs.”

They nodded, but a witch staying with their best friends who helped them steal said witch’s child without her knowledge was a bit distracting to say the least.

The truck itself was parked at a warehouse near the river, looking no worse for wear. “Any surveillance cameras in the area?” Hank asked hopefully.

“No, nothing around here,” Nick knew. “Whoever dumped it here probably picked this place for that reason.”

“All right, two guys driving down the highway late at night. Did they have the killer with them?”

“Or maybe they picked the killer up somewhere else?” Nick said. He opened the doors, it being a suicide door model so allowing for a wide opening.

“Could be someone targeted them too. Long record, long list of possible enemies,” Sloane pointed out.

“But we still have those drag marks,” Hank said. Sloane nodded a bit, remembering those.

“Well, whoever it was, I'm guessing they didn't know what they were getting into,” Nick said.

“Woman?” Hank guessed.

“If it was, that's one bad-ass woman,” Nick said. They paused and glanced at Sloane.

“…Thank you, but no. I had no reason to be out that way that night,” she said.

“Well, no blood that I can see,” Hank said.

“A couple beer bottles, whiskey bottle,” Nick noted on the floorboard of the front seat.

“A little late to arrest them for dui. But in retrospect, I'm sure they would have preferred that.”

Sloane looked around the outside of the vehicle for any possible clues, running a gloved hand over it. It has a few scratches and dings, but nothing that was really going to give them anything. Pausing, she remembered what Cameron Firebaugh had said. “ _Nobody could’ve taken my brother and Rick…except maybe you._ ” Pulling out her phone, she brought up Gallin’s text chat.

_Hey. Are there any card holders in my area besides Nick?_

She didn’t expect an answer right away and put the phone in her pocket.

“I got a French fry,” Hank said suddenly.

“One?” Nick asked in confusion.

He reached under the seat to pull it out.

“Yeah. Still crispy. Not soggy. Hasn't been stepped on.”

Sloane leaned down to look under the seat. “Otherwise relatively clean…looks recently cleaned actually, but then that fry was there…”

“So guys got hungry, stopped for fast food, but no bags, no wrappers. Were these guys that clean?” Nick asked. They all glanced at the bottles.

“Doubt it,” she said.

Hank nodded and looked over at the officers gathered nearby. “Wu!”

Wu hesitated a moment before walking over. “Yeah?”

“Any idea where this is from?” Hank asked, holding out the fry.

“Wait, is Wu a fry aficionado?” Sloane asked.

“Something like that,” Wu said, though not as snarky as she expected. He pulled out an evidence bag to take it. “Each French fry is like a fingerprint. Every fast-food restaurant's got its own cut.”

Hank nodded and put it in the bag. “Check every fast-food fry between here and the crime scene.”

“Yeah. I was kind of hungry anyway,” he sighed, heading off.

Sloane’s phone buzzed and she pulled it back out, surprised but happy Gallin got back to her so quickly.

Gallin: _Not that I know of. I’ll ask around if you like._

Sloane frowned, having both hoped and dreaded that another Grimm was in town. Hoped because maybe that would explain things. Dreaded because dear God, what would she do if there was one here? And worse, she knew them?

Sloane: _I’d appreciate that. Let me know._

She put the phone away again with a sigh and got back to work.

When they returned to the station later that afternoon, Nick put a hand on her shoulder. “I need to talk to Renard about Adalind…” He looked at Hank who held up a hand.

“Go on, I’ll check for updates.”

They nodded and headed in to Renard’s office, closing the door behind them. Renard was looking over a file but didn’t seem annoyed by the disturbance. There was still an air of disappointment and regret around him.

“Just wanted to see how you were holding up,” Nick said.

“I've been better,” Renard sighed.

Nick nodded and took a breath. “I thought I should tell you that Monroe called. Adalind went back to their house. And she visited me last night.”

Rendard didn’t’ seem too surprised, turning his head to show scratches like someone tried to claw at his face. “Yeah, me too. Probably lucky that's all she did. What'd you tell Monroe?”

“Just to keep her there until we can figure out what to do,” Nick said.

“She’s trying to figure out how to get the baby back,” Sloane said.

Renard sighed again, heavily with regret. “I don't know how to make things better for her...”

“Well, maybe I should talk to her,” Nick said.

“No,” Renard and Sloane said together, surprising him in stereo.

“If she ever finds out that the baby's with your mother, she'll never stop trying to find her,” Renard pointed out.

“And that’s a danger to everyone involved. You, Kelly, the baby, Monroe and Rosalee, _Juliette,_ ” Sloane said.

“It's better if she thinks that I gave the child to Viktor.”

Nick frowned at both admonishing him. “What if she tries to contact Viktor?”

Renard shrugged. “He'll have no interest in her now. And even if he tells her he doesn't have the child, she won't believe him.”

They nodded and Sloane nodded at the file he was going through, glancing the picture. “What about Mr. Steward, our FBI agent? Do we have a plan for him?”

Renard sighed and laid the file down, showing Weston’s picture and what information they had on him. “We’d have to find him first…”

“Have you contacted the feds?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, they're looking for him too. Apparently, he hasn't shown up for work and he's not communicating.”

“Oh, AWOL. Fun,” Sloane said.

“I think I might have seen him on the street last night following,” Renard said. “He may have indeed gone rogue.”

“Well I already dislocated one finger for him, I’m happy to go nine more times if he wants to make an appointment,” she smiled.

There was a knock at the door and they turned to see Hank poke his head in. “Sorry. Wu's back. He's got surveillance on the suspect.”

Renard nodded to them to go.

“Watch your back,” Nick said.

“Yeah, you too. Both of you.”

The nodded and followed Hank back over to their desks, where Wu was pulling up footage on the computer. “Checked 12 restaurants,” Wu said. “Only two had the style of fry left in the truck. Pulled surveillance on both of them, and lo and behold, got our truck.” He pointed at the screen and they saw a somewhat grainy video of the Silverado in the drive through of a restaurant, shortly after when the murder must’ve took place. “But I was a little surprised to see who was driving.” He tapped the keys and a picture from the drive thru window came up. In the driver’s seat was a young woman with short black hair, wide doe-like eyes, a cute robust nose and full lips. She was ordering from the drive through, dressed in a jacket and a pair of gloves.

“You're kidding me,” Hank said, staring at the photo.

“Not exactly your average stone-cold killer,” Wu agreed.

“She doesn't look very old,” Nick said, tilting his head, shocked.

“Thinking 19 to 21 going on deadly,”

“Well, she’s been around the block before,” Sloane said. “She's wearing gloves, so that’s why there weren’t any fingerprints reported.”

“Let's make copies and circulate it,” Hank said. Wu nodded and took the laptop with him.

They went to go search their files for any leads at their desks. Nick picked up the black chess knight in it’s evidence bag, frowning at it. It had a chain through it so it was meant as a necklace. What kind of female young wesen could take on a Klaustreich and a Lausenschlange?”

“You're speaking rhetorically, right?” Hank asked.

“I’m more curious what being female has to do with it,” Sloane said evenly.

Nick flushed and tried to smile. “You know what I mean…”

“Mmmhmm. All I know is, males of a lot of species are smaller than their female counter parts—and usually get eaten once they serve their purpose.” Sloane picked up her phone, texting to Gallin as she spoke. The boys grimaced at one another at the thought.

Sloane: _Got possible description. Cardholder female, late teens to early twenties, black hair, slight build. Ring any bells?_

“The same is true for many wesen,” she finished. “Female Museishi for example. Can physically take on most any man, wesen or not, and once done with mating with him she cuts off his head and sucks the gooey bits out.”

“Okay, on that note, I think it's time to talk to Monroe,” Nick said, disgusted and annoyed at her look of amusement.

\-------------------------

Knocking on Monroe’s door, he answered quickly and shushed them, whispering, “Adalind is asleep.” He glanced over at the couch and they could see a blonde head resting on the headrest, curled up. “Do you want to talk to her?”

“I don't,” Nick said, shaking his head quickly. “We have a wesen problem.”

Monroe sighed, though it seemed almost relieved. “Okay, can we do this at the trailer?”

“Sure,” Nick nodded.

“Good, 'cause...” he glanced back again. “Better to leave sleeping Hexenbeasts lie…you know?”

“I’m fine with that,” Sloane said.

They got into the car, updating him on the situation quickly. “Wow, taking on a Lausenschlange and a Klaustreich at the same time? That takes some seriously large... well, in her case, figurative cojones.”

“What kind of wesen is she?” Hank asked.

“I don't know,” he said, shrugging helplessly. “I guess... You got your Augapfel-Aushacken. Were their eyes pecked out? ‘Cause they'll do that to a man.”

“No. But they were cut up pretty good,” Nick said, trying not to wince.

“Didn’t look like claws though,” Sloane pointed out.

“Okay…could be a Fetide Taillader. You could smell them a mile away. Oh, on the other hand, you know what? You could be dealing with a female Sangrienta Manos, although, truth be told, they usually consume the intestines, so...”

“I don't like the sound of any of them,” Hank said.

“You wouldn't like the look of them either,” Monroe said confidently.

“Also no eating of intestines or any part of them it looks like…” Sloane said. Her phone buzzed and she quickly pulled it out.

Gallin: _I don’t have anyone who’s checked in near Portland in the last few weeks. That description doesn’t sound familiar to me either, sorry._

She sighed a little and replied.

Sloane: _It’s fine. I’m worried we might have company though. I’ll keep you posted._

“So what else can you tell me about the...” Monroe started, but Nick’s phone rang and he quickly pulled it out with an apologetic look.

“Burkhardt…Where?...Yeah, we can be there in five minutes.” He hanged up and looked at all of them. “Change of plans. We got another attack. Victim was cut, only this one's still alive.” Hank nodded, turning on the sirens and speeding up.

Monroe glanced around, unsure. “So I guess I'm going?”

“I’m afraid so,” Sloane said. “But we’ll be handling it.”

“Okay…” he said, breathing out.

When they got to the park where the attack happened, the EMTs were working on a woman in a black hoodie who had been slashed and stabbed. The detectives climbed out but when Monroe opened his door, Hank looked at him.

Monroe frowned but sighed and closed the door again. “I know. I know. Stay out of the way.”

“We’ll let you know what we find,” Sloane said, tapping the top of the car and walking over with her partners.

Wu was waiting for them, but still didn’t quite look at them as he lead them over to the scene. “Looks like the same M.O. Assault was reported by a jogger. His description matches our young suspect. Said she took off running heading in that direction. I've got two units in the area.”

“We're losing her,” one of the EMTs said. They all looked down at the woman in concern. “Still no response. I can't find a pulse.”

She gasped, a wet sound as there was probably blood in her lungs, and her face rippled into a reptilian face with yellow scales and a crest of small, bumpy horns. Nick looked at Sloane who nodded to him and they looked at Hank. Sloane crossed her arms but subtly held up three fingers facing him—W, for wesen, a sign they’d come up with for moments like these. Hank huffed out a sigh.

“She's gone,” the other EMT sighed.

“Note the time, contact the M.E.”

Nick looked around, wishing he could see some sort of sign. “This isn't too far from where she left the truck…”

“All right, get some units out here to canvass the area,” Hank said. “If she's still here, she's got to be staying close.”

Wu nodded and started getting people mobilized. Sloane went over and knocked on Monroe’s window and he climbed out. “Got something?”

“Yeah…” Sloane sighed, having him move with her to the edge of the crime scene and Nick and Hank. The body bag was passing them on the way to the ambulance as they did.

Monroe scented the air and huffed. “A Skalengeck?”

“That would be our victim,” Nick said.

“No kidding? Huh…” He sniffed the air more, moving his head around.

“You picking up anything else?” Nick asked.

He shook his head. “Not wesen. Doesn't mean they're not disguising it.”

“Oh, you mean like wolfsbane,” he nodded.

“That's what that stuff was for?” Hank asked, remembering the time Nick rubbed Wolfsbane all over him. That was his first wesen case apparently, the mailman in the woods who was actually a blutbad that kidnapped a girl. That and several other cases had been a trip to find out the truth later.

“Yeah. There are a few other things that can be used to blind certain wesen’s nose, but wolf’s bane works on most species like blutbad, hundjager, etc,” Sloane nodded. Her own memory was of the herbs drying in the hidden cupboard her grandmother put her into, rubbing them over her before shutting her in.

“Think you can figure out where the victim came from?” Nick asked.

Monroe nodded. “Skalengecks not being overly hygienic, should be doable.” He started sniffing the air, moving around. He lead them back over towards the ambulance. “She's all over the place…”

“At least we don't have to explain to anybody what we're doing here,” Hank said.

“Guys, hey!” Wu shouted, jogging over. “Just got a hit on the suspect and…Hey, Monroe,” he said, pausing. “Haven't seen you since the zombie romp.”

Monroe looked confused for a moment before smiling in recognition. “Oh, yeah! Wow, that was a night to remember.”

“Uh, yeah, it's a night I'd rather forget,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“Just, uh...” He started.

“It’s regarding something else you wanted to forget,” Sloane said.

Wu stared, glancing at Monroe. “O-oh…?”

“Yeah…You said something about the suspect?” Nick prompted.

Wu swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, manager of the SRO hotel just called in. He, um, he's got one of our flyers, and he thinks she's there, but not for long, 'cause she's checking out.”

They were immediately on alert. “We'll take this one,” Nick said.

“You want streets blocked off?” Wu asked, already backing up.

“Not until we know it's her!”

He nodded and jogged off.

“Still in denial about the whole wesen thing?” Monroe sighed.

“Yep…but bigger concerns now, c’mon,” Sloane said, heading back for their car. Hank drove once again and they were trying to get to the location as fast as possible.

“Anything special we should know about the wesen you told us about?” Nick asked.

“Which one, the Augapfel-Aushacken, the Fetide Taillader, or the Sangrienta Manos?” Monroe rattled off.

“Yeah, what you just said,” Hank said.

He shrugged. “No. Not particularly. I mean, if you get a chance shoot 'em. Actually, if it is a Augapfel-Aushacken, even if you don't get a chance, shoot 'em.” Nick and Sloane both blinked in confusion and Monroe flushed. “I'm not sure what I just said, but you know what I mean?”

“Yeah…I’m not sure it’s any of those though,” Sloane said slowly.

Nick looked back at her. “Did you think of something?”

“I thought of it earlier, what the victim’s brother said…that no one could take on his brother and a klaustreich at the same time. Except maybe one of us.”

Nick’s eyes widened and Monroe froze next to her. “You…think it’s a-”

“Guys, I think that’s her!” Hank said quickly. Looking up, they saw the girl in question crossing the street, a backpack over her shoulder.

“Pull over here. I'll get behind her,” Nick said. Hank slowed and let Nick out and he started purposefully following the girl.

“…Remind me to work with him on how to nonchalantly follow,” Sloane said, watching him. “He’s walking like he’s either waiting for a chance to mug her or he needs to go to the bathroom really badly…”

“It’s a tense situation,” Monroe defended.

“Made more tense if she sees him following her like that…”

“Well, let’s stop the following,” Hank said, speeding up and then turning so the car blocked her path. The girl stopped, confused and panicked and turned to go back when Nick moved in.

“Stop, police!” She skidded to a halt as Hank and Sloane got out of the car. Looking around for an exit, they did not expect her to rush the car and vault onto the roof and over. Neither did Monroe, getting out on the other side. She narrowly avoided hitting him but the surprise of nearly getting kicked in the face made him vogue. Fear flashed through the girl’s face.

“No!” She took a small machete from a hidden sheath in her back, moving to strike him.

Monroe woged back in shock and managed to get away. Nick came around the side and tackled her around the middle, making her drop the machete.

“Let me go!” she yelled, managed to twist and push him down, punching him in the ribs.

“Okay, enough of that!” Sloane yelled, grabbing her around the middle and lifting. “We’re not going to hurt you and neither is the guy with fangs, so simmer down!”

She paused a moment, looking up at her, but then started fighting again. “You’re not going to kill me! Let go!”

“I just said-Ah!” Sloane reeled back from an elbow to the cheek. Her grip loosened but Nick had the girl before she could run, managing to flip her and get her pinned.

“You okay?” He asked.

Sloane hissed, knowing she was going to have a hell of a bruise. “She can’t control her strength but it’s there,” she said. “That’s what I get for being gentle…”

“So she is a Grimm,” Monroe breathed, looking at her worriedly. “I saw it…she is a Grimm.”

Nick grunted as he managed to get the cuffs on her despite her bucking and screaming that she was going to kill them. She sounded so young as she screamed, her voice cracking. “Settle down!” Nick ordered, pushing her against the squad car facing them, her hands secure. “You’re a Grimm, right?” She stared at him, confusion warring with anger as she panted. Nick frowned and glanced at Monroe. “You sure?”

“I know what I saw!” he said.

Sloane eyed her before leaning in. “Are you still in training? Do you…have a mentor?” She looked at her, still confused. “You’re a Grimm. You recognized that.”

“It doesn’t mean anything!” she barked.

“Yes it does,” Nick said.

“No! It’s just what they yell before they try and kill me!” She struggled again and Hank and Nick managed to keep her down.

Sloane sighed, looking around. “We shouldn’t do this out in the open.”

Nick nodded. “Okay…get her in the back.”

“Whoa, dude, I am not riding back there with her,” Monroe said, looking at him like he was crazy.

Nick nodded and looked at Sloane. “You and me?”

She nodded, going around the other side. Nick and Hank managed to wrestle her in, Sloane pulling, and he sat on her other side so the new Grimm was sandwiched between them. Monroe grabbed the backpack that fell, and the machete on the ground with pinched fingers as he went to the front passenger seat.

“You’re going to try and kill me,” she said, looking around with wild eyes.

“No, we’re not,” Nick said.

She looked down and then reared her head back as if to head butt him. Sloane was faster and pressed her head back to the seat with a hand to her forehead.

“Stop it. We don’t want to hurt you, and you’re just going to hurt yourself doing this,” she said.

She tried to struggle but Sloane held firm. “So are you going to arrest me?” she bit out.

Nick sighed. “No, we’re not doing that either.”

“Well what are we going to do?” Hank asked helplessly.

“Just drive for now,” Nick said.

Hank frowned but started the car to get moving.

“You going to behave?” Sloane asked. The girl glared at her but seemed to have wound down. She removed her hand to let her neck relax.

It was quiet a moment, everyone tense, before Nick tried to talk to her again. “The guys who attacked you were wesen, and the girl in the park the other day was wesen.” She looked at him, not saying anything but there was a hint of confusion in her eyes. “You know what a wesen is, right?” No answer. He sighed and pointed at Monroe. “Okay, he is a wesen. He's a Blutbad.” She turned her eyes to Monroe, narrowing them.

“You know, I don't think we need to get into that just now,” Monroe said, looking nervous.

“Well, we have to figure out what she knows,” Nick said.

“She is a Grimm, okay?” he said. “Whether she knows it or not.”

“It’s not just that,” Sloane said, looking her over. “She’s untrained…ungeschultes auge,” she sighed. The girl glanced at her but still kept her eyes on Monroe.

“That bad?” Monroe asked. She gave him a look that said they’d talk later.

“What's your name?” Nick tried. She didn’t answer, just glared at him.

“Sure you don't want to arrest her?” Hank asked.

“Not if she talks to us.”

“Screw you,” she finally spat.

“Oh, that's a start,” Monroe said sarcastically.

“What do you want to do with her?” Hank tried again. “We can't just drive around.”

Nick sighed and tried to smile reassuringly. “Hey. We’re trying to help. What's your name? Where are you from?” She just glared again and Sloane shook her head, knowing this was a loosing fight here. He sighed again and looked back at Hank. “All right, let's take her in.”

\--------------------------

They booked her, though there were no formal charges yet, and brought her to the station.

“Her name is Theresa Rubel,” Hank said. “She was born in New York City.”

“Long way from there,” Sloane said.

“She's 21, and she's got quite a history for someone so young, covering a lot of states. Mostly breaking and entering, petty theft. Surprised there's no assaults.”

Nick found a pocket knife still covered in what looked like dry blood and grimaced. “There probably were, just not reported.”

“Her last known address was Washington state psychiatric facility in Spokane. That was... Two months ago.”

Sloane closed her eyes and sighed, feeling a bit of disappointment hearing that. Not surprise but the knowledge that that was what usually happened.

“She doesn't know she's a Grimm,” Nick nodded. “She probably thinks she's going crazy.”

“I don’t think it’s just her. If she ever talked about what she sees, she was probably locked up by other people,” Sloane said.

Nick and Hank glanced at one another, knowing Sloane had been through something similar.

“…You figured it was a Grimm before we did,” Nick said.

“It was a hunch,” she sighed. “After what Cameron Firebaugh said.”

“You didn’t mention it,” Hank said, a little miffed.

“I wasn’t sure. I’d texted Gallin to check out if there were any recent reports from nearby through the libraries. She didn’t have any so I hoped I was wrong.”

“Why?”

Sloane tapped a finger on the desk in agitation but sighed. “I was worried it was someone I knew. Dierdre, some old hunting partners, anyone who knew me.”

“What, you ashamed of us?” Nick asked, though it was slightly joking.

“More like afraid of them now,” she honestly but quietly. Nick and Hank were surprised she admitted that. “I hanged with a rough crowd. If they found out about Monroe and Rosalee, any of the others, maybe even you and Hank…it would not be pretty. Monroe and Rosalee for sure would be dead. You and I…not sure. Hank might be okay or they might see him as a liability. And even so…I once fought along side them. They were something similar to friends, I think, though it’s hard to tell now. I was honestly really anxious who it might be and if I’d have to fight them…”

Nick put a hand on hers. “Hey…we’d be okay. And we’d do our best that no one had to die, you know that.”

She smiled, though it was strained. “I know…doesn’t make me worry less that day might come though.” She sighed and picked up a notebook. “But, we need to focus on the now.”

“Yeah. If she’s been in one mental health facility, she’s probably been in others,” Hank said. “I’ll see if I can get her juvenile records.”

Sloane nodded at opened the note. She sat up straighter when she saw sketches of various wesen inside—it seemed journaling was an instinct for Grimms. “Nick, look,” she said, moving to look through it with him. While there were a few notes on the wesen, there was a lot of what looked like word art—mantras that she would not be broken, that she would live and survive even if she had to kill.

Nick frowned as he looked through it with her. “She’s been through a lot…”

Sloane nodded. “I can’t speak for all of her life, but I’m fairly sure that she doesn’t go looking for them. The two men more than likely tried to drag her off, it was just bad luck they chose her. And the girl…I ran her information already, she’s got priors for robbery and assault as well.”

He looked at her. “…What do you want to do?”

She took a deep breath. “…She has no idea what she is and has had to deal with this for who knows how long. Maybe I would’ve ended up like that if it weren’t for Deidre…”

“You want to tell her then?”

“I think she deserves to know.”

“And then what?”

Sloane closed the notebook and tapped it against her hand. “…I want to prepare her. If she knows more, she can at least know she’s not crazy and maybe prepare herself better. We could mentor her. Or I could, if that’s too much…”

Nick smiled a bit. “So you want to keep her here in Portland?”

“You kept me,” she pointed out, smiling wryly. “And that wasn’t such a horrible decision, right?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

She popped him with notebook and he smiled more. But Sloane sobered a bit. “And I’ve probably done much worse in my past…”

Nick sighed but nodded slowly with a smile. “We can see if she agrees. First step will be telling her the truth.”

Sloane nodded. “Let me talk to her for a moment. Then…maybe the trailer? Or my house?”

“Trailer,” Nick nodded.

“Okay…Give me about ten to break the ice, then come we can go from there. Also, you’ll have to tell Hank.” She stood, heading for the cells with the notebook.

Theresa was sitting on the cot in her cell, looking resigned. She started when the door to the cell room opened and Sloane came in, eyeing her. “You feeling calmer?” Sloane asked. She just stared at her stonily and Sloane sighed and held up the notebook. That got her attention and she stood.

“What are you doing with that?” Theresa snapped, moving to try and grab it through the bars. Sloane held it out of reach.

“Research. Part of my job.”

“So you’re snooping through my stuff to figure out where to ship me off?” she asked bitterly.

“In a manner of speaking. But we found plenty already, Ms. Rubel.” She clicked her tongue and looked away. Sloane opened the book. “You’re pretty good at drawing.”

“Yeah, my active imagination, right?”

“Oh, I know you didn’t imagine these,” Sloane said. “I’ve seen them all myself.”

Theresa stared before snorting. “Yeah right.”

Sloane turned it around, pointing to one picture. A man with a face like a rhinoceros. “This is a “Dickfelig”. Funny name, I know, but they’re pretty strong right? That have that tough skin almost like armor. You gotta stab them in their softer bits and under their arms works best.” She turned another page. “This is a Reinegan. He played an instrument, right?”

Trubel stared, then looked at the picture of the man with rate like features and teeth. She hadn’t drawn or mentioned a musical instrument but she nodded. “A…A guitar…On the subway back in New York. I accidently kicked his change and he…he changed, but no one else saw it. He ran when he saw me...”

“The rats liked him? Especially when he played?”

“Y-yeah.”

Sloane kept flipping and pointing them out. “Schalengeck, that would be the woman you fought today. Then we got on your trail because of a Langanschlang and a Klaustreich—snake and cat.” Sloane looked at her. “…They tried to hurt you, right?”

Theresa looked a little haunted but nodded slowly. “They all do…Unless they just run from me.”

“The smart ones run,” Sloane said, closing the notebook. “Theresa…I know a little of what you’ve been through. I was told I was crazy when I was a child for seeing these monsters. But I had someone to tell me the truth and I want to do that for you.”

“The truth?” she asked hesitantly.

“You’re what’s called a Grimm. They’ve called you that before?”

“Yeah…” she nodded. “They always sound kind of scared or angry…”

“Because we can see them. Like my partner said, they’re called “wesen”. Nick, who tried to talk to you in the car, can see them and I can see them without them revealing themselves to others. That makes us a threat to them.”

“What about the other guy?”

“Hank? He knows about wesen, but he can’t see them like we can. They have to want him to see.”

“And…the _other_ guy?” she asked hesitantly.

“That is Monroe. And he’s…a friend.”

“Bullshit!” she hissed.

“No, he is,” she tried to smile. “I used to hate any wesen out there, but he and several others are my friends now. He’s a good guy. He won’t hurt you unless you give him a reason, unlike some.” Theresa didn’t look convinced.

The door opened again and Nick poked his head in. “Everything okay?”

She nodded. “You two ready?”

“Yeah.” He came in and looked at Theresa, who was eyeing him warily but not openly hostile now. “Having a good talk?”

“Not sure I believe either of you,” Theresa said. “I’ve had psych doctors try this before, acting like they could see or understand…Get me to let down my guard.”

“That’s why we’re going to show you more,” Nick said. He got out a set of hand cuffs and the key to the cells. “We’re gonna get you out of there to show you something. Right now we’re just holding you, no charges have been filed.” He motioned for her to turn and she sighed but did as he opened the door and quickly cuffed her. “But try anything and I won’t hesitate to arrest you for murder.”

Theresa didn’t look impressed but followed him out the door. They headed out of the precinct and Hank was waiting out front in the car for them. “You sure about this?” he asked as they loaded in, flanking their captive again.

“It’s our best option at this moment,” Sloane said.

The sun was setting and it was dark by the time they got to the small city based RV park where the trailer was parked. They got out and Nick nodded. “What I want to show you is in there,” he said, leading her to it.

Theresa jerked away from him, glaring venomously. “Sure it is. I’m not going in there with you!”

Hank nodded. “She’s right, I wouldn’t go in there with us in her shoes.”

“Then you can come in with me,” Sloane said, coming up next to her and uncuffing her. “Trust me. You’ll want to see this. I promise it will validate everything I said.”

She hesitated a moment but finally sighed and followed her up to the door. Once inside she froze and looked around in confusion at the lights, herbs hanging up, the small daybed and desk—it was a lot to take in. But Sloane grabbed the first book she had resting on the desk and held it out to her.

“What’s this supposed to be,” she said.

“It’s the truth no one told you before,” Nick said from the bottom of the steps. She glanced at him, but then back to the book. Taking it from Sloane, she opened it and froze. Eyes widening, she started flipping through the pages, taking in the sketches and the bits of information and extras inside. “This…what…?”

Sloane smiled. “You’re not alone. Our ancestors— _your_ ancestors, have been seeing wesen for hundreds, maybe thousands of years.”

She sat heavily on the daybed, still looking at the book. “…What’s the truth that you talk about?” she asked. It wasn’t combative, but a genuine, almost scared whisper. As if she thought they would pull the rug out from under her.

“I explained a bit before but there’s more. It could take a while though.”

“I’ll get some coffee,” Hank offered.

“I think dinner would be better,” Nick said. Sloane heard a slight gurgle at that and glanced at Theresa who blushed slightly. “Let me call Juliette,” Nick said, taking his phone out. “Coordinate what would work best.” He stepped away and Hank climbed into the trailer.

“So…you’re not a Grimm,” Theresa clarified.

“Nope,” he shook his head. “But I get by being Nick’s partner.”

“With the police? I mean…you guys are kind of…weird for cops.”

He sighed but nodded. “I am well aware…”

Nick stepped up and looked in. “Okay, Juliette is ordering Chinese and I asked if she could get enough for five. So...”

“We’re leaving?” Theresa asked, disappointed and maybe a bit defensive.

“We’ll be back,” Sloane said. “But I think talking on an empty stomach might not help any of us. We can bring you back later.”

She hesitated but finally nodded, following them down.

When they got to Nick’s house, the food had arrived and Juliette was spooning it out. She turned and smiled when she saw them but then paused. “I thought Monroe would be coming…”

“No, uh…we have a new visitor,” Nick said, stepping aside to show Theresa where she was hanging back. She was looking at the house uncertainly, as if unsure she should touch anything. “This is Theresa Rubel.”

“Oh…so, she’s our 5th guest?” she smiled. “Um, it’s nice to meet you, Theresa.”

She looked Juliette up and down and shifted her backpack. “No one calls me Theresa…”

Juliette blinked but kept smiling. “Ah…So what do they call you?”

“Trubel,” she said. Sloane arched her brow but just smiled slightly, a little amused at the tough girl persona. 

“Oh, that’s…an interesting name,” Juliette said. “So, um…”

“Trubel,” Sloane said, “just found out she’s a Grimm.”

Juliette’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh…wow, um…”

“You wanna wash your hands before dinner?” Sloane asked, though it implied she should do it.

“…Okay,” she said, knowing it was probably to get her to step away. Juliette pointed to the kitchen with a smile and Trubel headed in.

Juliette stepped in close, shock clear now. “Another Grimm? You’re sure?”

“Monroe saw her,” Nick nodded. “We were pretty surprised too.”

“More than a little,” Hank said.

“She was too,” Sloane said. “She’s ungeschultes auge.”

“You said that before,” Hank said. “What’s that mean?”

“It’s literally “Untrained Eye”,” she said with a wry smile. “Grimms who inherit their gifts but have no one to explain it to them or who don’t get a mentor. It’s not as common anymore, but it happens. More often with a Grimm father.”

“Why a Grimm father?” Nick asked.

“Well, men who travel, maybe have a one-night stand…” she said, gesturing _and then_ with her hands.

“Ah…” he said, grimacing.

“Yeah. Though truthfully, it’s much more likely a child will inherit with a Grimm mother. Men don’t pass on the Grimm gene as often anymore…But we haven’t asked much about Trubel’s family because well…”

“Is she involved with a case?” Juliette asked.

They all gave various looks that said _Yes, but…_ “She, uh…kind of killed a couple of wesen,” Nick

“What?” Juliette said stonily. “She’s a _murder suspect_?”

“Well, not technically a suspect because we know she did it,” Nick said.

“It was self-defense,” Sloane said firmly.

“Well, we’re pretty sure,” Hank amended.

Juliette looked like she was talking to the three stooges and shook her head. “I…First your mom shows up with Adalind and a baby, and now you bring home a Grimm you barely know who’s killed 3 people? _That we know of?_ ”

“Hey, I killed a lot more than that before I settled here,” Sloane said.

“Not that encouraging I’ll be honest,” she said. “I mean, I understand, but…”

“Juliette, I know it’s a lot,” Nick started.

“You think?”

“She’s been on her own and running for years,” Nick continued. “She thought she was crazy. She just needs a little help. And well…we want to help her,” Nick said, glancing at Sloane.

Sloane nodded. “If she understands what she is, she can at least know she’s not crazy. That’s what everyone has been telling her since whenever she inherited and…” She sighed, looking worried.

“…You really think you can help her?”

“You guys helped me,” Sloane said. They smiled a bit at Sloane for that. That she referred to it as help was endearing some how.

“I took her to the trailer,” Nick said. “tried to explain what she was as best I could, but that's a lot to take in.” He set his hands on her shoulder. “Juliette, she just needs a warm bed, a roof, and a little understanding.”

“…Is that roof and warm bed here?”

“I was thinking my place actually,” Sloane said. Nick looked at her in surprise. “I’ve got an extra room, she can look over my stuff and, well…I can start training her. Like I was doing for Nick before we kind of…stopped.”

“Yeah…” Nick nodded. “But I can help still.”

She smiled and nodded and Juliette seemed a little relieved.

“…Where is she?” Hank asked, looking around. They all looked at one another before heading for the kitchen. All of them envisioned different things—an open back door, a missing knife, stolen goods—and were thinking what to do if it was all of them “Trubel?”

They got to the kitchen and all had to pause. Trouble was there, pulling lo mein out of a carton with her hands, eating it ravenously. She froze, licking her lips, but didn’t blush. “…I washed my hands.”

Nick sighed, exasperated but relieved. Sloane just had to smile a little.

“Well,” Juliette said, a little less on guard. “Why don’t we put some silverware down and eat at the table?”

Trubel set the box down, looking a bit unsure. “It’s been a while since I ate with other people…”

“You get used to it,” Sloane said, giving her a napkin. “I mean you’ll have to, we do it kind of regularly.”

\------------------

Trubel ate like a starving dog. The food disappeared rapidly, as if she were scared someone would take it or she didn’t know when she’d eat again. She was nearly done when the others were half-done. “Would you like seconds?” Juliette asked slowly. Trubel grabbed the glass of water and down it to drown the food before nodding emphatically. Juliette took her dish and glass, opting to get it for her.

“So are all of the Grimms so normal?” she asked once she swallowed.

Nick and Sloane glanced at one another, smiling wryly.

“You should meet my mother,” Nick said. “She's been called a lot of things, but normal's not one of 'em.”

“And I was a lot like her before a year ago. Traveling a lot…”

“And also a little asocial,” Hank pointed out.

“Does that mean we're related?” Trubel asked curiously.

“Maybe a few centuries ago,” Nick said. “From what I can tell, it's like a recessive gene.” He looked at Sloane who nodded.

“There’s some debate on our origin still. Some say it may be a common ancestor, some think it was evolution from maybe a type of wesen—not always a popular theory—and some believe in the Original Seven.”

Nick blinked and looked at her. “Original Seven?”

Sloane shrugged, finshing the bite she took. “It’s kind of a myth. It’s similar to the idea of a single ancestor, that one Grimm was born first. But some believe it was actually seven born from seven families. For a long time, hunting parties of seven were popular for that reason, even back to the times of the crusades. And why some of us _really_ think seven is a lucky number.”

“Wow,” Hank said. Nick remembered the seven keys and some of what he’d learned about them, wondering if there was a connection.

“It can’t be proven though. Many try to trace their lineage back to the start to prove it, but it’s been pretty impossible. Some who said they could considered themselves like Grimm nobility, but it’s all BS. Grimm family lines have intermingled several times over the centuries so our family trees can get a little twisty and complicated. But nothing worrying, they do fork and spread, nobody’s their own grandpa, and there’s no banjo playing.”

Nick, Hank and Juliette all chuckled, but Trubel seemed more curious than anything.

“Must be a relief to know you're not the only one at least,” Juliette said, coming back over with another helping.

Trubel nodded a little but looked at Juliette now. “So you see these wesen things too?”

“ Oh, no, I'm not a Grimm,” she said, shaking her head.

She frowned. “So how do you deal with this?”

“Deal with what?” she asked, glancing at Nick and the others.

“You know, being married to someone who can see what we do?”

She blushed, glancing awkwardly at Nick. “Um, we... We're not married.”

Trubel nodded, forking up more noodles. “Smart. You can get out any time.”

Everyone glanced at one another and though it was awkward, Sloane couldn’t deny she’d thought the same thing.

After dinner, Sloane ushered Trubel to her car and back over to her house. She seemed nervous again as they headed inside. New places made her nervous it seemed, and Sloane couldn’t blame her. “My guest room isn't furnished yet, but I have a day bed in my office.” She walked over, opening the door. “I’ll get you something to sleep in.”

“I'm fine with what I have,” Trubel said, setting her backpack down.

“Alright…let me know if you change your mind. My doors at the end of the hall if you need anything.

“I won’t…” she said, firm. But she hesitated and looked at her. “Thank you though…for, um…”

“It’s fine. I understand,” Sloane said. She walked over and locked the closet where her weapons and books were. “I’ll show you what’s in there later, but there’s some dangerous things so I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Trubel looked at the door with an obvious burning curiosity but nodded. “Okay…”

“Don’t pick the lock, it’s also booby trapped,” Sloane said. Trubel looked at her in surprise and she smiled. “It’s a precaution I always take leaving the house. Good night,” Sloane said, heading out. She sighed as she sat on the couch and rubbed over her face.

“What the hell have I gotten myself into…”

\------------------------

Sloane had feeling Trubel would try to bolt and sure enough, around 3 in the morning, she heard thrashing from the room. _Nightmares…_ She heard the door open a few minutes later. Trubel was moving towards the front door as quietly as she could but she froze at the click of the lamp.

“Trouble sleeping?” she asked knowingly. Trubel didn’t answer and Sloane sighed and stood up. “Trubel…I get what you’re going through—”

“Stop saying that!” she snapped. “You do not!”

Sloane narrowed her eyes. She knew what Dierdre would do in this situation, felt her hand tighten into a fist. But she just took a breath and willed her hand to relax. “Nightmares about blood and teeth and claws. Feeling like you need to look over your shoulder everywhere or risk being killed. Like you have no one to depend on but yourself because anyone offering help either wants you to drop your guard or give them something. Am I about right?”

Trubel eased up a tiny bit. “…Were you in the system too?”

Sloane shook her head. “No. I had a mentor—an older Grimm who taught me the ropes. But we moved around a lot, fought a lot of wesen…etc. No place to call home. Well, till…” she gestured to her house.

“…Why’d you stay?”

She sighed again. “It’s…complicated. At first it was to train Nick because he inherited—that is, got his Grimm abilities—just a couple of years ago. His mother is a friend of mine and I was convinced his way of doing things was going to get him killed…and instead, he…well, he became my friend. And then so did some of the wesen he was friends with.”

“You’re really friends with them?” Trubel said, looking alarmed.

“I was skeptical at first too about it,” she said, holding up her hands. “But there are good wesen in the world. They help us get the bad ones.” She didn’t look convinced and Sloane folded her arms. “We can’t protect you completely, Trubel. If you go out there, you might end up dead or you might end up in jail or in an institution. This is the chance we’re offering.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Trubel said.

“My friend Rosalee—a wesen—once said “If we don’t look out for each other, who will.” I’m offering to teach you about being a Grimm. What to look out for, what to be aware of. You can fight pretty darn well but I can teach you more there too, and Nick. Whether you want to stay in Portland after that or not is up to you, but at least here you know there are people like you and people that can help with that. But if you go out there and more people end up dead—self-defense or not—we can’t go somewhere else and defend you as a Grimm because this is meant to be a secret.”

Trubel hesitated still but finally sighed and headed back for the room. Sloane sighed as well and went to rest on the couch to be safe.

\----------------------

The next morning, Nick called her. Trubel was still sleeping (she’d checked and decided to let her) and she was making eggs and toast for breakfast. Turning the heat down, she grabbed the phone. “Nick?”

“Hey. Um…How’re things?”

“I’m still alive and so is Trubel,” Sloane said, easing the spatula around the eggs. “Little close call last night when she tried to leave, but I managed to talk her into staying and giving us a chance I think.”

“That’s good,” Nick sighed, relieved. “Um…so I had an idea…”

“Okay…and what is this idea?” she asked slowly, flipping the last egg onto a plate and turning off the heat completely.

“I thought we should more properly introduce Trubel to some wesen. Monroe and Rosalee, specifically.”

Sloane frowned. “You sure?”

“She needs to learn there are good wesen in the world. And they are the best we know. And…they already agreed.”

Sloane sighed. “I’d appreciate a better heads up in the future…”

“I know, but I wanted to make sure they were okay with it first. They said yes, just so long as she’s unarmed. Her machete was mentioned specifically as being not invited. And this morning is free.”

“Okay…I’m finishing up making breakfast so meet you there in an hour?”

“Sounds good,” he agreed. “See you then.”

“See you.” She ended the call and without missing a bit, “Breakfast will be on the table in five minutes. And that was Nick on the phone, I’ll explain it while we eat.”

Trubel, who had been trying to listen in, flushed a bit and opened the door wider. “How did you…?”

“It comes with training,” she said, smiling. “Wash up and come eat.”

\----------------------------

“So, repeat that back to me,” Sloane said, pulling up to Monroe and Rosalee’s house. Trubel was in her passenger seat, holding her backpack protectively. She’d insisted on bringing it, but Sloane had insisted on going through and putting all weapons aside. This included the hidden pocket knife Trubel thought she wouldn’t find, but did, sewn into the strap.

Trubel sighed. “Rosalee is a fuchsbau—a fox wesen. And Monroe is a blutbad, a wolf. They’re going to woge, and I can’t attack them.”

“Shouldn’t, and can’t,” Sloane reminded her, parking.

“Yeah yeah…”

“I’m serious,” Sloane said, looking at her. “Rosalee is my best friend and Monroe is Nick’s. We want to help you and I’m not trying to threaten you. But if you attack them, we will defend them. And they are not going to attack you unprovoked like some wesen. I promise, I wouldn’t be bringing you here if I didn’t trust them.”

“…Its me you don’t trust,” Trubel said.

“Of course,” Sloane said, not even trying to sugar-coat it. “We’re still learning about each other. I know you killed those other wesen in self-defense, but I didn’t always have that excuse so I don’t know if you do.” Sloane opened the door and stepped out before Trubel could ask further. Nick and Hank had arrived as well and were waiting for them on the porch in front of Monroe’s stained glass door.

Knocking, Rosalee answered “Hi, Nick, Hank, Sloane,” she said with a smile. Monroe was standing in the living room just beyond.

“Rosalee, Monroe,” Nick greeted. He gestured behind him where Trubel was standing, looking sullen and unsure. “This is... Trubel.”

Rosalee smiled but it was hard to miss the hint of nervousness around her. “Come on in,” she stood aside so they could all file in. She went to stand with Monroe. “Well, I'm Rosalee.”

“Fuchsbau,” Trubel said. Sloane closed her eyes, praying for patience.

Rosalee nodded, caught off guard a little but not losing her smile. “Right. And I hear you met Monroe yesterday.” She gestured at Monroe who smiled and waved anxiously.

“Yeah…I never really had a chance to properly introduce...” He started, putting his hand out to shake hers.

“Blutbad.” She said it very matter-of-factly. But it did still bring back the memory of when he met Sloane—the way she said the same word with anger and vehemence before she tried to kill him.

“Yeah…” he said, taking his hand back since she didn’t seem intent to shake it.

There was a moment of silence and Trubel looked around at the many, _many_ clocks around the room. They were all part of his collection. “You, uh, really got a thing for clocks,” she said.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, grateful for a non-violent conversation topic. “Big fan of time in general. “I mean, you think about it... history, music, love. A long life, right?” He laughed nervously, realizing he was rambling nervously. “None of it would work without...Timing.”

It was quiet again before Nick gently intervened. “And speaking of, we might want to get these other introductions out of the way.”

Monroe and Rosalee looked nervous but nodded. “So why don't we just start with explaining what a woge is?” Rosalee said.

“I know what it is,” she said defensively.

“I explained that’s what we call it, but there’s more than that,” Sloane said. Her tone clearly said _Be Nice._

“Right. There are um, stages and other terms you should know,” Monroe went on. “So there's Kehrseiten. And they are non-wesen, non-Grimm types.”

“That would be me,” Hank said, holding up his hand from a spot near the fireplace.

“And they can only see us when we want them to,” Monroe nodded.

“And Grimss, like you, on the other hand, also can see us when we don't wanna be seen,” Rosalee said. Trubel eased up a bit, apparently inclined to learn.

“You ready?” Monroe asked. She nodded slightly.

“Here goes.” The took a deep breath, and then woged into their respective forms. Sloane was watching Trubel and felt relief that, after an initial slight tensing, she stood still to take them in.

“See?” Rosalee smiled. “No big deal.”

“Everything's fine,” Monroe said, his voice a little deeper with his transformation and talking around fangs. They both changed back, breathing out.

Trubel looked them over again. “…How do you know I'm a Grimm?”

They glanced at one another, not expecting the question. “Um...It's your eyes,” Monroe finally said.

“They get really dark when we woge,” Rosalee nodded. “It's kind of scary.”

“Really?” She was surprised and confused, glancing at Sloane. Sloane nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, we're not talking kiddy pool dark,” Monroe went on. “We're talking, like, all the way down to your soul, deep-type dark.”

Trubel nodded slightly. “…Cool.”

Sloane tried not to smile a little. She was 21 but she still seemed like a kid at heart it seemed.

Nick’s phone rang and he pulled it out with an annoyed grunt. Seeing the tag, he nodded to them and walked to the side to talk.

“So that went well, right?” Monroe said. “Still friends?”

“…This is so weird,” Trubel said. “You know, everybody telling me what I saw wasn't real, I made it up.”

“Well, honey, you didn't,” Rosalee said, stepping forward a bit. “Look, this is new for... for all of us. Nick is the first Grimm who didn't try to kill us. Sloane…”

“I tried,” she said, looking down a bit. “But then I was reasoned with and realized that wasn’t how to handle things every time.”

Rosalee smiled and nodded, turning her attention back to Trubel. “So this is as important for Monroe and me as it is for you. It’s another new step. But not all wesen are like us.” She reached out and gently set a hand on Trubel’s shoulder. Trubel was tense and glanced at the hand, unsure. “So you need to be careful.”

“…Okay,” she said, though she was still very guarded.

Nick came over then, looking resigned. “We gotta go. There's a body in forest park.”

“What about Trubel?” Hank asked, pointing out their current charge.

“Um...” He looked at Monroe and Rosalee, but Monroe not so nonchalantly looked away, rubbing over his neck. Nick sighed and shrugged. “We can take her with us,” he said.

Sloane arched her brow. “And say what exactly? I don’t think they’re going to believe she’s a detective at her age.”

Nick bit his lip as he thought before seeming to hit a eureka moment. “Ride along. Yeah, we can say she's a, uh...” Well, half a Eureka moment. They all looked at one another, trying to figure out what someone might believe when it came to a leather jacket wearing, barely 21 girl with a chip on her shoulder.

Trubel could feel them floundering but seemed more uncomfortable with all their attention on her. “What?”

“…Criminology student?” Hank finally proposed.

Everyone felt relief. “Oh, perfect.”

“Great idea.”

“That's the best.”

Trubel rolled her eyes but didn’t fuss with the idea luckily enough.

\--------------------

They drove to the edge of the park so they could walk down to where they found the body. As they exited, Trubel got out to walk with them. “Hey. Where do you think you're going?” Nick asked, pausing and putting a hand up to stop her.

“With you... isn't that what I'm supposed to be doing?” she asked, looking a little excited though trying to keep it cool.

“No, this is a crime scene. This might not have anything to do with wesen.”

Hank snorted. “Don't I wish.”

“Yeah, I mean, maybe a third of our causes don’t have wesen immediately involved, and that’s being generous…” Sloane said. “But that’s mainly because our captain points us to them, it’s not to do with wesen I’ve learned,” Sloane said. “Serial killer I had to deal with a couple weeks in? Human.”

“Really?” Trubel asked.

“Yeah. And he was _nuts._ Like, art and glass birds and feather dresses kinda nuts. On his victims, he didn’t wear the feather dress. Oh God I’m starting to sound like Monroe,” Sloane breathed. Nick tried not to smile and patted her back in mock consolation.

“Well, I mean…it's not like it's the first dead body I've ever had to deal with,” Trubel pointed out.

“Just keep your voice down,” Nick said, seeing Wu walking up to them. “The fewer questions people ask about you, the better.”

“She’s not the milkman’s daughter, chill,” Sloane whispered back.

“What do we got?” Hank asked Wu.

“Uh, another weird one,” Wu said. “Looks like the vic was exsanguinated.”

“What's that?” Trubel asked. Nick looked heavenward but sighed and resigned himself.

Wu looked at her, then looked at them in confusion. Hank took the reigns. “This is Theresa. Criminology student. She's here for a ride along.”

Wu smiled approvingly. “Oh, thinking of becoming a cop?”

Trubel scoffed and Sloane gently elbowed her, shaking her head. “…Forensics, maybe…”

Wu took it in stride. “Right. Well, it means that the victim has lost all of her blood. Crime scene's this way.”

“Try to just watch and listen,” Nick sighed at Trubel.

“That's what I'm doing,” she argued, following them down the tree-lined hill. There were still many dead leaves left from the recent winter, and buried among them and a bit of dirt was the body of a woman wrapped in clear plastic, only a bit of her face visible.

“Body's wrapped in plastic. Fully clothed, buried about 6 inches under,” Wu said.

“Who found it?” Hank asked, going over to kneel by her.

Wu nodded to a young couple and a golden retriever further up the trail. “Dog named Delta and his two owners. Out for a run.”

“Looks like some high-end clothes,” Hank said, moving the plastic just slightly to get a better look with his gloved hand.

“Cuts don't look like they were made by a blade,” Nick added. “Looks like puncture wounds.”

“Doesn't look like she's got a drop of blood left,” Hank sighed, noting the palor of her skin and the lack of bruising around the wounds.

“Gotta be wesen,” Trubel piped up.

Wu froze and swallowed. “S-sorry…what? I mean, you said…” He looked at her again and frowned more. “You…look familiar too…”

Nick closed his eyes and breathed but Sloane patted him on the shoulder and whispered. “I got this.” Standing, she looked at Wu. “Do you want to go through the door or to stay out?”

“…Out,” he said quietly.

“Then just know she’s one of us, we’ve worked things out, and ignore the rest. Let’s get prints now.”

“Right. Yes. Scanner's in the car. I'll be right back.” He turned and quickly marched back up.

Trubel watched him and then looked back. “…I messed up?” she asked.

“A little,” Sloane nodded.

“You've got to understand, these are cops but to the best of our knowledge, most don’t know anything about this,” Hank said firmly. “You can't go talking about that stuff to just anybody.”

“Sorry…” she said, sounding honest yet defensive. “But…he…”

“He knows,” Sloane said with a sigh. “But he doesn’t want to. Wu had a _bad_ first introduction to wesen. I tried to explain things, similar to how we did with you, but he wants to just forget and that wesen exist. I don’t think that’s going to happen but he has to work through that himself now.”

“…I can get that…” she nodded.

“Still, it’s better to keep any wesen stuff to ourselves in general,” Nick said. “You’re new to really knowing about it I know, but for right now I’d recommend mentioning it just around us or anyone we okay to be safe. And I think you’re right about this,” he looked back down at the girl.

“Oh, she is definitely right,” Sloane sighed.

Trubel looked down at the victim again and her brow pinched in an expression that was a mix of indignity and a bit of sadness. “You okay?” Nick asked.

“She's young…What the hell kind of wesen makes marks like that?”

“Lebensauger,” Sloane said.

“Lemon sour?” she asked, confused.

Sloane tried not smile. “No, Lebensauger. ‘Life Sucker’. Think a giant leech or lamprey…”

“Oh God…” Hank muttered, shuddering.

“I’d recommend we do some extra research.”

“Trailer?” Nick asked. They nodded, turning to head back up the hill.

\----------------

“You know, I think it may be time to move the trailer,” Nick said, looking through one of the books.

“That's not a bad idea,” Hank said. He was looking over the shelf. Sloane was also looking through them—she hadn’t had time to continue cataloging Nick’s collection in the last few months and wesen she was looking for wasn’t in what she already did. She sat on the daybed as she worked, but Trubel was looking at what Nick was going over at the moment from his side.

“I've seen one of those,” she said, pointing at a page with depictions of Native American wesen with long teeth and ears.

“Wendigo,” Nick nodded. “Where did you see it?”

“Chicago. Dude picked me up, offered me dinner. Then I found out I was supposed to be the main dish.”

“They do that,” Sloane agreed.

“Yeah, we ran across one of those,” Hank nodded, looking at the picture.

“You cut off its head?” she asked, noting the pictures.

“No, we shot him,” Nick said.

“Oh…I guess that works.”

“It works on a fair number of wesen and people,” Sloane said. Nick glanced at her, knowing her history with guns, but didn’t say anything.

“You wouldn't happen to have an extra gun, would you?” Trubel asked.

“You can use mine-”

“No she cannot,” Nick said firmly. Sloane frowned at him. “I know you don’t like guns that much, but yours is police issue and no one else is using it.”

“Fine…” she sighed.

“Hey, I think I found it,” Hank said, putting it down on the desk. Sloane stood and walked over. “Same markings as on our vic. You recognize it?”

Sloane nodded, looking over the picture of a gooey wesen with a mouth like a perfect circle with several rows of sharp, needle-like teeth. “That’s the one.

“…Hank, you remember Ryan?” Nick asked suddenly.

“The intern? How could I forget? Oh, you mean,” he pointed and Nick nodded.

“This is the crazy one that was a wesen trying to be a Grimm and killed a bunch of people?” Sloane clarified.

“Yeah. He was one of these…”

“Yeesh…”

“"La-ban…um…” Trubel started.

“Le-ben. Le-ben Sa-au-ger.”

“Lebensauger,” she tried again. “That's German, right?”

“Yeah,” Nick nodded. “Sloane knows more than I do.”

“Keep going,” Sloane said, nodding to Trubel.

Trubel smiled a little and looked back at the passage. “"Lebensaugers are known for coercing their victims through fear-””

A phone ringing interrupted her and Nick pulled his phone from the stacks. “Hold on…it’s the station.” He clicked the speaker button. “Wu, you're on speaker.”

“Ah, actually, its Franco,” the voice said.

“Oh…um…sorry, it’s just usually Wu that updates us.”

“Yeah, he asked if I could, said he had to take care of something else.”

They glanced at each other, all figuring the “wesen” had spooked him off. “…Well, what do you have for us then Franco?”

“Got a juvenile record on your victim. Took a little while to clear it. Camila Reynolds, age 18. Arrested three times, the latest for shoplifting six months ago. Last known address, the New Beginnings halfway house downtown.”

“Thank you,” Nick said. Trubel meanwhile gravitated to another open book, picking it up and staring with a haunted look.

“Hey, Franco!” Hank said quickly. “Can you check with robbery? See if any high-end stores have been hit recently. Anything with young girls as the perps.”

“Yeah, you got it.”

“Thanks. Over and out.”

Nick hanged up and nodded to the others. “Let's hit that halfway house.” He looked at Trubel. “You think you can...What is it?”

She looked up, still looking a little anxious, before setting the book down and pointing to the passage.

“Siegbarste,” Sloane read. “You’ve seen one of those?”

“That's what killed my foster parents,” she said quietly. They all sat up straighter in surprise.

“That's why you ran away?” Hank asked quietly.

“Yeah…it would've killed me too if I hadn't,” she said.

“Did you see who it was?” Nick asked.

Trubel shook her head, swallowing as memories filled her. “No, only that...That it was a monster. That's... that's why I ran.”

Sloane frowned and reached to gently pat her shoulder. She looked at her but then looked down again.

“Well, I think you've had enough for one day,” Nick said. “I can take you to Sloane’s, drop you off—”

“No,” she said firmly. They were surprised. “No, I'm done running.”

Sloane looked at Nick and Hank, then back at her. “…Okay. But if we’re going to keep this up, you need to remember: We’re your mentors here. You have to follow our lead on this and listen to us or it could get bad for everyone.”

She nodded. “Right…”

\-------------------

They didn’t find out much initially from the halfway house. Trubel was ordered to stay in the car and she was okay with it this time, having been to places like this before. The woman in charge seemed to want to help the girls in her care, though space and time was limited. She had a file on Camilla that showed she went to job interviews to try and have something lined up when she turned 18 and couldn’t stay any longer, but nothing to say if she got one. Her roommate Meghan was concerned it seemed, but said that no one really confides in each other because “your problems are just that, yours.”

When they got back to the car though, Trubel was antsy. She’d seen Meghan woge when her friend from the halfway house warned her cops wanted to talk to her. But they couldn’t bring her in on that. Then Trubel ran from the car as they were pulling out before Sloane could stop her and they had to rush around back. Trubel had the girl—an maushertz of all things!—pinned against a shed and was in her face.

“Hey!” Nick yelled, grabbing her off the other girl. Sloane led the girl away and pushed her back towards the house. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

Trubel stared up at him, defiant. “O'Bryant Square... It's where Cammy met someone named Donna. That's who gave her the job. Promised her good clothes and a place to crash. And I probably would have found out more if you guys hadn't butted in.”

“Butted in?” Sloane asked. “Butted in!?” She stormed over and Trubel’s eyes widened. “I told you very clearly that you have to _listen to us._ There is a time and place to do things like that and while we are on the clock as police officers in broad daylight is not one of them!”

“But…there’s three of us and Hank—”

“No, there’s a professional detective, two Grimms, and a trainee. That’s you. You heard us earlier, that we keep this a _secret._ Why? So we don’t end up with targets on our backs. It happens anyway—Nick, Hank, Juliette, Monroe and more have all been pawns at one time or another. This is dangerous work for us and our loved ones without sending up a flare saying “This is the Grimm”! Further, given this is our day job and you are our ride along, we are responsible for you! If someone from that house saw that and pressed charges? Dragged us through the mud and out into the open? When we could’ve come back and talked to her in private after the workday with fewer possible witnesses?”

“I…didn’t think—” she started, hunkering down.

“No, you didn’t. And I am out of patience today, so get to the car. NOW.” She didn’t yell, but her voice spoke of very bad things if she didn’t do as she was told.

Trubel quickly ducked her head and headed back to the car, followed by a surprised Hank and Nick.

“Wow…that was very…”

“Like a strict school teacher?” Sloane guessed with a sigh.

“Yeah. I mean, I agree she crossed that line but I figured you might defend her there…”

“No. That was a mistake on a lot of levels. Even when I do that kind of thing, I do it somewhere there’s not going to be a crap ton of people milling about. I learned that lesson early on.”

“Your mentor give you a lecture like that?”

“Ha, no…If I did that, she’d beat me black and blue,” Sloane said. Nick paused. She was serious. He knew she was. She paused and looked at him and then sighed again. “Nick, don’t—”

“Sloane…when you talk about her, your mentor…” he said slowly. “You talk about her and she’s done some…bad things to you, I mean…”

“It was necessary. I needed to learn to take the pain and become disciplined,” Sloane said quietly.

“…Are you going to hit Trubel?” he asked seriously.

Sloane’s eyes widened. “What? I—”

“And I don’t mean sparring,” he clarified. “I mean would you have hit her for this?”

“…No. I knew what Dierdre would but…Trubel has been through enough without even knowing why. She knows that this is going to be a violent life in a lot of ways. She’s got skill, she just needs focus and learning and…”

“And?”

“…I don’t want to hurt her…” She rubbed over her arm a bit. “…I’m not stupid…” The three words said a lot. She knew, at the heart of it all, her child hood was _bad_ after her grandmother died. Dangerous, painful, lonely. Sometimes the danger wasn’t just wesen. “But Dierdre’s training…it’s what I needed to prepare me for now. I’d never been hit other than schoolyard pushes before then. Trubel…she already knows what to expect. I’m not going to add to that, I just want to prepare her to do more.”

“…Good. But then, I don’t think you deserved it either. That’s not how you train someone.”

She didn’t say anything, just continued to the car. Nick sighed a bit and followed.

\----------------

Franco called as they headed back to the station. They had a hit for a robbery of a high-end store yesterday with about 17K worth of merchandise lifted. The CCTV caught Camilla Reynolds as one of those stealing from the store, but the security guard had nearly caught her before she ran. Discussing it with Renard, they theorized she was seen as a liability and discharged permanently. They did also bring up the information Trubel found, though didn’t say how they got it. Their plan was to stake out O’Brian square that night to try and find “Donna”. She was recruiting girls, dressing them up in expensive clothes so they fit in, and then mobbing the stores was their theory.

Coming out, Sloane grabbed some bottled waters and walked back over to the desk were Trubel was sitting. She looked up when Sloane came over, looking defiant but there was a bit of worry in there too. “Walk with me,” Sloane said, gesturing for her to get up. Trubel hesitated but stood and followed her outside. She handed her a bottle. “…I maintain what I said, but I’m…sorry I yelled,” Sloane said.

Trubel looked surprised and confused but took the water. She rolled it in her hands a little. “…I want to help…” she said quietly.

Sloane smiled. “And we want you to help. But—and trust me, this is rich coming from me—not everything is a fight in this. I was planning to go back to Meghan and get her alone to talk. Less physical, more intimidation and rationalizing. A maushertz like her isn’t much of a threat and you can lean on them without touching them. And I was going to bring you with me to show you.”

“…What about Nick?”

“I was going to run it by him. He’s more straight-laced than me but knows sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. I used to joke he was a boy scout, but he’s not as much of a bleeding heart as a I thought. But threatening in broad daylight, still a bad thing regardless. It pulls too much attention to us and also doesn’t make us look very sane or capable. There are plenty of meathead Grimms who rush in and start hacking away and they usually end up dead or getting their friends and innocent people killed. Even before I started living here and I was killing wesen a lot more, I knew use misdirection and get my targets alone and secluded to be safe. I want to fight smarter, not harder, and I’d like to teach you that as well. I think it will keep you alive in the long run.”

Trubel nodded slowly. “…Okay. That makes sense. I just…”

“You want to get in there and prove you’re capable,” Sloane said. She smiled at her surprised blush. “I was the same way when I was younger than you. My mentor…did not take it well.”

“They yell at you too?”

“Uh…She talked a lot more with her hands. And I don’t mean sign language.”

Trubel stood up straighter. “Oh…”

“Yeah…I don’t want to teach you that way though.”

“…Good. Cause I’d fight back.”

“Good,” Sloane said, nodding in approval. “You wanna do something like that again, at least run it by one of us just so we can also be there to back you up too. You’re not alone in this anymore.”

Trubel nodded slowly, looking thoughtful.

\--------------

“I never knew being a cop was so boring,” Trubel sighed, munching on some pretzels Nick had gotten for a snack. They were staking out O’Brian Square in their car, Trubel and Sloane in the back, Nick and Hank up front. There were a lot of people milling about—food carts, street musicians, couples, friends, teenagers—like a herd of animals around a watering hole.

The detectives just hummed to Trubel’s complaint, munching on their snack.

“Oh, you're not bored?” she asked, looking at them dubiously.

“Part of the job.” Nick said.

“It’s 20% driving, 20% talking to people, 20% searching through databases, 30 % paperwork, and 10% catching the badguy I’m pretty sure,” Sloane said. Nick chuckled but nodded.

“Sounds about right,” Hank agreed with a smile.

Trubel rolled her eyes but then leaned forward a bit more. “Hey, what about her?” she said, pointing towards a well dressed woman. She was blonde, wearing a silver jacket and floral shirt with black skinny jeans and heels. “Clothes aren't cheap, and she looks like she's looking for somebody.”

“Probably having an affair,” Hank said. When a man came down and they greeted each other with a kiss he gestured at that to show he was right.

“Maybe they're in love,” Nick said, smiling.

“Maybe.”

Trubel huffed, sipping her half-melted soda she got from the restaurant in a to go cup as she scanned the crowd again. A few moments later another woman came down the steps from the park paths beyond. She was even more well dressed than the other in a camel colored leather jacket, white blouse and high-end blue-black jeans and designer shoes. She pointed to her. “What do you think?”

“She's probably having an affair too,” Nick joked.

But Sloane watched her with Trubel and she was more interested in a group of young girls chatting near the stares. It looked like she was sizing them up.

“No, that's gotta be her,” Trubel said.

“Well, even if it is, we have to wait for her to make a move,” Hank said.

“What if she doesn't?”

“Then maybe it's not her,” Nick sighed.

Trubel frowned and looked at Sloane. She watched the woman a moment before nodding slightly. “I think she may be right.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Experience,” Sloane said.

“I think I can get her attention,” Trubel said quickly.

“Trubel,” Nick started.

“No, really! No physical stuff, but I might be able to get her to show me where they live if they’re looking for a new girl.”

“You…want to use yourself as bait?” Nick asked incredulously.

“You got a better idea?” she shot back. “I just need some change.”

“Change?” Hank asked.

“Yeah. Nickels, quarters, dimes, you know.” The men looked at one another in concern and hesitation. Trubel looked to Sloane though. “I can _do_ this. I’ve done similar stuff before to get people to trust me if I needed a ride or something…”

Sloane arched her eyebrow, considering the options before them. Trubel wasn’t a child, and she had some experience defending herself. She was around the right age and look they might be searching for to replace the victim. It made sense. She sighed finally and dug out some change from her pocket. “We’ll be tailing you and if you feel it’s too much, you cut and run.”

“I need something to cut with,” she pointed out.

“Sloane, hold on, are you sure?” Nick asked.

“I think I know what she’s thinking and it’s a sound plan.” She leaned down, pulling up her jean leg to reveal a small switch blade at her ankle in her boot. “This is going to be the easiest to conceal, they might get spooked if you have anything bigger.”

“Sloane—”

“Nick, I trust her,” Sloane said, handing the blade to Trubel. “And by that, I trust you not to hurt anyone till you need to and not to get yourself killed.”

She smiled and put the switch blade in her own boot. “Got it!” she grabbed the chang and jumped out the of the car.

“You sure about this?” Hank asked, watching her. She dumped out the soda, wiped the cup down with her shirt, then threw the change inside and mussed her hair to look a bit more like she’d been sleeping rough. She started asking people if they had any change.

“Yeah,” Sloane nodded, watching her. “I mean, she’s obviously been a hustler herself, so she knows how to play people.”

“What do you mean obviously a hustler?” Nick asked.

“I found a few clothes with electric tags on them, she hadn’t removed them yet.”

“What?!”

“Oh calm down, what’s done is done. I did similar things before I could afford to at least thrift shop,” she said. “Plus, she’s already got blondie’s attention.” They looked back to see her approach the woman in question.

Nick moved as if to get out of the car but Hank actually put a hand on his chest. “Whoa, hold it. If it is her, you might scare her off. Let’s…see where this goes.”

Sloane smiled and settled back. She couldn’t hear them—her hearing wasn’t _that_ amazing even when she tried—but she could tell from the body language a bit of what was happening. Trubel was trying to look a little pathetic, a little helpless but approachable. The woman was giving her undivided attention and they were chatting unlike when she approached others for change. Then she motioned for Trubel to follow. She glanced back their way, nodding just slightly that could almost look like a nervous movement, before following her.

“She’s got her!” Hank said with a grin.

“We gotta stop this,” Nick said quicker, moving to get out quickly. Sloane followed and they jogged as quickly as they could without being too obvious. But Trubel and the woman were already up the steps and heading to the streets on the other side. She glanced back at them and they tried to get around the crowds as fast as possible in a couple directions. But in the brief moment they lost sight, they only caught them again as they were getting into a car and driving away.

“Get the plates!” Nick said loudly, grabbing his phone and dialing dispatch.

“55 Romeo Sierra... Damn! That's all I could get,” Hank said.

“I need a BOLO on a gray BMW x6. Partial plate 5 5 Romeo Sierra.” He nodded and put the phone down when they acknowledged, looking the direction it went in frustration and anger, like watching someone steal from you and get away.

“She's a smart girl,” Hank said, putting a hand on his shoulder and getting him to go towards their car. “She survived on her own for a long time before now.”

“I was supposed to protect her,” he said. “I brought her into this.”

“ _We_ brought her into this, and _I_ okayed her to do this part,” Sloane said.

“Oh, I realize that,” Nick snapped, getting into the car.

“You can be upset, but she’s not dead. They don’t want to just kill her outright. Hank’s right, she’s lived this long, she’s not going to die easily. She’s a Grimm,” Sloane growled back.

“And we’ll get her out. We just have to stay focused,” Hank added. “BOLO will come up with something.”

\---------------------

Franco found a match to the BMW registered to a Donna O’Hara and got them an address. When they got there and pounded on the door, stating they were the police, no one answered.

“There's no one home,” Hank sighed.

“Yeah, well, we're going in,” Nick said. Sloane arched her eyebrows at the commanding tone.

“Nick, we need a reason,” Hank pointed out.

Nick frowned, looking annoyed with himself before drawing his gun. “Somebody's yelling "help."” He said, about to smash the door in.

“Whoa, hold it!” Sloane said quickly. “I like the attitude, but I could just…pick the lock?” she said, gesturing at it. “In, out, less awkward than claiming we heard voices?”

Nick paused. “You can pick locks? What am I saying, of course you can,” he said, a little exasperated.

“Don’t sound so happy,” she said snidely. She pulled her blazer off and handed it to him, then took her holster harness off. From one side of the harness she pulled a small bundle hidden in a secret pocket and opened it up to show a few basic lockpicking tools. “Give me two minutes.”

“You got one,” Nick said.

“The second minute will be spent punching you in the knees if you keep talking to me like that, Burkhardt,” she growled.

“Well this is your fault! How could you just okay her to go do that?” he whispered, keeping look out with Hank as she worked the bits of metal in.

“She’s 21, not a baby,” Sloane said. “And she’s probably been through more than you have.”

“That’s what worries me! She shouldn’t have to keep going through this sort of thing. We should be watching out for her.”

Sloane rolled her eyes. “We are, even if we did this a little badly. But she wanted to help and keeping her on the side lines was probably just going to make her do something stupid.”

“Stupider than going with a murder suspect alone?”

“Yeah, like doing that and _not telling us._ Did that once, did not end well. And Dierdre used me as bait plenty of times.”

Nick looked towards heaven as if wishing God would have mercy. “Sloane, I swear, the more I hear about Dierdre the more I’m going to fight her if we ever meet.”

Sloane paused. “…Please don’t. I know it sounds bad, but honestly, how else was I going to be ready for this kind of life? She’s harsh but she did what she thought was best.”

Nick frowned but just sighed. There was a click as the door was opened and she gently pushed it. They got in and Sloane put her tools away as they looked around. It was dark but well kept, with a lot of nice finishes. A couple glasses of wine were set out and not cleaned next to a bottle on the coffee table. Clothes were strewn about in various places and Hank looked at a jacket very similar to the one the woman they were sure was Donna was wearing. “Still have the tags on 'em. She's not here though…What are we looking for?”

“I don't know, but we gotta find something,” Nick said. He started looking through some photos and notes he found on a desk. Sloane paused and held up a plastic bag almost the size of a person. “This is the same garment bag our vic was in I’m pretty sure…”

“Looks like they've been casing stores from here to Seattle,” Sloane said, holding up a notepad.

“She was paying bills,” Hank offered, holding up envelopes. Nick came marching over, looking as well. “Electricity, gas, cable.”

“She's got a bank account,” Nick said. “Maybe we can get access.”

“Hold on,” Hank said, frowning as he scanned the table again. Sloane knew that tone and walked over as well. “There's two gas bills. One's for this address, one's for another.”

Nick grabbed the other, reading the address quickly. “Northwest industrial. Worth a look!” He turned, and they followed quickly, Sloane pulling the door shut behind them.

They drove as fast as they could, cutting the sirens before they got too close just to be sure they didn’t alert them and make them try to get rid of any evidence or any more girls. They saw the silver BMW as they pulled up to the building they were searching for among the other.

“That's the car we're looking for,” Hank said as they got out of their own car. “This is it.”

“There's a light on upstairs,” Nick said, pulling his gun.

Sloane moved quickly, but cursed when she got the door. “Combination lock! I can’t pick this one and they take a while to crack!” She leaned in and pressed her ear to the door. “I’m hearing what sounds like fighting too!”

A sound like glass shattering was loud enough for all to hear and Hank frowned. “I'm getting the car.”

Sloane was confused, looking back as Hank went to their blue sedan and climbed back in the driver’s seat. Nick was watching him too as he backed up and lined himself up with the doors before quickly grabbing Sloane. “You better move,” he said, realizing what he was going to do.

Sloane’s eyes widened as Hank gunned the car, tires squealing and smoking, before launching at the door. It gave it like it was held by a thin string and he braked hard once inside. Sloane and Nick followed, Sloane looking at Hank with admiration. “That was awesome.”

He smiled a bit. “Yeah, it was wasn’t it?”

They jumped when they heard another crash from upstairs and rushed up. There was a lot to take in—beds, tables, a small kitchen like a bare bones apartment where they must keep the girls. Two girls were screaming and sobbing at the fight taking place, Trubel managing to hold her own and get plenty of blows in. Just as the opened the door she saw Trubel pull the switchblade from her boot and plunge it into the neck of a Lebensauger woman—Donna it seemed. But there was a male as well and he turned and hissed at him through his round mouth of many undulating teeth and suckers. His beady eyes widened and he moved as if to attack Nick and Sloane. Sloane grabbed her knife and threw it in a fluid motion right into his chest at the same time Nick open fired. He was dead before he hit the ground, turning back into a handsome man. She had no doubt he was every bit the monster underneath those good looks though.

Trouble was panting, a few scratches and bruises and one bite wound on her arm oozing softly. But she was more focused on the two other girls huddled between two beds crying, running over to them. “Hey,” she said gently. “It's all right now. It's okay.”

Nick sighed, looking at her. “We gotta get you out of here.”

Trubel looked a little worried, maybe at being chastised again, but Sloane came over after retrieving her knife and cleaning it with a spare bit of cloth from her pocket before sheathing it. She looked her over. “I see the obvious, but are you okay?” She nodded slowly and Sloane breathed out and smiled, extending her hand. “You did good, Trubel.”

She was surprised, taking the hand. “I…did?”

“Took on two on one, came out with one bite wound a few bruises. Not bad.”

“Sloane,” Nick warned.

“It’s true,” she said a bit more defiantly. “But he is right, now’s not the time. Come on, the car’s downstairs. Literally.”

\------------------------------

Nick sighed in frustration once again, setting his gun on his dresser. “She's gonna get herself killed. And I’m scared Sloane is going to help her,” he said to Juliette, wrapping up his telling of that night’s events. They managed to get the other two girls to police custody—they were looking at jail time for theft but possible leniency given they were being used by their perps, Ken and Donna. Sloane had gotten Trubel back to her house to patch her up after Hank got her to the station for her car.

“There's a learning curve to being a Grimm, remember?” Juliette said.

He frowned bitterly, taking off his watch. “Well, most learning curves don't draw blood.”

“Maybe she'll choose a different life.”

He sighed and shook his head, looking reflective. “She'll always see them. There's no running from that. I just…I wish Sloane was so just…ready to train her!”

“…Would you prefer she let her figure it out on her own?” Juliette asked.

“No…but…”

Juliette walked over and set her hands on his arms. “Nick, like you said. She’s always going to see them and she can’t run away. She’s already _had_ to fight and kill them.”

“She doesn’t need to learn that more efficiently,” he pointed out.

“Is that what Sloane’s doing? Is she encouraging her to go out and kill any wesen she finds?”

“…No…” He sighed. “In fact, she said she doesn’t want to train her the way she was trained.”

“Then that’s good!” Juliette said. “Sloane isn’t relapsing into her old ways and is trying to teach Trubel based on what she’s learned here, with us, and in the past. That’s a good thing.”

Nick sighed again. “Yeah…but…”

“But?”

“…The more I learn about Sloane’s past, the more I’m just…angry. Not at her, but at her mentor.”

Juliette nodded slowly. “Yeah…I’ve gotten that feeling too. I mean, being a Grimm can’t be easy but she was just a kid!”

“Makes me realize I was lucky when it came to Marie I guess…I mean, they didn’t know if I would be a Grimm, but they could’ve been training me before I did…They wanted me to have a normal life as long as I could…”

She hugged him. “It’s probably different for everyone. But I think the fact that Sloane has definitely changed means that this is more her nature. Maybe she is a good teacher for Trubel then too, understanding the bad parts about growing up this way.”

Nick nodded again and smiled. “Yeah. You might be right there. I still wanna help though. I mean, it’s a good chance to help another Grimm not just kill any wesen they meet.”

Juliette smiled and kissed him. “And that’s something I love about you for sure. Trying to make the world a better place, one dysfunctional Grimm at a time.”

He chuckled and kissed her again.

\------------------------

Sloane had Trubel take a shower when they got home and wash her bight wound carefully. When she came out, she got some of the salve and treated it. Trubel sat on the daybed in the guest room in a muscle shirt and shorts while she did, a towel still around her neck.

“What is this stuff?” she asked, looking at it with an unsure twist of her nose.

“It’s an old recipe. It’ll help heal this quickly and lessen scarring.”

“For real? Huh…wish I had some before…”

“It can help fade them too. But it’s a little greasy.” She worked to wind the bandages around firmly but not too tight. “I’ll show you how to make it. Rosalee knows too.”

“Thanks…” She glanced at the closet door. “So, um…what’s in there?”

Sloane closed up the jar and put it in the box she had her medical supplies in. “A good chunk of my family collection.”

“Family collection?”

“Yeah. Grimm diaries—notebooks the wesen they’ve met and fought and other useful information—passed down from our ancestors. And weapons, herbs, other things like that they collected.”

“Oh…That’s cool…” she said. But Sloane knew there was a sad look in her eyes that could be described as wistful.

“...I’d prefer you rest tonight but I’ll unlock it tomorrow and you can look through them if you like. pI’d refer you leave the weapons alone unless I’m here just to be safe. Also so the neighbors don’t think I’m weirder than they already do.”

“Okay…Hey, um…thanks by the way.”

“You don’t have to thank me, first aid is pretty simple for this once you get that enzyme those Leben Saugers have that keeps the blood from clotting out of the wound—”

“No, not for this,” she held up her arm, awkward. “I mean…thanks for trusting me. I still screwed up I know but…”

“You didn’t screw up exactly, we just did it to fast. It was a good idea but we should’ve been more ready to follow you and make sure you didn’t end up hurt.”

“It wasn’t that bad…I mean, up until Ken said I had to spend the night with him,” she grimaced. “But the girls seemed nice at first, if super scared. And…”

“You got to dress up,” Sloane pointed out. Trubel blushed and hunkered down more. Sloane sighed and sat. “Look…I only just started getting to do what _I_ have wanted to do, dress how I want to dress, for the first time in ages. Before that I thought I had to be tough and that make-up and dresses and all that were just other weapons to get to who I needed to kill on certain occasions. Otherwise, why bother? But my aunts got me a lot of new clothes for my birthday and…it’s nice having color in my life. I pushed it away for a long time. There’s no shame in liking things like pink and make-up and cute shoes. Just no heels when we’re fighting if you don’t want broken ankles.”

Trubel smiled but shrugged a little too. “I like how I dress normally too though…”

“That’s good,” she nodded. “But I’m just saying, you don’t have to put yourself in a box anymore. You can explore other things, do more than just hunt and fight. That’s how you’re going to figure life out.” She looked over towards her desk, frowning at the scrap book she knew was there of some of her cases. The ones were she didn’t have as much restraint. “I stayed in my box for years…and I missed out on a lot because of it. I never took the offers to branch out until I got here and even if it’s frustrating sometimes, I don’t regret it.”

Trubel nodded slowly. “…I still need to learn things.”

“Oh, you definitely do. But we’ll work on that too. Later. We need to rest.” She stood and Trubel watched her go before pulling a notebook out of her backpack. Thinking over the evening, she started sketching a Lebensauger, with its rings of pointed teeth and melting skin and beady eyes, and making notes on what she knew about it. It wasn’t a fancy leather journal but it was a start.

\-------------------

The next morning, Nick was looking over the paper with his morning coffee. One of the top articles described that a ring of thieves was caught and the two ringleaders killed in an altercation with police. It was technically correct, though Trubel wasn’t technically police. There was a knock on the door and he stood, going over to see who was there rather early. He was surprised to see Trubel herself there, with Sloane standing next to her. Opening the door, he looked between them. “Hey…what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just…I asked Sloane to bring me over so I could tell you a little of what I told her last night,” Trubel said, looking a little awkward.

“Okay…?”

She took a deep breath. “I know I messed up last night.”

Nick blinked, a little caught off guard. “Well, you found the girls, so...”

She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. Sloane said she okayed it but I messed up, I know it. I'm just not used to being the hunter. I got carried away, last night and at the half-way house. But it’s like…I need to know more and do as much as I can. Sloane’s going to start teaching me and training me, but I hope you're still willing to help me too.”

Nick looked up at Sloane who smiled. “I wouldn’t mind. It’ll be fun I think. And this way, she’ll get a couple points of view on it.”

He nodded slowly before sighing and smiling. “Well…why don’t we come in and talk it over?”

Trubel glanced at Sloane who nodded and they headed in, Nick had to admit this might be good for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, not too much of a difference here--but some important stuff to go over and obviously setting up future events new and old! Enjoyed going over some more of Sloane's past, and her thinking on how to handle Trubel, and them getting along together. Sorry not as much Adalind :< I couldn't figure a natural way for them to meet yet, so I have a more fun way to go for it later. After two chapters of rewrites, there'll be an original adventure next time though!


	16. The Most Dangerous Grimm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 16 of the Casebook of Sloane Larson
> 
> While they are working to integrate Trubel into their lives and prepare for the wedding, Bud asks Sloane for a favor that leads her and Nick right into the clutches of a wesen mafioso! He's all about games and has them in a race for their lives, where Grimm are now the prey.
> 
> (also, The Inheritance re-write!)

**“Keep your boasting till you’ve beaten me,” answered the Tortoise.**

**“Shall we race?”**

\-------------------

Ryker Dowling’s luck was truly, wholly, and unwavering awful. It was the sort of luck where it rained when he wanted sunshine, he’d be rear ended days after buying a new car, he’d bounce from job to job after being fired or his business ventures folding up, which occasionally led to losing whatever apartment he had a the time and couch surfing with his friends more often than he liked.

He called it bad luck.

“Dowling!”

But it was really his own doing.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!”

Ryker jumped and looked back. “Oh, uh…hey Mr. Powell,” he said, looking nervous. The man was a big, beefy sort that looked as though he ate bears for breakfast—and he very well might. Olive skinned, thin haired and with a nasty scar down his cheek, he looked every bit the enforcer he was and he did not look happy. Ryker wiped his hands on a rag from his coverall pocket nervously. He was just closing up shop for the evening at the mechanics place he worked, Extra Mile Car Shop. “How can I, um, help you?”

“You can get me my boss’s money,” he said darkly.

“I thought I had a few more days,” he said quickly.

“Boss is getting a bit impatient considering he was generous enough to give you one extension already. He doesn’t normally do that and I can’t help but feel you might be taking advantage of him being in a good mood that day.”

“What? No, no no nooo…I’m just working to get it all together, really,” Ryker laughed.

“Playing online poker with what money you got?”

Ryker blanched a bit. “You…know about that?”

“What do you think, HarepinTurn227?”

He swallowed. “Oh, well, I just…thought I could make it faster doing that.”

“That thinking is what got you in trouble in the first place. If you don’t have the money today, then interest goes up to 40%.”

“What?!” he gasped. “I-you can’t do that! That’s robbery!”

Ryker gasped as Mr. Powell woged, his hair disappearing, his skin turning a green dark enough it was almost black, and his eyes large and wild with that scar still wrapping over one. What was most terrifying was his face though, as his mouth and nose elongated and enlarged and hardened into a sharp beak like structure that would be able to slice through his skin and break his bones if he got near Ryker. Around his neck or elsewhere it could kill him. A rumbling, roaring growl came from Mr. Powell’s chest and up to his mouth as he opened his jaws.

Ryker gasped and then changed himself. Soft brown fur covered him now, his eyes wide and fearful. His lip was clefted now, with a cute button nose twitching in fear, and most noticeable a pair of long ears swaying from the top of his head. “Okay, okay! Bad choice of words, got it!” he said, his voice higher in panic. “I-I’m on top of it, really! I’m doing all the work I can do and I’m even doing some I shouldn’t be! But I don’t have it all yet!”

Mr. Powell snapped his mouth shut with a clack that made Ryker shudder and then woged back. “Whatever you got to do. 40% on top of the original loan, paid by the end of next week. That’s about 8,000.”

“Right, yes! I’ll have it. I got another job tonight, I’ll get more,” he said, woging back as well.

“Good. Because if you don’t have all if it, I get to choose what we take instead. Is it you lot that have the lucky feet?” he asked with a sharp smirk.

He swallowed. “N-no, that’s Wilahara…I’m a Langen Ohren…c-common mistake…”

“Eh, you look pretty much the same to me,” he said.

“That’s a bit insensitive—” Mr. Powell glared and Ryker shut his jaw shut almost as hard as the snapping turtle wesen could.

“One week.” He turned and stalked off back to an expensive looking car parked at the street.

Ryker glared after him, catching his breath from the scare. “Asshole…” He was able to ear the sound of man-powered wheels coming closer and quickly righted himself.

“Ryker? We good?” a voice asked from the shop’s main door to the side of the garage doors he’d just finished closing.

“Yeah, we’re good, I got the garages closed.”

“And locked?”

“Yes,” he sighed. He turned as his friend and boss, Sherwin, wheeled his chair down the ramp at the main door. He was black with nice dread locks pinned back, with a broad nose and large eyes that seemed to see more than he let on. But he didn’t say anything. “Alright. Damon will be here to open in the morning but be here by 9.”

“Right, will do. Um, so…Sher…” he started, walking towards their cars. “I, uh…could use an advance maybe…”

Sherwin stopped rolling and looked up at him with a suspicious narrowing of his eyes. “Have you been gambling again? You know what I said if you want to keep this job—”

“No, I haven’t,” he said quickly. “I just, um, ran into a little home expense. My fridge needs to be repaired.”

Sherwin didn’t look convinced and sighed. “Ryker, I’m already giving you a job, I feel like I’ve done a lot for you.”

“No, yeah, you have,” he said. “But I mean, I know cars, it’s not like it’s all bad.”

“Yeah, you know cars and not much else,” he said, smiling teasingly.

Ryker smiled back. “I mean, you’re not wrong…”

Sherwin sighed as he got to his car, which was a well maintained El Dorado he had set up to be handicap accessible. “Look…the shop is doing okay, but I’m not in a position to give advances. I would just try to pick up some more work at the shop and we’ll go from there, okay?”

“Yeah…okay, got it,” he said, smiling. “Sorry, just…little stressed.”

“I get it, man,” he said, pulling himself up into the driver’s seat.

“Here, let me help with your chair,” he said, kneeling to take the wheels off and hand them to him to put in the back, then his seat.

“Thanks man…I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you…” Ryker said, sighing and chewing his lip. He watched Sherwin drive off before heading back to the shop to open one bay back up.

\----------------------------------

Sloane stepped back and around as Trubel brought the padded bat in a wide arch to try and hit her. When she moved to correct her course, Sloane grabbed the bat, knocked her hand hard enough to let go, then brought it around to tap her shoulder. “And down. Don’t do big moves if you don’t have a perfect opening, it expends too much time and energy.”

Trubel huffed, looking put out. “How do you keep doing that?”

“She’s annoyingly good at it, huh?” Nick asked with a smile from the sidelines. He’d already sparred with Sloane and Trubel a couple of times that day and both ladies were formidable opponents. He’d just barely been able to beat Trubel, and he’d gotten the upper hand with Sloane for a while before she managed to get around behind him and put him in a hold.

“And you too will be annoyingly good at it with more training,” she smiled.

“It’s getting late though,” Nick sighed, standing. “We should probably head home if we’re getting ready for tonight.”

“Ooh, yeah,” Sloane said, looking at her phone. “I gotta clean up. We’ll pick up again day after tomorrow,” Sloane said.

“I’m fine with that. I’ve never actually like trained like this before, I’m kind of sore…” Trubel said, stretching.

“There’s a few ways around that we can go over too,” she said, grabbing their stuff and heading up to where their cars were.

“So, this thing you guys are doing is a…what did they call it?” Trubel said again.

“Joint Bachelorian celebration,” Sloane said, somewhat amused. “Rosalee was worried her sister would get her a stripper as a joke for her if it was just girls.”

“And Monroe isn’t one for the usual bachelor party shenanigans,” Nick added. “So they decided the easiest thing would be a joint party with everyone to celebrate. Kind of like an engagement party when they’ve already planned most of the wedding.”

“To quote Monroe, “I don’t need a last hurrah, I’m happily saying goodbye to me bachelorhood and I think doing it with Rosalee there would be the most fun.””

“That’s…kind of sweet actually,” Trubel said.

“Yeah. We did plan most of this, with their input. There’s this history museum also having a wine tasting to go along with an exhibit about alcohol around the world.”

“Sounds…fun. But I mean, what am I going to do?”

“You have free reign of the house.” Sloane paused and reached into her pocket. “Speaking of which, I had this made earlier.” She handed her a key with a smile. Trubel was surprised but took it.

“…Thank you,” she said honestly. “So I can just…hang out at home?”

“I could give you homework,” Sloane said with a teasing smile. “An essay maybe? Choose a wesen and write a paper based on as much info as you can find?”

“Pass,” Trubel said, though she had a slight smile. “Just…Been a while since anyone trusted me on my own in their house…You took me to work with you the last couple of days still.”

“Had to sell the ride along thing,” she said. She put the equipment back in her car and turned. “Do I need to worry about you being alone?”

“No, I’m not planning on hunting or anything, I promise,” she said quickly. “Or anything else, not really a house party person. I just…was surprised.”

She smiled a bit and Nick did too. “We trust you, Trubel,” he said.

She had an odd look on her face before nodding. Granted, they were still learning about her and each other and all of that, but Trubel wasn’t bad he knew. She’d just had to live rough. It reminded him of Sloane in a lot of ways.

They all headed to their respective homes. Nick immediately started getting ready with Juliette for a night on the town. He wore a navy suite he usually wore to court, glad he had it cleaned recently, with a blue pinstripe shirt and black/white/navy diamond patterned tie.

“Looking good,” Juliette said. He turned and smiled brightly when he saw her in an emerald green cocktail dress that highlighted her red hair and hazel eyes. It was a wrap design that hugged her curves well but was still modest with it’s high neck-line and three quarter sleeves. Classy and elegant.

“Not as good as you,” he said.

Juliette smiled and pulled on her black kitten heels—something a bit easier to be walking in. “Looks like we’re doing good on time.”

“Yeah. Our reservation at Rue des Lumieres is at 7, and the museum’s event starts at 8, we’re picking up Sloane and Hank on the way so we gotta leave by about 6:30…”

“You don’t have to worry so much,” she said, chuckling.

“I just want tonight to go well,” he sighed. “No cases, no wesen, just…a nice dinner out with our friends, then a nice museum visit and all just celebrating Monroe and Rosalee.”

“It’s not too much to ask, I know,” she agreed at the unspoken complaint, walking over and fixing his pocket square. “What about Trubel?”

“Home alone.”

“That’s very trusting of Sloane...”

“I think they’ve come to a kind of understanding,” Nick said with a touch of relief. “Kind of like how she did with the rest of us.”

“That’s good. It’s only been a week though.”

“Still, progress is progress.”

Juliette nodded and they headed down and out to the car. Nick got to Sloane’s easily enough despite late afternoon traffic. “I’ll go see if she’s ready but we gotta leave pretty quick.”

“I’ll wait here then,” she said, pulling out her phone. “Let Hank know we’re on our way.”

He nodded and headed to the door, knocking. There was a pause before Trubel opened it. “Hey Nick. She’s almost ready.”

“Great. Looking forward to a night on your own?”

“Eh…I had plenty of those to be honest,” she shrugged. “But it’ll be nice to I guess have some me time in a house, with stuff to watch again I guess.”

“Is that Nick?” Sloane called from her bedroom.

“Yeah!”

“You ready?”

“Yeah, just a sec.” She stepped out and Nick actually froze. He’d always seen Sloane in jeans and shirts and jackets. Simple, straightforward, easy to fight and get messy in. He’d never seen her put that much effort into clothes or make-up. Tonight though, she was wearing a teal colored dress that had shimmery-silver lace appliques across the faux wrap top and a flowy skirt that was like handkercheifs of lace and material. She had on silver heals and was just finishing putting in simple silver earrings. Despite her hair being a bob down to her shoulders she managed to pull it back somehow in a crisscross pattern that was elegant and refined and it gave her a whole new look. Her make-up was a bit more than usual as well, with eyeshadow and lipstick and it was odd to realize—not that he didn’t realize before of course—that Sloane was _attractive_. The sort that could definitely pull attention if she so wished. She looked at him and he was struck by how green her eyes were too. “…What?”

“What?”

“You’re staring,” she said, quirking her brow.

“I-uh…sorry, just…never seen you all dressed up,” he said honestly.

She looked down at her dress and then shrugged. “I guess you haven’t, true. Black didn’t seem appropriate so I got this the other day.

“Looks good,” he nodded, his brain coming back to him. “I wasn’t sure you’d be comfortable coming unarmed in a dress somewhere,” he teased.

Sloane smirked, grabbing a purse—also different considering she usually put things in her jacket, but it was a clutch just big enough for her wallet and phone. “Who says I’m unarmed?”

“…Seriously? Where?” he said, half disapproving and half amused.

“I don’t think Juliette would like me to show you.” He blushed at that and she just grinned before turning to Trubel. “I left you some money for take out.”

“You didn’t have to,” Trubel said. “I have money.”

“Yeah, but save that up for other stuff. I got a job, you don’t,” she said. “Think of it as house-sitting compensation.”

“…Okay. Thanks,” she said. Her pride made her blush but she seemed happy.

“I’ll text you when I’m heading back.”

“Text?” Nick asked. He didn’t remember Trubel having a phone.

“We worked out getting her on my public phone plan so she’d have one,” Sloane said. Trubel pulled out a basic but nice smart phone with an honest smile. “She’s going to be paying me for that by keeping the house clean.”

“Gives me something to do at least when I’m not training,” she sighed, the smile turning a bit strained.

Sloane rolled her eyes. “I programmed the rest of your numbers into hers already.”

“Oh, that’s good,” he nodded, smiling a bit at Trubel. “Send me one later so I know what your number is.”

“Right. But shouldn’t you get going?” Trubel said, waking the phone up to show him the time.

“Ah, yeah, we need to go,” he said. Sloane nodded waving to Trubel as they headed to the car.

“Have a nice night,” she said, waving back. Climbing in, Sloane reached into her purse and handed Nick a small bag. “The eyedrops came today.”

“Really?” He took the bag, opening it to see two small bottles. “Great!”

“Yeah. Remember though, don’t overdo it.”

“These are those special eyedrops that suppress Grimm power, right?” Juliette asked.

“Yeah. We got enough for the wedding and that’s all we should use for now. I had to contact the Library in Seattle for these…”

“You don’t sound happy,” Nick noted.

Sloane sighed. “I was hoping Gallin could get them, but since she’s no longer an official librarian she’s limited in what she can do. Having to tell them where I am, even a PO Box that I got, sends up a red flag…”

“…You’re still worried someone will come visit you?”

“Visit would be the nice word,” Sloane said. Shaking her head she smiled. “But we’ll burn that bridge when we cross it.”

“Pretty sure that’s not the saying,” Juliette said.

“It is for me.”

\-----------------

“2000?! That can’t be right!” a customer said loudly. Ryker flinched but thankfully his coworkers and Sherwin weren’t around. Strictly speaking he shouldn’t be either, but he’d agreed to meet someone after hours. “It’s just a dent!”

“It’s a big dent in the front of your car. There was a lot more damage underneath. I’ll need to order parts, and then there’s time and all that to consider.” It was mostly true, though he was inflating the price for time a bit more than Sherwin would approve.

“I think I want a second opinion,” the man grumbled. Mr. Wurstner, or “Bud” as his name patch said on his own coveralls, was a very nervous man and tended to ramble and go over information repeatedly when he was nervous. Which again seemed to be most of the time.

Ryker swallowed. “Look, I understand it’s not convenient, but I’ve got everything listed down already, I can get started with what I can do right away and get the parts ASAP. It should be maybe four days tops, and that includes expedited shipping.” Okay, that was a lie, the parts shop was here in Portland. But he was banking on Bud not knowing that.

He frowned, tapping his foot. “Well…I don’t know…I mean, I don’t want to involve my insurance because I already got rearended and they’ll up my rates, but maybe it would be cheaper to just call them…and deal with my wife knowing I went through the drive thru…I could come back tomorrow?”

“I could give you a discount,” Ryker tried quickly. “I mean, I understand as a working guy, it’s not easy to get out and find someone to do the job during the day, so that’s why we offer some services after hours. I could maybe go for about 1700? I mean, it’s that or make time somewhere else on their schedule, and your insurance…”

“…Fine,” he sighed. “Get it started.”

“Right!” He pulled out a clipboard with their normal release on it. “Do you have a ride? I’m afraid we don’t have rentals…”

“Yeah, I got one…”

“Great! Oh, and here.” He pulled out a card and handed it to him. “That’s my direct number, you can call me directly for updates. That’ll be the best way to do it because we’re all kind of doing our own work right now. I’m the only one working after our normal hours—with my boss’s permission.” Not.

“Okay, okay…I guess I’ll tell her it was just a little scrape.” He finished filling out the form and then called his wife to come get him. Once he was out the door, Ryker took the form and put it through the shredder. This wasn’t going to be going on Sherwin’s books.

Bud sighed as he waited for his wife to come, feeling like something wasn’t right. He really should’ve known better and it was already nagging at him that he made a mistake, but now he felt trapped! Hopefully things would be better by the morning…

\---------------------

“I’ve been meaning to ask, how did you do that with your hair?” Juliette asked Sloane.

“Youtube, mirrors, a bunch of bobbypins and a lot of patience,” she said with a smile. “I’ve done it a couple of times before though.”

“I’m impressed,” Juliette said, smiling back. “You don’t drink though?” They were at the museum, looking through historical finds and stories and Monroe and Rosalee were like kids in a candy store. Sloane had to admit it was more interesting than she’d thought it’d be, and the wine was pretty good. There was also other parts of the museum and Nick and Hank rather enjoyed a military exhibit. Juliette was finding it all interesting and enjoying just mingling about for a normal evening. She’d only had a glass of rose however.

“Not much. I figure someone should stay sober and I don’t really like being drunk.”

“More for us,” DeEtta said, toasting her. She was wearing a shapely sea-foam green dress. Sloane had never met Rosalee’s sister before but she wasn’t shy and was fine with the wine if not so interested in the museum. She seemed to like Hank as well, who was doing his best be polite but not encourage her. That didn’t stop her from sticking noticeably close to him.

“Probably the smart move,” Hank said. He was also nicely dressed in a charcoal grey suit with a yellow tie.

Monroe, in a grey suit with a blue shirt and tie, smiled. “I gotta say, nothing beats the old ways of making stuff. New is faster but I like the flavor of the old.”

“It’s interesting how much it reminds me of the shop and mixing things too,” Rosalee agreed. She was in a black dress with red roses printed across it.

“Thinking about making some beer or wine?” Juliette asked.

“Ahhh, I don’t think I’m quite ready for that. I mean, with all the microbreweries already in Portland?” she chuckled. “I’d have to compete with the hipsters and the serious folks and that could get ugly.”

“I don’t know. At the very least, maybe some anniversary we can go to wine country and give it a try,” Monroe said.

“Aw, already talking about anniversaries,” Rosalee said, kissing him gently. He grinned at the kiss and the others all smiled, though DeEtta rolled her eyes a little. Nick glanced at Juliette, but then away. They still had not talked about the proposal and honestly, he was scared to bring it up. They’d finally gotten back on track as far as their relationship and he didn’t want to tip whatever balance they’d finally struck crashing down again. But it was hard not to feel a little bitter seeing Monroe and Rosalee. He hated that feeling and tried to push it down.

“I think I’m gonna get some water, anyone else want some?”

“I’ll take some,” Hank said. “Wine gives me a hangover if I’m not careful.”

“Pretty sure that’s most alcohol,” Nick said. “But same, I should sober up for the ride home.”

“I’m good,” Rosalee said, Monroe and Juliette also shaking their heads.

“I’ll take some,” DeEtta said. “Can you carry all that?”

Sloane nodded and moved from their group to the bar, handing her glass to the bartender and then taking out a twenty for the overpriced water. The wine was cheaper since it was a tasting. “And four waters please.”

“Hello there,” a voice that was trying very hard to be smooth said next to her. She glanced over to see a man in a suit leaning against the bar with a seductive smile that made her cringe. “I didn’t know they let the art walk around in this museum.”

She blinked before gesturing to the building around them with an unimpressed look. Normally she wouldn’t even engage but it was just so bad she had to shoot him. “This is a history museum.”

He blushed and then laughed. “Ah, right…Sorry, just thought that might be a good way to start a conversation with a girl I’ve been admiring all night.”

“Well, you tried.”

He looked put out by the bored tone but then smiled again. “Can I get you a refill?”

“Nope, got it covered.” She accepted the bottles of water from the bartender, turning to head off.

“Hey now, I’m just trying to be friendly,” he said, getting a little annoyed and stepping in front of her.

“Pretty sure an opener like that is not just looking make friends, and I’m not interested.”

“Well, let me help carry all that? Why so much water?” He said, reaching for the water.

“They’re for my friends,” she said, taking a step to the side to go around him.

“Ah yeah, the group right? They seem all paired up but you so…maybe you could use some company?

“So nothing,” she said, losing patience. “I have company.”

He glared a bit now, grabbing her arm speaking lowly but roughly. “You don’t have to be such a bitch! Maybe that’s why you’re alone.”

Sloane felt a pang of something and glared. Her arms were full of water so she couldn’t exactly do much. Unless she shoved one of the bottles down his--

“Now you see, you don’t listen,” Nick said, coming up behind him and setting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s not alone. She’s here with us.”

“And if you don’t take your hand off of her,” Hank added, setting a hand on his other shoulder. “We’ll be the ones keeping you company for a while till security comes and gets you.”

“Or we could be evil and let the girls shred you,” Monroe added. Rosalee, Juliette and DeEtta all looked ready to take him down like a pride of lionesses.

He paused but then shrugged out of their hands with a click of his tongue and let go to walk off.

“Jeez,” DeEtta said, glaring. “Why are guys like that? No offense to you guys, of course.”

“No, yeah,” Hank sighed, taking a water from her and passing them around. “There’s at least one predatory asshole at every gathering.”

“And bus, and supermarket, and gym, and sidewalk home,” DeEtta listed off. “Like, I love men, but they are _awful_ —”

“Okay, I think you need that water now,” Rosalee said, opening the last bottle and handing it to her sister.

“You okay?” Nick asked Sloane a little more quietly.

She smiled, sipping her own water. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Though I appreciate the backup.” Still, something about his comment had stung. Was she upset being “alone”? DeEtta and Hank were single, even if DeEtta had been hitting on him. Being alone was fine, it’s what she preferred. It was probably just annoyance that he was singling her out like a wounded animal in the heard.

They enjoyed the exhibits for a while longer before deciding around midnight to head home. When she came in the TV was on, showing some old B horror movies on one channel. When she came closer she saw an empty Pizza box on the coffee table, some sodas, and Trubel curled up on the couch asleep in the old shirt and sweats she used for pajamas. Smiling a little at how relaxed she looked, Sloane draped the throw on her couch over her to let her keep sleeping. She then turned off the TV and headed to go wash up and go to bed. She wasn’t alone. Romance wasn’t something she needed, she knew that.

\---------------------

It was a couple of days later that Sloane was heading home when she was surprised to see someone pacing in front of her house. “Bud?”

“Sloane!” He said, smiling a bit nervously. “Hey, um…sorry to show up all of a sudden. But I need…or at least I was hoping maybe you could help me.”

Sloane was a bit surprised. Bud was alright in her book, but they’d only see each other every few weeks for a little help either with a case or a project. He’d gotten more comfortable with her than when she first arrived, but he usually still went to Nick with problems. “Okay…what’s wrong?”

“Well, Rosalee mentioned you knew a bit about cars?”

That was a further surprise, but she nodded. “Yeah, I do. Having car trouble?”

“Kind of. I…had a little fender bender a few days ago. Nothing major, I just um…hit something.”

“Something…alive?” she asked carefully. “Do we need a shovel?”

“No! No no no, nothing like that,” he said, laughing nervously. “I hit a concrete pylon, kind of crunched part of my front bumper and headlight.”

“Ah. Body work isn’t my strong suit, I know more about mechanical issues,” Sloane said, actually a little disappointed. Working on a car sounded like a nice change of pace.

“That’s fine, it’s really more about the body shop I took it too. I think they’re trying to fleece me!”

“Fleece you? Like…overcharge?”

“Yes! I should’ve known, really—it was open way to late at night and the guy was acting weird but I really didn’t want to go through my insurance because I already had two other minor accidents this year—neither were my fault mind you—and my rates would go up and then my wife would get angry with me because of how it happened…”

“How did it happen?” she asked, managing to pick up a hint of shame despite how fast he was talking.

“Hey, I know you might be thinking bad things, but don’t,” he said, a bit more firmly. “The only thing I cheated on was my diet going through a drive thru. The pylon was too close to where the drive through turns! It happens all the time, they even admitted it, but can’t get rid of it. But if my wife finds out I went and got a bacon burger when I’m supposed to be watching my cholesterol, she’ll have my head. I mean, figuratively speaking. Uh, don’t tell her, please, she thinks I got sideswiped.”

Sloane wasn’t even sure she met Bud’s wife but nodded. “Right…So you want me to…?”

“I asked around and this mechanic has been doing this to a lot of people!”

“Bud, I can’t really enforce a different price on something, it’s not against the law to set his own prices…” she sighed.

“I kind of figured, but that’s not what I was hoping. I also heard, y’see, that he’s a wesen. A Langen Ohren.”

“A…rabbit?” she asked, searching her brain for “Long Ears” in what she remembered from her books.

“No, a hare! I mean, there’s Willahara, but they’re the rabbits and rabbits and hares are different despite their looks so I don’t know what happened with the naming there—”

“We’re off topic,” Sloane said quickly, holding up a hand. “So he’s a wesen.”

“Yeah. So I was hoping, maybe you could, um…just kind of inquire why he’s doing this?”

Sloane stared at him and tilted her head a bit. “You want me to intimidate him.”

“Uh, well…a bit?” he said hesitantly. “look, he said at first it would be 2000, then went down to 1700, but he called me and said it would be 3400! He keeps changing things and I’m just…I dug myself in, I know, but that’s a lot for me right now…”

Sloane relented a bit and sighed. “And you want me because I know cars?”

“Well, and because you’re a little better at intimidating than Nick I think…” he said with a smile. “I mean, he’s scary when he wants to be, but you know how to give off that Grimm aura without even trying.”

Sloane actually didn’t mind that, nodding a bit. “Fair enough.”

“So do you mind?” he asked hopefully.

Sloane sighed, thinking it all over. On the one hand, she wasn’t sure on the ethics of this—and that was a problem mainly because she was a police detective and didn’t want this coming back to bite her. “Local Cop leans on mechanic regarding prices,” could go a lot of different directions. But then again, she was being asked to go as a Grimm, not a cop, so as long as he didn’t know her day job…

“Okay, I can talk to him,” she finally said.

“Great! I’m pretty sure he’ll be there about 6, after they normally should be closed—he said he’s been doing some extended times for people who work late and you know, I don’t find anything about that anywhere when I got home so I should’ve known it was a scam then and gotten my car back but—”

“Bud, calm down,” Sloane said, holding her hands up. “I’ll talk to him, see what’s going on, and make sure he understands this needs to be fair.”

“Right…okay, yeah,” He nodded. “Fair is all I ask. Although if he is trying to scam me, a discount wouldn’t hurt to make things up!”

She smiled in amusement. “I’ll be sure to let him know and call you after I see him.”

Bud smiled. “Thanks, I appreciate it. Here, this is his address and everything I got,” he said, handing her a piece of paper he grabbed from his pocket. “Oh, uh, do you want to take Nick? Maybe play good Grimm, bad Grimm?”

“He’s…a bit busy right now.” He was currently with Trubel, going over some information in the trailer as part of training for both of them. Sloane had been planning to join them but she could take a detour.

“Right, of course. I mean, I still think you’ll do the best.”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling still.

“Well, I gotta get home—I’m borrowing my wife’s car. Call me after you talk to him.”

“I will,” she said, waving as he headed for the sedan parked on the street.

Sighing, she watched Bud drive off and pulled out her phone and dialed Nick’s number as she headed inside. “Hey Sloane. On your way?”

“Kind of. I’m picking up my notes at home, but Bud was waiting for me.”

“Bud? Why?”

“Apparently he wants me to talk to someone for him.”

“Is it a big problem?” Nick asked. He was remembering the issue with the bridge and the trolls Bud asked for his help with.

“No, not really,” she sighed, picking a book from her desk. Not her scrap book, but another one with notes in it. “Someone giving him a hard time because of his car or whatever. Says he thinks he’s wesen and just wants me to talk to him about fair trade practices.”

“And you’re going to do it.”

“It’s on the way to the trailer park I think. Figure I can do him a solid and check into it. It does sound like this body shop guy is upping the price a lot.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“I can be nice,” she said primly.

Nick chuckled. “Well, just let us know when you’re on the way over. I was thinking I’d grab us some food if we want to stick around for a while.”

“Will do. How is study time going?”

“Not too bad. I think Trubel is doing pretty well.”

“There’s some really freaky wesen out there!” Trubel called.

Sloane chuckled. “Tell her I’ll see about getting some of those Filipino wesen books and she’ll see what freaky is. Talk to you later.”

“Later,” Nick said, hanging up. She hanged up as well and then paused when she saw a text from Kelly on her private phone. They’d worked out a website to text through the deeper part of the web that should be safe—but right now just through Sloane who knew how to cover her tracks if needed. Opening it, she smiled a tiny bit.

Kelly: _Diana is doing well. Her development is a bit different from what I remember of babies. Trying to figure out how to baby proof for a mini-hexenbeast._

Sloane typed out her reply. _I don’t think that’s covered in the parenting books so good luck._

Setting the phone back in her pocket, she headed back to her car after locking up. The notebook went into the center console out of habit and she started heading towards the other side of town.

The car shop looked closed when she pulled up and she wondered if Bud was sure someone would be there. The schedule said it was open from 7 to 5 and it was already nearly 6. But then as she pulled in, she saw one bay door was slightly open. Getting out, she walked over and heard music inside, as well as the sound of some kind of work being done. The shuttered door wasn’t moving from it’s position about a foot off the ground so she sighed and pounded on it with her fist. The sound of work paused and she knocked again, the rumbling of the medal sound a bit like thunder. Footsteps were coming closer, she could hear them over the music.

“Who’s there?” a man asked through the door, sounding nervous.

“My name’s Sloane. I’m here to talk to you about some work your doing for a friend of mine,” Sloane said.

There was a pause before the door lifted mechanically from a switch on the side. Sloane arched her brow at the wrench in his hand and couldn’t help but think he was holding it like a weapon. “Uh, hey…so you don’t need a repair?”

“No,” she said, moving into the garage. “I’m here about Bud Wurstern’s car.”

“Ah, the work truck,” he said, relaxing a little. “I told him, the damage was more than it looked like on the surface—”

“Where is it?” Sloane asked, looking around.

“Uh…it’s offsite. For painting.”

She paused and then pointed. “You have a painting room over there I believe,” she said, pointing to what was very obviously a room with a paint spraying machine. “Looks recently used too.”

“What, are you a detective?” he asked defensively.

Sloane turned, giving him a narrowed look. “I’m a concerned friend. I want to look over his car and I want you to point out to me what “further damage” there is. And then I want to discuss this with you and the owner of this place.”

“I-I’m the owner,” he said.

“…Yeah, if you’re going to tell a lie like that, I’d practice first,” Sloane said. “Because first of all, owners don’t stutter. Second of all, the internet exists and I already know the owner’s name is Sherwin Costello, and you are Ryker Dowling who dealt with Bud personally.”

“And how do you know that?”

“You have a name tag,” she tapped her chest where it matched on the coveralls, his patch that said ‘Ryker’.

Ryker had the decency to blush but got defensive. “W-well, you’re not the customer, so I can’t just show you the car and do all that!”

“I’ll get Bud on the phone and get his permission, as well as Mr. Costello.”

“I, um…”

Sloane tilted her head. “…He doesn’t know you’re doing this, does he?” Ryker swallowed. “So what, you’re scamming some customers on the side behind your boss’s back?”

“I’m not scamming people!”

Sloane advanced on him, her voice hard. She was losing her patience with this fidgety man. “Then you should have no problem providing an itemized receipt for everything you’ve had to do and it’s cost right now.”

Ryker backed up and then woged into his long-eared form. He gasped and dropped the wrench with an echoing clang. “G-Grimm!”

“Yep,” she said, smiling a little. She got her tow under the wrench and managed to get it up into her hand expertly, twirling it like she would a weapon with a flourish.

“I-but-”

“I’m a Grimm and a friend of Bud’s. You are not my friend. Do you want to stay on my good side?” She tapped the wrench in her hand.

“Y-yes!”

“Have you fixed his truck?”

“N…not completely…”

“Then I want you to do so, docaument everything, and give him a _fair_ price. I’m not going to push for more than that but maybe you could give it a nice detailing wash too?”

“Sure, yeah, I-I can do that,” he swallowed.

“Good.” She set the wrench under her arm and pulled out her small notebook she used for cases, writing down her number. “Do that, get it to him by Monday, and you won’t have to see me again. If there is a problem, call me.” She offered the wrench to him with the paper and he gingerly took them from her grasp. “Have a nice weekend.” She turned and headed out to her car. Ryker felt his legs shaking. She seemed so normal, but he knew like he knew the sun would rise and the wrench would fall to the floor again if he let go that she could kill him easily. He managed to get over to the bench nearby and sit, putting his head in his hands. He wasn’t sure how long he was there but it was dark by the time he heard a car pull up.

“Mr. Dowling?”

He froze and turned his eyes up to see Mr. Powell again. “You got the money?”

“I…N-no…”

He narrowed his eyes and his nostrils flared. “Well…then it’s time we took a drive.”

“Wait-” He yelped as Mr. Powell hauled him to his feet and pushed him stumbling outside to the waiting luxury car. “I need to lock up!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll have someone watch things here. Get in the car.”

That honestly made Ryker worry more but he didn’t want to argue further and see what would happen. He realized he was still holding the Grimm’s business card and put it into his jumpsuit pocket on the way to the car. Climbing in, he buckled in with shaking hands that wouldn’t quite get the buckle in until the fifth try. Mr. Powell climbed in with him and the other man up front in the driver’s seat headed off once he was ready. Ryker jittered his foot nervously, trying to think what to do. Powell looked annoyed at the movement but just sighed.

It was a bit of a drive but they finally pulled up to a restaurant in a nicer part of town. Powell got out and opened Ryker’s door, pulling him out by his coveralls when he hesitated and pushed him towards the alley that led around back. Once at the door he knocked and it was opened by another man in a suit, looking at Ryker with a pitying gaze. He swallowed again and followed them inside and to a side room that should be an office for the restaurant but was a bit bigger than what some might expect. A man was sitting at the desk there, going over some books. He was older with graying hair and a ruddy complexion and a little extra weight, but sharp eyes that looked like they were ready size you up and bring you down. He smiled when Ryker was brought in.

“Hello, Ryker. If you’re here, then you must be about to give me some disappointing news,” he said lightly, marking his place and closing the book. It was a ledger of some kind, green unlike some of the brown ones on the shelves. Everything was organized neatly on the desk to the point Ryker was scared to touch anything with his dirty hands.

“Well, um…I’ve got _some_ of the money, Mr. Demitro…” he said slowly, trying to breath.

“How much is some?”

“A-About 6,500?”

He hummed and shook his head. “Not enough then. I’ll take that, but I’m going to have to see what else we can do to make up that difference.” He pulled out a folder and opened it up. “Currently you work for a body shop, correct?”

“I…y-yes…”

“Owned by Sherwin Costello? Hmmm…that name sounds familiar…Arman, wasn’t he a promising stock car racer?”

“Yessir,” Powell nodded. “He and Mr. Dowling here were on a semi-pro team. Then an accident paralyzed Costello from the waist down and their team disbanded.”

“You…do your research,” Ryker said, uncomfortable now, plucking nervously at his coveralls.

“I enjoy racing. That’s how we make some of our money on the side. It’s got it’s roots in a lot of what we do here.”

“Well…I could help out with a race?” he offered.

“Mmm, I don’t have clients work for me that way. Especially given your employment record—this will be your fifth job in less than 2 years. Not a good look.”

“I’m good at what I do,” he said defensively.

“Skill and work ethic are different things. Not everyone can be like myself and Arman and have both. Arman’s skills or more physical though.” Ryker swallowed and hunkered down at the implied warning as Mr. Powell nodded. “But, your connection there could be useful another way…maybe putting some parts through without raising suspicion. And some money.”

Ryker paled. “You mean money laundering? I…No, I-I can’t do that to Sherwin,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean, smuggling too—”

“Such ugly words,” Mr. Demitro said with a frown. “But to me, “can’t”, is the ugliest. Maybe you don’t realize just how deep you are in this, Ryker. I make loans. This means I expect to be paid with interest. I’ve given you 6 months, and then an extension to 8—I’ve been more than generous. Now I’m giving you another way to repay us and you’re turning it down?”

“I…it’s not my business, he’ll figure out something is wrong…” he tried.

“Well, if he’s a good enough friend to give you a job I’m sure he would love to help.”

“B-but he’s not the only problem! There’s him and I got cars from people I gotta fix and now I gotta Grimm on my back! People are gonna get suspicious if I don’t get it done so if you give me more time-”

He sat up straighter at that. “Ryker, repeat that. A Grimm?” He looked at Mr. Powell, who shook his head as he hadn’t seen one at the shop.

“I…yeah. Th-there was a Grimm at the shop before he came.”

“I heard there was one in Portland,” Demitro said, thoughtfully. “What did he want?”

“It was a woman…she said I was scamming one of her friends and told me to be fair or she’d be back,” he finished, shivering.

“And were you? Scamming people?” he asked, amused.

“I-I had to make enough money to pay you back!”

“And you got all uppity about money laundering?” Powell said with a sneer. “Hypocrite.” Ryker ducked down, knowing he wasn’t wrong. It hurt him deep down to resort to it, but he’d been desperate.

Demitro just smiled, reclining in his seat and looking thoughtful. “…I think I may have another way you can pay me back now. You can even keep what money you have, that’s how generous I’ll be about this.”

Ryker was shocked, excited, but then wary. “H-how?”

Demitro’s smile didn’t make him feel any better.

\--------------------------

Sloane yawned as she and Trubel got to the house after studying all evening. Juliette had even joined them, picking up dinner on the way, and though Hank couldn’t join he expressed his envy of Nick being surrounded by beautiful women.

“Ready for bed?”

“Yeah…um…so, I know the games and sparring in stuff help with my reflexes and now I’m learning more about wesen in general…” Trubel started.

“But?”

“Well…when am I going to get some real weapons training?”

Sloane sighed, remembering Nick’s impatience, but just turned. “Something in particular you have in mind?”

“Well, I know you use your knife really well so that. And then maybe the crossbow and a gun?”

“Ah…Knife and Crossbow I can definitely do. Nick would maybe be better for the gun, I’m not a big fan…”

“Why?”

Sloane breathed in. “I made a big mistake with a gun once…killed someone innocent. I’m good at using a gun, my aim is good, but I prefer weapons that make me think and move and re-evaluate what I’m doing regularly. But they do come in handy so I don’t begrudge Nick or anyone else, including you, using them.”

Trubel was surprised but nodded. “Yeah, okay...”

“We’re not quite at the point where I want to spar with real blades either, but I should have some practice ones we can use. Next time we’re out at the training grounds we can give it a try.”

Trubel smiled a bit excited. “Awesome.”

She smiled and bid her goodnight, heading to get ready for bed.

In the morning she did her usual routine before heading to work, letting Trubel sleep in. No new cases came in so she was working notes and other paperwork for past cases most of the day with Nick and Hank. Towards the end of the day her phone rang with an unfamiliar number and she answered it. “Larson.”

“Um, hello, M-Ms. Larson. This is Ryker Dowling, from Extra Mile. We…talked, yesterday.”

Sloane arched her brow. “I remember…”

“Right. Um, you said to call you if there was a problem and, well…I got the car in and I’m going over it one more time and I just wanted to see if you wanted to check it out in person.”

“In person?”

“Yeah. I…Um, no offense but I don’t want to see you again, but I really don’t want to see you again if your or Mr. Wurstner has a problem so…I figure if I get your seal of approval, you’ll be less likely to um…have to visit me again later.”

“…I suppose that makes sense…” Sloane said slowly. “Today?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. I can go over everything with you.”

“Okay. I can be there around six.”

“Sounds great! I’ll have everything ready.” He hanged up without further ado and she frowned a bit.

“Everything okay?” Nick asked.

“…Yeah, I guess,” she said, still frowning at her phone.

“That’s convincing.”

She rolled her eyes with a smile and looked at him. “Remember that mechanic I told you Bud wanted me to talk to?”

“Yeah?”

“He called and wants me to look over the car before he calls Bud. Make sure it’s up to my standard so I don’t have to “visit” him again.”

“And…that doesn’t sit well with you? Normally I feel like you’d be insisting on that on your own.”

Sloane arched her brow. “Are you calling me controlling?”

“Ah…I just mean you have a way of doing things and you like everyone to be on the same page.”

“Nice save,” Hank whispered. Nick elbowed him.

Sloane smirked a little, not even that insulted it seems. “Can’t help it, I prefer to be in charge. But this guy is a Langen Ohren. He’s nervous and jumpy and they’re prone to running rather than fighting.”

“So calling you suddenly is surprising?” Hank guessed.

“A little. Even if he is trying to avoid the “Wrath of the Grimm”. He shouldn’t have any idea that I’m detective so that should be the only reason he’s afraid of me. Yet he’s still willingly inviting me over...doesn’t sit right in my gut.” She sighed but shrugged. “I might just be paranoid though.”

“Hey, paranoia in our line of work keeps us alive sometimes,” Nick said. “You want some back up?”

Sloane was a bit surprised. “You want to back me up throwing your Grimm weight around?”

He shrugged, smiling. “I’m a cop, but I’m not a boy scout like you keep saying.”

“I guess that’s true,” she said, smiling a bit. “But it’s really not necessary.”

“I want to,” he said.

She frowned a little. “Nick, I can take care of myself.”

“I know, I’m not saying you can’t,” he said, holding up his hands. “But even gentle animals attack when cornered. I’d feel better just knowing you had someone watching your back.”

She gave him a flat look before sighing and rolling her eyes. “Okay, fine. But let me handle it.”

“Okay. I don’t want to bring Trubel though,” he said, grimacing.

“Trying to set a good example despite bad habits,” Hank asked, amused.

“Do as we say, not as we do,” Sloane grinned. “Did you want to babysit me too?”

“Nah,” he said. “My only weight I got to throw around is my detective badge and I don’t think that will fly.”

“Yeah, trying to avoid that,” Sloane said, Nick nodding.

“Well, we make a good duo,” he said, holding up a fist. She smiled and bumped it with her own despite another eye roll.

When 5:30 rolled around they headed out in separate cars to Extra Mile. They got to the shop just before six and Sloane got out first to go over to his car. “You want to come in at the same time or hang back?”

Nick smiled and reclined his seat. “I’ll hang back, see how it’s done. I’m just here if the rabbit tries anything, right?”

Sloane rolled her eyes. “So much for being a duo.” Nick just smiled at the tease and watched her head over to the garage. He frowned though when he saw it was mostly closed up—that didn’t feel right. He knew she said he was scamming Bud, and probably others, by opening the shop after hours and not telling his boss. But the fact that it was deserted looking pinged his own paranoid senses.

Sloane wasn’t keen on it either but walked over and knocked on the door. “Dowling?” The door rolled up and she heard him from the inside.

“Hey, um…come on in?” his voice called.

She frowned and glanced around. It was dark inside and warning bells were going off in her head. As she stepped in, she didn’t see Dowling. “…Hello?” she said, glancing around slowly she heard something shift and before she could back out felt a sharp sting in her thigh. She reached down to feel something sticking out and pulled it out. In the dim light she saw it was a tranquilizer dart, like the kind used to hunt big game. “Shit!” She moved to get out of the garage but someone rushed her and grabbed her in a hold, and the garage door start closing. Grunting, she planted her feet on the ground and elbowed him hard in the side, then shoulder threw him when he loosened his grip. He was a big man and she almost went down with him but got up to try and get out of the garage again. She gasped as he grabbed her angle and she almost went down again. She saw him woge in the dim light, his amphibian face with its sharp beak and the low gurgling growl putting her on high alert.

 _A Mandibula Trampa?!_ _What is that doing here?!_ She kicked out and got him in the face, getting her ankle free and up on her feet. The garage door had closed and it was even darker now. He got up as well, hissing at her like an angry snapping turtle and flexing his sharp beak. She knew that would snap her bones if she got too close, maybe cut something like her fingers clean off. Fighting at a distance was the best idea, but she only had her knife with her. When he moved for her again, she glanced around and grabbed a wrench from a tool chest nearby, throwing it at him. He managed to dodge and she then grabbed the whole box and threw it like Donkey Kong throwing a barrel at his face, making him reel.

Nick meanwhile had frowned when the door closed again. Getting out of the car, he walked over to the door. “Sloane?” He frowned more and then focused his hearing. When he heard a crash and some yelling he jumped into action, looking for a way in. He tried pulling up on the shutter door but it wouldn’t budge. “Sloane!”

“Nick!” She yelled back. She then gasped when he threw the tool chest back at her . She managed to get out of the way, the strike hitting and denting the shutter door behind her. “I’ve got at least two really hostile wesen in here! And I they hit me with a dart of something!”

“Shut up!” the big man yelled, moving for her. “Get whoever that is!”

Nick gaped and then looked up when he heard someone rushing for the door. Another man came through the door and moved for him, but Nick was ready. When he tried to punch him he ducked and then brought his own hand up into his chin. His head snapped back and he stumbled but then growled and woged into a klaustreich. His eyes widened then. “We have another Grimm!” he yelled.

“What?” Powell said, distracted a moment. Sloane used that opportunity to roundhouse kick him across the face. To his credit he didn’t go down but he growled and grabbed her up, slamming her down like a wrestler and knocking the wind out of her. Being down, she could feel her limbs starting to get heavy. _This is something that acts much faster than a normal drug,_ she thought, trying to get back up.

Nick meanwhile was trading blows with the klaustreich, finally striking him hard enough in the face to get him down. He rushed for the door to the auto-shop’s main building, then to the office door that was open and the door to the garage area. He saw a large man looming over Sloane who was prone on the ground.

“Just stay down, sweetheart. You’ll need that fight in you later.” She glared, grabbing the wrench she was reaching for and bringing it up to smash into his knee. He howled in pain and moved away. “You bitch!” He woged, moving to haul her up and bite through her neck. Nick rushed over and kicked the back of his knee, making him yell and buckle.

Nick then felt a sharp prick and gasped, cursing and pulling a dart from his shoulder. “Shit!”

“That’s what I said,” Sloane said, slurring her words slightly from her spot on the ground. Nick was alarmed she was down and knelt by her while the large man was cradling his leg.

“Sloane?”

“Hey…I…am not gonna be getting up for a bit…this stuffs strong…” she said, trying hard to focus through the room spinning. She should be more worried but her brain wasn’t working.

“It should be,” another voice said. “It’s my own recipe.” A sharfbleike woman looked down at them from a perch on a truck up in the air on one of the risers. She woged back to a woman with brown hair and dark skin, smiling as she tipped her rifle down and away. “We’re a bit pressed for time so you got an extra strong dose, handsome. You should survive I think.”

“Unlike your friend,” the big man said, getting up. He was limping noticeably.

“Hey now, Powell, this could be good,” the woman said. “Demetrio wanted one Grimm—”

“And he’ll get at least one after I break her neck,” he said, moving towards her. Nick managed to pull a boneless Sloane close to him. He cursed at not having grabbed his gun.

“Powell, knock it off,” the woman said again. “Do you think he’d be happy knowing you could’ve brought in two for his little event and killed one because she managed to get you?”

“She shattered my knee, Marta!” he said.

“And what do you think Demetrio will do if you kill his next money maker?”

He glared, nostrils flaring. Nick was debating how fast he could army carry Sloane out the door when he felt his stomach dip and the room start spinning.

“Oh, looks like it’s taking effect,” she said with a smile. “Ryker, get me down from here.”

“R-Right…” There was a switch thrown and the truck came down from the lift. Marta jumped down part of the way as Nick fell over, unable to stay sitting up. He was still holding on to Sloane as tight as he could, but Sloane was out like a light now.

“Sleep well, Grimms. You’ll need it.”

\-----------------

Trubel frowned as she looked at the time on her phone. Sloane had said she had a quick errand after work in a text but she’d grab food on the way home for them. It was now going on 8PM and she hadn’t heard anything even when she texted for an update. Sighing, she went through the numbers programmed into her phone and tried Nick. It rang with no answer and she growled in frustration. Even though she was still leery, she called Rosalee.

“Trubel?”

“Hey…you knew it was me?”

“Sloane made sure I had your name and number in my phone too,” she said. “What’s up?”

“Uh…I was wondering if Sloane was with you actually.”

Rosalee paused in mixing the salad for dinner and frowned. “No, I haven’t seen her in person for the last couple of days actually…”

“Has she called you?”

“No, we texted earlier but not since this morning…why?”

Trubel hesitated but sighed. “She was going to run an errand and grab dinner on the way home, but she hasn’t called or answered my texts…I tried Nick too and he didn’t pick up.”

Rosalee made a concerned hum. “Just a sec,” she said, turning from the phone but Trubel could still hear her. “Monroe? Have you talked to Nick or Sloane today?”

“Today?” he asked. “Uh, no. I haven’t. Why?”

Rosalee huffed and went back to the phone. “Do you know what the errand was?”

“No, she didn’t specify…”

“Okay. I’m going to call Hank, he might know. I’ll call you back and update you, alright?”

“Do you think something’s wrong then?” she asked quickly. “I mean…I hoped maybe it was just something that happens, they don’t always respond…”

“No, they are usually pretty responsive and follow through,” Rosalee said. “We’ll figure this out. Are you home alone?”

“Uh…yeah…”

“If you’re hungry, you’re free to come over. I can pick you up real quick, it’s not too far.” Monroe looked at her with a bit of “are you joking”, but she gave him a look back not to argue.

“…Thanks. That would be nice.”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon, just sit tight.” They ended the call and she turned to Monroe. “Can you try to call Nick and Sloane?”

“Yeah…Are Nick and Sloane okay?”

“No, they’re not answering Trubel,” she said, putting the salad in the fridge. “And Sloane hasn’t gotten home from an errand.”

“Huh…I mean, could be something normal? Traffic?” Rosalee gave him a look as she pulled up Juliette’s number and he nodded. “Yeah, I know, it’s never normal…I’ll try them and finish up dinner. I’ll try Hank too.”

“Thanks,” she sighed, grabbing her purse and heading to the car.

“Rosalee, hey,” Juliette said.

“Hey. I just got a call from Trubel that she can’t get ahold of Sloane. She tried Nick too, with no luck so I wanted to see if he was there…”

“No…I was actually about to call you because I haven’t heard from him since this morning,” she said, sounding a bit worried.

Rosalee frowned as well. This was definitely unusual—Nick was good about at least texting Juliette if he was going to be out late. And Sloane would’ve let Trubel know if something came up she was sure. “Okay…Monroe is going to call Hank to see if he knows. Trubel said Sloane was going to run an errand and grab dinner so I’m going to get her for dinner at our place till we know what’s going on.”

“Okay…” Juliette sighed. “I don’t suppose you’d have room for one more? Now I’m on edge and I don’t think I’ll be good alone…”

“Of course, we always make a lot and we can make more,” she said with a smile. “Head on over, Monroe will be there.”

“Thanks,” she sighed. “If it’s not one thing it’s another…”

“Such is life,” Rosalee said in agreement. “See you soon.”

“See you.”

Meanwhile, Monroe turned the vegan eggplant parmesan in the oven down to keep it warm before pulling up his phone and trying Nick. He got no answer either and frowned before leaving a message to call him as soon as he can. The same thing happened with Sloane’s phone and he couldn’t deny that was worrying. Then he called Hank.

“Monroe? What’s up?” It sounded like he was eating.

“Hey. I wish this was a social call, but we got kind of an alert from Trubel she can’t get ahold of Nick or Sloane. And I can’t either…” he trailed off.

Hank frowned and set his fork down into the pasta he’d made, alert now and fully invested. “Can’t get ahold of them?”

“Yeah, the phone rang but went to voicemail on both of them.”

He huffed. “That’s not normal.”

“Trubel said Sloane had an errand?”

“Ah, yeah. A favor for Bud,” Hank nodded.

“Bud?” Monroe asked, surprised at this turn of events.

“Yeah. Something with a mechanic trying to take advantage of him…He asked Sloane to chat with him as a Grimm because he’s wesen.”

“Huh…I’m thinking I’ve been missing out on having Grimms for friends now not thinking about that…Did Nick go with her?”

“Yeah. She actually talked to the guy yesterday, he called today wanting her to look the car over and make sure she was satisfied. Nick offered to go with her because she thought it was weird he’d do that.”

“Oh man…” He sighed. “Should we be worried?”

“I mean, she wasn’t that worried,” Hank said. “She was pretty sure she could take the mechanic if he tried anything. Nick was mostly just going just as a precaution and I think he wanted to look out for her. You know how he is.”

“Yeah, Mr. Protective. Even with the woman who could probably bench press him,” Monroe agreed. “Do you know the mechanic?”

“Nah, she didn’t mention it.”

“Okay. I’ll call Bud in a bit. But, are we overreacting? I mean it’s Nick and Sloane, they’re probably fine,” he said, hopeful.

“I want to think that, but I’d rather overreact than find out we should’ve acted sooner…” he said seriously.

Monroe sighed, agreeing and knowing that the fact neither of them could be tracked down or had checked in was not a good sign. He just wanted to believe they were alright wherever they were.

\--------------

Nick groaned as he slowly woke up. His head was pounding and his mouth felt like it was full of cotton and he smacked his tongue around to try and get some kind of moisture going. He managed to open his eyes, looking around. He was in what looked like a store room of some kind—no windows, but a few crates and boxes around him. It looked like they were full of fruits and vegetables. That explained why it was so cold he realized, pulling his windbreaker closer to his neck. It took a moment for his mind to catch up and remember what hand happened. It was also dark but he could see fairly well—Sloane had started pushing him to train his eyes. “Sloane…” He looked around and then saw her just a couple of feet away in a corner on the other side. He managed to crawl over, his body still lethargic, and get to his knees in front of her. “Sloane? Hey, c’mon,” he said.

Sloane grunted and then her eyes fluttered. Frowning, she looked at him in confusion. “Nick? What…?”

“We got captured,” He sighed, put out but relieved she was awake.

“Ugh…that hare set us up…” she said, remembering. “When I get out of here…”

“We have to get out of here first,” He said, growing more alert. “But I don’t know where here is…”

“A fridge?” Sloane guessed, looking at the crate of apples near her and putting her hands under her arms to try and get them a bit warmer. “A big one it seems, for a restaurant probably…God, is someone going to try and eat us? Again?”

“Can’t rule it out,” he sighed. Looking around, he finally spotted a door at the other end from them. He got to his legs, shaking a little but managing to get over with the crates for support. He tried to open the door, grunting and pushing. “Should’ve known it’d be locked from the other side…”

“My knife and lockpicks are gone,” she said, anger rising. She looked through her pockets. “They took my phone too.”

Nick patted his own pockets down and growled. “Mine too…glad I left my gun in the car I guess.” He looked at her again and frowned, moving back over. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m just cold,” she sighed. “They might’ve put us in here so that drug would last longer in our system…At least it’s not an actually freezer or we’d be icicles by now.”

Nick nodded and then sat down with her. After a moment he put his arm over her shoulders. “We need to stay warm then to kick their asses. So hang in there.”

She was surprised but then moved closer to him. Sharing a little body heat would help them in the long run. “Don’t worry, I’ll be ready…”

\---------------------

Bud got to Monroe’s late that night when they’d called him for an emergency meeting. His wife hadn’t been too keen but they had said they needed his help. Heading over quickly in her car, he got there just past eleven. Monroe opened the door and Bud tried not to look too put out though his tone was a little waspish. “You know what time it is, Monroe? I know it’s a Friday, but I like to sleep! And so does my wife, and when she doesn’t sleep, well, she’s scarier than you—”

“We figured you’d want to talk about this privately,” Monroe said quickly, ushering Bud to the living room. Trubel was in the kitchen around the corner where she couldn’t be seen—they figured right now wasn’t the best time to introduce her to the Eisbeber. “You asked Sloane to check into something with an auto mechanic, right?”

He froze, looking at all of them. “Uh, yeah…I did. Wait, where is she? And Nick, they’re usually here with you all when something’s gone wrong…”

“That’s what’s gone wrong,” Hank said. “We’ve been trying to call them all evening. We can’t get through though.”

“What? To either of them?” he asked, alarmed.

“Yes. Bud, why exactly did you ask for Sloane’s help?” Juliette asked.

“Well, because this guy—Ryker Dowling—was scamming me! Kept upping the price. So I just wanted her to talk with him. He’s a Langen Ohren, I-I didn’t think he’d be any kind of threat to a Grimm!”

“What’s that?”

“A hare-like wesen. You know, long ears,” he said, making a gesture with his hands like a pair of hare ears. “Some of the fastest wesen alive, but they usually use that speed to run away. I just wanted her to let him know she was going to make sure things were fair!”

“And he was the only one there?” Rosalee asked.

“That I know of. I realized later he was probably doing my repair and some others off the books,” he said, looking a little shamed. “I should’ve just gone to my usual guy, but the shop had good reviews!”

The all looked at one another, taking that all in.

Hank sighed. “It’s getting late…Bud, can you email all the information you have on what happened to us? Including the shop. We’ll go see what they know in the morning.”

“Yeah, sure, of course,” he nodded. “You think…you think something’s happened to them? I mean who would take on two Grimms?!”

“Someone who doesn’t know what they’re getting into,” Monroe said.

\--------------

Sherwin drove up early in the morning on Saturday. He wanted to get a few things organized since they would only be open till 4 that day, so he rolled up to the door by six. When he rolled through to his office he paused when he saw the door to the garage was still open. He sighed, immediately thinking Ryker hadn’t locked up all the way like he was supposed to. Nothing in his office seemed off—the safe was secure and still had everything in it. So going in he turned on the lights and gaped. Tools were thrown about, one of his toolboxes was broken, another chest was dented and a car was still on a lift which was dangerous if it wore the lift down.

“What the hell?!” He wheeled over to get the car down the rest of the way, noting some scratches on it and cursing even louder. Another car had a dent in it he realized and he had to take a moment to breathe. He wheeled back to his office to get his phone and call the police but paused when he glanced out the window and saw Ryker’s truck parked to the side of the building with a couple of other cars. Screwing up his mouth like he’d tasted something fowl, he put his phone in his pocket and headed back out and around to it. Getting to the old blue truck, he pounded on the side. “Ryker!”

There was a yelp and sure enough, he was in there, sleeping across the bench seat in the back. He blinked, bleary-eyed. When he saw Sherwin through the window he fumbled and the window open. “Wh…Sher? What are you doing here?”

“I own this shop,” he said testily. “So a better questions is, why are you sleeping in your car out here? Especially when my garage has been apparently ransacked?”

“Ransacked? What?” Ryker said, laughing nervously.

“Do not even play with me,” Sherwin said, glaring. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Then why are you parked here? Sleeping in your car?”

“I…fell asleep here. I’ve been doing some other odd jobs and stuff so I was tired yesterday—”

“Ryker, I told you I don’t like my guys being tired at work! That’s how mistakes are made.”

“I know, but I needed the money!”

“Why?”

“Because!”

“Because why?!”

“Because I don’t like sleeping in my car either but it’s the only option I got!”

Sherwin was surprised and then softened slightly. “Ryker, you’re sleeping here all the time?”

“Yeah…No one wants me on their couch anymore…” he sighed, opening the door now. He was looking down, shamefaced. “I just…I had some stuff I needed to pay off. And I did, so now I can just put the rest towards getting my life back together.”

“…That doesn’t explain my shop looking the way it does,” Sherwin said. “One of the cars was raised up, another has a big dent! I gotta paint and fix that now!”

“I…”

“You? …Ryker, did you lock up last night?”

“…I heard some noises yesterday evening. I went to go look and I guess I forgot one of the doors,” he said. He wouldn’t quite look at Sherwin, which was usually a tell for shame or lying. Both meant different things here so Sherwin let him keep going. “Some kids came running out. They probably messed a few things up…”

“Why didn’t you call the police?” Sherwin said.

“Well A) I didn’t want to explain why _I_ was there so late. And B)…Y’know, we were dumb kids once. We did stupid shit like stealing Mr. Ross’s Model A back in high school. I didn’t want to get them in too much trouble…I was gonna go in and clean it up but I crashed and fell asleep.”

Sherwin gave him a hard stare before sighing. “One of my tool chests is busted and I gotta do extra work on that car. Both of those are coming out of your paycheck.”

“What? But—”

“You left the door unlocked,” Sherwin said. “You are absolutely getting special treatment for this because most guys I would fire for being so careless, but I’m used to dealing with the aftermath of Ryker Dowling,” he said. Ryker hunkered down a little. “So you’re going paint the scratches on that truck with no pay for it and at cost, and paint the other one when I get the dent out, and pay for that tool chest out of your wages. Because you didn’t call the police, it would be a pain in the ass to file with my insurance, so this is you paying me back for not locking the door and not firing you.”

“…Okay…” Ryker said. “Yeah, that’s fair…”

“Yeah. Now get in there and get started.”

\-------------------------

Nick and Slaone were trying to figure out how to get out when they heard voices outside. Sloane got up, nodding to him as she moved over towards the doors. They’re tentative plan was to take out whoever came through and hopefully make a run for it. However, they heard a door open close by but not the door to the room they were in.

“Looks like it’s still locked,” someone said.

“Told you. This is the latest model,” someone else said. “Tight seal, hardy double lock.”

“Yeah yeah…Hey Grimms, you awake?”

Sloane glanced at Nick who looked unsure and shook his head.

“You really think they’ll answer that, dumbass? They probably hope we’ll check and they can get out. Let’s get going.”

“Okay, okay. I just don’t want the boss to kill us himself if they aren’t there…” A door was shut again and Sloane growled in frustration.

“Easy, Sloane,” Nick said, standing to go to her. “You need to conserve energy.”

“I need to get out of here and kick someone’s ass,” she corrected.

“That’s why you need your energy,” he said, smiling. She huffed but smiled back. Then she gasped as heard the sound of an engine. The floor shifted under them and she almost fell over in surprise. Nick held onto her to keep their footing, looking around in confusion. “This…isn’t just a fridge…it’s a refrigerated truck!”

“So where are they taking us?” Sloane sat down after they went over a bump and sighed, grabbing an apple and biting into it. Nick sat as well and she tossed him another apple. “For energy…” He nodded, biting in as well.

They drove for over an hour, Sloane knew that, but it was hard to judge how much or how far or where considering they didn’t even know where they were originally. They ate a few apples and other produce they found to get their stomachs full but it didn’t settle them. Then they rearranged the crates a little, formulating a plan.

Finally they felt the van stopped again. The exterior door was opened, then slowly the interior swung open. A man poked his head in. “…Hey…I see the man, but there’s another right? A woman?” He opened the door a little more, keeping his eyes on Nick who was standing a little farther back. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“At home,” Nick said, getting ready to fight.

“I’m here though,” Sloane said, dropping down onto him. The man shouted and another tried to get in to help him, but Nick rushed forward and slammed the door on his arm, making him scream. Sloane had the first in a choke hold, pushing off the wall and flipping over him slam him hard on the truck floor while she kept constricting his air. The other man tried to push his way in again and Nick let him, but uppercut him as soon as he was through. Dodging a blow, he kneed him in the stomach and the man woged into a rooster looking wesen, moving to drive a sharp beak into his eye. He dodged and then kicked him hard back out through the doorway, moving out after him. Sloane let go of the now unconscious man and jumped out after Nick, rolling to the ground—which was grassy. They were in the woods of all places!

When she straightened, she and Nick were getting ready to run when they heard a rifle cock. Freezing, Sloane cursed quietly. “Hands up and on your knees,” a deep gravely voice said. Nick recognized it from the garage and turned to see the man that had help catch the them and the woman holding a rifle. “Give her a reason to shoot, please,” he said darkly.

“It’s live ammo this time, my dears,” the woman added.

Nick glared but then slowly got to his knees. Sloane sighed and followed suit. “What’s all this about?” he asked.

“That would be a question for me,” someone else said. They turned their heads and saw an older man sitting near a very expensive looking SUV. He smiled and tipped his hat, and old-fashioned Trilby that matched his brown suit. “Good afternoon,” he said with a slight Greek accent. “My name is Myron Demitro.”

“Demitro?” Nick said, recognizing the name.

“Ah, you know my name? I’m flattered.”

“I’ve heard you’re a wannabe mafioso running lending schemes and gambling dens all over Oregon,” Nick said, not sounding impressed.

“Well, certainly not praising words, but you aren’t wrong,” he chuckled. “Though I prefer to call it my business model. I give people a fun past time, they give me money. If they run out of money, I give them a little more and they pay me back with interest. What’s wrong with all of that?”

“How you collect and filter that money, from what I hear. The police have been looking for you for a while due to allegations of battery, kidnapping, money laundering a more.”

“You are well informed then. But not enough to avoid getting trapped by me.”

“What do you even want with us?” Sloane said. “You could’ve killed us last night so you want us alive.”

“Of course. It’s not as interesting otherwise.” He gestured up a dirt road nearby. “Further up is a group wesen who were able to buy in to this little event last night—it’s a bit rushed I admit, but I think it will be the first of a new hit.”

“New hit what?”

“Game! You see, you Grimms have a reputation as being the greatest hunters. But we’re going to test how you are as prey. In a moment you are going to take off going that way,” he gestured towards the woods. “And you’ll have a ten minute head start. Then, about a dozen wesen who were able to buy into this game on short notice will come after you. The object is to, of course, hunt you down and kill you.”

Sloane and Nick glanced at one another then back at him. “…You’re nuts.”

“Perhaps,” he smiled, not caring about her insult. “But I’ve already made a profit, and that’s just from those interested in a 100 mile radius. The winner, besides getting the title of Grimm Slayer, gets some of the cash too but really I think your heads on their walls are their main goal.”

“We’ll fight back,” Nick pointed out, trying to figure a way out of this.

“They are aware. No formal wavers, but they know it’s kill or be killed for you. Now there are ways you can win too, of course.”

“Really?” he asked dubiously.

“Of course! It’s not interesting otherwise. If you can survive till sundown, you win. If you can defeat all of them, you win.”

“And we go free?”

“Hmmm…if you can evade the players and my men, perhaps, but I’m hoping to make this a regular event if it works out well,” he smiled.

“I doubt you can patrol the whole treeline.”

“She’s got a point,” Marta said.

Demitro laughed, smiling wider. It made Sloane cringe as he had several gold teeth and the others didn’t look great either in various shades of yellow and grey. Apparently he gambled on his dental hygiene as well. “Now then, it’s almost 8 now. I’d make that ten-minute head start count.”

They hesitated and Sloane looked at him defiantly. “And what if we just…don’t move?”

Demitro smiled and then had the man bring over a plastic tub. He pulled out their wallets from them. “Nick Burkhardt and Sloane Larson. Cops. Got your badge numbers, but more than that…I have you’re addresses.” He pointed at their licenses. “I was going to threaten this if you did escape, but I’ll just say it now. I could have some guys go over, check your houses for anyone or anything valuable to you to motivate you.”

“…What stops others from doing it anyway? We might do better going home to protect them.”

“You think I’d let someone else kill my leverage? No no no no,” he chuckled. “Only I have seen these. I keep them with me for that reason. So rest assured, your homes are safe so long as I wish it. But if you keep giving me grief, I’ll send Arman to one of them. He’s moving a little slow today thanks to you but he’s still effective.”

“And I’d be all to happy to kill something today,” he said.

They both glared but when he moved to hand it to the man again, they stood. “Fine…but this isn’t over,” Sloane said darkly.

“Of course it’s not…” he smiled. “I look forward to seeing what you can do.”

They glared once more before turning and heading off into the woods.

\--------------------

It was a little after 8 when Hank pulled up to The Extra Mile car shop. It should be open by then, but he didn’t see any customers just yet. What he did see was Sloane’s black Subaru and Nick’s Navy Ford SUV in the lot to the side, near an old beat up orange truck. Going over, he quickly looked inside and saw Sloane’s knife and holster on the passenger floorboard. If he knew Nick, his gun was probably in the glove compartment. The cars didn’t look to be tampered with or disturbed. Hank headed over and entered the waiting room/office area of the shop. “Hello?”

“Hey. Welcome to the Extra Mile,” a man said. His coveralls said Damon. “How can I help you?”

Hank pulled his badge up and the man stood straighter. “I’d like to talk to whoever’s highest on the foodchain here, if that’s okay.”

“Uh, sure…that’d be Mr. Wiltshire. Just a sec.” He turned and headed to an office nearby, opening the door and speaking to whoever was inside. Damon looked back and gestured for Hank to come over. Hank walked through the door without being told. The wheelchair threw him off just a moment but he nodded to the man in it and held out his hand. “Mr. Wiltshire? I’m Detective Hank Griffin.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking his head. “But I’m a bit worried why you came in flashing the badge…”

“I have some questions for you regarding someone who works for you. A man named Ryker Dowling?”

“Oh what did he do now?” Damon said, sounding exasperated.

“Damon, I’ll handle this,” Sherwin said, eyeing him. Damon held up his hands as if giving up and headed back to the front after closing the door. Sherwin sighed and looked back at Hank. “What is this about, if I can ask?”

Hank eyed him, wishing one of his partners was here. He wasn’t sure if he was wesen or knew about them or what to do exactly. He decided right now he’d just treat it like a case to start out. “Are you aware of Mr. Dowling working on a car for a man named Rupert Wurstner?”

He blinked but then shook his head slowly. “No…hold on.” He went over and opened one of the filing cabinets. “Wurstner, wurstner…I don’t have a file for him. I can check the computer but we try to keep paper and digital. Though it wouldn’t shock me he didn’t do one.” He wheeled over to the computer at his desk. “Can you spell that for me?”

“W-U-R-S-T-N-E-R,” Hank said.

Sherwin typed it in one at a time and searched, then sighed again. “Not in here either…You think Ryker was working on it?”

“Yes. Mr. Wurstner named him specifically and brought his car here to be worked on at 6 in the evening on Monday afternoon.”

“6…we close at 5, that can’t be…” He then got an annoyed look of realization on his face and sighed. “Oh goddamit, Ryker…”

“We had reason to believe he was operating without your knowledge,” Hank confirmed.

“Yeah, probably was. That explains a lot actually,” he sighed. “Did this Mr. Wurstner filed a complaint or something?”

“Or something,” Hank said evasively. “Could I talk to Mr. Dowling?”

“Yeah, sure…” He wheeled over to the door and Hank got it for him on reflex. Sherwin rolled onto the shop floor. “RYKER! Over here, now!”

The man jumped but then set down the sander he was using and made his way over, looking wary. “Hey…what’s up?”

Sherwin glared. “My office.” He turned and maneuvered back inside. Ryker headed in and paused when he saw Hank.

“Mr. Dowling? I’m Detective Griffin,” he said, offering his hand. Ryker tried not to look too nervous but Hank could feel the sweat on his palms.

“He’s here about your little side business. Out of _my_ garage,” Sherwin spat.

Ryker paled. “I…Um…I was just—”

“Just nothing! I trusted you! And you put my reputation and the reputation of my shop and everyone here on the line!” he said, slapping his desk angrily.

“L-look, I’m stopping it, okay? I don’t need the extra cash anymore. Everyone is going to get their cars back in tip top shape in the next few days,” Ryker said, looking between them.

“Actually, that’s only part of why I’m here,” Hank said.

“Part?” Sherwin asked.

“Yeah.” Hank leveled his gaze at Ryker. “My partners, Detectives Sloane Larson and Nick Burkhardt, also came to talk to you yesterday. And now they’re missing.”

Ryker gaped and Hank had a feeling, in his gut, he woged in shock. He decided to roll with it. Leaning in, he said quietly. “I’m not a Grimm, but I think you just woged, right?”

He stumbled back, pressing against the wall. “I, you—”

“Ryker, what is he talking about?” Sherwin said. “There were more cops here? Last night?”

“N-no!”

“So that’s not their cars parked over along the side there? I find that hard to believe because I know their license plates almost as well as my own. I’ll be having someone come and get them later, possibly for processing, so they better still be there too.” Ryker swallowed again at the darker tone Hank was taking.

“What the hell did you do?” Sherwin said, his face growing horrified.

“I…I…” He breathed fast and shook. “They were Grimms, Sherwin!”

Sherwin straightened and then looked at Hank warily. Hank looked back. “You a wesen or a kennen?”

“…” He woged into Cat-like wesen with spots and and black stripes coming down from its eyes, which were now honey-gold.

_A cheetah?_

He changed back, eyeing him more. “You’re not a Grimm…”

“No. But my partners were. And they were not the type to just hunt any wesen down. They came because a friend of ours who is an eisbiber—that would be Mr. Wurstner—thought he was getting scammed by him,” he pointed at Ryker who flinched. “First it was Sloane. Then he called her to get her to come out and supposedly check the repairs, and Nick went with her, and now they are both missing. Now, I’m not actually here as a cop.” He took his badge off, putting it in his pocket. “I’m here as a concerned friend of wesen and Grimms. I want to know what happened and where they are. But if I don’t get answers, then I’m going to be coming back with a warrant. Or with the rest of my friends, which include some very tough wesen and another Grimm.”

“Y-you expect me to believe Grimms and wesen work together?” Ryker said.

“I’m here to tell you they do. So, where are they?”

Ryker hesitated, licking his lips a bit. “Oh for God’s sake, tell him!” Sherwin said.

He hesitated more then looked down. “I-I don’t know, really…some guys came and took them, but I don’t know anything. It just happened…”

Sherwin stared at him and so did Hank, though with differing looks of disbelief. “…Fine. I’ll get a warrant and we’ll turn this place upside down if we have to.” He pulled out his card and slapped it down on the desk. “If either of you change your mind and know something that can help, call me.” He headed for the door and Sherwin wanted to tell him to wait but he was still shocked. Ryker pulled the door closed quickly as if to protect them, shaking a little bit but breathing deeply. Sherwin wheeled over to his desk and pulled out a bottle of whiskey he kept there usually for special occasions. This wasn’t what he had in mind as special of course. He poured one glass, gulping it down and then pressing his forehead to the glass as he felt the burn and focused on it. Several minutes passed in silence as he tried to work out all the information.

“…I-it’s okay, Sher,” Ryker said finally. “He can get a warrant, they won’t find anything.”

“You’re lying,” Sherwin said, flat and emotionless.

“What? No, they really won’t. It’s just—”

“You absolutely know something,” Sherwin said, setting the glass on the desk. “You lied to him. And you’ve been lying to me for who knows how long.”

“I…Sherwin, it wasn’t on purpose—”

“Lying is always on purpose!” he snarled. “There’s ignorance and then there’s lying. And you’re shit at it. You always have been but you keep trying because you’re scared of getting in trouble or have some kind of thrill from trying. Or both! It’s why you suck at gambling—that and you just honestly have no idea what you’re doing. But you keep doing stupid shit to get in trouble! And you drag everyone else down with you!”

Ryker jolted in shock at the harsh words. “I…Sherwin, it’s not that, really. I mean, I got in trouble yeah, but I’m not—”

“He’s going to get a warrant. There are going to be a ton of police cars around here, going over everything. How’s that going to look, hm? People are going to wonder why they’re doing that, gonna spread rumors and tank our garage!” He slammed the glass down and looked at him. “So, what did you do?”

He swallowed and slowly sat down on a nearby chair. “…I…I got in over my head. I was gambling again.”

“I knew it…Goddamit, Ryker!” he hissed.

“I know, I know!” he said. “I just…I thought it was harmless. But I got in a little too far. So they offered me a loan and I took it, but I dug a deeper hole and they wanted their money plus an insane amount of interest and…that’s why I was doing other cars here without you knowing. Pocketing as much cash as I could.”

“And scamming people,” he accused.

“…I…might have overdone the prices a bit…” Sherwin glared deeply and Ryker flinched. “I-it was just supposed to be for a week, so I would get enough money. But it didn’t work, some made me give the cars back, and I couldn’t get them all done in time, and then the Grimm…And the guys I owed are _bad_ news. But when I told them about the Grimm, they…they were interested. So I worked out with them to kind of trap her…that there was another one was a surprise but they took both of them.”

“Took them where?”

“I don’t know—”

“You are lying again!” he said. “I’ve known you since we were six, I know all your tells!”

“Sherwin, I can’t say! These people, they will mess me up!”

“Well you beat them to it because you are already messed up!” he said, pointing a finger at him. “You always have been, I just kept trying to make excuses for you!”

“What? Sher—”

“No, you listen,” he said, wheeling around. “We’ve been friends since we were kids, but that is over now. I am done turning a blind eye to your selfishness and laziness and-and all of it!”

“What? Hey now, I am not selfish or lazy!” he said defensively.

“Yes you are,” he said, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him down close enough to see his eyes, which were turning gold. “You are a selfish, lazy bastard! And it’s your fault I’m in this damn wheelchair!”

Ryker froze, eyes wide. “What? I…Sherwin, that was an-an accident,” Ryker said.

“It was your fault! Because you can’t be bothered to do a job correctly if you do it at all anymore! We were doing good as racers, and then you got a big head and didn’t think you needed to check the car before the race. You didn’t catch the problem with the steering well because of that and I lost control of the car.”

“…Y…you knew? ” he asked quietly. It was a question that had so much pain and fear in it—a secret he had hoped to never have to confront.

“I knew,” he pushed him away, hard enough the chair tipped back and he yelped. “I knew for six years but I thought it was an accident up until right now. That you didn’t do it on purpose, maybe didn’t even realize. You knew what you did and you never even tried to talk to me about it?”

“Wh-what could I say? I mean, I swear it wasn’t on purpose—” he said, choking up a little at the years of guilt bubbling up.

“I don’t know if I believe you now. I know you were betting on the races.”

“I wouldn’t sabotage you!” he gasped. “I would never! And why didn’t you ever ask me about it i-if you suspected I messed up?”

“I didn’t want it weighing on you,” he laughed bitterly. “I was angry at first over being in the chair, and even more so when I found out it was your fault. But then I decided I wasn’t going to feel sorry for myself being in a wheelchair now. I’m alive, and I’m going to thrive. Figured I could get my life back on a different track even if it wasn’t a race track. And after a lot of goddamn work, I’m a business owner and doing well for myself and figured I didn’t need to ruin your life since mine wasn’t ruined, as much as I miss some things. But I still thought you’d say sorry one day. Instead, the last 6 years I keep seeing this pattern of you digging holes and pulling other people into them to try and climb over them and get out, and half the time it’s because you never finish anything and leave it for someone else to clean up! I kept thinking you would learn after what I went through, maybe you needed a reminder and seeing me everyday would help. But no, you don’t change even when it hurts the people who care about you. And now total strangers too!”

“I-They’re just Grimms!” he said, standing.

“I don’t care what they are! Grimms are at least upfront about killing wesen most of the time. You let a bunch of dangerous people take them, sacrificed them to save your own skin! But you didn’t figure someone would miss them? That someone would come looking? And to top it off, they were cops, not just Grimms!”

“I didn’t know that!”

“You don’t know anything! You never think anything threw or think how it’s gonna effect other people! And now you won’t even tell the truth to try and make things better for me and my shop and the people you’ve stepped over, after all I’ve done for you and all the times I defended you!” He grabbed the card up and went over, pressing it to his chest. “Call him, tell him what you know. Save my shop instead of ruining my life _again._ ”

Ryker fumbled the card but shook his head. “It’s not that simple—”

“Maybe not for you, but for me it is because I’m not going to deal with a guy that offers up other people’s heads on a chopping block like this. Call him, catch him, do something now and show me you aren’t the gutless coward I’m seeing. That I wasn’t wrong about you being a good man.”

Ryker swallowed, the words stinging, but didn’t move. “…I can’t…”

He breathed deeply and wheeled back to the desk. “Get out. You’re fired from my shop, and you’re fired as my friend.”

Ryker gaped. Even after some of his worst times, Sherwin never turned him out before. But after yelling he was panting and staring at him as if he would maul him if he could. They’re friendship was always strange to some—a Langen Ohren and a Ukufu Okusheshayo. Prey and Predator to many. Two of the fastest kind of wesen to everyone. But Sherwin had been there for him as a kid—they’d raced each other and then done track together and then gotten into cars together. He’d felt that crushing guilt all these years, but had been terrified of him knowing and ousting him. Now he was and it was all tumbling down around him. “Sherwin, I-”

“Out!” He grabbed the glass from his desk and threw it at him. Ryker ducked and then stared at him again before rushing out the door. Sherwin was left staring at it and then groaning loudly. How was he going to get through this?

\------------------

Sloane and Nick sprinted for nearly 30 seconds, full speed, to put as much distance as they could between them and Demitro’s welcoming party. They took cover behind some trees to catch their breaths. “So…plan?” Nick asked.

“I need…a little more time,” she panted. “I don’t know how many people are after us and he didn’t mention what their conditions are. Is it strictly melee or do they get to use weapons for example.”

“Well we don’t have weapons,” Nick pointed out. He was getting his breath back easier. He didn’t have the endless stamina he did when he had his PTZD, but he was still able to recover much faster. Sloane was recovering fast as well though.

“Yeah, I want my knife back,” she grumbled. “If they do have them, we could many get them from them. But something to defend us now would be good…”

Nick looked around and then walked over and grabbed a good size branch, feeling over it. “Feels solid…Walk softly and carry a big stick?”

She smiled a bit. “Might be the best strategy for now.” She pushed herself up and found her own clubbing stick, swinging it experimentally. “So, what we’re missing: Cellphones, car keys, my knife…Wish I’d left that in the car now. I hoped meeting Ryker would be peaceful, but I wanted it just in case.”

“Yeah, that’s usually my hope and my plan.” He looked around. “Let’s keep walking, try to put a bit more distance between us and them.” Sloane nodded and they started through the trees. “The others are going to realize we’re missing.”

“But are they going to be able to find us? I’m not even sure where we are.”

“Well, that crazy mafioso said he put this together quickly. And I don’t think we were out more than a few hours…” he said, detective mind working.

Sloane nodded. “So we’re probably still in state, maybe not too far from Portland, unless they drove during the night...”

“No, he said he got people in a 100 mile radius. I doubt he’d go out of state or too far from Portland.”

Nick smiled. “Good point.”

She smiled back. “I have those on occasion.”

He chuckled, glad they could still joke. Somehow it made the situation feel less hopeless. “If we can find a road we might be able to get to a town. But that might be along shot depending on how far we are in…”

“Not too far. They got that big truck in with us inside.”

“Another good point,” he nodded. “But that means it’s back behind us…”

Sloane hummed and sighed. Then she paused, focusing her hearing. “…I guess it’s been ten minutes…”

Nick looked back focusing as well and cursed when he saw what he believed was a polar bear wesen rushing towards them in a frontal attack. He was surprisingly fast despite his side and though they started moving back and away he caught up and went for Nick first with a loud, echoing roar. Nick brought the branch up and around, smashing it into his face hard enough it snapped and the man went down with a whine and probably a broken jaw. “Well…that’s one…”

“Yeah, but I see more coming,” Sloane said, grabbing his hand and pulling him as more wesen were coming through the trees. Nick looked back and saw a big group running up to them and cursed. The one in the front, a Lowan, leaping for them farther than a human was able to and trying to take them both down. Sloane and Nick moved away and instinctively went back to back as the others flooded in, almost 8 in total of all different kinds—Fuchsbau, a couple of Anubis, some wesen that were wolf-like but different than Monroe, a tiger, jaegerbar and of all things a Hippopotamus. Nick would have to ask or look some of them up later. When they converged on them, he and Sloane managed to read each other back to back and dodge to the side. Sloane brought her knee up to one Anubis, grabbing his head and smashing it into the other. Nick dodged the Lowan again, upper cutting her hard enough it hurt his hand a little and then kicking her away. Sloane kicked and punched the Anubis away, then judo flipped the fuchsbau and kicked him in the head hard enough to keep him down.

When the hippo tried to smash them, they had to move apart. A wolf went for Nick but he ducked under the blow, grabbed him around the middle and actually suplexed him—his brief WWE phase coming back to him from the depths of his pre-teen years. He wondered if Sloane had one as well as she did an inverted atomic drop on one of the others, then rolled away before his friend could grab her and forced her heel into his face hard enough his nose was probably broken now. He caught her eye and nodded at the hippo. She nodded back and they broke apart, racing around the edges and then to their big opponent. She went high, getting her arm with the stick around his neck and swinging around with her full weight, throwing that big body off balance enough Nick was able to kick his knees hard enough he went down on them. Sloane moved around again and brought her knees up hard into his face before swinging off and letting Nick slug him so he was down for the count.

Sloane gasped as she was tackled from the side. The female Rißfleisch—Tiger, big, strong and very sharp teeth—snarled and moved to bite her throat. She just managed to get the stick she had between her jaws, but those razor teeth were already splintering the wood. Baring her own teeth, she put as much strength as she could into rolling them both over and punching her in the face. She snarled and Sloane punched again, finally getting her to dewoge as she passed out. Standing, she panted and looked around.

Nick was dodging blows from the jagerbar and the other wolf, using his footwork to his advantage before punching the wolf in the face as well. They’re best bets were to knock any contenders out as fast as possible, but it was easier said than done. Nick hissed when a clawed hand got his arm but managed to dodge around his side and then grab him around the throat, putting all his strength into choking off his air supply. He struggled, dewoging even as he scrabbled at Nick’s arm. The Jaegerbar moved for him but Sloane yelled to distract him and then cracked the stick over his head, shattering it. The wolf’s eyes rolled up and he went down at almost the same time. Nick panted and the looked over at her. “You okay?”

“I’m standing,” she said. “You?”

“Yeah…I don’t think that’s all of them though,” he said.

“No…the others probably are watching and saw how a frontal assault went…we should keep moving, finding something else for a weapon.” He nodded and they kept moving through the woods.

\--------------------

Hank headed back to Monroe’s house after the Extra Mile, where everyone had gathered. Bud was still there, and Trubel was in the kitchen to avoid a lot of extra talk about a third Grimm. Monroe looked up hopefully when Hank walked in, having been pacing it looked like. “Hey. Got anything?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Not much. Confirmed they were there yesterday, they’re cars are still at the shop. But the guy who basically lured them there said someone took them.”

“Who?” Juliette said, frustrated as well.

“He said he didn’t know. But I could tell he was full of it, he’s not good at lying.”

“Well, that explains a lot,” Bud said. “I was telling the others I asked around about Ryker Dowling. A few people recognized the name and he’s got some bad gambling and loan debts.”

“Do you know to who?” Hank asked.

Bud shook his head. “Everyone I talked too got real tightlipped about that part…”

“So someone bad,” Rosalee guessed.

“That could be half the loan sharks in this city,” Hank sighed.

“Well we need to think of something,” Juliette said.

“Yeah,” Monroe nodded. “You said you think this guy does know something? Well, why don’t we go put the squeeze on him?”

“Put the squeeze?” Hank asked, surprised and a little amused by his choice of words.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I can go, Tr…um, some others can go, and we’ll _squeeze_ him real good.”

Hank sighed a little. “I’m not happy with that idea, but I agree it’s an option…”

“No one’s happy about any of this,” Rosalee said. “But we have to find them.”

“Yeah…I just…I feel awful, this is all my fault,” Bud said. “I should’ve just owned up to the damage I did to my car and taken it to my usual guy…Or just not involve Sloane…”

“Hey, you asked for help. Sloane was okay helping, she had no idea this would happen,” Juliette said, patting his back. “Nick going with her for support is just how he is…”

Hank nodded then perked up when his phone went off. He pulled it out, not recognizing the number but okaying the call. “Griffin.”

“Uh…Hey. This is, um…Ryker Dowling,” a voice stuttered.

He looked surprised, then at the others. “Mr. Dowling…wasn’t sure you’d call.” They all looked at the phone in surprise and hope.

“I…wasn’t really but…I got my ass chewed out by Sherwin and…He made some good points,” he said, sounding genuinely upset and contrite. “So, um…I do know where your friends are. But it’s really…really bad.”

“How bad?” Hank asked.

“You uh…ever read “ _The Most Dangerous Game_ ”?”

\----------------------------

Sloane and Nick had found a small stream, sitting down to cool off a little. They’d been running and fighting most of the day. Sloane had dipped her whole head in the water and Nick almost wanted to laugh but he ran the water over his head and face as well. “I think we’re doing pretty well,” Nick said, trying to lighten the mood.

Sloane moved the wet hair out of her face. “We’re alive but I’m not sure about “doing well”. I’m pretty sure a lot of these guys have no actual fighting experience…”

“So we’re more skilled?” he said, wondering how that was bad.

“Yes, but who knows if there are other more skilled wesen after us.” She sighed and sat down next to him on a larger rock near the stream. “We need a plan of some kind…”

Nick sighed as well. “He can’t have this whole place surrounded…There’s got to be a place we can get out of the woods and find help.”

“We don’t know how much forest there is,” Sloane pointed out. She looked around, trying to get ideas. “…I’m going to climb one of the trees, try to get a better view.”

“Good idea…I’ll give you a boost and watch the base.” He stood and followed her to one of the taller trees nearby. Lacing his fingers, Sloane stepped into his hands and Nick helped her get up to one of the lower branches. Sloane started climbing, managing to do it quickly and agilely. Getting up as high as she could beyond some of the other trees, she started craning her neck around. She paused when she saw what looked like a watch tower in the distance, likely for the park rangers. That could have a radio or other things they could use she thought, and it wasn’t too far.

“See anything?”

“Hold on!” She made a note of the direction and started down. “I think I got something-”

There was the sound of a rifle firing and Nick saw Sloane release her hold on the tree and fall in slow motion as his heart hammered up and then felt like it stopped. “SLOANE!!”

\------------------------

Hank drove slowly through the woods, looking for any sign of trouble. Monroe was up front while Trubel, and Ryker were in the back. Juliette, Rosalee and Bud had opted to stay at home in case there was an emergency and they’d call him to relay messages. Trubel had snuck out to the car at Hank’s urging.

“You guys are serious about this? About going up against Demitro and his guys?” Ryker finally asked, looking at them like they were crazy. He’d been jittering his foot in the car for the last hour.

“As a heart attack, which you are going to have if you don’t calm down,” Monroe said.

“How can I be calm?! You’re taking me to a place full of homicidal gangsters and wesen!”

“And you got yourself in that situation by betraying our friends,” Trubel said, glaring at him. He hunkered down, doubly afraid of her.

“We’re not going to let anything happen to you,” Hank said. “So long as Nick and Sloane get back to us in one piece”

“…And if they don’t?”

“Well…we’re going to have our hands full getting them out to keep an eye on you.”

Ryker swallowed. “W-what about more cops?”

“I’ll be calling them when we find Demitro and confirm your story. I don’t think you’re lying, but I’m not calling my captain in till I’m sure.”

“And he will definitely let you know he’s upset with you,” Monroe added.

“If we gotta handle this without the cops we can do that too,” Hank added. “Now, keep looking at tell me if you see anything that can help point us in the right direction.”

“O-Okay, but they didn’t tell me a specific location, remember?” Ryker said.

“Whatever you can figure out that can help us get to them before someone else does.”

\---------------------------

Sloane panted, having caught herself on another branch almost half-way down the tree with both her upper arms.

“Sloane?!” Nick called again, moving around to face her.

“I-I’m okay, it just grazed me!” she said. She felt the burn in her arm—it was a bit more than a graze but the bullet wasn’t inside her arm at least. “We need to move!” She managed to grit her teeth through the pain and start climbing down, moving around the side to try and give herself cover. Another shot hit near where she had been and Nick rushed around the side as well to avoid being a target. When Sloane was low enough and didn’t have any branches on her side, he held up his arms.

“Jump! I got you!”

Sloane took a breath but let go and pushed away from the tree. Nick caught her with a grunt and set her on her feet quickly. “What now?”

“I saw a fire tower,” she said quietly. “That might be the best place to hold up, and they might have something we can use to get help.”

He nodded then frowned when he saw the blood on her arm. “Sloane, that’s looks bad…”

“It could be worse,” she said.

They both tensed when they heard the sound of someone dropping from a tree. “You know, I’m not using the darts this time, sweeties,” a feminine voice said. _Marta._ “But I’m not keen on killing you with a bullet. A Grimm killed my brother, so I’m much more interested in making this slow and painful. A little cathartic therapy.”

“Oh good, she’s crazy and wants revenge,” Sloane sighed quietly. Looking around, she grabbed a rock with her uninjured arm and moved around. Nick stayed close to her, wondering what she was thinking. She could see her coming towards them. Taking a breath, Sloane came out from behind the tree and chucked the rock at her head like a baseball pitcher.

Marta wasn’t able to block quite fast enough and she shouted and cursed when the rock hit her in the eye. “You bitch!”

“C’mon!” She took his hand again and started through the woods fast, following the sun through the leaves. They moved quickly, trying to put as much distance between them and the sniper as possible.

“You sure this is the right direction?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, west ward. Probably about twenty minutes away if we keep moving.”

Nick nodded, continuing to move with her though watching her worriedly. She took her hand back to press to her arm, trying to slow the bleeding but it was oozing between her fingers. Soon the trees started thinning out and he saw the tower in the distance. It was thankfully the kind with switchback stairs and not a ladder. Nick followed as she ascended, the climb long given how tall the tower was, but it was also metal and wood and looked solid. Getting to the top, they climbed onto the platform that wrapped around the building. The building part in the center was mostly windows, as it was meant to watch out over the woods, so it wouldn’t provide much to hide them but it was taller than the trees and required people to come up one at a time, so it was still a good safehouse. Sloane had to grip the side rail, breathing a little too heavy once she was up top. She was losing blood again he knew, drops going down her arm to the floor.

“C’mon, let’s get inside,” he said quietly, pulling her along gently. She nodded and followed. Nick tried the door, glaring when it was locked. It made sense but it was frustrating. “Stand back.” He wanted to make sure she was out of the way before lining up his body and slamming into the door. The lock broke under his assault and he stumbled in. He was glad it was easy to break down and that there was no one inside. But there was a radio, and he breathed out in relief. “C’mon in.”

She stepped in, sighing in relief at the radio as well. “Finally, something goes our way…”

“Yeah…but first, take off you’re jacket and sit down,” he said, motioning at the simple wooden chair near a simple wooden desk meant for making notes.

Sloane hissed as she slipped the jacket off, letting it drag on the floor as she went to sit down. “Glad I didn’t wear any of my favorite clothes today,” she sighed. “Or yesterday…”

Nick just hummed, going over to look. “Shit…” he said. The graze was deep, which was why it wasn’t closing well. “Sloane, I think you’ll need stitches for this…”

“Well, you have a sewing kit they didn’t take?” she asked lightly. He wasn’t liking how pale she looked.

“Ha, no…Hold on,” he started looking around. “If this is a fire tower, it should have…aha!” He quickly pulled out a large first aid kit, dusting it off a bit. “Lets see what we have here.”

“Is a suture kit too much to ask?”

“…Apparently not,” Nick asked, picking up a survivalist suture kit.

Sloane was surprised but smiled and held her hand out. “Alright, whoever put this thing together has my gratitude.”

Nick paused in handing it to her. “I don’t know how to suture a wound though…”

“I do,” Sloane sighed, opening it up. “But we need to sterilize it first. I need hydrogen peroxide, Iodine and a saline solution. Does it have all that?”

“Uh…yeah,” he said, grabbing the bottles quickly.

“Awesome,” she said, trying to thread the needle with shaking fingers. That was anemia for you, it wasn’t great for coordination. “Stupid freakin…”

Nick gently put his hands on hers. “I’ll thread it…”

“Thanks,” she sighed. “Waited too long, lost more blood than I like…which I guess would be any blood?”

Nick tried not to worry about that, threading the needle. “What’s next?”

“If you could sterilize the needle and suture thread with the hydrogen peroxide, that’d be great. I’ll do the wound.” She picked up the bottle of iodine and saline solution. As an afterthought, she grabbed a pad of paper off the desk. “Okay…” she sighed, putting it in her mouth. Nick didn’t ask, already thinking he knew what was about to happen. Sloane brought the iodine up and poured it into the wound, grunting and biting into the paper at the feeling. Nick winced sympathetically but kept working to wind the needle and thread through the hydrogen peroxide. After a few moments she grabbed the saline solution and flushed the wound out, panting a little. Taking the pad out, she looked at the wound again and then cursed. “Shit…I just realized, I don’t know if I can suture this very well…I need both hands…”

Nick was quiet a moment before sighing and sitting on the desk. “Turn towards me…You’ll have to explain what to do though.”

“Nick—”

“I can do this,” he said firmly. “I’ve had to deal with plenty of shit, I can suture a wound close.”

“…Okay,” she said, grabbing a pen. “This is the one Deirdre taught me for wounds like this, she learned it from a doctor. I’m going to try and mark where to go. You’ll need the forceps too,” she said, grabbing them out of the kit with her good arm handing them too him. She proceeded to mark and explain how to put the needle in and tie the knots.

“…I don’t’ have pain stuff,” Nick realized. “It wasn’t in there.”

“I figured,” she sighed. “It’s going to hurt, but It’s not my first time with this. I’ll bite on the pad, just…keep calm and don’t think you need to go fast. I’d rather it be solid than fast.”

Nick swallowed, looking worried. “I don’t want to put you through more pain though…”

She smiled at him. “Hey, bleeding heart, I’m fine. I’d rather this thing be closed because running around with it open hurts a lot more.”

Nick smiled at the epithet she always used to use on him. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was said much more fondly, like a friendly nickname now. “Okay…just tell me if I’m not doing it right. Or signal me.”

“Oh I will,” she smiled, putting the pad in her mouth. Taking a deep breath, he started suturing. Despite being deep, it was about as long as her thumb and just needed about ten sutures. Sloane winced and took a deep breath every pin prick, but despite no trial runs Nick didn’t do too badly knotting them. He managed to keep them almost perfectly lined up and straight and the right depth, and knotted them tight enough to bring the flesh and tissue back together.

“I think that’s good,” he sighed.

Sloane looked at it, sweating slightly, and took the pad from her mouth. “For your first suturing, not bad at all,” she said, though her voice wavered. She move her arm slightly wincing but not as bad as before. “I think that will hold for a while…” She looked up at Nick with a smile. “Thanks. Gotta rinse it with the iodine and saline again though.”

He smiled and picked them up before she could, and she didn’t argue this time. Using her wind breaker to catch the dribble, he ran the iodine over it. She grunted but didn’t need to bite something this time. “You can thank me when we’re out of this for good…”

“Yeah…I’m sorry I kind of got you into this,” Sloane said quietly. “It’s because I did Bud that favor…”

“Hey, you did a favor for a friend, that’s good. I volunteered to join you even though you said you had it covered,” he pointed out, rinsing with the saline and then drying with a sterile gauze. “And I’m glad I came with you. I’d feel worse if you were going through this all alone…Even you would have trouble here.” He picked up the bandages from the first aid kit and started winding them around for her and she let him, kind of enjoying not doing it herself for once.

“Usually I’d tell you I’d take them all on single handedly, but I’ve been rather humbled…” she said.

Nick tried to smile but he couldn’t help but worry. “How’d you manage this without help before.”

“You assume I’ve been kidnapped and hunted for sport before?” She quirked her brow, her tone saying this was actually a very rare occurrence.

“No,” he laughed. “How’d you manage hunting alone before? You’ve mentioned doing triage on yourself before. You were ready to suture that yourself. I don’t know what I’d have done in in a situation like that.”

Sloane sighed a little. “You do what you have to survive…a high pain tolerance and nerves of steel help.” She looked at him and smiled a little. “But an extra set of eyes and hands help more sometimes…”

He smiled back. He was still worried, but she didn’t seem to be so he decided to trust she was alright. Standing, he turned to the radio. “Well, shall we see if this works?” She nodded hopefully. Nick found the on switch and tried it, then flipped it multiple times when it didn’t do anything. “Goddamit…”

“It needs power…” Sloane stood and moved to the window, following a tube she knew the electric wires from the light followed. “Ah, there’s a generator outside. Looks solar, relatively new. Safer than gas I guess.”

Nick walked over and looked as well. “Right. I’ll go out, see if it’ll get started.”

“Be careful…I probably left a trail those guys will follow,” she said, noting the blood on the floor. Nick nodded and headed outside. Getting to the generator, he looked it over to figure out how to turn it on. Sloane meanwhile was looking over things inside the tower. There was a map of the area she quickly looked over, trying to figure out where they were. She found the road that must’ve been the one Demitro and the others followed to get there, and figured out the area the truck and the rest of them must’ve been parked. She wondered if he still had their keys, wallets, and her knife with him, but knew they might have to just give up and get new everything. The knife hurt a little—even if it had killed _many_ wesen in the past, it was part of her family really at this point. But they weren’t strong enough to storm the castle at the moment to get them back. They’d just have to hope that getting to Renard, they could get him before he told anyone their identities.

Opening the drawers of the desk, she nearly shouted in triumph when she pulled a hunting knife out. Whoever left that was her hero now and she looked it over. Not as good of quality as her own, but it would do she thought and put it in her belt. Looking more, she also found a flair gun in a box under the bed. That might come in handy too she thought. And a pair of hefty scissors in the other drawer.

Nick finally figured out the generator and got it working. It wasn’t quiet and made him cringe, but it was a necessity. He kept low as he moved to be safe and got inside. “Okay, I got it. Let’s see if we can get someone.”

“Sounds good. Found a knife and a flare gun.”

“Nice,” he said.

“I also found a bigger pair of scissors,” she said, holding them up. “Might do in a pinch.”

Nick took them when she offered, putting them in his back pocket as he turned on the radio. “Anything else?”

She smiled and held up two protein bars. “Lunch?”

“Ah, how gourmet,” he said, taking one.

“Beggers can’t be choosers,” she sighed, opening her own and biting in. “Might help me feel less anemic too.”

Nick paused then held out his bar. “Do you need both of them?”

Sloane blinked as she chewed and then shook her head and swallowed. “No, eat. We’ve only had fruit since yesterday afternoon and we’ve probably burned a lot of that off. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” she said, pushing his hand back towards him with a smile. “I appreciate the gesture, really, but we both need some energy to keep going.”

Nick nodded slowly and at his own bar while they waited for the lightbulb above to gain all its light and show the generator was at full. He smiled when the radio lit up. “Oh thank God…”

“Do we just try a random channel?” Sloane asked.

“I want to try one I know first…just on a chance,” he sighed, adjusting the radio. “I think it should be able to get this frequency…”

\-----------------

When the radio crackled, Hank was confused. It sounded muffled and not like the usual dispatch alert.  
“What the heck?” He reached out, intent to turn it off.

“ _shhhhzt-This is Nick Burkhardt, Detective at South Precinct 83 of Portland Oregon, can anyone read me ?”_

He slammed on the breaks, everyone oofing when their seatbelts caught them, but they were all distracted by the radio. Hank nearly dropped the speaker when he tried to grab it but got it up to his mouth. “Nick?!”

“ _Yes! Shhhzt Hank? You can get this?”_

“Not that clearly, but yeah! Where are you that you got a radio?!”

“ _Shhzt-Firwatch tower. I’m not sure exactly where—we’re lost in the woods. Shhzt-guy at the garage had a bunch of friends that caught us.”_

“We know,” Hank said quickly, glancing at a sheepish Ryker. “We figured it out and Mr. Dowling finally came around to helping us. We’re driving up Germantown road right now with him, trying to figure out where a guy named Demitro took you so we can get you back.”

“ _We don’t know either shhzt He released us this morning for a “hunting” game. The fire tower was the first thing we found out here after a couple of fights. …Sloane does say we have a map though and thinks she knows where Demitro started us out.”_

Monroe quickly grabbed the map, unfolding it to the right place.

“ _Okay, so this is an estimate, but according to this map in the tower there should be an off shoot road called Mosinee,”_ Sloane’s voice came through. “ _Turn down that and I think there should probably be a lot of cars and stuff. We’ve had a lot of guys come and attack us.”_

“Are you okay?” Trubel asked loudly.

“ _I’m wounded but still fighting. Nick is relatively okay. Someone has a rifle out here. I think it’s the same sharfblieke that tranquilized us…_ ”

“Oooh, Marta,” Ryker said, shuddering. “She scary…like, hitwoman scary…”

Monroe took the mic from Hank as he was looking over the map. “Okay, so I’m looking over the map and I think I see where you guys are, a fire watch tower about 20 miles from the road.”

“ _Sounds about right from our map,”_ Nick said. _“We managed to find some basic and makeshift weapons. He took ours, and our wallets and keys…he knows where we live and threatened anyone we know.”_

“Juliette’s fine, and we’ll be sure he can’t act on that,” Hank said.

“ _I know. But I don’t know how many more of these guys are out here-”_

The signal suddenly went out. “Nick? Sloane?” Hank said, trying to get it back. “Shit, something must’ve happened!”

“But we know about where they are,” Trubel said.

“We can’t get there in a car though,” Monroe said, looking over the map. “But actually, we might be closer here than from where those guys are parked if we keep heading up the road.”

“Okay…that’s good,” he said, nodding. Hank reached under his seat and pulled out a gun. “Sloane always locks her gun up at the precinct, I got it yesterday just in case. Monroe says you’re a fast kind of wesen, right?”

“Y-yeah?” Ryker said, not liking where this was going.

“You are going to run this to them so they have some firepower.”

“I-are you serious? I-I can’t!”

“Yeah, do you really want to give this guy a gun?” Trubel said, eyeing him.

“I’m trusting him to do the right thing,” Hank said firmly. Ryker looked at him, feeling that was a low blow. He looked at the gun, worried. He’d never even held a gun before. But with a shaking hand he reached out and took it. “Get the gun to them. We’re going to go check out Demitro and call for back up once we confirm he’s here. Get back to the road and wait for us _with_ them once you find them.”

He and Hank climbed out the car, Monroe rolling down the window to watch them. Ryker hesitated at the edge of the woods and looked back. “I mean…I can just go with you guys…Safety in numbers and all that.”

“Get that gun to him _fast,_ ” Monroe said, eyes turning a little red. “Or you’ll be running because I’ll be chasing you.”

Ryker blanched and then turned and ran through the woods as fast as she could. Which was _fast_ Hank had to admit. He wondered how many professional athletes were wesen suddenly and then shook his head.

“What are we going to do?” Trubel asked.

“Like I said, we’re going to go check out where that guy is parked, see what he might have we’d need to worry about,” Hank said.

“You sure that rabbit is trustworthy?” Monroe asked.

Hank sighed as he got back into the car. “I think this is the best chance at getting the gun to them fast.”

Monroe nodded and pulled out his phone. “I’m texting Rosalee and Juliette…Let them know they’re alive.”

“Okay,” Hank nodded, starting the car up.

\------------

Juliette was pacing around. She did not like being left behind. She knew that part of it was the number of wesen they may be dealing with, but the fact she was left behind irked her to no end when she wanted to do something, anything. Wesen were terrifying, she knew, but she’d held her own with big ones before she even knew what they were. Standing around doing nothing and letting her mind race and run wild with ideas of Nick (and Sloane) dying out in the woods like deer in the crosshairs.

“Juliette, it’ll be okay,” Rosalee said. “Nick and Sloane are not going down without a fight.”

“I know that,” she said. “But I just…I would rather be part of that fight! I’m tired of being on the sidelines!”

“I get it,” she said gently, standing to take her shoulders. “I don’t like staying behind either, but they need room for them in the car. And they’re not looking for a fight.”

“We never are, but it always happens,” she snapped. She winced and then sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m not…I shouldn’t be taking this out on you. It’s just…Even now that I know, sometimes I feel like I’m on the outside of things. Like I can’t understand Nick’s _world_. I get jealous of Sloane sometimes, how she understands things. Heck, I’m jealous of Trubel too. And you. I’m just someone who fell into this and no matter how hard I try I feel like I’m just…stuck.”

Rosalee frowned and gently hugged her. She wasn’t sure what to say and rubbed over the redhead’s back. “I…I can’t imagine how hard it must be, really. But Nick loves you and you love him. You _are_ part of his world.”

“It feels like he keeps trying to push me out…”

“He’s just worried. We all worry about you and even Hank—Kennen are a lot more vulnerable after all.”

“I guess…”

Rosalee’s phone buzzed she pulled away to grab it from the table and read the message out loud.

Monroe: _Nick managed to get to a fire tower! We know about where he is and the guys that took them, near Mosinee road in the woods. He and Sloane are alive right now._

Juliette breathed out and sat down, taking a few deep breaths in relief. The phone dinged again.

Monroe: _We’re going to check out if the one that took them is there. Then we’ll call in Renard and hopefully get them out of there._

Rosalee: _Okay, we’ll stay on standby._

Juliette sat for a moment, before grabbing her own phone. “I’m calling Renard now.”

“What? But they said they would—”

“Who knows what’s out there with them! And they all at the very least need to be arrested. Renard would know what to do and I trust him. Don’t you?”

“…About as much as I can,” Rosalee sighed, agreeing.

“Good, because we’ll be going with him too. I’m not standing around wringing my hands like some wife waiting for her husband to return from war.” She dialed and held it up to her ear. “Hi. This is Juliette Silverton, I need to speak with Captain Renard. No, only him, regarding something very important. He knows me.”

\----------------------------

A few minutes earlier, Nick had grabbed Sloane and hit the floor when he heard a rifle shot again. Sloane was startled and then felt a strange cramping in her chest and stomach when Nick held her close. When it was quiet again, he looked around. No windows were broken so it hadn’t been aimed inside. But the lightbulb above and the radio were now dark. “The generator…”

“Smart,” Sloane commented, sighing and releasing her old on his shirt. She tensed again when she saw a shadow on the wall. “Someone’s up here…”

Nick nodded and then they pushed away from each other, rolling and getting to the side away from the shadow. A fist shattered the window and they protected their eyes and face from glass falling over them. When a booted foot rested on the edge to try and come inside, Nick brought up the flair gun and fired right into him—a lowan it looked like. He screamed and stumbled back, going over the side of the rail as he tried to beat the fire out. Nick moved to look over but another shot rang out and splintered the ceiling near where he was and he quickly ducked back down.

“We still got that sharfblieke with a gun,” Sloane groaned. “Can’t tell which way or how far…And we’re potentially sitting ducks now.”

“Hank knows where we are, so back up is coming,” he said, reloading the flair gun. “I got one more of these too, so maybe we should get to the ground.” Another shot came through and they flinched as it landed in the wall.

“We don’t know how many more shots she has,” Sloane pointed out. “But I think she’s firing up…there’s not a lot of trees she could climb close enough.”

“But she’s good enough to hit the generator.”

“So don’t stand up,” Sloane nodded, moving low across the floor. Nick followed and then they both quickly moved through the door and started down the stairs. Two more shots fired and lodged in the frame of the tower before they jumped the last few steps and rushed for the trees. They ran for as long as they could before stopping and Sloane leaned against a tree.

“You okay?” Nick asked, trying to catch his breath. She looked better than when shew as bleeding, but still pale.

“Yeah…just hoping the others can still find us and not get hurt in the process,” she sighed.

He nodded, looking up towards the trees. “I think we’re heading east again…if we keep heading this way we’ll be back where we started.”

“Not sure if that’s good or bad at this point, but it’s frustrating regardless…”

“Yeah…What do you think we should—” He turned and his eyes widened when he saw the man from the garage, woged with his huge snapping turtle jaws wide going slowly for Sloane’s throat after coming around the tree silently. Nick grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled as hard as he could to get her over to him, wincing at the audible _clack_ of his jaws when he snapped the air where her neck was a moment before. He had no doubt that would’ve cut her skin, maybe cracked her neck.

Sloane had gasped at the tug but then quickly looked over and stood with Nick. “How the hell?!”

He rumbled and changed back. “Used to be special forces. Learned how to walk quietly over the years, even in places like this.”

“Good for you,” Sloane said, moving her arm back to grasp the knife hilt.

“Very good for me,” he said, taking a limping step forward. “I want to do a lot of damage to you, bitch. My knee is pretty messed up thanks to you. Took me this long just to get here!”

“Not her fault, you attacked her,” Nick said, also sizing him up.

“Well, lets try it again. This time maybe I’ll bite her leg off.” He woged again and roared as he rushed for them. Nick and Sloane split quickly and he of course went after her, trying to grab her in his green, scaly claws. Sloane brought the knife up but he managed to dodge back. He was slow moving, but quick to react. She tried to slash him again, but only just grazed him as he moved around. “Where’d you get that from?” He laughed, taunting her. “Going to need to do better than that to get me!”

Nick grabbed the scissors from his own belt and rushed up behind, planting them in the man’s shoulder. Powell screamed and then back handed Sloane when she moved for him, making her stumble at the strength of the blow. He then turned, seething. Nick quickly grabbed up a stick but Powell already lunged and pinned him to the ground . “I’m going to bite you into little bite sized chunks and feed you to the pigs!”

Ryker was booking it through the trees, trying to follow the directions to get to the tower. Pausing, he leaned against a tree and breathed deeply, trying to calm his heart and get his bearings. He jumped when he heard the sound of rifleshots in the distance and whined, debating if he could get away to somewhere else. But no car meant he was miles out in the middle of the woods, alone, and potentially going to be killed by Demitro’s men or the Grimms and their friends if he messed this up. Groaning, he kept moving towards the watch tower.

He paused when he heard someone moving up ahead and froze when he saw Powell limping through the brush. He shrank back and swallowed and sat down to try and keep his heart from popping out of his chest. When he heard the sounds of a struggle not too far off though, he stood and moved towards it cautiously. Powell was tussling with the Grimms! One drove scissors into his shoulder and in his rage he struck the woman and tackled the man. The man had grabbed a stick and after a threat, Powell moved to try and rip a chunk of his shoulder out. Nick got the stick he’d grabbed in his mouth instead, trying to push him away, but with a crack Powell bit straight through, spitting out splinters of wood to clear his mouth for another try. The woman was getting back up and, looking much more terrifying than Powell did even woged, grabbed Powell around the throat, hauling him away before he could bite the other Grimm. Powell was working to shake her off, then driving her into a tree with his back to try and make her let go but she was still holding onto him tightly. Ryker knew she would kill him with her bare hands if she had to and fear rooted him to the spot. How would she react seeing _him_?

The man—Nick—grabbed the knife that had dropped from her hand and then in one fluid movement brought it into Powell’s chest. He gasped and changed back to his human form, eyes wide with shock and hatred before Nick pulled it out and Powell dropped to his knees. Sloane let go cautiously and he fell forward, bleeding out in a matter of seconds.

Sloane panted, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. “God, even my hunts in the past didn’t last this long…” She straightened and just his luck, Ryker was right in her field of vision. She was surprised a moment, then her eyes narrowed. “ _You_?!”

Ryker held up his hands as the other Grimm turned to him. “W-wait, I’m here to help!”

“Oh yeah? Big help you were just now,” she spat.

“Uh…you two seemed to have it covered?” he said with a wane smile.

Nick put a hand on Sloane’s shoulder to stop her from moving forward and possibly turning him into a throw rug. “How did you get here and how can you help us?”

Ryker swallowed, slowly stepping towards them. “Y-you’re friends—the cop and the blutbad and…everyone else. They’re here to rescue you, remember? They sent me ahead with this!” He pulled out the gun and Nick quickly grabbed his hand and pointed it away from him and Sloane before taking it out of his grip.

“Careful with that!”

“Sorry…”

“That would’ve also come in handy just now,” Sloane ground out. Nick didn’t argue with that, checking over the gun and glad to see it was fully loaded.

“Uh, well…Like I said, I wasn’t sure when to, y’know, cut in?” he said, trying to look pathetic enough they wouldn’t kill him. “So, um, I can take you back to the road now, get back to that car and get the hell out of dodge?”

Sloane still looked at him like she was ready to hurt him but she sighed and looked at Nick. “What do you think?”

“Well, the gun is real because it’s yours I’m pretty sure,” Nick said. “Hank said he got this guy to help so I’m guessing he gave it to him.”

“Well, you can’t give me crap for leaving it locked at the precinct anymore.”

Nick rolled his eyes and put the gun in his waist band with the safety on. He pulled out the flare gun and looked at it considerately.

“I’ll take it,” Sloane said, holding out her hand. “It might come in handy for a signal or distraction.”

Nick nodded and handed it to her before looking at Ryker. “Did Hank say they’d wait at the road?”

“Uh…not exactly…”

“What does that mean?” Sloane asked.

“They said they were going to check out where Demitro should be—but they’d pick us up on the way back.”

The Grimms looked at one another again and Ryker wondered if they could communicate telepathically for a moment before they spoke. “I’d rather go meet them there,” she said.

“I agree,” Nick said.

“What? NO! They said-” he started, alarmed and terrified.

“The road’s too open without a car,” Nick said. “With little cover close to it too, we’d be mostly sitting ducks for that sniper, or if there are any other would be hunters out here.”

Sloane smiled. “Right on all accounts. Also, Demitro has some of our stuff and I’m getting it back.”

Nick smiled back but Ryker was looking between the two of them. “You’re both insane…Grimms are insane!”

“Maybe, but do you want to come with us or be alone out here with irate wesen and a sniper?” she asked as she looked up through the trees at the sun. “This way is back towards him.” She and Nick started hiking through the woods.

“…I’m insane,” he whispered.

\----------------

Hank pulled up to just before the parking lot on the map and they got out. Trubel went to the back and got out a club that she’d taken from Sloane’s closet. “I would still appreciate a gun sometime…”

“Prove you can use those responsibly first,” Hank said, checking his own. “Let’s check this out and try not being seeing. Then I’ll radio Renard once we know they’re here.”

“I’m sure they are,” Monroe said. “I mean, you work to put this all together, you don’t stick around to see what’s going to happen?”

“You might be right but I’d rather make sure before getting him out here,” Hank nodded. “Just stay behind me for now, I’ll keep front.”

They nodded, following him towards where the parking area was, trying to keep among the sparse trees near the road. As they got closer they saw several men milling about, some in suits and some in more laborer-types sitting around, smoking. Hank pulled out a small pair of binoculars to look closer. About six guys that he could see, but there were blind spots. There was a food delivery truck parked nearby, which was odd, but odder still was the tent put up a little further up the way like an event was going on. There was a couple of big shuttle buses as well.

“I’m guessing that’s how they got the “hunters” here,” Hank said.

“Like a creepy field trip,” Monroe agreed.

“I don’t see any guns on them,” Hank said.

“Wesen mafia aren’t that into guns usually,” Monroe said. “Traditionally they rely more on their abilities or traits. Ryker said they hired a hitwoman with sniper skills though.”

“Yeah, but she’s after Nick and Sloane. Which is good for us but bad for them…”

“Lets get back and call Renard,” Hank said. “We’ll hold off going down until then.”

“Uh…Hank?” Monroe said. Hank turned his head from the binoculars and then frowned when he saw they were one short.

“Where is Trubel?” he snapped.

“I don’t know, she suddenly just wasn’t there!” Monroe hissed, trying to keep his voice down. “Sloane’s been teaching her to do that quiet walk she and Kelly can do.”

Hank cursed under her breath, turning back and scanning with his binoculars. Sure enough, he managed to spot her, sneaking her way through and over towards the tent. “Goddamit,” he growled. “What is she doing?!”

Trubel ducked behind the truck as a couple of the men passed by her. Luckily they were talking and didn’t look her way.

“…Get those guys out of there. Most of them are still alive?”

“Yeah, few broken bones but the Grimms didn’t kill them, at least not directly that I’ve seen. Then again, they didn’t have any weapons…”

“Doing all that with their bare hands and what they could find is scary enough—you saw what some of those guys were!”

“Yeah, good point…I guess unless you get the drop on them and drug them they might be a little tough. Marta might have her hands full.”

“Well that’s her problem now, I’m not gonna try it!”

Trubel was tempted to get the drop on them but waited until they moved away. Moving towards the tent, she crouched down low and then pulled the switch blade Sloane never asked for back from her boot, cutting a small hole in it and peaking inside. An older man was sitting at a table, counting through cash and humming to himself. He looked satisfied and it made Trubel angry that he was counting money he made by putting Sloane and Nick in danger like this.

“Mr. Demitro?”

“Yes?”

“Um…I tried to contact Powell and…he didn’t answer,” the man said.

Demitro sighed, putting another stack of cash into the box. “I’m not surprised. I told him to let it go and just recover and he would hopefully make a near full recovery. His pride did him in.” He turned and smiled. “Congratulations on your promotion, Mr. Webber.”

“Uh…th-thank you…what should we do about him?”

“If you can find him or his body bring him back. If he’s somehow alive, he’s fired. I don’t need someone that puts his pride before my work like that when I told him it was a stupid idea. If he’s dead, well, he’s got a brother I suppose we can send him back to.”

“Right…”

“Concerned, Webber?” he asked lightly.

“Ah, just…he was also your family, wasn’t he?”

“A cousin’s son,” he shrugged. “I gave him work because he was strong and usually good at following directions. That’s changed regardless of if he’s alive or dead. I’ll miss him but he made his own choices.”

Trubel glared more. She really didn’t like this guy. Glancing around, she saw Sloane and Nick’s wallets and keys on the table. She knew Nick was worried about Juliette, and Sloane would be worried about her she hoped but also her collection. Shifting, she moved around to where they would be more within reach, cutting another hole and trying to keep an eye out for anyone coming her way. Taking a breath, she reached her hand through to grab the wallets, but the moment she did they slipped from her hand and landed with the keys with a thump.

“What was that?” Demitro said, turning. He woged into a snapping turtle form, rumbling low. Trubel tried to move her hand back but his scaled, clawed hand grabbed her wrist. “What do we have here? A theif?”

Trubel gritted her teeth and then slashed a bigger hole with the knife using an upward slice, bringing the knife down into Demitro’s wrist. He yelled and she quickly pulled it back and moved to run for it.

The man with Demitro woged into a hundjager and moved for her and she brought the club around to knock him out and quickly ran around to juke them.

Hank cursed again and moved down, Monroe following. “Freeze, everyone down!”

A few paused to look at him and his gun and Demitro stepped out, unwoged now. “What the hell is going on?”

“We’re here for our friends!” Monroe said.

“Friends? I don’t know what you mean,” he said, smiling. “We’re just here having a little workplace meeting.”

“I’m not here to listen to your crap,” Hank said, leveling the gun on him while Monroe watched his back. “We’re here for Nick and Sloane, the Grimms. We’re taking them home and then you’re going to be raided by the police real soon.”

Demitro smiled, not looking intimidated. “And what are they going to do?”

“Arrest you, if you’re lucky,” Hank went on. “Kidnapping police officers, attempted murder, accessory to murder at the very least for everyone here depending on how many are alive or dead…and I’m sure a lot of other stuff regardless of being wesen related or not.”

Demitro narrowed his eyes. “…Well…we best be going now.”

That was apparently a signal as the men scrambled to try and get to the vehicles. When they tried to start them however, they wouldn’t turn over. “Boss, something’s wrong!”

“What he hell do you mean?” he snapped.

“Hey!” There was a shout and Ryker ran out around the side of one car.

“Sorry! They made me do it!”

“He pulled the fuses out of the truck!” the henchman yelled. “That’s why they won’t start!”

“Well, in my defense, you all left them unlocked!” he said, scrambling over to Hank and the others quickly. Hank pointed his gun at the wesen pursuing and they paused.

“What are you doing here?” Monroe whispered. “Where’s Nick and Sloane?”

Ryker pointed rather than answer, and they all jumped when the burst out of the tent. Sloane had both her own knife and the one she found at the fire tower in her hands, dual wielding them to slice and incapacitate anyone in her path. When the wesen woged and moved to attack anyone available, all hell broke loose. Monroe woged and started clubbing, biting and clawing. Trubel managed to keep the fangs away from her throat from a Lausenschlange, striking with her elbow right into the bridge of his nose and then follow through again. Hank was trying not to kill anyone, but a few shots were fired into thighs and other extremities.

Demitro turned and ran for the woods. Sloane saw and took off after him before the others could stop her. Ryker, not wanting to be in the middle of the fight, followed her instead to see what would happen.

Being a bit older, and a bit prone to having others do his dirty work, Demitro couldn’t run for long. He tensed when Sloane came up behind him and turned. “Y…You’ve won, alright?”

Sloane glared. “Oh…I haven’t won anything yet.”

“Y-you want money?” he said, backing away as she advanced on him. “I can give you what came in.”

“I don’t need money. See, you made a threat earlier. About knowing where we live and all that?”

“That was just a threat. I can’t remember that off the top of my head, really,” he laughed.

“…For a man ready to let a bunch of people die for your own gain, you really are a coward,” she said, disgusted.

“Yes, well…” he shifted a bit and she kept her eyes on him. “I’m a businessman first and foremost. I make the plans for others to follow. And admittedly this didn’t turn out quite as I expected…But are you are really going to kill me? You are a cop after all.”

“You didn’t kidnap a cop. You kidnapped a Grimm.”

He licked his lips a bit. “Yes, I suppose so…” He glanced behind her and Sloane realized something was wrong a moment too late. She was turning, spotting Marta aiming her rifle at her just through the trees behind her a moment too late. Then she felt something slam into her, and pin her down. The rifle fired and she held her breath, but there was no pain. But she did hear a gasp like a someone was trying desperately to draw in air. Looking over, Demitro was slowly leaking blood through his chest and his eyes rolled back as he fell to the forest floor. Ryker rolled off her as the rifle reloaded and Sloane stood up.

“Get to cover!”

He didn’t need to be told twice, rushing behind a tree. Sloane moved as well, managed to dodge the next shot. “You think you can beat me here?” Marta asked. “I already got you once.”

“Yeah, your aim kind of sucks,” Sloane cajoled. She flinched as another shit fired past her, sending a spray of bark off of the tree she was hiding behind.

There was the sound then of sirens coming that distracted them both. “What the hell?”

“Cavalry is here,” Sloane said, smiling in relief.

“Well, I’m still going to kill you!”

Sloane heard her footsteps coming and moved around the tree, throwing the extra knife at her. She dodged it and tried to fire at Sloane as she was running.

Nick heard the shots and once the sirens were close the rest of the wesen finally stopped fighting and got on their knees or tried to run. “I gotta get Sloane!”

“Nick!” Hank yelled, watching him rush for the trees. He saw Sloane in the distance, moving between the trees for cover. He saw Demitro’s body as well. When Sloane came around another tree, Marta was there suddenly swung her rifle hard into her head. Sloane went down, stunned by the blow, and Marta moved to stand over her prone body, aiming the rifle. Nick glared and took aim.

“Any last words, Grimm?”

Sloane shakily herself up, but then suddenly flopped onto her back, the flare gun in hand. She pulled the trigger and Marta screamed as it hit her in the face. Then she surged up and drove her knife into her stomach. Nick put the gun down in shock, not having expected that. Neither had Marta as she stumbled back. She woged briefly, giving a whining trill of a hawk, before changing back and falling to the forest floor, burns all over her face.

Sloane sighed and laid back down. “Sloane!” Nick rushed over and she looked up. “You okay?”

“I…am tired,” she sighed.

Nick smiled and offered his hand. “You are also badass.”

“Well yeah,” she said, smiling and taking his hand. He hauled her up and they started back up towards the parking area, where they could see flashing lights now.

“Uh…should I come too?” Ryker said, peeking out from a tree.

Sloane narrowed her eyes but then sighed, motioning with her hand. “You saved my life so…yeah. C’mon, we’re even. Ish.”

Ryker smiled in relief, heading over where the police were rounding up all the wesen for arrests. They hanged back among the trees though, with Monroe who didn’t exactly want to be seen just then. When the captain spotted Hank though, he waved him over and he sighed as he joined them in the tree line away from the arresting frenzy.

“There you are!” Renard said.

“Hey…how’d you get here?” Nick asked.

“I called him!” Juliette said, rushing over and hugging him. “And I swear, NONE of you are leaving me behind again!”

“Hey, kind of good we did this time,” Monroe said.

“Yeah,” Hank sighed. “I was so worried this would be a blood bath I guess I should’ve just called you from the start…”

“Yes, you should have,” Renard said. “Where’s Myron Demitro?”

“Uh…dead. With a sniper bullet. The sniper is also dead,” Sloane said.

“Another bullet?”

“No, flare gun and knife.”

Renard sighed, rubbing his eyes a little. “I’ve been trying to pin him down for over a year…and now I’m not sure how to explain this.”

“Well, he knew where we live, so I’m not broken up about it,” Nick said. “Plus, the whole hunting us in the woods thing.”

“Yeah, you’ll think of something,” Sloane said with a grin.

The captain sighed but looked them over. “You two okay?”

“Tired, hungry, lost some blood…nothing I’m not used to.”

“Well, I’d rather we get checked out,” Nick said.

“Agreed,” Rosalee said, looking Sloane over. “You have sutures?!”

“Nick did them,” she smiled. “Not too shabby.”

“Maybe I should’ve been a doctor,” Nick joked.

Hank smiled as well, ruffling his hair. “Might be less stress at this point.

“Yeah, but you’d miss us,” Monroe said.

Nick smiled and looked at Renard. “Sooo…how are we going to do this?”

Renard looked back where more cop cars were starting to arrive. “…I told them it was a tip off regarding a “survival” game Demitro started. They haven’t seen you or your car yet I’m pretty sure.”

“We parked it around the other trees,” Hank nodded.

“Good. Get to it, get out of here. We’ll go with it being a “game” that got out of hand, got him and a few others killed. Survivors still here can’t say that they were hunting Grimms or police officers after all. Did anyone else know your names?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Nick said. “Demitro said he kept it a secret and the way he put it…I believed him.”

“Yeah,” Sloane sighed. “So I think we’re safe for now…”

“Good. Then get going,” he ordered.

“This way,” Monroe said. “I can find the car going through the woods.”

The nodded and followed him as Renard started barking orders.

\---------------

It was a tight fit to the cars until they got back to the Extra Mile where Nick and Sloane could get their cars. Juliette and Rosalee had followed Renard despite his efforts to dissuade them, but he’d managed to get them out without questions. They got to the shop and got back around, checking to be sure everything was where it needed to be.

“I…I know it’s probably not enough, but I want to say I am really sorry,” he said, looking at Sloane and Nick nervously.

“You should be,” Juliette said, crossing her arms. The others all nodded and he hunkered down under their stares.

It was actually, to their surprise, Sloane that sighed. “Well, you did save me from being shot…so I guess I’ll let it go. This time.”

“I…really?” he asked, surprised.

“Yeah. But you better keep out of trouble,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“No, yeah, I will! Um, tell Mr. Wurstner I’ll bring his truck by later—it’s done aside from being washed…which I owe him a detail with the works.”

“Yeah you do,” she said, smiling a little. The others relaxed slightly. If the most Grimm of them could forgive they could let it slide.

“You going to see Mr. Wiltshire?” Hank asked.

Ryker looked at the shop, which was still open, but sighed. “I’ll…try emailing him first. I don’t think he’d want to see me right now…”

“Eh, maybe not…but at least let him know you did help us.”

“Yeah, you did the right thing in the end,” Rosalee said.

Ryker smiled and looked over at Sloane and Nick. “You guys…really aren’t what I expected…”

Nick smiled. “Yeah, we get that a lot.”

“What are you going to do now though?” Monroe asked, a touch suspicious.

He took a breath and rubbed over the back of his head. “Not sure, exactly…Looking for a new job I guess. And making sure I don’t get myself into trouble again—or anyone else.”

“Good plan,” Hank nodded. “Good luck with that. Or do you need that as a hare?”

“That’s…you know what, close enough,” he said throwing up his hands. “Don’t take this the wrong way, kind of hope we don’t meet again.”

“Feelings mutual,” Sloane said. “Again, don’t do anything dumb and it might just be possible.”

Ryker smiled a little and headed for his truck where they’d left it up the street.

“I want to go home and have like…the biggest pizza possible,” Nick said. “Or pasta. Maybe both. I need carbs.”

“Mmm, carbs,” Sloane agreed. “Honestly though, I might like to shower and change first. I smell awful.”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to say anything but…You both smell like sweat, blood, weirdly like a medicine cabinet,” Monroe said.

“Probably the iodine and peroxide,” Nick sighed. “Why don’t you wash up at our place? You can let Trubel drive, rest up.”

“Yeah,” Trubel said, smiling a little.

Sloane pursed her lips but sighed and held out her keys. “Yeah, okay. I’ve got spare clothes in the car and I am honestly feeling tired as hell.”

Trubel took the keys and they split up the cars again, driving towards Nick’s house. Sloane rinsed her wound with some saline again, then wrapped it in saran wrap Juliette got her to avoid getting it wet. She paused and thought about Nick carefully stitching her up, concentrating hard to do it right and saying sorry at ever little flinch her gasp she gave. She smiled a little and for a brief moment she thought she might just let it scar over and keep it. Then she shook her head, confused. _What the hell? No, the salve will get rid of the scar when I get home. Why would I keep the scar? I’m probably way too anemic still. Pizza’s coming, I’ll be thinking properly later._ Climbing into the shower, she sighed as the warm water helped wash the grime of their adventure off. She’d brought her own soap and shampoo from her emergency stash in the car and washed the dirt, blood and other debris off. Once she was done, she toweled off and got her extra clothes on, coming down the stairs. “Shower’s free.”

“Awesome,” Nick sighed, heading up past her. “Pizza has been ordered as well. Meat lovers; chicken, spinach and garlic; and vegan margarita.”

“Awesome. Too bad we don’t have stuff to BBQ, I’m probably going to have to burn these clothes,” she sighed.

“Yeah, that’s why I asked Nick not to sit on the couch and stay in here,” Juliette said, grabbing a plastic bag and holding it open for her. Sloane dropped them in, then took it and tied the ends. “I’d like to not smell death on our couch.”

“Can’t say I blame you.”

“Do you think there’s going to be a problem in the investigation?” Monroe asked.

“No, Renard said he’d take care of it after all,” Rosalee said. “He’s complicated, but I don’t think he’d want Sloane or Nick tied up in this.”

“Probably so he can use us later,” Sloane said. Monroe nodded, feeling that was true.

“You guys do trust this guy, right?” Trubel asked, confused.

They all looked thoughtful, Monroe wavering his hand before finally nodding. “I don’t think he’s a bad guy deep down,” Juliette finally said.

“Yeah. It’s that royal blood and hexenbeast blood dueling that make him ‘complicated’,” Monroe said. “Like that two wolves thing—only not as cool as wolves and both of them are kind of assholes.”

They laughed at that and the tension that had been swimming around them finally started to melt. The pizza came just after Nick was finished cleaning up and they ate as they finally recounted all of that day’s trials. It was going to be okay. At least for a little while.

\-----------

It was just a few days later they were back at Nick and Juliette’s, having a dinner to discuss the wedding. A large pot of spaghetti was made, Sloane’s arm was looking a lot better, and Trubel was actually being somewhat sociable even if it was mostly sitting at the table listening to them talk.

“Papa Haydn's all set with the cake, by the way,” Juliette said.

“Great,” Rosalee said. “And you have the playlist for the reception?”

“Got it,” Sloane said. “And the place cards are ready. They just need to be picked up.”

“Oh. I'll do that.”

“No, I got it. I gotta check with the flower guys again anyway. You may have to get another florist he tries anything like trying to sell me purple heather and call it lavender again,” she said, pouring out tea. “And I mean that because I will put him in traction. But he should have the white and lavender roses, lavender, and fern fronds ready, I just want to double check.”

“Wow. You're doing all that for me?” Rosalee asked with a smile.

“Full-service maid of honor,” Monroe joked.

“Nah, Juliette’s been a huge help,” she said, taking the tray out to the table while they got the rest of the food ready. “I’m good at making sure people do things and glaring at them, but she knows what actually needs to be done for a wedding. I admit, I was woefully unprepared and there may have been no wedding without her.” Juliette smiled proudly and blushed at the compliment.

“Wait a minute, what about the groom?” Monore asked with a smile. “Don't you need me?”

“Oh, for certain things,” Rosalee smiled.

“Guys have it easy,” Juliette said. “All Nick has to do is not lose the ring and make a speech.”

“What ring? What speech?” Nick asked, feigning wide-eyed confusion. They looked at him and he smiled. “Yeah, yeah, I got the ring.”

“And what about the toast?” she asked.

“It's getting there,” he said, not saying where it was at that particular moment.

“It better be there by Saturday.”

“Saturday. This Saturday?” he asked, wide-eyed again. They all gave him flat looks and he smiled as he grabbed the salad. “Nobody gets me.”

“Yeah, no, we get you,” Sloane said, rolling her eyes a little.

“Is dinner ready?” Trubel asked, barely not whining.

“It is. Turn your chair around and it’ll be ready,” Sloane said, motioning with her fingers for her to sit facing the table properly and not backwards. She rolled her eyes but turned the chair around and sat.

“You like spaghetti?” Juliette asked, setting the big bowl down.

“No. I love spaghetti,” Trubel said, smiling at the food.

“Then let's eat,” Nick smiled. They served themselves, everyone noting but not commenting on the size of Trubel’s portions as she piled the pasta on her plate. More could be made.

“Can I say something, Trubel?” Rosalee asked after a moment.

“Uh-huh,” she said, mouth full of pasta.

“I know I don't really know much about you. But I'd like to say that I think you're doing a pretty good job handling this, considering how incredibly difficult this must have been,” she said honestly. “And your help with getting Nick and Sloane back was definitely appreciated.”

“Well…I really didn't expect to live this long,” Trubel said honestly. It was a little quiet after that as they ate and she polished off her huge serving shockingly quick.

“Do you want more?” Juliette asked.

Trubel hesitated but, licking her lips but then nodded. “Sure.” She moved to stand with her plate but Juliette stopped her.

“No, stay. I got it.” She took the plate and headed for the kitchen.

“So…do you remember the first time you saw a wesen?” Rosalee asked.

Trubel hesitated, looking a little haunted but nodded slowly. “Yeah, I remember. It was in one of the foster homes I grew up in.”

Rosalee nodded. “I was 13 when I found out I was a Fuchsbau.”

“You didn't know?” she asked, confused.

“You don't really know when you're a kid,” Monroe said, Rosalee nodding. “Kind of hits you later.”

“But at least we had family to tell us what was going on. You really didn't have anyone to help you through this?” She shook her head. “When did you find out?”

“Um...” She hesitated, taking a deep breath. “There was this guy that used to fix things around the house. He was always really nice to me, till, uh...One day he asked me to help him in the garage.” Rosalee tensed a little, glancing at Sloane who was listening intently. She recognized the look in her eyes, one of being acutely aware and ready to track someone down. “And he grabbed me. I saw his face change. And, um...He pushed me down on the floor. But I was so scared by what I saw, that I just grabbed the first thing I could, which was a-a screwdriver.” She flexed her hand at the memory. “And really all I wanted to do was just push him away from me, but, um...He didn't die... Or anything.” She glanced around, maybe worried what they’d think.

“Pity,” Sloane murmured. Juliette walked back in slowly, absorbing it all as well.

“He just... he did get off me really fast, though. And that was the first time I heard anybody say "Grimm." I-I told everybody what I saw. And that was the first time they locked me up. Said I was lying. And then when I said I wasn't, they said I had to be crazy so...Yeah, I got pretty used to being crazy. Until I met all you guys,” she smiled, looking at them. “I realized I wasn't alone.”

They smiled back and Sloane put a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

Trubel smiled a bit more then looked at Juliette. “Can I have that now?”

Juliette chuckled and set the plate down in front of her. “Yeah, sorry.” The home phone rang just then and she turned to head back to the kitchen counter near the doorway. “I got it. Hello?...Yeah, can I tell him who's calling?” She frowned in confusion but then looked to Nick, holding out the phone. “He says you won't know him, but he needs to talk to you.”

Nick wiped his mouth and stood to take the phone to his ear. “This is Nick Burkhardt. Who is this?...If there's a problem, I need to know who you are.” He listened and then frowned more as well before hanging up and putting the phone in it’s cradle.

“What, he didn't want to give you his name?” Sloane asked.

“I get calls like that sometimes,” Nick sighed. “They get cold feet. It's probably nothing.”

\-----------------

Juliette arrived at Sloane’s house the next morning early before work. She noted with a bit of surprise there was some plants on the front porch in plastic pots, as if they’d just been bought from the garden center. Despite her anger at the alleged deception by the florist, she knew one was purple heather, and then there were some ferns and packs of bulbs—Dahlias in various hues of red and purple. And one rosebush of some sort. Sloane opened the door and smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey. Going to do some gardening?”

Sloane blushed a bit smiled. “I’m going to try. My grandmother used to have a garden, one of those English types, and I’ve actually got a back and front yard I keep forgetting so…”

“It’s going to be pretty.”

“I hope so. Will probably ask Lucretia for some advice; I haven’t tried to grow anything in a long time.”

“I’d be happy to help too, maybe it’ll get me to do something at our house. Speaking of which, here is my bike,” she patted the seat. “I figured Trubel could use it if she wanted to get around a few places.”

“Oh, sweet! She’s inside looking over some things. Want some tea or coffee? I’ve got hot water brewing and a pot of coffee already made.”

“I would love some honestly, I didn’t have time to make any.”

“Okay. Head on in, I’ll put this in the garage for safe keeping and get you coffee and the order slip.” Sloane turned the bike around and headed for the garage. Juliette walked in, noting with a smile there were more things decorating the walls. Nothing like what you would find at a Homegoods or the like, but there were some masks from Asia, a few antique weapons, map of the world that looked old and well-worn framed above the couch, etc. Sloane had mentioned she’d started going through her grandmother’s things again as well as things she’d had in storage over at her old home—souvenirs she never admitted to buying back during her travels but had sent home under the guise of a “Flight Attendant” for her Aunts to put away. They had sent them back to her at her request and she’d finally put them up. There were pictures too—some of her grandmother which must’ve been hard to put up, and some of them surprisingly. It made Juliette smile that she had finally, really claimed the house as hers.

Trubel was sitting in a leather armchair by the window, looking through a book and toying with a chess piece—a black knight. She looked up and nodded. “Oh, hi.”

“Hey. What you got there?”

“Uh, just one of Sloane’s books,” she held up the leather journal, then a simple cardboard one. “I’m copying a few things down for ones I’ve seen before.”

“Well, great you’re learning,” Juliette said, a little awkwardly. “Um, so…I brought my bike over for you. Nice way to get out and see the neighborhood.”

“Thanks, that sounds cool,” she nodded, though she glanced back down at the book and thumbed over the knight again.

“Do you like to play chess?”

Trubel blinked and then flushed a bit. “Uh, not really…”

Juliette smiled gently. “I'm just curious. Why do you carry that around with you?”

Trubel closed the book and looked at the piece. “I like the way it moves. You know, different than any other piece.”

“Well, what about the queen? She can move any way she wants,” Juliette pointed out, sitting in the other chair. She heard the door in the kitchen open and saw Sloane come in and go to the coffee pot to pour them some drinks.

“Oh, I like the queen,” Trubel said, smiling. “She saved my life once.”

Juliette was surprised. “How?”

“Uh, I jammed her into a Coyotl's... is that how you pronounce it?” Juliette nodded. “Anyway, I jammed her into a Coyotl's neck when he attacked. We were playing chess at the Milford state mental hospital. They were not happy with me for that,” she finished ruefully but not exactly ashamed.

Juliette felt a pang of sympathy—Trubel had a hard life, a different sort from Sloane. She was just starting to open up like Sloane as well. But she wanted to really make her comfortable—give her something good after all the bullshit she’d gone through just trying to live. “…Hey, how about when I get off work, today, I take you shopping for new clothes? My treat.”

Trubel was surprised but shook her head a little. “No, I don't think that's a good idea…”

“Why?”

“Because I don't wanna get used to all this,” she said quietly. Sloane was coming over with three mugs, handing them out.

“I think it would be good.”

“Really?” Trubel asked, surprised.

“Look, I did the whole lone hunter thing for a while and even if this doesn’t last…get happiness where you can,” she said. “It helps to remind you why we do what we do.”

“…Okay,” she nodded.

Sloane smiled then handed a piece of paper to Juliette. “Here’s the order slip for the printers. Thanks for grabbing them.”

“Of course! I’ll grab them at lunch.”

\------------------

That afternoon, Trubel decided to bike around and see how long it would take to get to Nick’s house. It seemed like a good thing to know, in case she needed to get to them on her own. It was about half an hour since she could cut through a park and didn’t have to worry about traffic lights. When she pulled up though, she saw an unfamiliar car parked in front and frowned. She frowned deeper when she saw a man looking through the windows.

“Hey!” He jumped, turning to her. He was in early to mid thirties with sandy hair and didn’t really look the criminal type. “Can I help you?”

“Uh…maybe? Is this where Nick Burkhardt lives?” he asked, uncertain.

“Maybe,” she said, sizing him up as she walked the bike over. “Who wants to know?”

“My name’s Josh and I need to talk to him. Well, my dad needs to—wants to talk to him,” he amended. “He made me drive all the way from Pennsylvania just to do it.”

“About…?” she asked, still not trusting him.

He paused but pulled a piece of paper that was old and parchment looking out of his jacket. “My father told me to show him this…” Trubel cautiously stepped forward after setting the bike against the front steps, eying the paper. She was surprised when she saw it was a page from a Grimm journal of all things! He took her shocked silence as her not being interested though and sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, this was a waste of time. I’ll tell him I tried and you all can just ” He moved to walk down the steps past her and back to his car, but Trubel caught his arm.

“Let me see that,” she said. He blinked but held up the paper, letting her take it. “…Did your dad draw this?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t know who drew it. He’s just had it forever.”

“This is a Hundjager,” she said, scanning the picture and the text once more.

“You know what it is?” he asked incredulously.

“You don’t?”

He shook his head quickly, unsure now. “No…”

“Does your dad?”

He sighed, looking put out. “He thinks he knows what it is.”

Trubel looked at the picture again, weighting her options before pulling out her phone. “I’ll call Nick.”

\-------------

Sloane, Nick and Hank had been called into Renard’s office to discuss a case. By that he meant discuss a Grimm issue of course, though it did also count as a sort of case, just not _theirs_.

“We had a murder last night. Holtby and Bauer caught it,” he said, opening a file folder. “But this came to my attention.” He pulled a photograph out and set it on the desk in front of them. It was of the victim’s hand with a tattoo. The two diamonds end to end was familiar, but instead of just simple lines it was made with interlayered swords with an sword in the center wrapped in a looped ribbon under the pommel and crossing in front over the blade.

“Looks like Verrat,” Nick said.

“Only different,” Renard confirmed. “That's Verrat Ahnenerbe. Special section "D", tasked with finding anything involving rare objects, the occult, and the supernatural.”

“Royal relic hunters?” Sloane asked, taking the photo from Nick.

“Essentially, yes.”

“So what are they doing in that hotel room?” Nick asked.

“The room was registered to Rolek Porter,” Renard went on. “He's been traveling with his son Josh. Home address is listed in Pennsylvania. We have an APB out on the car: A '92 Volvo Station Wagon.”

“Porter have a record?” Hank asked.

“None that we could find. At least none under that name. Fingerprints have turned up nothing.”

“So why do we have a dead special section's Verrat agent in his hotel room?” Nick sighed.

“Well, there's more.” Renard pulled out security photos of an older gentleman and a younger gentleman pushing a larger steamer trunk through a doorway. “Now these are stills taken from the surveillance footage outside the hotel. According to the hotel, that's Rolek Porter, and that's his son Josh.”

“What's in the trunk? The holy grail?” Hank joked.

“What does it say about me my first thought was another dead body?” Sloane asked.

“Nothing we didn’t already know.”

“Joking aside, its probably the reason the Verrat agent was in that room,” Renard said seriously. “I wanna find Rolek and his son before Holtby and Bauer do. I don't want them in the system until we know what's in that trunk.”

“Well, there's got to be more than one Verrat,” Nick said, nodding to Sloane. “They never send just one.”

“No, they don't. This was taken four minutes after they left the hotel.” He dropped down a final picture, this time of a familiar face walking through the hotel lobby. “Look familiar?”

“Weston Steward,” Sloane sighed.

“So our rogue FBI agent is still in Portland,” Hank agreed, troubled.

“Yeah. I'd like to find him too,” Renard said, sounding like an order.

While they were speaking and planning, neither Sloane or Nick heard their phones buzzing on their desks from Renard’s office.

Trubel sighed. “Nick and Sloane aren’t picking up…”

“Well, thanks for trying,” Josh sighed. “Look, I'm sorry. I gotta get back to my father.” He moved to take the page from her but she pulled it back out of his reach.

“You said your dad saw one of these.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he's seen a lot of things.”

“Does he have more drawings like this?”

“Yeah. A whole trunk full,” he shrugged. Trubel’s eyes widened, mind racing over there being someone with a trunk full of Grimm books and maybe more looking for Nick. This didn’t seem like something they should pass up. “Look, I gotta go.”

Trubel looked at him and felt herself a bit annoyed. This man acted like this was nonsense, like his father was crazy, and it hit a nerve. “You don't have a clue, do you?” She enjoyed the certainty she felt now that she wasn’t crazy and the surprise on his face.

“What?”

“Does your dad know Nick's a Grimm?”

“Yeah, he said something like that, but...” he said, unsure. “You know what that is?”

Trubel grabbed the bike, putting it on the porch for safe keeping. “I'm going with you.”

“Hold on, why should I take you?”

“Because right now you're dealing with a Hundjager, and you don't know it. And I'm the only one that can help you.” It was satisfying to say that too, though she knew Sloane and Nick might not be too amused.

“Who are you?” he asked, looking at her like she was leading him down the road to hell.

“Just call me Trubel. Let's go.” She turned to head to the car and looked back impatiently. “Come on, let's go.” Josh sighed but finally joined her at his car.

\----------------

At the precinct in the afternoon, the trio were watching the security footage from the hotel Renard was able to send to them. They watched the old man with a cane and his son haul the chest out the back door.

“Whatever's in that trunk has gotta be pretty important,” Hank said.

“Yeah,” Nick agreed. “They killed a guy in their hotel room and didn't want to leave it behind…”

Sloane heard her phone buzz and walked over to pick it up. It was a number she didn’t recognize but she answered it anyway. “Larson.”

“Sloane, it's me,” Trubel said. “I'm at St. Joseph's hospital.”

Sloane tensed. “What? Why? What's wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, but…you remember that call Nick got the other night?”

“Uh…the odd one? Yeah,” she glanced at Nick who was looking at her curiously.

“The guy showed up with a drawing of a Hundjager. His name is Josh. Not the Hundjager, the guy that showed up. I couldn't get ahold of you or Nick so he took me to his dad who's sick. We had to take him to the hospital. And get this: He's a Grimm!”

“Wait, Trubel, slow down,” Sloane said, she was gesturing at Nick and Hank to follow her out to the hall where it was relatively deserted for once. “So let me get this straight and relay it to Nick and Hank before I put you on speaker: The guy that called last night came to my house—”

“No, Nick’s house. I rode the bike over there.”

“Okay, Nick’s house, with a drawing of a hundjager and his name is Josh and he’s a Grimm? On speaker now!” She quickly hit the speaker button.

“No! Josh’s dad is a Grimm. He’s got a trunk full of weapons and Grimm books. And his son thinks he's crazy, so he has nobody to talk to... it's kind of like me... except he knows who he is. And this big trunk has been in the family for a really long time. And now that he's dying, he wants Nick to have it.”

“Okay, hold on,” Nick said quickly. “This guy's a Grimm. Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said with clear certainty. “It's kinda weird, isn't it? All four of us in the same place at the same time? Except he was looking for you, Nick. He doesn’t know about Sloane I don’t think, I wasn’t sure what to tell him. But he really wants to see you, Nick. He drove all the way from Pennsylvania. Oh, and he wanted me to tell you he has a key?”

Sloane and Nick looked up at each other in surprise and then back to her phone. “A key? What kind of key?”

“I don't know. He just wanted to make sure I told you. Like it was really important, like...Like you were supposed to know.”

“Wait a minute. What's this Grimm’s name?” Sloane asked.

“Rolek.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “Rolek Porter?”

“I don't know his last name.”

“And the son's name is Josh?”

“Yeah.”

“Are they driving a Volvo?” Hank asked.

Trubel sounded surprised. “How'd you know that?”

“Where's the car?” he asked instead.

“It's in the emergency parking lot.”

“Stay with the car. We'll meet you there in ten minutes.”

“Okay,” Trubel said. They hanged up and quickly grabbed their jackets and rushed out to their car to head for the hospital. When they arrived, they saw Trubel waiting by a volvo out in the parking lot and quickly pulled up with her.

“Make, model, and plates match,” Hank said, getting out for a closer look. Sloane and Nick followed.

“Is that the trunk?” Nick asked, going over to look at the large rectangular shape that took up most of the trunk space with a white sheet draped over it.

Trubel nodded. “Yeah.”

“Where is he?”

“I can take you,” she said.

“The Verrat knows he's got that trunk. He's already killed one of them. They're gonna be looking for that.”

Hank nodded. “I’ll stay with the car. You two go up.”

They nodded back and followed Trubel into the hospital, heading up to a room. She knocked softly on the slightly open door before heading inside. Josh looked up from his seat by the bed. “Hey, this is the guy that your dad wanted to meet.”

Nick nodded, going over to the bed as well. Rolek was frail looking in the bed, eyes closed, breathing labored even with an oxygen supply to his nose. His wrinkles seemed thicker and his silver hair thinner in a way that felt like the life was leaking out of him. “I'm, uh, Nick Burkhardt. This is Sloane Larson.”

Josh nodded, unsure. “He came all the way to see you. I think it's too late.”

“Could I talk to him?” Nick asked hopefully.

Josh sighed but nodded. “Yeah. You can try.” He gently took his father’s hand, another going to his shoulder to gently jostle him slightly. “Dad?”

His eyes fluttered and he was confused a moment. “Huh?”

“Nick Burkhardt's here,” Josh said.

Rolek’s head lulled over to Nick and he had a palatable look of relief on his face that made Nick squirm a little. “I know you came a long way to see me…and I'm sorry it took so long,” he said. “But I'm here now.”

His eyes shifted to Sloane and she nodded to him. “My name’s Sloane. I’m also a Grimm, don’t worry.”

Rolek panted softly. “Two…good…I have to give you something…”

“Well, I know where the trunk is,” he said.

He nodded slightly. “That's good. But no... There's... there's something else. Something that was given to me by my father. And his father.” Rolek took a few breaths before continuing. “Josh had nothing to do with the man in the hotel room. I killed him.”

Nick nodded softly, understanding. “He was Verrat.”

“You... you saw the tattoo?” Nick nodded again, while Josh looked between them in confusion.

“You know about all this?”

“Yeah, we do.”

“We’re also police detectives,” Sloane said.

“You can't arrest him,” Rolek said.

“Dad, it's okay. The police know it was self-defense. They told me.”

Nick and Sloane frowned, glancing at one another and then back to him. “Who told you that?” Sloane asked.

Josh frowned. “Detective Donavon. He called me, he said they were on their way here. You didn't know that?”

“Are you sure it wasn't Detective Holtby or Bauer?” Nick asked.

“No, it was Detective Donavon,” Josh said firmly, though looking concerned now.

Rolek sighed. “I have to give you the key…I promised my father...I would protect it and I would pass it on. But Josh isn't one of us.” Josh frowned a bit at that but didn’t argue. “I had to find someone like us. And you're the only one I could... Find. That there are two…” he looked at Sloane again and frowned, squinting. “…Rebecca?” he asked softly.

Sloane was surprised before slowly shaking her head. “No…I’m her granddaughter.”

“Her…ah that’s right, her daughter…didn’t think _she_ would have any children…” he said, chuckling ruefully.

“I hear that a lot…” Sloane sighed. “Do you have a Dead Letter?” Sloane asked a bit more gently.

“No, no…my last hunt was long, long ago and I’ve don’t most everything I needed to. This is the last thing, to pass on the key.”

“Where is it?” Nick asked.

“I'll show you.” He shifted, groaning loudly, reaching out his hand. “Give me my cane.”

“Dad, you can't get up,” Josh said, trying to stop him.

“I have to get my cane,” Rolek said, trying to move. He gasped and then his body grew limp as the monitor that had been beeping softly in the background gave a loud, prolonged keen as he flatlined.

Josh’s eyes widened. “No, dad!”

Doctors and nurses began rushing in, ushering them all out as they brought in the crash cart to try and get his heart going again. Josh looked through the window helplessly as they tried to revive his father. Nick however pulled Sloane and Trubel to the side. “We've got a problem. There's no Detective Donavon in the department. I need you to move that car out of here,” he said to Trubel.

Trubel was shocked but nodded quickly. “All right.”

Nick nodded and then went to Josh, taking his arm. If that Detective shows up, don't let him in there. Call me.” He was firm enough and Josh was in enough shock he nodded quickly. Nick, Sloane and Trubel turned to head out.

“What's up with this key he keeps talking about?” Trubel asked.

“It's a long story.”

“The abridged version of what we know is it has to do with the crusades and a bunch of knights who were Grimms who found something that they thought no one else should have—no, we don’t know what exactly, they didn’t describe it—so they buried it in the black forest and made a bunch of keys that had a map that supposedly leads to where it is.”

“…Wow…”

“Yeah. If you have questions, ask later,” Nick said. His phone rang and he quickly pulled it out. “Hank?... Okay, we’ll be right out. …Right.” He hanged up and looked at Trubel. “Stay here.” He looked at Sloane then. “There’s three guys at the car, they're Verrat and they're armed, and I don't want them knowing what Trubel is.” He looked back at her. “You're gonna stay here and let us handle this, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

Neither Nick or Sloane was convinced but they quickly ran for the exit.

They got out just as Hank had to dive out of the way of a speeding SUV. The three men he’d managed to get on the ground stood up and moved to grab a gun and likely take care of him, but Nick managed to jump up to a car and tackle him to the ground. Sloane rushed another, slamming him into a car hard enough it dented. And sure enough, Trubel came up and socked the third right in the jaw. The SUV sped off, but the three Grimms were embroiled with the men who woged int hundjagers. A fourth one appeared and almost got Sloane when Hank grabbed him and slammed his head into a car. Sloane knocked hers out relatively quickly with the mirror of a car, in time to watch Trubel maneuver around her opponent, grab him, then use a car for a springboard to twist and bring him down, then put his head through a car window.

“…Okay, I know we should be mad you disobeyed orders again, but I’ll be honest, I am very proud of that move,” Sloane said. Trubel smiled.

“Not gonna lie, I’m glad you came too,” Nick said. “You okay, Hank?”

“I’ll live,” he panted, handcuffing a couple of the perps.

“Hey, this means their Verrat, right?” Trubel asked, holding up one of the unconscious men’s hands to show the tattoo.

“Yes…But you can’t be here right now,” Nick said, much more firmly this time.

“He’s right, we’ll have cops here soon and this is going to be hard enough to explain,” Sloane nodded.

“Take the car and head to my house,” Nick said.

Trubel didn’t argue, getting into the car with the keys she’d gotten from Josh to drive off.

It wasn’t too long before the cops did arrive and they said they’d been assaulted in the parking lot. True enough really. Heading back in, Nick and Sloane went to the room where Rolek had been only to see an empty bed and Josh sitting in the chair, looking a bit lost. He looked up them, taking a breath before looking at the bed again. “He…died.”

Nick frowned sympathetically and Sloane did too. “We’re sorry…” Josh didn’t say anything and Nick sighed, setting a hand on his shoulder. “Look, I'm sure you have a lot of questions. So why don't you just do what you have to do here and then come by my place?” Josh still didn’t say anything but that also meant he didn’t argue. “By the way, we've got your car. Just figured that would be a lot easier than explaining what's in it. I'll have an officer pick you up when you're ready.”

He looked up at them finally, pained but also confused. “What kind of cops are you?”

Nick looked at Sloane who shrugged. “We get asked that a lot. All I can say is, we’re trying our best to do what’s right…”

\-----------------

Getting back to Nick’s, they had a sort of unboxing party where they took out everything in the chest. It was mainly to search for the key, but Sloane was also enjoying looking through some of what was on hand as well. A large bottle of powdered fangs from Königschlange, a jagerbar roh-hatz claw, and ancient looking pugio dagger, and more. But no sign of a key or a hiding place.

“I can't find it,” Nick sighed, checking the chest for any hidden compartments.

“Me neither,” Sloane said, feeling over the spines of the about half a dozen books in the chest.

“If there's a key in here, I have no idea where it is,” Juliette sighed, tipping the stones—bezors if Sloane wasn’t mistaken—back into the pouch she found them in. “But speaking of lost things, have you seen my grandmother's vase?”

Nick frowned, looking at where it should be and then shook his head. They had no way of knowing that day Adalind had snuck into their home to collect a sample of Juliette’s hair and a nightgown, and had to use the vase to knock Renard out when he caught her. Renard knew how to clean up his tracks as well. “No.”

“Guys, there is stuff in here I have never seen in any of your books,” Trubel said, looking through one. “You ever heard of an "Abartige Aasfresser"?”

Nick turned, shining his flashlight on the illustration of a heyena-like wesen. “Not until now.”

“Once,” Sloane said. “But only in passing on group hunt for a group of geiers.”

“You really see this stuff?” Josh asked, looking at them all like he still wasn’t sure about this. Still, it was hard to argue with books and people who knew what they were doing.

“I haven't seen this one yet,” Trubel said.

“But it's all true?” he clarified.

Juliette nodded, looking at him sympathetically. “Some people have kind of a monster within. And Nick can see them, Sloane can see them, Trubel can see them, and your dad could see them.”

Nick looked at him with a serious expression. “Josh, just 'cause you can't see them now, doesn't mean you won't some day.” He looked at Sloane and Trubel, knowing they started seeing them even younger. “Hit me pretty late, too.”

“You were a late bloomer even by male Grimm standards,” Sloane said. “Most inherit in their late teens to early twenties.”

“…I’m not that much older than that,” he said blandly.

“Never said you were a lot older,” she said, smirking. “Just saying, late twenties isn’t quite as normal. But I suppose it is possible.”

“Well, at least I'll know it's real…Sort of,” Josh said.

Nick nodded but sighed in frustration as he put another satchel down. “I can't find this key. Have you ever seen it?”

Josh shook his head. “No. All I know is he was really worried about it. Wanted to get it to someone who would understand.”

“So where else could it be?” Nick pressed, wanting an answer.

“I don't know. I don't even know what we're looking for.”

“Well, he didn't drive all the way here without it, so it has to be here somewhere,” Juliette grunted, vigorously shaking a red velvet bag as if it would pop out.

“And when he told you about it, he was trying to get out of bed, like he was gonna show you where it was,” Trubel said, as if having an epiphany.

Sloane nodded slowly. “There wasn’t anything else in that hospital room. And he couldn’t move far I don’t think.”

“No, yeah, he never got out of the bed,” Josh said.

“Was there anything he did bring in with him?”

Josh nodded slowly then quickly, looking around. “He was asking for his cane.” He saw it resting by the credenza and picked it up, looking at it with a bit of heartache and nostalgia. “He's had this forever. He got it from his dad, who got it from his dad.”

Nick walked over then held out his hand. He gave it to him and he looked it over, trying to see if there was anything that stood out. There was a rather obvious knotch at the the end, near the curved handle, and he gripped the handle. It turned slightly and so he put a bit more pressure on it. The end popped off with the sound like a cork coming from a bottle and he jumped. “Did I break it?”

“I don't think so,” Sloane said. “Can I see?”

Nick nodded, handing it to her. She looked at the handle, noting the small cylindrical pin at the end. “These were very popular with Grimm back a long time ago, to hide messages or small weapons or the like. But to make sure nothing fell out, there’s usually…” she brought the can to eye level and smiled when she saw the circular hole. “A cross bar.” She pressed the cylindrical pin to the hole and a small bit of wood popped out.

“Awesome,” Hank said, smiling in wonder. “I love stuff like this.”

She smiled, pulling the pin out and then tipping the staff piece towards her hand. They heard the slid and then the closed key fell into her hand.

“Is that a key?” Josh asked, not recognizing it in his tablet-like form.

Nick gently took the key from Sloane, giving her a smile that made her feel strange. He then flipped it open, the forked prong coming out. “It is now. I need to call Monroe and Rosalee, the other key is at the shop.”

It only took about half an hour to coordinate and get to the shop. Rosalee showed which floorboard she hid the key under, along with some other important documents. They did ink tests for both keys which they found actually they lined up together perfectly so they were part of the series.

“Nick, remember that map I showed you at my house last year?” Monroe asked, looking at them.

Nick looked thoughtful before nodding. “Yeah, the one that your great-great uncle drew.”

“It was actually great-great-great grandfather on my mother's side,” Monroe corrected, but then shook his head. “But the point is...We are definitely talking black forest.”

“Germany,” Trubel said curiously.

“Yeah, it all seems to go back to Germany…” Juliette nodded.

“Well, we're one key closer to...God knows what,” Monroe sighed.

“I wonder if we'll ever know,” Rosalee sighed.

“I don't think I want to know,” Josh said. Juliette nodded slightly in sympathy. “Well, at least I know my dad wasn't crazy…Unless all of you are.”

They all paused and looked at him and he just smiled sheepishly. Sloane looked back at the map. Curiosity was buzzing in her, but they weren’t certain exactly where to look. It was an adventure for another day, perhaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience! Took a little while to get this one just right. Sloane may be feeling some things she's not used to >3
> 
> New wesen:  
> Langhen Ohren: "Long Ears". I actually came up with these before the Wilahara episode and decided to keep my name. Trivia time: Hares and Rabbits are actually not that close in genetic relation! It's a sore spot with Langen Ohren, who are the hare related wesen, that Wilahara have that name despite being rabbits.
> 
> Mandibula Trampa: "Trap Jaw". Snapping Turtle. A pet peeve of mine is mistaking tortoises for turtles, buuuut it was way too tempting to make him a snapping turtle. Those guys can be very scary.
> 
> Added in the inheritance bc I want to focus on the next big event: The wedding and Adalind's plot!


	17. Dearly De-Powered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 17 of the Casebook of Sloane Larson!
> 
> It's time for Monroe and Rosalee's wedding! And all the stuff that entails--hexenbeasts stealing powers and all! But with Sloane in the mix now, how will things change? For better? Or worse?

**Blond Ambition, Thanks for the Memories, Octopus Head**

**\---------------------**

Sloane didn’t have a lot of experience with weddings. There was one she dressed up as a waiter in order to get information on a wesen killing women (and eating them) and another she crashed to try and kill the bride (saved the groom’s life, she was a literal black widow). But this was the first she was invited too, the first she was Maid of Honor for, and first she wanted to go _right._

The rehearsal went well thankfully. Rosalee’s mother and sister were in on the Grimm deal and despite some reservations, they warmed up to them the same way they warmed up to Monroe. Monroe’s parents were also considerably more open and friendly. Corresponding with Rosalee regularly helped endear them to her and by extension Sloane and Nick. Bud also gave them a glowing review no one asked for but was none the less sweet.

Afterwards they went to dinner at the same lodge, sitting around a round table—Bart, Alice, Monroe, Rosalee, Sloane, Nick, Juliette, Hank, Bud, Gloria, and DeEtta, in that order

“So, these drops,” Bart asked across the table, “they’ll really make it so you don’t see us woge?”

“Yeah. It’s only enough for the ceremony and reception though,” Sloane said. “And we better keep it that way because prolonged use is dangerous.”

“That you’d do that for Monroe and Rosalee is very…touching,” Alice said honestly. Nick and Sloane smiled back.

“They’ve done so much for us, this isn’t really much,” Nick said.

“Really, we wouldn’t miss this for the world. Buuuut we want to be sure not to start drama,” Sloane agreed.

“And we appreciate that,” Rosalee’s mother, Gloria said.

“Yeah, we caused enough of that,” DeEtta sighed.

“Oh, not as much as us,” Alice said ruefully. “But, let’s not make it a competition.”

“No, but I should go ahead and do this,” Bart sighed, standing and tapping his glass. “Well, as you may know, when we first met Rosalee, we had some issues, and I'd like to take this opportunity to publicly apologize to Rosalee and my son, who, I must admit, made us see things in ways I didn't think possible.” Monroe smiled up at him gratefully. “Which leads me to extend an apology to Nick and Sloane, both Grimms, who taught me that this world does move in…mysterious ways.” They all laughed at the smiling, exasperated tone. “And finally, I want to thank my wife, Alice, who refused to leave when I really wanted to and made me face my own bullheadedness. Without her courage and love, I would've totally screwed up everything.” They laughed, but Alice smiled with a little misty-eyed smile and took Bart’s hand. He smiled back and squeezed it. “I just want to wish Rosalee and Monroe a long, happy, and mysterious life together.”

“Here here,” they all said, toasting their glasses.

Alice smiled more as he took a seat again. “Oh, did you really just say that?”

He smiled back warmly. “I said it, and I meant it.” He kissed her and the others all smiled.

Juliette stood then. “I would like to just briefly say on behalf of Hank and myself, the resident kehrseite-schlich-kennen...” They all smiled in admiration, laughing a bit.

“You’ve been practicing,” Sloane said.

“I try, thank you,” she laughed. “But as I was saying, it has been a wonderful and strange experience getting to know Monroe and Rosalee and all of you.”

“I'll drink to that,” DeEtta said, moving to take her wine.

“Not quite finished,” Rosalee said delicately, DeEtta pouting. “So, congratulations to Rosalee and Monroe. You absolutely belong together, and here's to a fantastic wedding tomorrow.”

They cheered again and toasted, sipping their wine. The finished-up dinner and split up outside to head their different ways, though Sloane was carpooling with Nick and Juliette.

“Sooo…got your Maid of Honor speech ready?” Nick asked, glancing in the mirror to Sloane.

“Yeah…I think so…God, why am I nervous about this?” Sloane sighed.

“I mean, have you really done anything like this before?” Juliette asked.

“Not really,” she admitted.

“Public speaking can make most people nervous,” she said. “Just imagine them in their underwear?”

“…Does that work or just make things more awkward?” she asked, laughing a little.

“Eh, little of both,” Nick said. “Remember, I’ll be going before you—I’m sure whatever you say, you’ll sound like Jane Austin in comparison.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Juliette said. “I heard you practicing, it’s going to be very touching.”

Nick smiled. “Thanks.”

Sloane felt a twinge in her chest and ignored it, looking out the window.

When they got to her house, Nick rolled down his window as she was getting out. “Still good to pick you up at 4 tomorrow?”

“Yep,” she smiled. “Not having to drive is just another perk of the…Do you smell smoke?”

Nick frowned and breathed deeply before looking at Sloane’s house. Sloane rushed quickly up the steps and unlocked the door. There was smoke wafting through the air and a smoke alarm beeping shrilly. “Trubel?!”

“In here!” Trubel yelled. Sloane went to the kitchen and her jaw fell when she saw Trubel was trying to stop a fire in the pan by beating it with a spatula. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Get the window and the door!” Sloane said, rushing over and grabbing the lid. She slid it over the pan to smother the fire, turning off the burner while Nick and Juliette came in to help try and air out the house. Trubel was coughing as she opened the back door near the kitchen.

“What happened?” Nick asked, grabbing a towel to try and fan the smoke out.

“I was trying to cook!” Trubel said.

“Cook what, charcoal?” Sloane asked, taking the lid off and fanning it.

“No…Pancakes. I was going to try and make you breakfast tomorrow, pancakes and bacon and eggs…my bacon isn’t that great either…”

Sloane softened a bit and smiled. “Well…I appreciate that, thank you.”

“Bacon? But you’re Jewish?” Nick asked.

“I’m not that strict with that and neither was Oma,” Sloane said. “Exceptions are made, especially for bacon.”

“I would too. I might have an addiction considering I’m still eying this,” Juliette said, holding up a plate of super crispy bacon. They laughed, sighing as the smoke alarm finally stopped.

“How about we try this again in the morning? I still remember how to make pancakes,” Sloane said.

“Sure,” Trubel said, nodding with a sheepish but grateful smile. She was covered with powder and wet batter, smelled like grease and had an eggshell in her hair that Sloane pulled out.

"Go clean up and change, I'll get this."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure you need to clean up and change," she chuckled.

"Okay...I'll see you guys later," Trubel said, nodding to Nick and Juliette before heading to the guest room--now furnished. They'd gone to some second hand shops and gotten a bed frame, side table, dresser and more to furnish it. It needed a little bit of work, but it gave Trubel something to do during the day besides study and youtube was pretty good for videos on how to refinish furniture. It was all wood and now a nice walnut color. The rest was still pretty sparse but with a brand new queen mattress, sheets and a purple and grey comforter set, Trubel had to admit she was sleeping a lot better than on the day bed in the office.

Juliette and Nick smiled. “You good here?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, we’re good. Get home, we got a long day tomorrow.”

“Yeah…Oh, hey, if I pick you two up in the morning, I could use your help,” Nick said quickly.

“With what?”

“Moving the Trailer. I got a spot in mind.”

“Uh…. Okay, so long as we’re still there by 4 because the hairdresser and everything will be at the lodge waiting for us.” She looked at Juliette who nodded.

“Right, that should be plenty of time,” he said. They waved as they headed out. Juliette smiled as they drove back for home. “You know, they get along pretty well.”

Nick smiled as well. “Yeah. I think they’re good for each other. Like a big sister.”

“Yeah. I wish I had one of those…”

“Me too…Being an only child got lonely sometimes,” Nick sighed.

“Yeah…on the bright side, I got spoiled rotten, especially by my grandmother,” she said slyly.

Nick laughed. “Here I thought you were probably a little angel, helping any animals you could.”

“Oh, I did that, but they were usually strays and she only made me find new homes for them when things got out of hand.”

“What’s out of hand?”

“Ummm…12 cats and 4 dogs?”

“Oh, you’re a hoarder,” he said, laughing more.

“Was not…” she said, though she was smiling as well.

Nick smiled warmly as they headed back home. Just after getting there, the phone rang, and Juliette sighed and went over to pick it up while Nick went to the kitchen to get something to drink. “Hello?”

“Juliette! I’m glad I finally caught you.”

“Adalind?” she asked in surprise. “I…we just got home, what…?”

“I'm so sorry to bother you, but I thought I should warn you,” Adalind said, and she sounded strangely happy for a warning. “Something happened tonight that I just can't quite explain.”

“Okay…Why are you calling me?” Juliette asked uncertainly.

“Because it's about you.”

“Me? How is it about me?”

“I was with Sean tonight, and he said some things that just weren't right. I hope I'm wrong, but I think his obsession for you may have returned, and I feel responsible. You haven't had any feelings for him, have you?” she asked coyly.

“No. God, no,” Juliette said, shaking her head.

“Good. I might be totally wrong about this, but just in case, I'm gonna mix up a little something to counteract it.”

“No, Adalind. No mixing of anything,” she said firmly. “No potions, please.”

“I understand your concern,” she sighed. “I just thought I should say something. Anyway, you have a good night.” She hanged up and Juliette stared at the phone in confusion.

Nick came out with a beer, looking at her curiously. “Who was that?

“Adalind…”

Nick was on alert immediately. “Adalind? What did she want?”

“She said that she thinks Sean's obsession with me is coming back, and she wanted to warn me,” she huffed, putting the phone back in the cradle.

Nick frowned more, a little worried. “Well, are you feeling anything?”

“Yeah. Pissed off at the whole idea,” she said heatedly, going to get some water.

Nick sighed slightly, a tiny bit relieved, and turned back to her. “Well, she's probably wrong, and I wouldn't trust her anyway.”

She nodded, sipping her water and shaking herself a little to try and calm down. “All I'm saying is, this better not be happening again.”

He agreed, a little on edge now as well.

\-----------------

Nick took his SUV to pick up Sloane and Trubel and then go hitch the Trailer. Sloane road shotgun with Nick while Trubel was in the back as they drove out of the storage lot. “Why do we have to move it now?” Trubel asked.

“Too many people seem to know where it is, and we got this new stuff,” Nick said. “It seems like a good time to find it a new home. I bought a piece of land. It's gonna be a lot harder for people to figure out where it is.” He glanced at Sloane, who smiled and nodded approvingly.

“How many times have you had to move it?”

He glanced at Trubel in the mirror. “This is the second time for me, but this came all the way from New York with my aunt Marie.”

“That's who raised you, your aunt Marie?”

Nick nodded slowly. “I had my mom and dad until I was 12…”

“What happened to them?” she asked hesitantly.

Nick took a breath. “My dad was killed, and I thought my mom was too until a couple of years ago.”

“Were they Grimms?”

“My dad wasn't, and my mom was... is,” he amended.

“You've seen her?”

“Oh, yeah,” he laughed a little, remembering meeting her again when she beat up several men that had broken into his house. “She's come to visit a couple of times.”

“You’ll like her,” Sloane said. “She’s very cool.” Nick smiled more in agreement.

“…What about you, Sloane?”

“Ah…well, I was raised by my grandmother from pretty much the time I was born until I was 9,” she said. “My mother is a Grimm and didn’t want to give up hunting and traveling. Then my grandmother was murdered when I was 9 with me hiding in a hidden cupboard and watching.”

“Oh my God,” Trubel said, grimacing.

“Yeah…After that it was me and Deirdre till I was 18.”

“Deirdre?”

“My…mentor.”

“What about your dad?”

“No idea,” she shrugged. “Wasn’t there when I was born, never met him, who knows. Stopped caring when I figured it doesn’t stop me for being me.”

Trubel nodded slowly, understanding maybe more than she let on. They drove out into the woods maybe about 30 minutes from Nick’s house, pulling into a clearing through what was barely considered a road or path off the main road. “You're right. It is gonna be harder to find,” Trubel said. “Think it'll be safe here?”

“For a little while,” Nick said.

“…You know what you were saying about your mom coming back?” Nick and Sloane looked at her curiously while he made sure the trailer was level. “I don't know how I'd feel if I saw my mom and dad again. Must have been weird.”

Nick nodded a bit, remembering the shock, elation, betrayal, confusion all running through him at a rapid pace over and over again for days after he met Kelly again. “Well, a little bit.” He and Sloane unhitched the trailer.

“I don't know if my parents were Grimms or not,” Trubel also said wistfully.

“One of them had to be,” Nick said, opening the back of his car and hauling the chest around so the other hand was there. Trubel came forward to grab a handle of the trunk. “Let's get this trunk inside. “Got it?”

“Yeah,” she grunted, hefting it out with him and moving around. Sloane hopped the hitch and came around to open the door much to their appreciation as they squeezed the trunk through.

“I don’t think I have enough room for the trunk…” Nick sighed.

“Let’s go through again. Figure out what you want to keep, I’ll take what’s left and the trunk,” Sloane said.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I like it. Needs a little work but it’ll give me a project. All else fails, it goes back to Oma’s basement next time I visit. Speaking of which…” She reached into her jacket and pulled out an envelope. “I know we’re kind of at the climax of one wedding almost, but Jean and Mim sent this for you. It’s not till next spring and you’re a guest, not a groomsman.”

Nick smiled, taking the invite. “I’m honored none the less. Are you maid of honor again?”

“Yes. For both of them?” she said, shrugging. “I didn’t know you could do that, but hey. It’s really gonna be a small ceremony. They’ve lived together over 30 something years but they figure they’re getting older and it would be good to have spousal rights…”

“Sorry, who are we talking about?” Trubel asked, confusion clear.

“Ah, right. So, besides my grandmother, there were two women that were kind of her…wards? Friends? Complicated. But they’re wesen—a Jagerbar and a Lowen. That was a surprise about 7 months ago but…I’ve come to terms with it. And they’ve been in love since before I was born, so that’s not a surprise at all.”

“Oh…Sweet,” she said, nodding a little.

Nick smiled and put the invite into his jacket pocket. “I’ll save the date.”

“Please do. The ceremony is at the courthouse, but then they’re planning a huge party—it might span the woods between Oma’s and their house. Think like Woodstock actually in the woods, according to Mim.”

“Sounds like fun,” he smiled. He opened the trunk and knelt to start going through it. He pulled out the books first and Sloane set them with the others that needed to be gone through. Ingredients she looked over and tried to figure out if they were any good still. Some needed to be tossed out, but others were usable. Then they went through the weapons.

“Well, it must not have been easy for him,” Trubel said, putting a club away.

“Who?” Nick asked.

“The guy that had all this stuff.”

“Rolek?”

She nodded. “He…stopped being a Grimm?”

“You don’t stop,” Sloane sighed. “I mean, maybe if you go blind, but it’s not something that goes away with age. He knew my grandmother and mother, knew what a Dead Letter was…said he didn’t have any hunts left. Sounds like he probably just tried to retire. Like my grandmother did.”

“Why do you think he didn't tell his son though?”

“Well, he probably wanted him to have a normal life,” Nick said, thinking about his mother and Marie keeping him in the dark as well.

“That's possible?” she asked dubiously.

He sighed and shook his head. “No…well, not for a Grimm. If you don’t inherit…” He looked at Sloane.

“It’s…possible?” she said uncertainly. “But not likely. Even if you don’t inherit the sight, you carry the genes. I’ve heard some wesen hunt down various branches of Grimm families trying to destroy bloodlines. One with a very stupid mustache started a war.”

“Ah…right,” he nodded. “And I guess it caught up to him in the end.” He paused and then brought out a very nice-looking stiletto dagger with an ornate guard and scabbard. “Ooh. Haven't seen one of these before.” He unsheathed it, looking over the almost black blade admiringly.

Trubel came over to look. “Some kind of knife…”

He nodded, then noted a switch on the guard. Pressing it, he jumped when the blade split into three separate blades and then chuckled a little. “Impressive.”

Sloane smiled back, liking the wonder in his eyes. “Admiring lethal weapons, detective?”

“Well, you know…it’s cool,” he said. He smiled a bit at her teasing, knowing she was referencing when they first met and were getting used to each other and he was a bit more uptight about all this. She chuckled back.

Trubel looked at the knife and then at them. “If you could choose to be a Grimm or not, what would you do?”

Both of them looked at her in surprise and then each other. “Well…it hasn't made my life any easier,” Nick said delicately. “Or Juliette's. Or yours,” he said, looking at Sloane.

Sloane nodded slowly. “Any of us, really…”

Trubel gave a bitter laugh, looking over at one of the books again. “Better being a Grimm than being crazy…I think.”

Sloane chuckled and paused when her phone rang, Rosalee’s name on the screen. She picked it up and held it to her ear as she put a few bottles in the cupboard. “Rosalee, hey. What’s up?”

“A lot,” she laughed. “Um, so…I had an eventful morning.”

Sloane paused, looking at Nick and arching her brow. “I mean, it’s your wedding day so…Wait, did something happen?”

“Oh yeah,” she said, giggling. “So…Early this morning, we came downstairs to find my sister, drunk, wearing our grandmother’s wedding dress…which she had proceeded to rip a big hole in and spill red wine over.”

Sloane dropped the next bottle in shock, Nick just barely catching it. “She-she what?! You’re dress?!”

“Yep. Said it was cursed and she was saving me, because she had two bad marriages wearing it.”

“…Do I—”

“We’re not killing her,” Rosalee said quickly.

“No, she’s your sister, I was going to say arrest her,” Sloane said defensively. Nick looked at her in confusion now and she made a _later_ motion.

“I was definitely tempted on both accounts earlier,” Rosalee said. “But…it worked out for the best. Bart and Alice convinced a boutique to open early and bought me a new dress.”

“Really?” she said, jaw dropping.

“Yes! Officially, best in-laws ever!” she yelled, probably wanting them to hear.

“No kidding,” Sloane laughed. “I was worried there for a second. So, this dress is good?”

“Yep. They had the sample in my size and were willing to sell it to me for a bit less, though charge a bit more for the fastest in-house alterations ever. And…Oh my god, it’s so beautiful,” she said, choking up a bit. “I mean, you don’t have to sugar coat it, my grandmother’s dress was…”

“Old-fashioned?” Sloane said delicately.

“It was dowdy. Like, I looked like an actual grandma in it. And you thought so too, didn’t you?” she said with a laugh.

“Weeelll…you seemed to like it or at least didn’t want to spend more money on one, so I didn’t want to say anything to make you hate it or make things awkward…” she said honestly.

“I appreciate that, really. But his is so much better.”

“Really?” Her phone dinged and Sloane pulled it away to see she’d sent a picture from the boutique’s dressing room. The dress was lace and sparkles, with a sweetheart neck and a trumpet silhouette so that it curved around her thighs to her knees and then outward again. She looked ecstatic in it and Bart and Alice looked excited as heck too. “Holy hell! You were holding out on everyone!”

Rosalee laughed. “It felt like I was holding out on myself. I think Bart and Alice enjoyed it too. They don’t have a daughter so…”

“Sounds like it worked out all around,” Sloane said, smiling. “Any other emergencies I can help with though or did you just want to brag about being a beautiful bride in a new dress?”

“Mostly that, but also wanted you to still be a part of this part a bit. Didn’t show Monroe though, now it gets to be a surprise!”

Sloane smiled. “Well, I am 100% behind this dress and Monroe may actually howl when he sees you.” She wolf whistled and Rosalee laughed again. “I’ll see you at the lodge soon, okay?”

“Okay. Oh, but…”

“But…?”

“Well, this all did throw me off a bit…do you think you could go to the lodge a little early and make sure everything is being set up right?” she asked, a little sorry by her tone.

“Yeah, that’s no problem. We’ll finish up here and I’ll head over about 2?”

“That would be great, thank you!” she sighed in relief. “I’ll see you there.”

“See you there.” They hanged up and Nick looked at her quizzically. “Well…guess what happened?”

\-------------------------

Once they were done, Nick dropped Trubel and Sloane back off at their house so he could head home and relax for a bit before preparing for the wedding.

“So, for dinner, do you want me to get you some take out or just give you cash?”

“Oh, you mean so I won't cook?” Trubel asked quizzically.

“Ahhh, well…I’d like to come home to my house in one piece.” Trubel pouted a little and Sloane chuckled. “I'm kidding. Sort of. But seriously, what do you want to eat?”

Trubel paused in the living room, playing with one of the books that Nick had actually given her out of the new collection, for keeps. Sloane noted the rather worried look on her face and frowned. “You know, I appreciate all you've done for me…but I can't keep living off you like this.”

Her eyebrows ticked up in surprise. “Well…it’s not really like that, exactly. I mean, I’m helping train you, seems natural I make sure you’re…taken care of? Just until you know what you need to know.”

“And how long is that?”

“Uh…well…”

“You said before, you learned more in the last couple of years here than you had in a long time. So, it’s not like you can teach me everything, right?”

Sloane winced a bit. “Well…yes, but I want to be sure you’re ready for most dangers out there…And we like having you around. I like having you around.”

Trubel smiled slightly but then looked down. “At some point, I'm gonna have to...not be around.”

“…I know,” she nodded. She did, really. But it was somehow hard to hear. Leaving Dierdre hadn’t been hard—for Dierdre at least, she’d just been gone when she got home from the library. Leaving her old hunting party had been hard but necessary. Trubel talking about leaving her though…stung.

She must’ve read that worry more for what Trubel might be like on her own because she sighed. “I get you don’t want me to be ‘traditional’, but I…I want to travel. Now that I can enjoy it a bit more, feel a bit freer and like I’m not going to be locked up if I don’t act right. I know how to better handle myself if I see a wesen, and if they see me.”

“…Yeah, you do.” She tried to smile. “Just…don’t think it’s any trouble for me, okay? That’s not an issue, really.”

Trubel nodded a tiny bit. “I appreciate that. But if I get hungry, I will figure it out. I gotta get a little more independent.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, holding up her hands. “Let me know if you do need anything, Miss Independent.”

Trubel rolled her eyes but smiled and headed for her room. Sloane sighed as she watched and suddenly, with just a door between them, she felt very, very lonely. Sharing her space with someone had become nice. Now she was thinking what it would be like to be on her own again—something she once relished and now it felt like a looming weight swinging over her head.

Sighing, she went to wash up and get ready to head to the lodge. She took a quick shower to freshen up and was toweling her hair when there was a knock at her door. “Um…Sloane?”

“Yeah?”

Trubel opened the door, peaking in. “Could you…call my phone?”

“…I could, but why?” she asked dubiously.

“…I can’t find it,” she admitted, blushing a little.

Sloane smiled grabbing hers from the bedside table where she was topping off the charge. It rang but they didn’t hear it in the house. “Do you have it on silent?”

“No, it shouldn’t be…”

Sloane perked up when the call was answered. “Sloane?”

“Nick?”

“Hey…uh, this was in my back seat.”

“I see…Just a sec.” She looked at Trubel with an amused smile. “Trubel, you left your phone in Nick’s car.”

“Dammit,” she muttered. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay, we can go get it.”

“But you gotta get over to the lodge, right? It’s like the opposite direction.”

“Ah…Yes…”

“I could bike over in a bit, if it’s okay with Nick?”

“You left the bike at his house,” she reminded her.

“Oh yeah…well, I could walk?”

“To Nick’s?” she scoffed.

“It’ll take a longer but it’s a nice day. I’d kind of like to think about some stuff…”

Sloane hummed, eyeing her. “…You’ll take something to arm yourself?”

She shrugged, not feeling it a strange question as some might. “Yeah, duh.”

She nodded and went back to the phone, putting it on speaker. “Nick? When are you and Juliette leaving?”

“Not for a while but we gotta get ready.”

“Would it be okay for Trubel head over? She says she wants to walk so it’ll be a while.”

“Uhhh…sure, should be fine. I’ll leave the door unlocked and the phone on the coffee table”

“Thanks, Nick!” Trubel said with a smile.

“You’re welcome. See you in a bit,” he chuckled.

“See you.” They hanged up and Sloane smiled at her. “I better start heading out.”

“I’ll go in a bit.”

“Alright. I’m sorry you can’t come with us…”

“It’s okay,” Trubel shrugged. “I mean, I’m happy for Monroe and Rosalee but I don’t know them that well yet. Plus, I’m not gonna take some of those drops when you already have a pretty short supply.”

She smiled and nodded in thanks before shooing her out so she could change. The bridesmaid dress was at the venue already, so it was casual as she headed out and over to the lodge. She left her things in the dressing room for Rosalee and her bridesmaids before going to make sure that things were being set up right till the other party members arrived. She had no idea, while she was busy helping set up the flowers, that Captain Renard tried to call her. She had no idea Adalind was still in town and had called Juliette twice insinuating Renard was back under a spell. She had no idea Renard had figured out the “Juliette” that had kissed him the night before was not Juliette and that he’d found the remnants of a potion she’d used.

None of them new that Adalind’s plan had already been put in motion.

\--------------------------

Trubel waited a bit before walking to Nick’s house. She’d grabbed her old machete before leaving, hiding it down her pants leg like the old days. She sighed a bit. It wasn’t necessarily that she _wanted_ to leave, but she also wanted to learn more about being a Grimm. Not just Nick or Sloane’s versions, but what she wanted to do as a Grimm. Maybe as a person, now that she knew she wasn’t crazy.

It took about almost an hour to get to Nick’s—taking a few shortcuts maybe she some would frown on—and she walked up. She tried the door and it was unlocked like he said. “Hello?” There was no answer, but she shrugged and went over to grab her phone. Glancing at the kitchen, she noticed the bowl of apples. A snack wouldn’t be bad she decided and went over to wash one up. As she came back through, Juliette was coming down the stairs and almost ran into her. “Oh! Hey, sorry Juliette.”

“No problem,” she said, though she had an odd look on her face. Like she didn’t recognize her.

Trubel smiled. “Got my phone. Don't worry, I wasn't cooking anything in the kitchen,” she held up the apple.

“Mm-hmm,” Juliette said impatiently, turning to start walking for the door. Trubel frowned, confused.

“Except bacon!” she called.

“Whatever, I hate bacon,” she snapped, opening the door.

Trubel gawked in confusion. Firstly, that anyone could hate bacon. Secondly, she knew Juliette had said just the night before she might have a bacon addiction.

“Are you going to the wedding?” she asked. Juliette said nothing, marching out the door. Trubel glanced upstairs where she heard the shower going, and then at the door. Taking a bit out of the apple, she headed right out the door to follow “Juliette”. She trailed her out of the house and down the sidewalk for a while until they were at the street a couple of blocks away that had a lot of little stores. She watched her hail a taxi and frowned, then did a second take as it was driving away and suddenly the woman in the car was blonde and definitely _not_ Juliette. She hid behind a signpost to be sure she wasn’t seen but kept her eyes on the car as it headed away. “Holy shit…” she turned to quickly head back to Nick’s house. However, as she was getting up to the house, she saw Juliette and Nick climbing into their car to head to the wedding. “W…what the heck?”

She walked back up, heading in to look around. Nothing seemed out of place though, but she felt incredibly confused. She went to the guest room to sit on the bed and think, grunting and pulling the machete from her pants leg before tossing it down with a sigh. She sat down to think, pulling the journal from her bag to thumb through. She doubted there would be anything about seeing double or people changing form, but maybe she’d be lucky? She wasn’t sure how long she was there before she heard someone knocking furiously on the door. She quickly headed downstairs and to the door.

“Nick! Nick, come on, open up.” She saw through the large window in the door a man with short black hair and relatively distinguished features. “Nick!” He paused, looking at her in confusion.

“Who are you?” Trubel asked suspiciously.

He eyed her back, panting and speaking urgently. “I'm Sean Renard. I'm Nick's Captain. Is he home?” She hesitated and he huffed, looking put out. “Look, I need to speak to him. It's very important.”

She sighed finally and unlocked the door. “Yeah, I remember you from the police station…”

He quickly marched in. “Hey, Nick. Nick!”

“Nick's not home,” Trubel said.

Renard looked back. “Where is he?”

“He went to a wedding with Juliette.”

“Is that where Sloane is too?”

She frowned, unsure why he was looking for Sloane too. “Yeah, she went over early to help set up,” Trubel nodded. “What's wrong?”

“Who are you?” Renard finally asked.

“I'm a friend of theirs,” Trubel said, feeling a little awkward. “I'm just staying with Sloane for a while and I left my phone behind earlier...”

“Was Adalind here?” he asked, looking around.

Trubel perked up. “I heard of her. I don't know her.”

“Long, blonde hair. Pretty,” he said. Trubel’s eyes widened and he saw it. “You saw her, didn't you?”

“I don't know…I saw Juliette coming downstairs and…she didn’t seem to know me. She said she didn't like bacon, which was weird, because Juliette said she did. Anyway, I thought she got into a fight with Nick because she left but I had a weird feeling. So, I followed her, and she got into a cab, and the cab drove past me but…it wasn't Juliette anymore,” she said hesitantly.

Renard sighed, nodding slowly. “It was Adalind.”

“I thought I saw two Juliettes,” Trubel said. “Is she…wesen?”

Renard snapped his attention back to her but nodded slowly. “The one that you followed, was she ever alone with Nick?”

“Yeah, before I got here. Is Nick okay?” she asked worriedly.

“No,” he shook his head, fumbling into his coat. “No, and I need to know where he is. Look, I know this sound crazy, but he has to drink this.” He pulled out a bottle with a viscous green liquid in it and Trubel wrinkled her nose.

“What'd she do to him?”

“Something very bad if I don't get to him. You know where the wedding is?”

“Uh, yeah, hold on. It's, uh...” She rushed over to the computer station near the stairs, looking through the papers before finding the invite and handing it to him. “I should go with you.”

Renard shook his head. “No, you stay here. I'll handle this.” He put the invitation in his coat and headed for the door and out. Trubel sighed, worried and a little annoyed at being left behind. She jumped when she heard three loud pops outside and watched as Renard stumbled back and knocked a lamp over. There were three bullet holes in his chest that made concerning gurgles as he tried to breath, looking shocked and confused as red welled up over his shirt. Trubel moved to go try and check on him when a man stepped through the door with a gun in hand. He was older, with steel grey hair and a wild look in his eyes. He was looking at Renard as if to finish him off when he saw Trubel. She turned and ran for the stairs and the man gave chase. She managed to slow him down by throwing the small side table on the landing at him and tripping him up before getting to the guest room and slamming the door, quickly pushing the chair under it.

\----------------

Rosalee looked in the mirror, breathing out when the dress fit perfectly despite the rushed alterations. Sloane smiled a bit, sitting for the hair dress to finish pinning her hair back. She’d managed to do two elegant braids despite the short cut she usually wore and brought them to a delicately textured nest of curls at the back with a sparkly barrette that Rosalee got her and DeEtta for a bridesmaid’s gift. DeEtta was still a bit sheepish, but Rosalee had forgiven her easily enough once things were worked out. “You do look amazing in this one.”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling. She already her hair pulled back in a low bun, with sprigs of baby’s breath made of crystals around it.

The hairdresser patted Sloane’s shoulder and she smiled gratefully and stood to go over to her while she packed up and left. Rosalee opted for soft darker grey tea dresses with sheer shoulders that made the pale purple of the roses and white of the calla lilies pop in their bouquets. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just…nerves. I mean I know I want to be with Monroe, that he wants to be with me, so why is this so nerve wracking?!”

“You get used to it,” DeEtta said. “Second time isn’t nearly as bad.”

“There’s not going a second one,” Rosalee said with a deadpan expression.

“Well, with the cursed dress gone, that may be true now. You’re welcome.”

Rosalee rolled her eyes and Sloane leaned down to mutter. “Arrest offer still open; we can grab Juliette for another bridesmaid. I think she’ll fit in her dress.”

“I heard that!”

They laughed and Sloane caught the small decorative pillow she tried to throw. “I better put those eyedrops in now I think,” she chuckled, going over to her jacket. She frowned when she noted she had a message waiting from Renard of all people on her phone and held it to her ear.

“ _Sloane, I need to talk to Nick! It’s an emergency, I think Adalind has something planned for him and I can’t reach him to warn him. Please, call me as soon as you can.”_

She felt her stomach dip and quickly redialed when the message ended. There was no pickup and it went to Renard’s voicemail now, but she sighed and hanged up rather than play phone tag.

“What’s wrong?” Rosalee asked.

Sloane looked up and then smiled reassuringly. “Nothing! Just…weird message.” She put the phone down and grabbed the tiny dropper in her jacket, quickly putting half in one eye and half in the other, grunting at the slight burn. She turned and Rosalee and DeEtta gasped as they saw her eyes turn black despite no one woging. “I know, give it a second.” The watched as the blackness seemed to almost disappear as though melting frost over a window and her eyes were back to their green hue.

“Wow…that was freaky,” DeEtta said.

“I can imagine. Could one of you woge just to be sure they’re working?” she asked as she dabbed and went to fix her make up. Thank god for waterproof mascara at weddings.

DeEtta nodded and Sloane saw her move as if working a kink out of her neck, but saw no change. “…Okay, I don’t see anything. Do you?”

“Nope, still looking like you did before,” she sighed. She looked at the phone again and sighed. “You okay for a second, I want to check on something.”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Rosalee nodded.

Sloane smiled and headed out the door and down to where the men were getting ready, knocking on the door. Hank opened it and then smiled brightly. “Dang, I thought bridesmaid’s dresses were supposed to be ugly.”

She smiled. “Rosalee has good taste.”

“Thank you!” Monroe called.

“Ha ha. Hey, can I talk to Nick a second?”

Nick walked over, leaning out. He was in his suit with a black tie and rose boutonniere already in place and she felt surprised how handsome he was in it. But that wasn’t important and she quickly pushed the thought aside. “Hey…what’s up?”

“Out here,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him to a quiet corner of the lodge. “Have you checked your phone?”

“Uh…no, kind of busy…” he said. He seemed awkward and she frowned.

“Well, yeah, but I just checked mine and I got a call from Renard. Listen.” She played back the message and Nick listened before paling.

“Oh God…” he said, putting a hand to his mouth as if sick.

She frowned. “Nick?”

“…Something…happened before we got here,” he said haltingly, pacing a little.

“What kind of something?” she asked, watching him.

He sighed. “I…When I got home, I thought Juliette was supposed to be out getting her hair done. But she was home and…well, um…”

“And…?” she prompted worried.

“…We had sex.”

Sloane blinked owlishly and then frowned as she felt something bubble up in her. It was bitter and a little painful. “…Okay…I mean, you’re together so…Is that weird?” she said, trying hard to kill that feeling and stuff it down into a deep, dark hole. She didn’t need to examine it further; it was not something she wanted to think about or name.

“Yes—I mean no, but…Then when I got out of the shower, her hair was suddenly dyed, and she seemed confused why it looked like we had sex. She thought I cheated on her,” he said, laughing a little bitterly. “I guess I did, but it wasn’t intentional…She’d look just like her…”

“Wait…are you saying…?” she asked, growing horror in her voice. “Adalind was this other Juliette?!”

He took a breath, nodding. “Adalind had called Juliette earlier, under some pretense. She knew she wouldn’t be home. And she’s a Hexenbeast so…who knows what she’s capable of.”

“I…oh my god, Nick…” she said, gently. “Are you okay? I mean, no, this is…not okay, oh god… _why?_ ” she asked, mind racing. “Why would she do this?”

“I’ve stopped trying to figure Adalind out,” he said bitterly.

Sloane looked at him again and felt her heart ache at the expression he wore before softly reaching out to put a hand on his arm. “Nick…What can I do?”

He looked at her and then put a hand on hers with a small smile. “I’m…processing it still. So’s Juliette. She’s…not happy, to say the least. With Adalind or me.”

“What?” she said, frowning. “You—you are not a guilty party here! You didn’t know!”

“I guess I should’ve…It didn’t seem quite like her, but well…It’s no excuse. Everything that’s happened, this is just another hit. Another hazard of being a Grimm, and another thing that just…brings so much to her plate already without me cheating—”

“No!” she said, surprising him. “You did not cheat, and you are not blaming yourself for this! _Adalind tricked you into sex_! That is—she—” _Sex under false pretenses! She assaulted you!_ Was what she wanted to say, but she knew that saying it to someone’s face like that didn’t always help a situation. “When I get a hold of her, I am going to pull out her hair and garotte her with it! I—”

“Sloane, calm down,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders quickly. He glanced around but luckily no one had heard her. She was flushed with anger and righteous indignation, and the dress showed off the muscles of her arms and how tense she was from the buzz. He couldn’t help but smile a little at how hard she wanted to go fight at this moment because someone had done something to him. Like a knight in taffeta armor. “I appreciate that, really. But I don’t want it coloring today—this is Monroe and Rosalee’s wedding. So just…let’s get through it all and then we’ll figure out the why and what to do later, okay?”

She nodded slowly. “Okay…But then I will find her, and she will pay. You can watch.”

“I feel like I should have a bit of a hand in this…” he said, having to laugh at the determination she had.

“Fine, but I’m not convinced you know how to use a garotte effectively,” she said, smiling a little teasingly.

Nick had to snort a slight laugh and she smiled more; glad she could make him smile at least. “We’ll figure _something_ out. But…thanks.”

Bart leaned out the door then. “Hey! We’re getting his show on the road, guys!”

“You better get back to Rosalee,” Nick said, patting her shoulder.

“Right. Later.” She headed back upstairs, sighing a little bit. It occurred to her as they were getting ready to go down the isle that Renard still hadn’t called her back, but there was no time to try again.

\------------------------

Trubel tripped trying to back away from the door as a blow hit it and it hard enough she felt it in her throat. Her head hit the bedside table and she hissed as she felt the cut there but kept moving to get to the chair in the corner where her machete was. Then another hit and it burst open, sending the chair she had placed there flying. The man stepped in; eyes even wilder as he looked down at her. “Well, this is what I call being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he said, a sadistic smile spreading across his face. He put the gun in his waistband behind his back. It confused Trubel but she quickly scrabbled back and faked using the chair as a support as she grabbed the machete without him noticing. “But I'm not gonna shoot you. Where's the fun in that?” He woged into a hundjager, snarling through fangs and fir and a dog-like muzzle. Trubel stood, keeping her gaze leveled on him. His eyes widened. “You're a Grimm.”

Trubel yelled and then brought her booted foot up and kicked him square in the chest. His shock left his defense down and he was sent crashing back through the door. Before he could get back up, she rushed out and he had only a moment to see her coming before the machete came down through his neck. It was a clean cut thanks to her training with Sloane. The head tumbled down the stairs like a ball and once it came to rest at the bottom he turned back into a human looking man. Trubel panted but then rushed downstairs and around the corner, grabbing the phone and dialing 911 while she checked on Renard. Miraculously he was breathing, but it sounded wet and thick. She knew she couldn’t be here when help came but was going to get it on its way. In the meantime, she needed to get help to Nick. She quickly went through his pockets to grab the bottle and the invite and then to grab Juliette’s keys from by the door. She’d have to borrow her car.

“911, what’s your emergency?” the responder finally asked as the line went through.

“Hi, yeah, someone’s been shot! It’s a cop!”

\-----------------

The string quartet started playing a slow, calming march as the ceremony started. DeEtta went first, walking elegantly down the aisle with Hank as a groomsman, arms linked. Then came Sloane and Nick. Sloane wrapped her hand around his bicep when he offered it and they smiled as the guests smiled back at them. The separated at the front, Sloane and DeEtta on one side, Nick and Hank standing behind Monroe.

Then the wedding march started and Rosalee appeared at the top of the stairs and they were sure Monroe forgot how to breath. The maids and groomsman looked at one another with knowing smiles. Rosalee was smiling radiantly as she made her way down to the bottom of the steps, where Bart was waiting—Originally she was going to walk on her own, but she’d asked him too after he told her it was nice to shop for a wedding dress since he didn’t have a daughter to do it with. Gloria had said Rosalee’s father would approve, but asked Bart to wear a pewter lapel pin shaped like a fox’s head that had belonged to her husband. She was going to give it to Rosalee so at least he was there in spirit, she had a twin of it that belonged to Freddie on her own dress. Bart was only too happy to do so. He walked Rosalee up to the platform in front of the grand fireplace like it was the greatest honor. Monroe watched her with wide, misty eyes and she smiled back with her own wet eyes. She kissed Bart’s cheek in thanks, and he smiled before going to join Alice in the audience. Sloane took Rosalee’s bouquet when it was offered to her and DeEtta took it, so she’d still have one free hand.

“Dearly beloved,” Judge Mason said with a beatific smile. “We are gathered here on this beautiful day to witness the union of Rosalee and Monroe. This is a day of great celebration, for a married life - a shared life - is a great blessing. As these two embark on this journey together they will be able to nurture a love that makes them better versions of themselves. Marriage—No, love itself, is a garden we grow with patience and understanding, and in return we grow as people with it. At times it may wane or wither, but with care and attention it will thrive.

“Monroe, Rosalee, on your journey together, I believe you will hold each other high in your hearts. The love that you share must be guarded and cherished forever, for it is your most valuable treasure. Always remember these words; Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way, but neither does it follow meekly. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about being right or the other wrong but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. This is the love we wish for you.”

Sloane found her eyes straying to Nick for a few moments as the vows were said. When she realized she felt a jolt of fear and guilt go through her and quickly looked away. What was wrong with her?! She noted several people were tearing up in the audience, though if they were woging she had no idea. Nick had no reaction either and thankfully hadn’t caught her looking at him.

“You have chosen to write your vows, and it is with these words you express your binding promises to love, honor, and cherish one another. If you are ready to make these promises to each other I invite you now to face each other and declare your intentions. Rosalee, when you're ready you may begin.”

Rosalee took a deep breath. “Monroe...When we first met, I didn't know what to make of you.” There was a few chuckles of laughter and Monroe smiled as well. “And it wasn't under the best of circumstances. I had just lost my brother and was going through a very difficult time. But once I met you, you just lifted my spirits, and you poured happiness back into my life. And it's only gotten better ever since. I love you. Through the hard times, the good times, and the weird times and everything we face together—I want to keep facing it together by your side.”

Monroe smiled, blinking back tears and holding on tightly to her hands.

“Monroe, when you are ready, you may begin,” Judge Mason said.

Monroe took a deep breath, settling his nerves. “Rosalee…I wasn't really a believer in love at first sight until I met you. Although, to be honest, it wasn't really love at first sight so much as it was love at first brick...” Another ripple of laughter through everyone present and Rosalee laughed as well. “Because if you hadn't hit that guy when you did, I don't think I would be standing here today. It is the life you saved with that brick I now give to you heart and soul. Now and forever. I’m yours.”

Rosalee smiled more, fluttering her eyes to try to keep from crying. Sloane vaguely picked up a buzzing sound and glanced at Nick who was quickly reaching into his suit jacket inside pocket to stop his phone. She didn’t have any pockets for hers but wondered why he didn’t turn it off.

“Do you have the ring?” Judge Mason asked Nick.

“I do,” he said, taking it out to hand over to Monroe.

Monroe slipped it over Rosalee’s finger and took a breath as if about to pray. “I, Monroe, take thee, Rosalee, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part.”

Rosalee was smiling so much it was radiating through the room. “Do you have the ring?” Judge Mason asked Sloane. She smiled and gently tugged it from the ribbon around her bouquet, slipping it free and hand it to her. “I, Rosalee, take thee, Monroe, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part.”

“Rosalee and Monroe, by the power vested in me by the state of Oregon, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!” Everyone cheered as they kissed, Monroe dipping her just a little as the wedding march started playing. “I now present, Mr. and Mrs.—”

“NICK!!” Everyone froze and Trubel slid into the hall and Nick’s jaw dropped as dread came over him and Sloane.

“Oh God…”

\----------------------

Emergency responders arrived and Nick and Juliette’s house as fast as they could, though she was already gone, and the door was wide open. Wu and Franco rushed to the scene as well, watching as they tried to stabilize Renard and get him carefully into the ambulance. Despite trying to keep his distance, knowing that there had been an attack and Nick’s house had made Wu’s blood run cold. More so when he found it was the captain—what was he doing there?! There was no sign of the woman who had called it in though. He watched numbly after driving up as Renard was loaded int the ambulance, trying to control his emotions. For the last couple of weeks, he’d been helping him, trying to find out what Adalind Schade was doing. He was convinced she was up to no good in some form, possibly to do with her mother’s murder. He’d been tailing her, reporting back his findings and helping where he could. Something was off about the blonde, but he wasn’t sure what. But she kept going between a storage unit with what he found out was her mother’s things and her hotel. Renard had been very interested but told him to keep back. Now he was found shot at Nick’s?

“Hey Wu! There’s no sign of Nick or Juliette,” Franco said from the doorway, getting his attention. “But you might want to see this…”

Wu went inside, grimacing at the blood pooled in the front entryway that he knew must be Renard’s. But then he had to pause when he turned to the stairs and gape. A head was lying there, a bloody stump at the neck and a now perpetual surprised look on his face. “Uh, where's the rest of him?” he asked dumbly.

“Upstairs,” Franco said.

Wu looked up and sighed, feeling weighed down by the strange circumstances just piling up. He had a feeling what this might mean by he tried to keep it out of his mind. “You I.D. the body?”

“Yeah. Came back as Weston Steward, FBI agent. The weird thing is, he's carrying a passport with his picture but another name, Walter Rathenau. What the hell do you think happened here?” Franco asked in disbelief.

Wu looked back at the bloody marks where Renard was found. “I have no idea,” he said again, trying to believe it. He turned and headed upstairs with Franco where the headless body was in the middle of the hall.

“There's a bloody machete,” Franco said, looking at the blade on the ground.

“It's a good bet that's how he lost his head.”

“Looks like a 9-millimeter,” he nodded to the gun in the dead man’s hand. Wu was willing to bet it was the gun that shot Renard. “Doesn't it seem to you like a lot of weird stuff happens in this house?”

“Nick's a cop. He's gonna make enemies.” _He also fights monsters when no one else is looking._

“What, enemies that chop people's heads off?”

Wu sighed, turning to look in the guest room as he pulled his phone out. “We better contact the FBI if this is really one of their guys. And I'll keep trying to contact Nick.”

Franco nodded, heading back to get what information he could and contact the Feds. As Wu was dialing, he noted a book on the bed and froze. He swallowed but slowly made his way closer. Only a small part was seen beneath a folded inner cover. _"I waited in the dark most of the night. When the treacherous beast returned, I cut off its head."_ He read slowly. He knew it. He knew it and yet he still reached out to open it properly and turn the page to see a scaled, monstrous face sketched on the paper. The leathery, purple face of the Aswang came to mind and he quickly closed it again, feeling sick. _Close the door. Close it._

\-----------------

Trubel was at the end of the aisle, past all the guests. Yet, before they could turn and see her, Sloane had dropped her bouquet, rushed like a linebacker down the white runner carpet, and practically tackled her. Except not to the ground—she instead lifted her up over her shoulder and turned so Trubel was facing away from the wesen who no doubt were woging in surprise so quick it was like she was a ragdoll. This was all done so fast Trubel lost her bearings and a bottle she was holding tumbled from her grip and broke on the floor with an oozing green liquid splattering against the back wall. “S’cuse us, carry on!”

“SLOANE! No, it broke!” Trubel yelled, but she was quickly backing away around the corner and then turning to go through the door. She set Trubel on her feet. “You broke it!” She yelled again.

“Calm down!” Sloane almost yelled back. “You just went into a room full of wesen, are you trying to make them all rise up and attack you! You’re already covered in blood—WHY ARE YOU COVERED IN BLOOD?!” Sloane nearly yelled, reaching up to her forehead and then looking at her shirt that was splattered in red.

Trubel jerked out of her touch. “Adalind did something to Nick!”

Sloane paused. “I…yes, that’s one way to put it…”

“You know!? I mean, she was—she looked like Juliette!”

“Renard left me a voicemail and I talked to Nick about it—he figured out it when Juliette got home. How do you know?”

“I-I followed her. I saw her change, kind of. And then Renard came to Nick’s house looking for him and…and…”

“Trubel?” Sloane turned concerned as she breathed hard. They both jumped when the door opened and of all people, Bud came through.

“Sloane? Uh, hey, some people are a little worried about what just happened. I…Is-is that blood?”

“Bud—”

He twitched and she knew he must’ve woged because his jaw fell open. “Holy hell, she’s a—”

“Bud!” Sloane shouted over him. “She’s with me and Nick. We’ve got this, just…tell everyone I have it handled. _And nothing else._ ”

Bud nodded like a bobble head. “Y-yeah…okay, right. Shouldn’t say anything, cause a panic. I’ll just…tell them, um…”

“That my…cousin had an accident and I’m helping her.”

“Okay…got it.” He looked at Trubel again before turning to go back into the hall.

Sloane sighed and quickly put an arm around Trubel’s shoulders, leading her upstairs to the room. “Okay, start from the beginning.”

\---------

Despite the momentary interruption, they did continue and moved to the reception area. People gossiped a bit about the strange girl, asked Nick about it— “My cousin, she had an accident and didn’t know what else to do”—but soon went back to focusing on Monroe and Rosalee. Dinner was more of a buffet style so people could eat at their leisure, but it was a while still before Sloane returned. Nick saw her enter the room and was relieved for a moment before seeing how troubled she looked. He excused himself and moved to head over to her. When she saw him, her face scrunched up in even more concern and he slowed, unsure what to make of that.

“Hey, there’s the Maid of Honor!” the MC called, making Sloane jump. “Now we can do our toasts before we cut the cake!” Everyone cheered and Sloane did her best to smile. “I know it’s usually ladies first, but how about we make the Best Man go first?” More cheering and Nick smiled as he was ushered over to the mic.

“Ah, well…So, I’ve known Monroe for about 4 years now. At least in time sense, but it feels like I’ve known him a lot longer because he’s been such a great friend to me. I was there when he and Rosalee met, down to the exact moment, and I can say that I knew he felt an immediate spark from the hilariously smitten look on his face.” There were a few laughs as he tried to imitate the look and Monroe hid his face with a smile and a blush. “No, but really. I too am thankful for that brick he mentioned because it saved me too, but I know I would not be standing here if it weren’t for Monroe helping me. Hank and Sloane are my official partners at the police station, but Monroe—and Rosalee—are also my partners in making the life I lead a lot more bearable. Both are two of my best friends. They are fountains of wisdom and knowledge that I both do and do not want to know, but I always appreciate. They’re a warm home for their friends when they need it. And more than anything, they’re the most dependable and trusted people I know. When he asked me to be his best man, I didn’t believe him because I figured he must have so many other amazing friends to choose from. But it’s my honor to stand by him and watch him and Rosalee take this step that I thought might come that day he first saw her. And I can’t wait to see all the other milestones, and all the love and life and sweetness you bring to the point where we’re all jealous and sick of you.” More laugher and Nick raised the glass that Hank handed him. “To Monroe and Rosalee: raising the standards on love.”

Everyone cheered and toasted.

“And now, the maid of honor!”

Everyone clapped as Nick handed the mic to Sloane, but the didn’t hear her lean in and whisper, “I need to talk to you after this.” Nick tried not to frown at the urgency in her tone but nodded. She took a breath as she brought the mic up.

“So…A quick thing about me, and I’m sorry for cursing, I was a huge bitch before I met Rosalee.” Everyone was surprised, looking at one another, though a few laughed. “It’s true. I was not a nice person. Maybe not a good person. I didn’t really have to be before, for a lot of reasons we won’t go into. And I…wasn’t happy. I never admitted it, but I wasn’t. But I am now, and who I am now is thanks to a lot of people, but Rosalee gets the credit for making me want to start changing. She is the first real friend I’ve had in years. Maybe forever. My best friend. And I am grateful beyond words for that, and beyond words for the man that makes her happy. Monroe…I needed to warm up to. But once I did, he’s like that quirky friend who goes nuts over Christmas and clocks and makes pudding out of seeds that I didn’t know I needed in my life. For me, it was an acquired taste but for Rosalee I think it was her greatest craving. Him, not the pudding.” A few people chuckled and Monroe smiled. “Now...he’s one of my closest friends too. Again, Rosalee was a big help there. She’s very good at guilting you into being a good person. And overall, I’ve…changed. It’s a scary thing to think about. Change itself is scary. I think that’s what a lot of the nerves for everyone today were about,” she looked at Rosalee. “Change can be really scary and it’s hard to know what the future holds. But I have and the fact that these two had enough patience and kindness and understanding to help me change gives me no worries about where they’ll go from here. You guys love each other so much, that it feels like a force in the room. It’s magnetic, and bright and it makes everyone feel it and feel better for it. I’m not worried that it will ever weaken or dim—you’ve been through enough to prove that. You can do anything together. So, a toast to the future and how bright it’s going to be.” The words felt a little hypocritical knowing something was wrong, but she still smiled as she raised her glass.

They all cheered and toasted again and Rosalee got up to go over and hug her with tears in her eyes. Sloane smiled and hugged her back. Nick hugged Monroe when he came over too, both of them clapping each other’s backs. The photographer came over and took several photos with them and they managed to smile happily. When they pulled away, Sloane reached out and tugged Nick’s sleeve with a serious look again. He followed her as the MC started getting a few more people to say words. Rosalee, Monroe and Juliette noted her leading him away with confusion as she took him to the back room. “What’s wrong? Is it Trubel? I mean…”

“It’s both,” she sighed, knowing what he meant. “Did anyone see her as a Grimm?”

“No, I don’t think so, but I couldn’t tell if they were woging…”

“Me neither. I guess if no one’s freaking out it’s safe.” She looked at him. “Nick, how do you feel?”

“Uh…Okay?” She narrowed her eyes, searching his face and he shrugged. “I feel normal, why?”

“…Trubel says Renard went to your house to try and find you. He had that jar of stuff, the one that broke—”

“Yeah, we cleaned that up,” Nick said.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “I figured, but damn…”

“Damn?”

“Nick, Renard thinks Adalind did something to you. Something that needed a _cure_.”

“…What like a wesen STI?” he said, trying to laugh. “Sloane, I’m fine. I gotta deal with this with Juliette, but otherwise I just want to forget—”

“This is serious, Nick,” Sloane snapped. “Renard was shot at your house!”

Nick froze, eyes widening. “W…what?”

“He was coming here, Trubel got him the information. But he was suddenly shot by someone. A Hundjager. It tried to attack Trubel and she had to kill it before rushing over here—she was covered in blood!”

“I…” Nick sat down in a nearby chair. “Is he…?”

“She’s not sure. She called for help and I tried getting through to the station but it’s in an uproar and I couldn’t get an update. They’ve been trying to call you.”

Nick quickly pulled out his phone. “I…have a call from him, and then a call Wu from during the ceremony, but that’s the only ones I see.”

Sloane shrugged, sitting with him. “Trubel said he was really worried for you. Are you sure you feel okay?”

“Yeah, I do,” he said. “I mean, I feel…dirty, because…of how it all went down. But I don’t feel sick. I’m not passing out like Juliette did when she cursed her. Maybe he was worrying for nothing?”

“…I hope so on one hand, but worry what that means about him getting shot…I know he’s not always upfront, but he’s still…” _A friend?_ She wasn’t sure and Nick didn’t look sure either.

“I’ll try and call Wu and…I guess prepare Juliette. How bad is our house do you think?”

“Uh…gunshot victim and a beheading so…” She grimaced.

Nick sighed, putting his face in his hands. “I…just wanted a normal day. Just a day with my friends, at a wedding for them.”

“I know,” she said sympathetically, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I wanted that too…I’m proud of being a Grimm still, but I didn’t want it to mess this up. But we probably need to go deal with this as quickly as we can.”

“We?”

“Hey, it may be your house, but he’s my captain too. And you’re kind of my friend. You’re stuck with me meddling in your life,” she said, smiling a little. Nick smiled back gratefully. “I’m going to check on Trubel, and we should think about heading over.”

Nick nodded and she stood to walk off. He sighed, pulling off his jacket and draping it over the chair as he felt hot with all the emotions running through him. He looked up at the ceiling for a few moments before standing and heading back to the room. Monroe and Rosalee were going out to the dance floor to start their first dance together and he smiled wistfully. It wasn’t so long ago, he swore, that he imagined doing that with Juliette. A big part of him still wanted to, but there were a lot of other emotions that were conflicting with it and gave him a headache.

“Hey…” he said, coming up to Juliette’s side.

She looked up and tried to smile. “Hey…what’s up?”

“Sloane…got some bad news from Trubel.”

She turned more, frowning. “What kind of bad news?”

“There…was an incident, at our house. A bigger one, I mean.”

“I don’t know, the other was pretty big,” she huffed.

Sloane meanwhile had headed back upstairs to the bridal room, grabbing her shirt from the bag she brought. She hissed and grabbed the chair suddenly, feeling a bloom of pain behind her eyes. “Ugh…wearing off already? I guess it’s been a couple of hours …” Sighing, she grabbed the other vial of drops too, debating if she needed them or if they would head out before it became an issue. She decided to check with Nick and see what he thought was best. Heading down, he wasn’t in the hall again, but his jacket was still over the chair. She picked it up to find him and paused when she felt over the pocket folding it over her arm. Frowning, she reached in and pulled out two, full vials. _Two…why does he have…_

Her eyes widened and she rushed out into the hall again as Monroe and Rosalee were finishing their first dance. Nick was over by Juliette, looking like he was trying talk with her. Sloane rushed over and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him towards the door. “Back in the hall!”

“What-Sloane!” he yelped, nearly tripping at how hard she was pulling. Monroe and Rosalee noticed as she dragged him through the door, Juliette following quickly. Looking at one another, and then to Hank, they all quickly followed.

“Um, excuse us, everyone please dance, we just need to check on something,” Rosalee said, Monroe smiling and nodding tensely as they went through the door. The crowd was surprised but Bart and Alice had a feeling they needed to keep everyone away from the hall for the time being.

Sloane didn’t take any chances, pulling Nick back the room where Trubel was waiting. “Okay, what’s happened?” he asked. “Is it the captain?”

“No. Nick, you said you didn’t see anyone woge earlier, right?”

“Uh…yeah?” he asked, confused. Rosalee and Monroe came in as well, looking at them.

“Did you take the eyedrops?”

“I…” he paused and then frowned. “I…um…”

“What’s this about?” Juliette asked.

Sloane looked at Monroe and turned Nick around. “Monroe, woge.”

“What?”

“Woge, now! The kind keirsheite can’t see!”

“I don’t perform well under pressure!” She gave him a look and he sighed and then woged.

“Are my eyes black?”

“Yeah…”

“Are Nick’s?” she asked more urgently.

“Uh…no, they’re clear,” he said, a little more unsure. He woged back. “The drops haven’t worn off?”

Sloane opened her hand, showing the vials plus her third. “Both of these were in Nick’s pocket, I felt them! But you should’ve taken one before the ceremony!”

“I-I forgot…” he said, his mind catching up and racing past it now. “With…with everything happening before I just forgot…”

“But…you really didn’t see me woge just now?” Monroe asked, confused and worried now.

“N-No…I wasn’t sure you did…”

Monroe frowned and looked at Rosalee. Both of them woged and Nick saw the movements he associated with them: the shifting head and posture, Monroe’s jaw hanging a bit more open as if filled with fangs, Rosalee’s nose twitching slightly—but they looked completely human. “They’re still normal…” Rosalee said, seeming to mimic his thoughts but staring at his eyes. “I can see Sloane’s and Trubel’s eyes turn black but nothing out of you, Nick…”

“What does this mean?” Trubel asked, looking between them.

“…Nick…isn’t a Grimm,” Sloane said. “His power is gone.”

Nick felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Juliette looked equally shocked. “…This is what Adalind did?”

“What? What did she do?” Hank asked.

“It’s a lot to go over,” Sloane said. She put the vials into her own bag and handed Nick his jacket. “But right now, we need to get Trubel out of here and you two should probably come as well because there’s been an incident at your house. And Renard’s been shot. That’s part of the incident.”

“What?!” they all barked.

“Sloane, that is a lot to drop all of a sudden!” Juliette said.

“Well I’m sorry, I thought that’s what Nick was telling you!”

“I was trying, but there were a lot of people around,” Nick said dazedly. “But I thought…I thought I was okay…How did I forget…how did I not realize…?”

Rosalee frowned and then looked at Juliette and Sloane. “Go on. You need to work this out.”

“I’m sorry,” Sloane sighed. “I was really hoping this day would be…uneventful?”

She smiled and hugged her again. “Hey, things happen. We’ll finish up here, save you all some cake and…then get to work on this with you. But you better go now while the guests are preoccupied.”

They nodded and quickly headed out the back way and over to their cars. They decided riding together in Nick’s car and explaining things would work best, Trubel recounting what happened once more. Sloane called the hospital while Hank drive to get an update on Renard, who was apparently still in surgery.

“Did the Captain say what was in the bottle that he wanted me to take?” Nick asked.

She shook her head and he saw she had a bandage on her head now where she’d gotten a cut taking a fall during her fight. “No, he just said you had to drink it or something really bad would happen. And Adalind did it.” Nick looked at Juliette who was upfront riding shotgun next to Hank while Sloane and Trubel were with Nick in the back. The look wasn’t a happy one—it was awkward and a little harsh. Trubel seemed to sense that. “Hey, maybe what she did to you won't last.”

“You don't know Adalind,” Nick sighed, rubbing his face.

“She's a Hexenbiest, a witch,” Hank said.

“In more ways than one,” Juliette added under her breath.

“Oh, yeah, I read about them,” Trubel nodded.

“That's how she transformed herself to look like me.”

“She did what?” Hank asked, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look at her in confusion.

She sighed. “She made Nick think it was me.”

“Why in the hell would she...”

“So Nick would sleep with her,” she said flatly. It was like a record scratch and they were all quiet. Hank looked like he was having a short existential crisis. Trubel looked even more confused. Sloane grimaced and looked at Nick sympathetically, but he was staring out the window. “I swear to God, I'm gonna find her, and I'm gonna...”

“I’m with you on that, but we need to find out how to reverse this first. Also, um…deal with that,” she added, seeing the flashing lights outside of Nick and Juliette’s house.

“We should turn around,” Trubel said, shrinking down in her seat.

“We have to deal with this,” Nick said.

“I killed that guy!”

“In self-defense.”

“They're gonna be all over Trubel,” Hank said, shaking his head.

“What am I supposed to say?”

“You're just gonna tell the truth, except for the part about the Hundjager,” Nick said.

“And Adalind.”

“And the bottle he brought for Nick,” Juliette pointed out.

“Plus why she had the machete,” Sloane pointed out.

Nick sighed, rubbing over his face.

“All right, look, we better figure this out pretty quick. And if we have to lie, we better all be telling the same one,” Hank said. They all nodded as he pulled up to the house. Climbing out, they started for the front door that was awash in police officers

“What if they arrest me?” Trubel asked quietly.

“It was self-defense and we’ll figure that out.”

“What about the machete? How's she gonna explain that?” Hank hissed.

“Just tell them it was mine, and I keep it in that room,” Nick said back, heading to the house. Several officers looked relieved Nick and Juliette were safe. A few more were doing double takes at Sloane in her bridesmaid dress.

“Where you guys been?” Wu asked, looking frazzled.

“We were at a wedding. Had our phones turned off,” Hank said.

“All of you?”

“Yeah. Mutual friend,” Sloane said.

“…Never seen you in a skirt…” Franco said.

“Not really the point here, Franco,” she said impatiently.

“Right, sorry.”

“Who's the primary on this?” Nick asked.

“Meacham and Pogue. Listen, I've got some bad news.”

“We know... Captain's been shot,” Hank said.

“We just got off the phone with the hospital. He's in surgery.”

“He's lucky to be alive,” Franco said.

“When we brought him out of the house, I didn't think he was gonna make it to the hospital…” He paused, noticing Trubel and then glancing at Sloane and Nick. The nodded slightly and Wu shut his eyes before taking a deep breath. “You’re, um…the criminology student?”

Trubel swallowed. “Uh, yeah…”

“Theresa's been staying with me. She’s my cousin,” Sloane said.

“Cousin? You didn’t mention that before,” Franco said.

“Didn’t want people thinking I was playing favorites having her tag along.”

“Well, good thing you weren't here.”

Hank glanced at Nick again to confirm before sighing. “She was.”

Franco was surprised but Wu looked a bit sick. “Did you see what happened?”

“Yes…”

“She killed the shooter,” Nick said, bracing himself.

“What?” Franco gaped. “The guy's head was cut off!”

“He tried to kill her after he shot the Captain,” Sloane said. “She defended herself and…well, he didn’t expect it. She called 911 for Renard, then booked it to us because she was scared.” Trubel didn’t argue or put up a tough front at the explanation.

Franco glanced at Wu who was nodding slowly. “All right…we better get with Meacham and Pogue on this.” They agreed and followed Wu inside after he nodded to Franco to keep working out there.

Nick looked at Juliette and Trubel. “You stay here. We're gonna talk to them first.”

They didn’t look very happy but nodded as they headed up the front steps. The rug in the front hall was soaked in blood, three obvious patches visible in the brown Persian motif. A tech was working to take pictures and samples. “This is where we found the Captain.” Wu said.

“Where's the shooter?” Nick asked. Wu nodded to stairs and they all grimaced when they saw the decapitated head there.

“The rest of him's upstairs.”

“Have you identified him?” Sloane asked. She knew of course who it was, as did Nick and Hank. Weston Steward’s face was already in their heads, but it was never leaving now.

“Yeah. And it's gonna be a mess, because he was an FBI agent. Name's Weston Steward. He was carrying a Canadian passport with his picture and the name Walter Rathenau, along with a lot of euros. He probably wasn't planning on sticking around.” He glanced around before leaning into them on the stairs. “This is…it’s a thing with you being “Grimms”?”

They glanced at one another before nodding. “Yes.”

“The Captain…”

“He knew. It’s why he was here,” Sloane said.

“Someone from our past…did something to me,” Nick said evasively. “He came to help. Weston Steward was also someone from our past and had a grudge against the captain.”

“…This is pretty dangerous, huh?”

“We’re not trying to pull you in,” Hank said quickly.

“Seems like it’s a bit hard now that I know what I do…Why was Theresa here?”

“She forgot her phone,” Sloane said. “It was just…an accident, being here at the same time as Renard.”

“…There are bullet holes in the guest room door. And I found one of your books. Or…yours?” He asked, looking at Nick.

He nodded. Wu was asking more questions. The most he’d asked since the Aswang incident really. He hoped that was a good sign. “Likely mine…”

“You just…keep that here?”

“Juliette knows,” he said. “And…well, Trubel was reading it. She doesn’t have any of her own.” Wu nodded, understanding that meaning.

“We can’t really say all of what’s going on to others, Wu,” Sloane said. “We don’t know who we can trust here. Is…that going to be a problem?”

He looked thoughtful before wordlessly heading the rest of the way up the steps and to the guest room. Sloane glanced at Nick and Hank, all of them a little worried. Two of their fellow detectives, middle aged Caucasian males with scruffy facial hair, were going over the room. They smiled when they walked in.

Hey, Burkhardt, Hank, Larson,” one—Meacham, Sloane thought, they didn’t really talk that much—said. “Last place we expected to get a case like this.”

“You weren't here when it happened, right?” Pogue asked.

“We were at a wedding,” Nick said, feeling a bit like it should be a little obvious by now.

“And you were with him?”

“Since about 3:00,” Hank confirmed.

“Maid of honor, best man, groomsman,” Sloane said, pointing to each of them.

“You know why Captain Renard was here?” Meacham asked.

They shrugged. “Could have been a case we were working on,” Nick said.

“You know anything about this Weston Steward or why he shot the Captain?”

“No,” Sloane said, shaking her head. Nick glanced at Wu, worried, but he didn’t pipe up.

“Got any idea who killed the shooter? He didn't cut off his own head,” Pogue tried to joke.

“That would be Theresa, my cousin,” Sloane said. They froze and then looked at her. “She was over to grab her phone and hang out for a bit while we were at the wedding. It was self-defense.”

“He tried to attack her after he shot the Captain,” Hank said.

“She called 911, then came and got us,” Nick finished.

They still seemed a bit shocked but then went back to business. “We'll need to talk to her. She got a last name?”

“Rubel. And she's waiting outside,” Nick said.

\------------------------

No one expected the Feds to show up, though really it shouldn’t have been surprising given the shooter’s identity. Special Agent Chavez and Special Agent Rosten spoke to Pogue and Meacham. Trubel wanted to run but Nick stopped her. They came over and had Trubel come in with them and walk them through what happened. Wu followed, glancing back at them but not saying anything. He listened in as she described what happened, it being consistent with what Nick said. Though he knew it wasn’t the whole truth, and he knew that he should be outraged, that wasn’t’ what he felt. He knew the truth—and he believed them. He knew Sloane and Hank and most of all Nick wouldn’t just protect a murderer. What Theresa did must’ve been self-defense. The man shot their captain after all—a captain that apparently knew this world as well.

After the initial shock of the books—which were still on the bed, _shit! —_ he’d calmed down. He kept trying to keep the door shut but something kept poking through. Maybe…maybe he just needed to leave it open? He didn’t need to cross but he could keep it open, keep his eyes on what was going on.

_But how long then till you just cross the threshold?_

Meacham and Pogue eventually had to bring Trubel to the station. Sloane was very close to grabbing one of them and possibly hurling them across the street till Nick set a hand on her shoulder. They decided to follow. Juliette opted to stay behind for now and see if and when their house might be turned back over to them.

“…I’m starting to think we should’ve lied,” Sloane said, pacing a little bit around their desks. Nick and Hank had taken off their ties and suit jackets, but she was still relatively put together. Hank had just finished up on the phone trying to track Adalind.

“There would’ve been too much evidence,” Nick sighed as he set a cup of coffee on Hank’s desk. “We can’t just say she was never there.”

“Did I ask for coffee?” Hank asked suddenly.

“What? No.” Nick shrugged, wondering why he was miffed at him being thoughtful as he sipped his own cup.

“Both of you got to take it easy,” he said, looking between he two of them. “You don't want to look nervous.”

“Do I look nervous?” he asked defensively. Sloane shrugged, sitting on top of her desk and crossing her legs, swinging one in agitation.

Hank gave him a level stare and held up two cups. “Second cup of coffee I didn't ask for. Now sit down. Don't drink any more of that,” he said, motioning for him to put his own cup down. “And, uh, Sloane, don’t sit like that…”

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re this close to being Sharon Stone in _Basic Instinct_.”

She frowned and looked at Nick who was looking away with a blush. “You’re, uh…legs.”

She looked down and then blushed finely when she realized she was still wearing a dress that was now riding up a bit too high and quickly stood. “Sorry…”

“Anyway…Just found out where Adalind is.” They both turned their attention to him. “She boarded Lufthansa Flight Number 4582 through Frankfurt to Vienna.”

“She's going back to the Royals,” Nick said, frowning.

“Makes sense. She thinks they have her baby,” Sloane sighed.

“They must have made some kind of deal.”

“Yeah, you,” Hank said.

“But she's gonna be very upset when she finds out they don't have the child,” Nick said, moving to take another sip.

“Stop with the coffee, okay?”

Sloane looked thoughtful before standing and opening her desk drawer. She took out a change of clothes, surprising the men. “Be right back, gonna go ahead and change.” She didn’t let them question her as she headed to the women’s room. She couldn’t lock it, but it was clear for the moment, so she pulled her phone from her handbag. She dialed a number and held it to her ear.

“Extension?” a clear voice asked.

“Austria. 062.”

“One moment…” There was a click of lines changing before another voice came on, speaking in German.

“((The unburdened heart.))”

“((Free from transgression,))” she said automatically. Inwardly she rolled her eyes. This cloak and dagger stuff seemed stupid really, but she understood the desire for security. Didn’t help these pass codes seemed very stuff and full of itself—and more embarrassing she thought they were cool when she was young.

“((I bloody my hands)).”

“((So that others do not bleed.))”

“((Authorization?))”

“((Sloane Larson.))”

“((Welcome. How may we assist you))?”

“((There is a woman arriving on flight 4582 from Frankfurt. Adalind Schade. She’s a hexenbeast.))”

“((You wish to put a mark on her))?”

“((In a manner of speaking. I want her watched)).”

“((Watched))?” She had to admit, confusing the voice was rather funny. But she wasn’t in the mood to play a joke.

“((Yes. There’s been a development in a job I’m doing because of her. A spell. I may need her to undo it, so I’d prefer she not be killed. Not right now at least.))”

“((…This is not a usual request)).”

“((I’m aware. I would not normally ask this but it’s very important that we know what she is up to over there, but not be killed until we know how to reverse what she’s done. If she can be captured and brought back to the US, all the better. Whatever means necessary so long as she is alive and able to be questioned.))”

“((Very well. I will pass this along to other Grimms in the area)).”

“((Thank you. I will leave a donation to the library at my earliest convenience for the other party’s Trouble.))”

“((We appreciate your patronage)).”

It was the old, formal song and dance. The Europeans especially preferred the old formal ways. The call ended and Sloane sighed, putting her phone away and quickly changed. She pulled the pins out of her hair. It had been nice to dress up to a party she was actually invited to, but all things come to an end. In more ways than one. She hoped that her phone call would yield something at least.

Coming back out, she was relieved to see Trubel with Nick and Hank. “Hey…they let me go. No charges,” she said, looking relieved.

“As they should,” she said, giving her a hug.

“Can we go home though? I’m really just…tired,” she sighed.

“I don’t blame you,” she agreed.

“Your car is still at the lodge…” Nick pointed out, grimacing.

“Shit…” she groaned.

“Why don’t you stay with us tonight?” Nick offered. “I mean…well, I’m not sure if we’re staying there, but I can take you back in the morning. Plus, safety in numbers?”

Sloane looked at him, wondering if he was feeling defenseless without his Grimm sight. She knew she would be… “Alright, that’d be fine.”

“Well, I’m going to go change and then got to the hospital to check on the captain…” Hank said.

“Keep us updated,” Nick nodded.

Hank nodded back and they all headed for their cars to go to Nick’s house. As they walked through the door, they were all surprised to see Monroe and Rosalee standing there, still in their ceremony clothes.

“How did it go?” Juliette asked.

“No charges were filed, so we're good for now,” Nick said, patting her shoulder comfortingly while looking at Monroe and Rosalee with a mix of worry and guilt. “Monroe, Rosalee, you shouldn't be here.”

“I know. They should be on their honeymoon,” Juliette said, looking at them again.

“You were supposed to leave right after the reception,” Sloane agreed, looking at her phone for the time.

“Guys, honestly... what, are we gonna be hanging out on a beach with what's happening here?” Monroe said, looking at them with the same incredulous look as Rosalee.

“I am so sorry I almost screwed up your wedding,” Trubel said honestly. “I mean, Sloane managed to stop me…I didn't know everybody was...But I needed to get to Nick.”

“Trubel, you did what you had to do for Nick,” Rosalee said gently. “And really, you didn’t ruin it.”

“And what we got to do right now is find Adalind,” Monroe said.

“Well, that's not gonna happen 'cause she's on a flight to Vienna,” Nick sighed.

“She's headed back to Vienna?” Rosalee asked in disbelief.

“I’ve contacted the library in Vienna,” Sloane said. Nick and the others looked at her in surprise. “I told them to keep an eye out for her. And not kill her, preferably, since we might need her.”

“Good…Yeah, we need her alive for now,” Monroe nodded. “How's the Captain doing, anyway?”

“Not good,” Nick sighed. “He might not survive.”

“I had the stuff you needed in my hand…I should've just kept going right to you.”

“It’s not your fault, Trubel…it’s mine,” Sloane sighed.

“What?” Nick asked, confused.

“I tackled Trubel—I wanted to be sure they didn’t realize she was a Grimm but doing it that way, the jar broke. If I hadn’t done that…”

“Sloane, that doesn’t mean that this is your fight. You were just trying to keep Trubel safe and keep the wedding from, well…going to hell,” Nick said.

“That’s all well and good, but charging in headfirst broke our only lead on curing you…”

“Adalind did this, not you or you,” Juliette said, looking at Sloane and Trubel.

“We just have to find out how,” Rosalee sighed.

“She slept with Nick,” Juliette said without any preamble.

“Oh, my God!”

“What?!” Monroe barked.

Sloane just covered her eyes as shit hit the fan. “I really feel like there’s a better way to lead into that,” she muttered.

“It's not what you think,” Nick said quickly, looking at them defensively.

“Well, that's good to hear, because what I'm thinking is pretty damn awful!”

“It wasn't Adalind.”

“Oh, no?” Rosalee asked dubiously.

“Okay, it was Adalind, but she didn't look like Adalind,” he said desperately. “She somehow made herself look just like Juliette.” Juliette looked down as he gestured to her, obviously still not happy about the whole thing.

“Oh, no,” Rosalee said, closing her eyes in a moment of _cringe_.

“That is not a good "oh, no.",” Monroe said.

“Oh, I'm just hoping this isn't some sort of Verfluchte Zwillingsschwester…” she breathed.

“… “The Dammed Twin sister”?” Sloane asked in confusion.

“Yes. It’s an entwining twin curse. They make a mess of things.”

“Oh, so that’s probably what it is,” she said, resigned.

“All right, well, best place to start cleaning up a mess is the spice shop,” Monroe said, grabbing his jacket.

“Nick, we won't let Adalind do this to you, okay?” Rosalee said. Nick nodded and she hugged him before going to Juliette to hug her as well, and finally Sloane.

Nick meanwhile caught Monroe’s arm. “Hey…Look, man...I don't want you screwing up your life because of me,” he said honestly. The fact that Monroe and Rosalee’s wedding had nearly been ruined, and that they were now giving up their honeymoon, was too much.

Monroe however just gave him a patient smile. “Dude, I wouldn't even have a life to screw up if it wasn't for you, okay? So quit complaining.”

They both headed for the door as Trubel stood up. “Hey, maybe we should be going to the trailer. Maybe there's something...”

“No, not tonight, all right?” Juliette interrupted; a bit snappish. It surprised Sloane as well. “We all just need to get some rest.”

“Okay…” Trubel said, glancing at Sloane. “Um…Nick was talking about us staying the night, since Sloane’s car is still at the lodge…”

“If it’s too much, I can call a cab,” Sloane said.

Juliette sighed and shook her head. “It’s fine…Just…you’ll have to be okay with the couch close to a bloody carpet or bullet holes in the door…”

“…I’ve slept in worse. I also know some people who can clean all that.”

“Let’s talk in the morning, please,” she said, turning to head up the stairs. Nick frowned as he watched her go and sighed.

“I’ll…get you something to sleep in.”

They nodded and watched them go up. “Juliette seems more on edge than me…” Trubel said quietly.

“…There’s a breaking point for many keirsheite who are in love with Grimms. I stopped bringing it up because I hoped maybe I was wrong about them. But maybe Juliette is near her limit,” Sloane said. Trubel frowned worriedly at her and then the stairs.

Nick walked into their bedroom, grabbing up some shirts and basketball shorts from his gym drawer. Juliette came out of the bathroom, patting down her face after washing it. “Uh…just getting some sleepwear for the girls.”

“Didn’t think to look in mine?” she asked. He had, but then he’d seen the negligee in the trash and felt a little nauseous. He didn’t answer and Juliette tossed the towel in the hamper and walked over. “Do you feel any different?” He stood, trying to take stock of his feelings. It was all complicated—guilt, betrayal, shame, anger, confusion, shock—and hard to put into words. Juliette looked a bit impatient but there was worry in her voice too. “Can you talk to me?

“I don't know,” he finally said, a little desperate to say anything. “It happened so fast.” He took a breath to try and steady his voice and his nerves. He looked at her with the sincerity of what he felt. “This is, um... really screwed up. That’s the best I have right now. And you know I would never have done that...”

She stared at him. She did know that, really, but there was still that pain there. She couldn’t just turn it off. “You really couldn't tell that Adalind wasn't me?”

He shook his head. “No. No, she looked and sounded exactly like you.”

She huffed a bit. “I guess she wasn't interested in talking.”

Nick winced and looked down, at the clothes in his hands. “…Look, I'll sleep on the couch. Sloane and Trubel can take the guest room.” He turned to go and Juliette reached out and took his arm, softening her voice.

“Hey…We're not doing that again. Just…give them the clothes and come to bed.”

Nick nodded and went downstairs. He was surprised to see Trubel at the bottom, mopping up the blood that was still there. “Hey, we can take care of that…”

Trubel shook her head. “I want to help. Sloane is taking care of the front hall so…”

“What?” He moved down and around to see Sloane rolling up the carpet and wrapping it in saran wrap over the blooding areas. “Hey, I thought you had people to take care of this?”

“I’m too tense. Taking care of it myself will put me more at ease and also hopefully help you and Juliette sleep a little better. Unless you’re sleeping down here?”

“…Were you listening in?” he asked, frowning.

“Not on purpose…” she said honestly. “I mean, sort of…I got worried when you didn’t come down and caught a bit, then tuned out because…I knew I shouldn’t.”

“…Yeah, well…you sure about this?”

“Yeah. I know how to get rid of blood in hardwoods pretty well…this carpet though isn’t going to make it. I can give it to our clean up crew or we can have a funeral pyre tomorrow?”

Nick tried to smile but it wasn’t much of one. “Whatever is best…”

“…Nick…” She set the rug against the wall, making sure it wouldn’t get anything even dirtier. “I…I get why Juliette is upset. But I’m going to be honest, I’m not happy with her.”

Nick frowned. “With her? Sloane, she—”

“Has a right to be upset, I’m not arguing that,” She said, holding up her hand. “At _Adalind._ You…are a victim in this. I don’t like that she’s holding it against you. Someone tricked you into sex, that’s…that’s unforgivable, but it’s not on you.”

“…She’s looking for someone to blame because it hurts,” Nick said quietly. “I get it too.”

“…I just want you to know it’s not your fault…what she did to you…”

“You make it sound like I was raped,” he said with a huff. Sloane didn’t say anything, but the slight wince gave Nick pause. “I…huh…I mean…It wasn’t like that, just…”

“It’s not always like _that_ ,” she said quietly, a little harshly that made him stand up straighter. “Sometimes it’s being drunk, or tricked, or drugged…sometimes it’s doing it because your partner wants it and you think you have to even when its…not what you want. Sometimes you don’t even realize what happened till later…and even then, you don’t want to admit it. But it’s how you look at it, I guess…”

Nick frowned at how much it sounded like she knew this. “Sloane…?”

She breathed deeply. “Think of it however you want, but don’t think of it as your fault, okay? Adalind is the one that did this, and she counted on doing it fast without a lot of talk for a reason. This doesn’t reflect on you or your feelings for Juliette.”

“…Right,” he nodded. “Thanks. You sure you have this?”

“I’m sure. We already found your cleaning products.”

“Okay. Here,” he set the clothes on top of the couch. “To sleep in.”

“Thanks. Go get some rest. We’ll figure this out.”

Nick nodded and turned to head upstairs. Sloane just sighed and went back to work. She found just what she needed in the garage—Mineral spirits and steel wool. Using these, she scrubbed the hardwoods and rinsed repeatedly until the blood stains were gone from the polished wood. Refinishing them later might not be a bad idea, but for now they wouldn’t smell or stain. It was hard not to think that this was Renard’s blood—a man she considered a sort of friend. It was hard to say exactly given his usual hands-off nature. But he’d been intent to help Nick this time around. She hoped he’d be okay. Trubel did the same treatment to her side, and the walls, and they rolled up the hall rug for disposal as well. Then they scrubbed up and went to bed and they opted to share the guest room, Sloane keeping her knife under the pillow by her. Trubel took a little while to fall asleep but finally did so late into the night.

\-----------------

After they had left the station, Wu and Hank had gone to the hospital to wait on news about Renard. Wu was quiet for much of the time and Hank let him stay that way. He didn’t want to push. By then, Renard had been in surgery for over 3 hours.

“…Hank…” He looked up at his name. “…When you found out about this…this wesen stuff…I mean, knowing about it at all…how do you deal?”

Hank glanced around. The waiting room was relatively empty, but he felt like this was better done quietly. He switched seats to be right by Wu and took a breath. “I didn’t handle it well at first. But…I found out people I already knew were wesen. People I trusted. I loved. And this is a part of them.”

“So, you just weren’t afraid anymore?”

“Ha! No. I’m scared all the damn time,” he said humorlessly. “Wesen that eat people, wesen that hate people and want to see them dead, wesen that just plan will mess you up because they can. Wesen that hate other wesen and will make them explode! Honestly, I see worst stuff helping Nick than I ever did in just plain old homicide.”

Wu looked at him with a confused look. “I fail to hear the terror in your voice…”

He shrugged. “I’m scared but…after finding out there’s good wesen too, I sort of realized it’s not that much different from what I do as a cop. Identify the subject, find their identity, track them down. The ending can get a little hinky—arrest or deal with it directly, so to speak. We try to avoid the second option but…when a thing with a bunch of teeth tries to take a bite out of you, you fight back. And that’s kind of what it comes down to.”

“…I keep trying to run from it…”

“I understand that too,” Hank said quietly. “But…I became a cop to help people—and try to bridge a lot of gaps. Why’d you become one?”

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh…Well…Heh, I always used to tell everyone it was because of watching _Police Academy_ as a kid,” he chuckled. Hank smiled back, remembering that. “But truthfully…I wanted to help people too. When I was a kid, I got super lost one time. I was trying to go visit my uncle and thought I could walk there, not realizing it 10 minutes by car is not the same as walking. I was hungry and tired, and I tried to steal a candy bar from a corner store.”

“What?” Hank fake gasped.

Wu smacked his chest to tell him to shut up. “There was a cop there. He grabbed my hand and I thought I was in so much trouble. I was trying super hard not to cry…then he bought the candy bar and gave it to me, along with a water. He asked what I was doing, and I told the truth and he asked if I knew my phone number or address. I only remembered we lived by the park. So, he put me in the squad car and drove over there and then, on the loudspeaker, said “Drew’s Parents! Drew’s Parents, are you looking for your son?” And then he gave me the speaker so I could call for them. My mom came running around the corner after looking for me, and he got me out of the car, and she was yelling and hugging and…I just remember thinking “I want to make other people this happy by helping them.””

“…That’s really sweet,” Hank said honestly.

“Yeah yeah…thing is, I haven’t lived up to it. I kept trying to just pull away from you guys. But…you guys are my friends and you’re going through a lot of shit right now it seems. And I’m just here thinking about me.”

Hank sighed and set a hand on his shoulder. “We’re not going to force you into his, Wu. But…I don’t think you can ignore it anymore.”

“Yeah…I’m seeing this stuff everywhere. So, it’s either accept it or…ask for a transfer.”

“Whoa…” Hank said, surprised. “I mean…did you?”

“I was considering it…I’m not sure though…The captain, he’s…”

“Uh…he’s a wesen,” Hank said.

“…Damn…Well, I guess that makes a bit of sense. He always tries to give you guys the weird cases.” He sighed and rubbed over his head. “I…don’t want to transfer. But I’m not sure I’m much help to you guys to be honest.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short,” Hank said. “I mean, it’s been a couple of months since you found out and you’re not shutting down.”

“Yeah…But I—”

“Sergeant?” They both looked up at the doctor that came in and stood up. “Yes, Doctor, hi. Uh, this is Detective Griffin.” He introduced quickly. Hank nodded to her.

“I wish I had better news,” she sighed. “Captain Renard is out of surgery, but, well, he's lost a great deal of blood, and there's a lot of damage. His kidneys may shut down.” They both felt their hearts drop. “It's appropriate that you contact his next of kin and have them get here as soon as possible.”

“Thank you,” they said quietly. The doctor walked off and Wu sighed. “…The captain is wesen…what did this to him? A Grimm?”

“Another wesen, with a gun,” Hank said. “It’s a lot more complicated.”

“…Give me another night or two to really think about this,” he asked quietly.

“Sure man. Just remember, you can know, and we won’t pull you in harder than you want.”

Wu nodded, sighing a little at his own indecision. One foot was through the door he knew. He had to decide which way to step.

\---------------

Early the next morning, Nick woke up to take Sloane and Trubel to get her car. He was shocked to find how clean it all was now. No blood was visible. He left Juliette to sleep since he wasn’t sure how well she slept last night. If it was the same as him, it wasn’t much at all, even after their talk.

Sloane and Trubel dressed quickly after he woke them up and they met him at the car. They were all quiet and tired as they pulled up just after sunrise to the lodge. “We’ll meet up later at the trailer,” Nick said.

“Right. I’ll let you know if I hear anything,” Sloane said.

“…Sloane?” She looked at him before exiting the car. “Thanks…for the talk last night.”

She blinked but then smiled softly. “You’re welcome. How you doing?”

“…Better?” he said hesitantly. “Just…talked with Juliette a bit more last night.”

“That’s good. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will…” She got out and Nick sighed. He hadn’t been able to say what they talked about. That maybe, no longer being a Grimm, was a blessing in disguise. Sloane and Trubel were here. They could handle the Grimm cases. Maybe he didn’t need to be cured. That’s what he’d implied, and Juliette hadn’t shot the idea down. Still, something made him hesitate to put it into words. Maybe it was knowing how disappointed Sloane would be. And Trubel.

Getting home, he sighed as he went to go fix coffee. He was debating going back to bed when his phone rang with a new case. One dead, one injured, apparent break-in of some kind. He was just finishing getting the basics when Juliette came downstairs.

“Okay, I can be there in 15 minutes.” He hanged up, watching Juliette get a bottle of juice out of the fridge. “…You get any more sleep last night?”

“Not much,” she said. She sounded tired, but lighter. There wasn’t the bitterness in her face or her tone and it made him feel easier. “You gonna be okay?”

“I don't know,” he said. “It's weird, you know, not being weird anymore, just being a regular cop.”

She sipped the juice and then nodded slowly. “You were really good at it before,” she said, smiling a little.

Nick smiled back. “Well, I guess we'll see if I still am.” He leaned in and gave her a peck on the lips. “See you later.”

“Bye,” she said, watching him go.

Getting to the scene, Sloane and Hank were there too. They all looked pretty beat but were trying to pay attention as Wu spoke. He seemed much more attentive to them than usual too, at least since before the Aswang incident.

“Housekeeper let herself in about 8:30 this morning. House belongs to Dr. Henry Slocombe, works at Sitre Corporation here in Portland.”

“Defense contractor, right?” Hank asked, following him into the house.

“Yeah. Housekeeper discovered the body, called 911. She didn't see anyone entering or leaving. Front door was closed and locked. We checked the premises, no signs of any break-in.”

“We got an I.D. on the vic?” Hank asked, looking at the body of the woman on the floor of the study. Dressed smartly in slacks and a sweater, her hair pulled back in a bun, she’d been lovely but demure looking. Like a teacher.

“Alexandra Hahn, Slocombe's girlfriend.”

“Where's Slocombe?” Nick asked.

“When we first got here, Slocombe was sitting on the stairs, pretty out of it. Couldn't or wouldn't answer any questions, including who he was. He had four wounds on the back of his head. We sent him to the hospital.”

They glanced at one another and then back to him. “Any history of domestic disturbances?” Hank asked.

“No. No record of any. About ten minutes after we got here, the next-door neighbor, Mrs. Sellers, came over. She said she heard a scream, saw Dr. Slocombe drive off fast in his Porsche. She assumed it was an argument until she saw us.”

“He could've been dumping evidence,” Hank said.

“We know what time Slocombe got back?” Nick asked.

“His car's not here, and it's not in the street.”

“Then I doubt he was dumping anything, how’d he get back?” Sloane said.

“Maybe he dumped the car, too, came back in a taxi,” Hank suggested.

She shook her head. “They said he was out of it and had head wounds. I doubt he was in any condition to drive away if it happened during a fight with the vic. And even if he could drive off, a taxi or other driver would notice the blood on him—his own or Ms. Hahn’s. I know cab drivers deal with some strange stuff, but I feel they have standards as far as picking up bloody strangers. If the wounds happened later—well, how?”

“You think there’s a third person,” Nick said, sounding like he agreed.

“I’m thinking that’s a good option if we got one dead and one injured to the point of not being able to know his own name.”

Hank was nodding, thinking it over as well. “We get a license on that car?”

“We did,” Wu said. “I assume you want an A.P.B.?”

“You assume correctly,” Nick said.

“Okay. …Do you guys think this is… _weird_ weird?”

They glanced at one another again. “…It’s possible,” Sloane said. “I’ve known things to a cause disorientation. I’d need to see him to get more information.”

“Better get to the hospital, see if Dr. Slocombe has remembered anything yet,” Hank said.

Once at the hospital, the doctor gave them the run down of Slocombe’s condition: severe trauma, four deep wounds to the back of his head, and a CAT scan and MRI showing severe swelling in the hippocampus and thalamus. These areas were where the brain stored most of its memory. It was no wonder he couldn’t remember his own name really. He looked like a vegetable lying in bed. When asked what made the wounds, she gave them pictures they took, and Sloane grimaced at the deep, bloody grooves on the back of his head.

“Shit…” she murmured. She grabbed up her phone and quickly dialed Trubel as she walked brusquely to the door.

Nick and Hank thanked the doctor and followed. “You know what it is?”

“Yes. It’s bad, but I don’t have all the details I’d like and it’s not in my books. Trubel?” she asked when the phone connected.

“Yeah, hey. What’s up?”

“I want you to grab my car and head for the trailer. I need you to try and find an entry for Gedächtnis Esser. We’ll be there in a couple of hours so don’t rush but…well, find it as quick as you can.”

“Uh, okay…what is that?”

“Look for a face full of tentacles.”

Nick and Hank looked at one another in shock before following her out. They spent a bit more time doing their preliminary police work before heading to the woods mid-afternoon. As they pulled up and headed up, Trubel came out with a sword drawn, surprising them.

“Sorry…I wasn't sure it was you,” she said, relaxing.

“I asked you to come out here,” Sloane huffed. They headed up into the trailer, where several dozen books were open.

“What are you doing?” Hank asked.

“Well, I was looking for a…tentacle head, but I also had some other stuff I wanted to read as I went. I figure I'd better learn as much as I can, now that, you know, everything's changed.” She looked at Nick a little awkwardly. “So, um, why am I looking for this thing?”

“We got a case we can't figure out,” Nick sighed.

“Wesen-related? Oh, sorry. How would you know?” Sloane gave her a look of disbelief while Nick just looked put out and Hank pursed his lips in an “oof” expression. Trubel blanched when she realized why they were all looking at her like that. “I-I didn't mean it like that…”

“It's okay,” Nick sighed.

“Really?”

“No, not really,” he said, but it was meant about the whole situation they could tell. “But we've got to deal with this.” He sighed and looked around before back at her. “Look...I'm glad you're here. We could use your help, not just in looking stuff up.”

Trubel was surprised before a bright smile split her face. “Right! But, um, I did find this thing.” She quickly walked over to one of the books. “This thing sounds…awful.”

“It is,” Sloane said. “What’s it say?”

“Um, looks like some kind of memory eater,” she said, settling down to read. Nick and Hank looked at the drawing and cringed at the tentacles coming off his jaw line.

“That would explain the condition of our victim,” Hank said breezily.

“"It is not known how this Wesen removes the memories of its victims, only that it can,”” she read. “"I surmise it has something to do with the electrical charges in the brain. After an attack the victims are usually diagnosed with advanced dementia. From interviewing some of these unfortunate souls, I can see why. This is one of the most heinous Wesen I have ever encountered. They rob the victims of their very lives by stealing their past and leaving them void of any human connection, devastating to their loved ones, and leaving the victim unable to identify the attack or the attacker. Justice within the confines of the law is, therefore, impossible."”

“Yeesh,” Hank said. “How’d you hear about these things, Sloane?”

“In Japan,” she said. “I met one firsthand with another Grimm there, where they’re known as Kokoro keshigomu. A special version of octopus like wesen. He’d taken the memories of a witness in a murder trial—contract memory erasers. She did most of the leg work on it, but I remember meeting the victim afterward and…feeling a bit scared of it.”

They all nodded slowly then jumped when Nick’s phone rang. “Burkhardt…When? Okay, got it.” He hanged up and looked at the others. “They just picked up a suspect driving the victim's car.”

“It's got to be the Gedachtnis Wesen, right?” Trubel asked.

They all nodded a bit, feeling the same. “All right, we're gonna need you to come with us,” Hank said, pumping her arm with his fist. Trubel smiled excitedly as she followed them out and drove Sloane’s car back towards the precinct.

\-------------------

In Vienna, Adalind’s plane landed and she disembarked. She only had her carry-on, so she bypassed baggage claim and went out to the taxi to head to Kronenburg castle. Her heart hadn’t stopped pounding the whole trip. Knowing what she did, why she did it, leaving it all behind…it was worth it to get back to Diana, but it didn’t let her calm down. Now her heart was beating from excitement at being so close to seeing her daughter again.

However, she felt that dim when she got out front and saw no car waiting. She’d gotten some money changed, but she had hoped that she had a ride to the castle ready. She’d let Viktor know she was on her way before leaving Portland, and when she’d arrive. Typical Royals…

“Is everything alright, Miss?” the attendant nearby asked. “Were you expecting a car?”

“Um…yes, I’d thought so,” she said, trying not to let her nervousness. She knew she couldn’t trust Viktor completely, but Sean at least kept his word usually....

“What’s your name? Perhaps we have a reservation? Do you still have your boarding pass?”

She brightened at the idea and pulled out her stub for the boarding pass. “My name is Adalind Schade, I just came from America.”

She nodded, looking at the pass and then through her tablet. “Schade, Schade…Ah I’m afraid I don’t have a car reserved for you.”

“Oh…” she sighed.

“But I have one available. Nicer than a taxi and often cheaper. Plus, no flagging one down.”

“Ah…alright, fine,” she nodded.

“I’ll have a driver come around.” She hit a button and looked around. “Do you not have any other bags?”

“No, I’m traveling light,” she said with a smile. “I’ll probably get a lot while I’m here.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy your stay,” she said as the car pulled up.

“I will, thank you.” She climbed in quickly and the attendant waved as they drove off. Once they were out of sight the smile faded and she pulled unbuttoned the blazer with the fake airport insignia, folding it over her arm and walking to another waiting car.

“Where to, Miss?”

“You know Kronenburg castle?” she asked, setting her bag next to her and buckling up.

He paused, surprised, but nodded. “That I do. It’s on the hill outside of Schattenhügel, about two hours away. Are you on vacation, Miss?” the driver asked Adalind, his German accent bouncing his words in a friendly manner.

“No…it’s likely permanent,” she said, a little smugly.

“Well, just to let you know, Kronenburg Castle is currently still in use by the Von Konigsburg family. They are not doing tours right now.”

“It’s fine, I’m doing…work for them.”

“Oh! Well, I still won’t be able to take you to the door. Security is very tight. But I can get you to the village below easily enough.”

Adalind huffed a bit but nodded. “Alright, that should be fine…”

“I also know a nice café, if you need food? Or drink. It will be a bit of a climb I’m afraid…”

Adalind tried to smile and not lose her patience. “Fine…you can drop me off there. But um, I’m going to rest my eyes for a bit. Long trip.”

He nodded. “Of course. It’s a bit of a drive, I’m going to put up the divider and listen to music, alright?”

“Yeah, sure. Knock yourself out,” she muttered. He glanced in the mirror as she leaned back to fall asleep while he had the divider go up. Once it was all the way up it was soundproof, and he hit dial on his cellphone.

“Is there a problem already, Wes?” the woman on the other line asked. “We’re right behind you.”

“No problem, but a concern…She is going to Kronenburg castle. Invited she says.”

“…A hexenbeast working the royals is never a good sign,” she said.

“Are you sure it’s her?”

“I didn’t see her woge, but she fits the name and ticket. I understand the American Grimm wants her alive…”

“You sound hesitant? You disagree with the request?”

“Capturing things alive is a pain. And she wants to meet with the royals, and they may be expecting her and looking for her. Ugh, I thought this would be a simple library request…” She groaned.

“I’m following your lead, Rachael,” the man reminded her. “You’re the Grimm here.”

“…Well, I think we’d do better just to kill her,” she finally said.

“Are you sure? Might void the reward.”

“They didn’t say why the American wanted her. Honestly, taking a Hexenbeast alive is not worth the trouble, but I can’t let her be running around. Where are you planning to drop her off?”

“Café Goldrute in the village.”

“Good. Take the long way, I’ll meet you there and take care of the rest.”

\---------------

“I met Henry Slocombe through a mutual friend, Danny Rivera,” Lawrence Anderson said calmly. He was a thin, reedy man with sandy blond hair and high cheekbones. He’d come in peacefully, hadn’t kicked up a fuss, and had been placed in interrogation with no complaints. Now he was answering the question with aplomb that irked them all. “I think it was 2007.”

“When was the last time you saw Dr. Slocombe?” Hank asked.

“Last night. His girlfriend, Alexandra, had just returned early from a trip. They got into a bit of a fight, and I began to feel like a third wheel, so I left. I think it was a little bit after 7:00. He lent me his car so I could check into a hotel.”

 _Convenient explanation…_ Sloane thought.

“What hotel?”

“The Lucia, on Broadway. I checked out this morning and was in the process of returning his Porsche when I got pulled in here. Can you tell me what this is about?”

_Should’ve asked that earlier. You’re too calm._

“Dr. Slocombe was attacked last night, and Alexandra was murdered,” Hank said.

Though he tried to look shocked and his voice had emotion to it, Sloane and Nick both noted his expression seemed very neutral overall. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God! This... this is terrible. T-They're both dead?”

“Dr. Slocombe's still alive. He's in the hospital.” Hank’s calm was understandable, he was at work. Anderson was already calming down and so it seemed the outrage cooled rather quickly for finding out his “friend” was dead.

“This is unbelievable. Do you have any idea who did it?”

“We were hoping you might.”

He made a show of “realizing”, working his jaw and looking annoyed but amused. “Now I understand why I'm here…I must be a suspect. How can I help?” He asked. It sounded all very robotic.

“We need you to write down everything you remember about last night.” Hank slid a paper pad and pen over to him.

“Of course.” He picked up the pen to start writing and Hank stood to walk with his partners out of the room. “You... you said that... that Henry is in the hospital.” They paused and looked back. “Is he okay?”

“The injury was pretty traumatic. We've been unable to talk to him,” Sloane said.

“I'd like to see him.”

 _I bet you would_. “We can see about that later.”

“Am I under arrest?” he asked, and his tone sounded like a genuine inquiry but there was a hint of something in there—something like “ _I know you have nothing to hold me with_ ”. It irked them all.

“No, sir,” Hank managed. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

The headed to the observation room to talk, watching him write down the “events” of last night. “You pick up anything?”

“I didn’t. Not that that means anything,” Nick sighed bitterly.

“I didn’t see anything either,” Sloane said.

“Maybe he's telling the truth,” Hank said. “The car wasn't reported stolen.”

“Hard to do that when you’ve just had your brain slurped like a smoothie,” she said.

“Thanks for that image…” Nick said blithely. “Well, even if he's lying, it's gonna be hard to tie him to the crime without any fingerprints or any witnesses that remember him. We don't even have a motive!”

“…The one in Japan was contracted to keep a witness from testifying. Maybe he was contracted to…I don’t know, get something from Slocombe’s brain.”

Nick was nodding. “It seems there's only one kind of Wesen that can make those kinds of marks, and if that's not him, we are wasting our time.”

“Only one way to find out,” Hank sighed.

“I’m pretty sure you frown on me roughing up suspects here…”

“Not you,” Hank said with an eyeroll, though he was smiling at her.

“Yeah. Let's give him some Trubel.”

They smiled and Sloane pulled out her phone to text her while they went to let Anderson go. The Porsche would stay as evidence of course, but he said he understood. Wu took him to get his personal belongings while they went outside to wait.

Anderson left the precinct with his bag, taking long strides out and across the street to the park. As he entered under the trees, Trubel—wearing a hoodie and sunglasses—roughly bumped into him and tried to grab his back. Anderson gripped it tighter as she pulled hard and he growled. “What the hell are you doing?!” He got in her face and woged. Now, because of the sunglasses he didn’t see her eyes change—but she saw him. Backing away, she let go and ran as if scared. Anderson woged back, panting and resisting giving chase. “You're right outside a police station! You idiot.” He huffed and then straightened his suit before heading back down the path.

Trubel ran a block over as she took off the sunglasses and hoodie, quickly getting to their police sedan and climbing in the back with Sloane. “It's him.”

“The Gedachtnis Esser?” Nick confirmed.

“Yeah, he woged. Got to say... seriously ugly in real life,” she panted.

“They always are,” Sloane said, handing her a water.

“All right, you better stay with him,” Hank said.

“You have your phone,” Nick asked.

“Yep.”

“Make sure it's turned on.”

“It is. I got this,” she said, grabbing her leather jacket.

“Be careful.”

“You’re sounding like a dad,” Sloane said, amused. Nick rolled his eyes and Trubel did as well before heading back out to follow Anderson as he walked across the street.

The three detectives found a place to hang out and wait, Hank going to get them some drinks while Sloane and Nick leaned against the front of the car while they waited. He came back with coffee, handing it out. “Sooo…How's Juliette handling this?”

Nick sighed as he took the coffee. “She's trying not to blame me.”

“You ought to try doing the same thing,” Hank said.

“See, he agrees with me,” Sloane said. Nick didn’t argue but he didn’t look like he agreed still. Sloane’s phone rang and she pulled it out, setting it to speaker.

“Got something, Trubel?”

“Octopus head is checking into the Multnomah hotel,” she said.

“We're on our way.”

They quickly piled back into the car and drove over, meeting Trubel out front as she came jogging out.

“Okay, he checked into room 402,” she said.

“How'd you find that out?” Hank asked.

“…You're kidding, right?” she scoffed. Hank frowned but Sloane knocked her shoulder.

“Hey, don’t get smart,” Sloane said. “But good job.”

Nick nodded. “We know he's the guy we're after, but now we're going to need some background on him to see how he connects with the victims. All we got is he can steal peoples' memories.”

“And their cars,” Hank added.

Trubel frowned. “Why don't we just go in there and take him down right now?”

“Because we don't have any evidence or motive that ties him to the crime,” Nick said.

“Yeah, I wasn't talking about arresting him,” she said.

Nick frowned, glancing at Sloane. She sighed and looked at Trubel. “One—How? A gun is too loud, it’ll alert the whole damn floor. He’s going to struggle whatever we do, and it’ll likely have to involve a blade. There’s no clean method currently, and all the others are going to attract attention in broad daylight. Two—if we could kill him, what then? Leave his body to be found? We’d have crime techs all over the scene, if they found a hint of us there we’re screwed. I’m in our system now, I can’t just go in there and neither can you considering you were just investigated. Don’t think they’ll buy self-defense again. Get his body out? How do we do that without being seen in one of the busiest spots downtown both day and night? What then? My preferred method takes time and fire and we’d have to get him out to the woods for that. And we can’t buy time making it look like he’s gone on a trip—he’s already in a hotel. We don’t have Renard here to help clean things up either. So, suggestions?”

“…No, I get what you mean,” she said, hunkering down a bit as she went over all variables.

“Just keep an eye on him,” Hank said. “Let us know if he moves and stick around the hotel.”

“And nothing more,” Nick added sternly.

“All right, yes, I get it…Hey, you got any money for lunch?”

The adults rolled their eyes, but Hank was the first to grab his wallet and hand her a twenty. “Make it last.”

“Thank you!” she smiled, grabbing it up and heading for the hotel.

“Hey, I need a receipt!”

She laughed, turning and waving the money. “All right.”

Nick sighed as he watched her go and Sloane nudged him. “She’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, she'll be fine. Let's go,” Hank said.

\-------------------

Adalind had dozed for a bit before she felt the car come to a stop and she sighed and woke up. The partition came down and the driver looked back. “Miss? We’ve arrived.”

“Oh, great,” she said, sitting up.

“Would you prefer cash or card?”

“Cash. Here, keep the change,” she said, handing him a hand full of bills.

“Thank you. Oh, I do recommend the café. They have lovely teas and sandwiches.”

Adalind smiled tightly as she climbed out. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” She closed the door and then looked around. She could see the castle looming up on the hill and groaned. Climbing that was going to be a pain in the ass…She wanted to get up to see Diana as soon as possible though. Her stomach growled and she hesitated, looking at the Goldrute café. Viktor could get her food, but she’d still have to hike all the way up hungry and thirsty. Sighing, she adjusted the strap on her bag and headed inside. It was a charming place, like an updated tavern, with things done in golds and dark browns to play with the “goldenrod” theme of its name. She sat down at the bar, putting her bag down by her side.

“((Welcome! How can I help you, miss))?” the waitress behind the bar said.

“Ah…I’m a tiny bit rusty on my German,” she said.

“Oh, a traveler! Well, welcome to Goldrute. Can I get you something?”

“Ah…what would you recommend?”

“Well, our pomegranate tea is popular. And with that I usually recommend our Cranberry Turkey sandwich. It’s fresh turkey with swiss and a little mayo on—”

“It sounds fine, I’ll have those. Please,” she added with a smile.

The waitress nodded and went punched in the order. Adalind sighed, looking around idly. She had no idea someone was watching her from outside the café. She wouldn’t recognize her really; she’d barely registered the face of the woman at the airport and now she was wearing glasses and a blonde wig over her dark hair and a dowdy green sweater. Standing, Rachael made her way through as if going to the bathroom but paused instead at the edge of the bar where she was fixing Adalind’s tea. “((Pardon me, miss))?”

“((Yes))?”

“((I think I left my card here earlier, have you seen it))?”

“((Ah, no…))”

“((Shit…I don’t have any cash. Are you sure))?”

She sighed but smiled. “((Let me check with my manager, we would have locked it in the office if we found it.))”

“((Thank you, I appreciate it! The sooner, the better—I need to take a cab home.))”

She nodded and left the tea to quickly go talk to the manager. Rachael watched her go and then subtly pulled a tiny bottle out of her purse. She pretended to lean over on the counter unscrewed the bottle, letting the contents pour into the tea. It was an old concoction—Made from Witchweed, Chinaberry, Juniper, and other carefully curated herbs and plants that together made a poison for hexenbeasts. She hoped the pomegranate tea would hide the bitter flavor, but even a little bit would at least make her sick.

She tucked the bottle back into her sleeve just as the waitress came back. “((I’m sorry, we haven’t found a card…))”

“((No, I’m sorry! It was in my pocket!))” She laughed and held up a card from her pocket. “((I almost never leave put it there, I’m so embarrassed. I hope you have a good evening.))”

“((You too)),” she smiled, waving as Rachael turned to go and she set the pomegranate tea in front of Adalind.

Adalind sighed as she picked it up to take a deep drink and frowned at the unexpectedly acrid taste. She swallowed because she had nowhere to spit but set it down. “Ugh…”

“Is something wrong?” the waitress asked, frowning.

“Yeah, this tea is rancid…I think something is off with your machine,” she said.

She frowned but picked it up. “We don’t really use them other than to keep the tea warm, but I’m sorry about that. Would you like something else or a water?”

“Water, please, and my sandwich.” She nodded, getting her a glass of ice-water and the sandwich quickly. Adalind inhaled her food and then paid quickly so she could head out and start up the hill to the castle. As she climbed, she felt a cramping sensation in her stomach and took a moment to catch her breath. Shaking her head, she focused on the path and pressed on. After almost twenty minutes of climbing and feeling the cramps get worse, she got up to the gate. It was shut and she looked around before finding a buzzer and pressing the button. She patted lightly at her face, feeling a clammy sweat gathering over her forehead. I can’t be getting sick, can I? No, I can’t be. They might not let me see Diana if I’m sick…

A guard came down, looking at her in confusion. “…Yes?”

She stood up straight, pulling herself together. “My name is Adalind Schade. I’m here to see Viktor Von Konigburg.”

“…You cannot just…walk up here,” He said in broken English.

“I know Viktor,” she said primly. “He has my daughter. I’ve done what he asked, so I want to see her. And you better get him to let me in now.”

The man hesitated but then sighed and pulled out his phone. “Wait.” He walked away, dialing someone and Adalind huffed at being made to stand on the other side of the gate. She was feeling a bit shaky but held on tightly to the iron gate. The cramping wasn’t going away either and in fact was getting worse.

It took a few moments, but Viktor came down to the gate, followed by his personal bodyguard and right hand, Rispoli. Adalind quite frankly hated seeing them. It was hard not to hate the men who had taken her daughter. She blamed Sean a great deal, but she wasn’t stupid—she knew Viktor pushed exactly the buttons he needed to on him to do it. He was a master puppeteer.

“Adalind, how nice to see you again,” he said. The tone was overly affectionate, and it made her skin crawl. “You bring good news, I hope.”

She took a deep breath. “I did it. I did what you asked.”

“You took the Grimm's powers,” he said, eager now.

“I did.” A part of her felt guilty. She knew, despite how she hated him, Nick wasn’t a bad person. Neither was Juliette. The fact they still helped her despite what she’d done showed that. Though only a monster would turn aside a baby in need of help. But she’d grown up around plenty of those. Arguably, she was one of those. But if she was a monster, she was a monster that wanted her baby back!

“We will need confirmation that what you did to Mr. Burkhardt actually succeeded.”

Adalind gaped at him. “It worked,” she said, desperation climbing. “I swear it worked!”

“Well, there's a bit of conflicting information,” Viktor said breezily. “You see, one of our operatives had his head lopped off at Mr. Burkhardt's house. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

Adalind’s eyes widened and she shook her head slowly. “No…”

“No,” he agreed, looking remorseful.

“But I did what I had to do. I did what you wanted me to do,” she reiterated, gripping the gate tighter. Her stomach was hurting a lot more now and she felt nauseous. Something wasn’t right but she closed her eyes against the pain. “Please let me in. Please, I need to see my baby.”

Viktor frowned at her begging and the sheen over her face. Begging was certainly enjoyable, but he didn’t want her losing herself at his front gate. He looked at Rispolli. “What do you think?”

The taller man looked at her as well before shrugging, the light glinting off his shaved head. “I doubt she would've come all this way without attempting to accomplish what you asked. I'll get confirmation.”

Adalind looked between them but focused back on the prince with almost desperation on her face. “Please, Viktor. I need my baby.”

He sighed but then nodded to the guard. “All right open the gates. Is the west wing ready?” Adalind pushed her way through quickly the moment the door was open.

“I'll make sure it is,” Rispoli said.

“You can stay there,” Viktor said, offering his arm. She took it hesitantly, shaking just slightly. ‘You're going to be with us for quite some time.”

“Thank you, Viktor,” she said in relief. “How is she?”

“Wonderful,” he said with a pleasant smile. Really, that should’ve been her first clue. But as tired, sore, and empty as she felt she was trying to ignore the signs. “Have you eaten? You seem…off.”

“I had something on the way here…I’m just nervous. I haven’t seen her in so long it feels,” she said, following him through the door into the great hall. She looked around at all the fine furniture and banners and other revelry. Admittedly, raising Diana like a princess sounded nice in a way. “What about Diana? Has she gained any weight? She's been eating okay, hasn't she?”

“Oh, she has quite an appetite,” he said, leading her down a side hall instead of up like she expected. She followed, confused. They started heading down a winding flight of stairs.

“Who's taking care of her?”

“We all are. She's very important, and it's rather nice having her here. She's brightened up the whole castle.” He gestured at the gloom of the hall they were going down. It was illuminated only by old, shoddy lights where torches once were, and weak moonlight filtering through the grates in the ceiling. It must’ve rained recently because several were dripping and made the stone slick. “I do wish I could've seen the look on Mr. Burkhardt's face when he realized he'd slept with you,” he added suddenly, chuckling. He looked at her with a lascivious glint that made her shift. She doubted she looked very appealing at the moment if how she felt was any indication. It was sheer willpower that was keeping her on her feet and focused. “How was it, by the way?”

She flushed even more than she was already with shame but also pride as she straightened her back with a glare. “I did what I had to do. I did it for my baby. It wasn't fun.”

“That's a shame,” he said with disappointment. “It's not every day a Grimm shags a hexenbeast. Or was it the other way around?” he asked with that same smile that made her skin crawl.

Adalind sighed and looked away. “Where are we? Why are we down here?”

“This is the most secure part of the castle,” Rispolli said. “No one can get your child here.”

She felt there was something wrong with that—if she was as valuable as Viktor said to them, they wouldn’t put her in a dank, wet, musty place like this. She’d get sick too easily.

“By the by, did you know Sean Renard is in hospital?” Viktor asked suddenly, making her brain halt.

“What happened?”

“He was tragically shot at Mr. Burkhardt's home.”

“Nick shot him?” she asked in disbelief.

“Actually, no.” He didn’t elaborate but she had a feeling what he meant. It was a veiled threat, that he could take care of Sean from the other side of the world and he could do worse to someone right in front of him.

“How is he?” she asked slowly.

He looked down with an expression of remorse. “Hanging on by a thread.” He nodded to the guard who unlocked the door in front of them at the end of the hall. Holding out an arm, he guided Adalind towards the door. “I know how close you and Sean were…Right this way, dear.” Adalind’s eyes barely registered the empty room in the dark before she felt Viktor’s hand dig into her back and suddenly pushed her forward hard as the guard grabbed her bag. She gasped and stumbled, landing on the floor. She was really shaking now but her adrenaline wound up a notch as she heard the door slam shut and lock. Standing, she lurched up and grabbed the window grate, pulling herself up to her feet to glare at Viktor hard enough death should’ve come for him.

“Where's my baby?” she growled.

Viktor dropped the sweet smile and glared at her right back in disdain. “I don't have your baby,” he spat. “It was taken from me by the resistance, the very people who helped you escape from me. Now, don't you regret that decision?”

Adalind felt her heart drop. The pain her stomach was giving her was nothing compared to this pain and she felt tears well in her eyes. All of it was for nothing. Viktor had tricked her—the spell, sleeping with Nick, running from those who might’ve helped her for real, it was all for nothing. She opened her mouth to scream and woged as she did, trying to pull at the bars. Once she reached Viktor, she’d tear him apart with her bare hands!

Viktor wasn’t intimidated or impressed though. “You can huff and puff all you want. You're not going to blow this house down.”

“Viktor!” she shouted as she unwoged. The pain in her heart and her body were merging and she was close to passing out it felt.

“It was built for hexenbeasts.”

“Viktor, don't do this!” she sobbed. He turned, unaffected. “Viktor! You bastard! You can't do this! I did what you wanted me to do!” She gave a strangled shout, slowly dropping to her knees.

“…She appears to be sick,” Rispolli said.

“Poisoned, more likely,” Viktor said, bored.

“Do you care if she lives?”

“Hmmm…I suppose she’s more useful alive…Get a doctor and we’ll see what we can do for her. If there’s nothing to be done, we’ll figure out plan B. Or maybe it’s C now…”

\--------------------

They headed back to the precinct to sit and do some research. They were having trouble finding anything on Lawrence Anderson till Nick found he worked for Satellite Defense Technologies. Calling them up, they were shocked to find that the real Lawrence Anderson had been found with four wounds in his head a month ago and was in the hospital.

“Was he able to tell anybody what happened?” Nick asked.

“No, that's the real sad part,” his supervisor said over the phone. “It's like he's suffering from dementia. He was one of the smartest men I've ever met. MIT, Harvard, military intelligence...”

Hank straightened in his chair. “He was involved with military intelligence?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, “top security clearance, intimately involved with some pretty important government programs. Now he doesn't even recognize his own daughter.”

“Can we talk to her?” Nick asked.

“Sure. I'm gonna put you on hold while I get her number.” The line went quiet and Nick blew out a breath.

“So, the guy we're following isn't Lawrence Anderson…”

“This guy's not just stealing memories, he’s stealing identities,” Sloane said.

“Maybe worse than that, he's stealing secrets. Both Anderson and Slocombe were involved with military defense,” Hank said.

“So, he's a wesen spy?” Nick asked, surprised.

“Not too surprising. It’s a valuable method to gain information I’m sure,” Sloane said.

“And there's no way to prove what he's stealing, 'cause it's all in his head, which means the CIA, or the NSA will never know the extent of what he's got or what they've lost.”

“How do you explain that to the feds?” Nick huffed.

Hank looked up and grimaced. “I don't know, but we may get a chance to try. Here's Chavez.” Indeed, the FBI agent was striding her way towards their desks.

Nick sighed and muttered, “Now what?”

“Burkhardt, got a few minutes?” She asked. Nick turned to face her, arching his eyebrow. “We need to talk. Someplace private.”

Nick glanced at his partners and they nodded that they had things covered. “All right…” He stood and followed her out.

Just after he left Sloane’s phone buzzed and she picked it up. “Trubel?”

“Hey. Anderson left the hotel, he's on a bus,” she said quietly.

Sloane frowned. “And where are you?”

“I'm with him, also on the bus. Look, he dyed his hair, and he's wearing glasses,” she said quickly. “I might not have recognized him if he didn't come out of 402.”

“You were supposed to stay at the hotel,” she reminded her.

“I got this; I’m not planning on confronting him if I don’t need to. Oh, he's getting off at Sandy and 66th,” she said, and Sloane could tell she was getting up as well.

“Now, listen, this guy is dangerous. Keep your distance and check in every 15 minutes by text.”

“Got it,” she said, hanging up before Sloane could continue. Sloane frowned a little in frustration with her but sighed. “Is it too late for the rebellious teen phase for her?”

“Now who’s sounding like a parent?” Hank chuckled.

“Can you at least say big sister, because she is like 20,” Sloane said.

Hank smiled and made a few calls again regarding the real Anderson and his credentials. By the time Nick got back they were getting ready to go out again. “How'd it go with the FBI?” Hank asked.

“I don't know. It wasn't about Anderson,” Nick said, looking confused. “It seemed like there was something going on. I'm not sure what.”

“Well, we got somethings. Slocombe has top security clearance just like Lawrence Anderson,” Hank said, moving with him and Sloane to the door.

“And Trubel called. Our Lawrence has left the hotel, and he changed his appearance,” Sloane said.

Nick paused and then frowned in annoyance. “She's following him.” It wasn’t even a question.

“Yup.”

“She was supposed to...”

“We all know what she was supposed to do,” Hank sighed.

When they got to the car, Nick looked at Sloane. “Call Trubel back for an update.”

She nodded, agreeing it was about time. Trubel picked up quickly enough but spoke hurriedly as she tried to keep Lawrence in sight. “Hey, guys.”

“Where are you?” Nick asked.

“I'm still following him. He's going after someone else.”

“How do you know that?” Sloane asked.

She turned away for a moment to hide behind a large crepe myrtle bush when he seemed to slow his pace. “'Cause I heard him making a phone call. He said he was gonna tell somebody about an accident and a murder.”

They glanced at one another, having a feeling he was trying to get close to someone else with more information to drain. “Trubel, listen,” Nick said. “We don't know who this guy is. I do not want you getting close to him.”

Trubel looked back up the street and felt her heart skip when she didn’t see Lawrence. “Damn it! I lost him…”

Nick tried not to lose his patience that she wasn’t listening, and Sloane felt his frustration. “Tell me exactly where you are.”

“Uh…65th and Alameda,” she said, spotting the sign.

“Stay put. We're on our way.” Trubel hanged up then and Nick huffed a bit.

“I think she feels she needs to pick up the slack being down a Grimm,” Sloane sighed. Nick didn’t look happy at that hypothesis and she bit her tongue. “Sorry…”

“It’s…fine,” he said. They drove quickly to the corner Trubel identified, only to find it deserted. “This is where Trubel said she'd be,” he said, looking ready to chew her out. “Where the hell is she?”

“This is why I don't have kids,” Hank said.

“See why I preferred big sister?” Sloane said, taking out her phone to dial Trubel. She frowned when it kept ringing. “She's not answering…”

“Maybe she's still following him,” Nick said.

“What if he made her?” Hank asked.

Nick groaned a bit, pulling at his hair. “I can't keep dragging her into things like this…She's gonna get hurt!”

“Nick, she’s a Grimm,” Sloane said seriously. “She’s going to get dragged into this whether she likes it or not. It’s better to prepare her.”

“All right, slow down,” Hank said before they argued. “We go back to the hotel, see if we can find something in his room to let us know where he is. It’s not far.”

Sloane took a breath, looking around. “…You guys go. I’m going to see if I can find anything here.”

“Sloane, are you sure?” Nick asked.

“Nick, I have the better chance of finding Lawrence and Trubel right now this way. If you find something first, you can call me and I’ll already be in the area if he’s still here.”

“She makes a good point,” Hank said. “Plus, you can’t say _she_ can’t take care of herself.”

Nick sighed and then looked at her. “Be careful.”

“Aren’t I always? Don’t answer that,” she said, starting down the sidewalk while they got back into the car. Sloane looked around slowly and then closed her eyes, focusing her other senses as she walked. _Quiet neighborhood street…what’s out of place? Lawnmower checks out. Birds, dogs, etc. C’mon, something…_

It was as she doubled back she heard it—the sound of something glass breaking from a house just up ahead. The sound of a fight. She rushed up to the house, looking at the front door. Locked, no one in sight. But through a side window she saw it—the Gedächtnis Esser hovering over Trubel, its tentacles extended to her head. Her arms were bound behind her back and they were among the remains of a glass coffee table. Another man was in a room behind them, prone on the floor.

It was like a switch in Sloane’s brain. One she tried not to flip too often but seeing Trubel at that thing’s mercy did it in a way that her vision focused in only on him. She went back to the door and booted it open hard enough it nearly came off it’s hinges, the glass inserts shattering. Going over, she grabbed the scaly, slimy head with her bare hand and squeezed. He yelled out the tentacles retracted, but he was also convulsing as he dewoged with a terrified look. “Grimm…SHE’S A GRIMM!”

Sloane didn’t have a snappy retort. She didn’t care what he’d seen in Trubel’s memories. Instead she smashed his face into the wall hard enough he’d be tasting blood. And she _pushed._ He screamed out again, this time in pain from the memories and his body. She was intending to squeeze his head until either it or the wall cracked.

“Sloane, stop!” Nick rushed over and grabbed her hand and waist, pulling her back.

“Let go,” she said. The monotone, emotionless way she said it made his hair stand on end.

“No. We’re not killing him.”

“He hurt Trubel,” she said. Hank was with her, propping her up while she tried to focus her glassy eyes.

Nick hesitated. He couldn’t blame the moment of rage. Heck, he’d probably kill the man too. But he looked at her. “Trubel…do you know who I am?”

Trubel looked at him and sighed. “Yes, Nick…I know who you are. My head hurts…”

Sloane relaxed just slightly hearing Trubel talk and so did he. “We need to check on her,” he said to Sloane. She knew full well he could do that on his own but finally sighed and released Lawrence. He crumpled to the ground, crying and with a bloody nose. But rather than moaning in pain he sounded terrified, holding his head. “No…make it stop…she’s a Grimm, I didn’t…I don’t want these memories…”

“…Tough shit,” Sloane muttered. She went over to help with Trubel while Hank went to talk to the other man that was attacked—the homeowner who worked with Slacombe apparently. “Trubel?”

“Hey Sloane…” she groaned. “I…messed up again…”

“Yeah…a bit,” she sighed. She grabbed a rag nearby and pressed it to the back of her skull. Trubel winced.

“Ow, hey, what are you doing?”

“You’re bleeding,” Nick said, torn between worry, relief, and anger that she’d put herself in danger again.

“Remember why you’re here?” Sloane asked.

“Because I’m a Grimm…”

Sloane smiled and nodded. “Good answer…”

Nick wasn’t sure he agreed but Trubel smiled.

\-------------------

The doctor came a while later despite being in the castle itself—royals didn’t wait for house calls after all. Mostly this was waiting for Adalind to be too weak to do anything once they entered the room. She had collapsed in the middle, sweating and shaking.

“Well?” Rispolli asked. Viktor hadn’t come with him. Better safe than sorry.

“She’s been poisoned,” the doctor said.

“Poison works on hexenbeasts?” he asked in surprise.

“Specific kinds yes. These are generally known to other hexenbeasts, or to Grimms potentially. I know one family was known for finding poisons for many wesen. Strangely their ingredients we use as well. Especially for girls who have…gotten themselves in trouble.”

“Fascinating,” he said blandly. “Can you keep her alive?”

“Is that what Viktor wants?”

“He thinks she still might have some use,” Rispolli said.

“Last I heard she wants his head more than the resistance does,” the woman said.

“News travels fast. But she’ll calm down once she realizes we’re her best hope of her freedom, and of seeing her daughter again.”

She hummed and opened her bag. “Well, lucky for her, I don’t think she got a fatal dose. A nicer room would help, but I can at least break the fever here and as long as she’s strong, with a little rest she should be fine.” She pulled out a syringe and filled it with an amber colored liquid from a bottle.

“Oh, her will is strong, we don’t doubt that. But she needs to be alive to break it.”

The doctor didn’t say anything as she slipped the needle into her arm, giving her the dose. Adalind whined, trying to focus her eyes. “There now. Rest up, pet,” the doctor said. “And pray you don’t go insane in here!”

\-----------------

They identified their memory thief finally as Timothy Croftin Perkal, a Canadian wanted in Canada, U.S., and Great Britain for espionage. The man was in the holding cell pending being picked up by whoever won out of the appropriate departments. He kept screaming through the night and the consensus was he’d lost his mind somehow. Sloane supposed the memories of a Grimm were too much for him.

They got word then that Renard was awake, alert and able to take visitors, shockingly enough. They decided to go visit after they clocked out, walking in to see him looking out the window at the night sky pensively.

“Hey, Captain,” Nick said.

Renard looked over and then smiled a bit. “It's good to see you guys.”

“You too. You look pretty good for a guy who's been through what you've been through,” Hank said.

“How do you feel though?” Sloane asked.

“Better than I was feeling,” he sighed. He looked up at Nick. “Listen, Nick, did you get what I brought to your house for you?”

Nick felt his stomach drop. Renard was lying in bed, shot up and after nearly dying, and he was thinking about Nick getting that potion? Why? Why did he try that hard? It made a knot of guilt in his gut for not trusting him so often before. He shook his head slowly, swallowing. “No, it's gone. I…I'm not a Grimm anymore.”

Renard’s eyes widened and he looked at Sloane. “It’s true…I’m fine, but whatever she did…”

“Oh, Nick. I'm sorry,” Renard said sincerely. “I tried…”

“I know,” Nick nodded. “We can talk about this when you're feeling a little stronger.”

“I should've known what Adalind was up to,” he sighed, looking tired and put out. “I'm just glad the young lady staying at your house knew how to handle a machete. I owe her.”

Nick nodded awkwardly, debating if he should say how Trubel got so good at beheading people.

“Well, I'm just glad you're still here,” Hank said.

“So am I.” They all looked up in surprise as a very beautiful woman walked in. She had long, slightly wavy blonde hair and bright blue eyes with strong, handsome bone structure. She was dressed fashionably in dark jeans, a black flowing shirt and a short black leather duster. All three detectives were surprised but curious as she walked over, taking Renard’s hand gently.

Renard smiled. “Detectives Burkhardt, Larson and Griffin, this is Elizabeth Lascelles. My mother.”

Their heads whipped up back to her and she smiled demurely at their slack jaws.

“Oh.”

“Hi?”

“ _Mother?_ ” Sloane asked incredulously, making Renard smile.

“She's had a little work done…”

Elizabeth smiled at them with amusement. “You must be some of Sean’s friends?”

“Uh…well, yeah,” Hank nodded. “He’s also our captain.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I just wanted to come and say goodnight. Visiting hours are almost over. I’ll be back tomorrow, Sean.”

“Alright,” he nodded. She smiled and kissed his temple before nodding to them and heading out again.

“…So…your mom, she would be…” Sloane said slowly.

“In her sixties?” Renard asked.

“I was going to say a hexenbeast,” she said.

“Ah…yes, that’s true. But she’s not as bad as most. Honestly, I’ve done much worse than her…” he sighed.

They looked at one another before back at him. “Well…hey, you tried to save Nick. That counts for something,” Hank said.

“Yeah…thanks, Captain,” Nick said.

Renard smiled and then sighed. “I should get some rest…but I’ll talk to my mother. She may be a valuable resource as far as finding out what Adalind did exactly and how to reverse it.”

Nick’s smile faltered but he nodded. “Okay…thanks.”

“Rest up. Someone was at the precinct was talking about a candlelight vigil for you. Which I thought you did if someone died…” Sloane said.

“Don’t jinx me,” Renard chuckled. “I already have a long road of physical therapy ahead of me…”

“Well, you’ll be known as super cop when you get back,” Hank smiled.

“Super cop that got shot and had to be saved by a girl with a machete…” he said tiredly.

“We’ll head out. Get some rest,” Nick said.

He nodded and they turned to walk out and go their separate ways.

\---------------------

It was morning when Adalind woke up to the sound of something opening and closing. Blearily she looked over and saw it was the slot in the door where a bowl of gruel was slid through. Pushing herself up with a groan, she shakily crawled over, but the footsteps were already leading away from the door. She didn’t feel like she was dying anymore, but she was still sore and lethargic. Looking at the bowl, a mealy white gruel was in it. She sneered in disgust and flung it away weakly across the floor. Groaning, she slid back down the wall. She felt so weak. She felt so stupid. And she was _angry_ —at Sean, at Viktor and most of all at herself for falling for this.

When a few rats came out to sniff at the bits of gruel she gasped and then glared, woging and screeching at them till they ran. She could still woge, that was good. But when she tried to use her powers, the resounding fluctuations in the cell forced her to stop. Even full power they would hurt and right now she was still too weak. There was no way out. The only window was a cross shaped hole in the outer wall, that was well above her head.

She sobbed softly, hugging her stomach that was still sore and raging. “I just want my baby…. I just want my baby…I just want my baby,” she repeated softly.

She tensed when she heard something sliding along the wall and looked up in confusion. On the far wall, a pinhole of light suddenly appeared, and she managed to shakily get to her feet. She had nowhere to run but she didn’t want to be caught on her ass. “Who's there?” A deep, amused chuckle came from the other side of the wall and she gasped. Swallowing, she moved slowly forward. “Who are you?” He chuckled again and she frowned, not liking being the butt of a joke but also desperate for any kind of help. “I know you're there…Please talk to me.” There was now answer and she tried to see if anything was moving through the hole the size of her thumb. “My name is Adalind.”

“My name is for me to know, and you to find out,” a man’s voice, higher and amused but with an underlying maliciousness that made her freeze. The light suddenly went out when whatever was in front of it was moved again. Adalind was left with echoes of laughter as they faded into the dark and she sank back down to her knees.

\---------------------

Sloane was finishing up breakfast when Trubel came out of her room. “Hey, good morning. Hungry?”

“Starving…do I smell bacon?”

“Yep, and eggs and toast.”

“Bacon is the only thing I can think of right now!” she said, going over and grabbing several pieces off the plate to start munching.

Sloane looked at her quizzically. “How do you feel?”

Trubel chewed a little slower and then swallowed. “Well, my neck hurts, but I haven't slept that good in a long time.”

“Well…glad to hear that at least.”

“Yeah…If it’s okay, I was going to ride around on Juliette’s bike for a bit.”

“If you think you’re up for it, yeah,” she nodded. “Just be careful.”

“Right, I know.”

“I’m serious,” Sloane said more firmly. “We need to get you a new phone. So, no doing anything crazy till then, okay?”

Trubel sighed but nodded. “Okay, no crazy stuff. Promise,” she said. She quickly snatched the last piece of bacon before Sloane could stop her and Sloane looked after her with an incredulous but amused look as she headed for the door.

Before she could finish frying the eggs her phone buzzed and she picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hey…um, it’s me. Wu,” he said slowly.

“Hey Wu…everything okay?”

“Yes…no…Look, I’m heading over to Nick’s and I’d like to talk to you both about…everything.”

Sloane blinked in surprise and then turned off the burner. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah…Cause I need to get a few things straight before I really dive into this.”

“Okay…I’ll meet you at Nick’s.”

“Great…See you there.”

They hanged up and Sloane sighed. The eggs were a wash now, so she dumped them in the trash and grabbed the toast she’d finished as she got her shoes on and headed out.

The drive to Nick’s house was quick and Wu had just knocked on Nick’s door when she pulled up.

“Sloane?” he asked, surprised.

“I asked her to come,” Wu said. “I figured talking to you both was the best way to kind of go through this…again. And some other stuff.”

Nick nodded and stepped aside for them both to come in. “Okay…so…this is about the Grimm stuff?” he asked.

“Yeah…but also…” He pulled a photo out of the folder and held it up. “Your friend, the one staying with Sloane, is a suspect in a double homicide I kind of helped with.”

Nick winced at the picture of Trubel in the drive thru with the stolen truck. He’d wondered when Wu might remember that. “I…yeah…”

“It was self-defense,” Sloane said, taking the picture with a frown.

“Again?”

“We do a lot of that,” she sighed. “Wesen don’t always like Grimms for obvious reasons.”

“Oh…so they were…”

“Yeah. But also, they tried to assault her.”

“…I’m not sure how comfortable I am with this…” Wu said slowly.

“No offense, but you’ve made it clear you’re not comfortable with most wesen things.”

“No, I mean…covering for her.”

Nick looked at him pleadingly. “Wu…I get that. And you know we normally wouldn’t ask that of you. But we can’t exactly say in court she killed them because they turned into monsters and tried to kill her first. We don’t even have proof…” Nick winced suddenly, blinking and reeling.

Wu frowned. “You…okay?”

“Yeah, just…my head really hurts all of a sudden…” he said

Sloane frowned. “Nick?”

He dropped the picture and then let out a yell of pain, almost dropping to his knees. “Nick?!” she and Wu said at the same time, quickly going to him. His eyes were bulging and his face red with pain and exertion.

“What’s happening?!” Juliette rushed out from the kitchen. 

“We don’t know, he said his head hurts and then he—” Wu started.

Nick yelled out again, doubling over. There was no faking that sound of pain—Sloane had heard similar sounds from Grimm and Wesen alike. But Nick making that sound made her blood run cold. “Nick, talk to me!” she said, firmly grabbing his shoulders.

He looked up and he was looking right at them but seemed confused. “Sloane? Juliette? Wu? Where are you?”

“We’re right in front of you, Nick! What do you mean?”

“I-I’m not in the house!” he said, looking around.

“What? Yeah, you are,” Wu said, trying not to freak out.

“No! I-can hear you but I can’t see you!”

“Nick, what do you see?” Sloane asked, hoping for a clue.

“I…r-rats! Stone…I—Aaaah!” He doubled over again at the searing pain in his head and his stomach down through his pelvis, like lightening going up and down his body. He had no idea Adalind was experiencing the same thing at that moment.

Sloane felt helpless and gripped his shirt hard. Juliette was similarly grasping at his arms, trying to anchor him and willing him to be okay. Then, finally he breathed out and slumped, panting to catch his breath. “N-Nick?” Juliette asked.

He looked up, blinking. “Juliette…”

She let go of her breath. “You’re here?”

“Yeah…yeah…” he gasped.

“C’mon,” Sloane said, putting his arm over her shoulder. Wu took his other arm and helped get him over to the couch so he could sit.

“What…was that?” Wu asked. Nick looked at him with a drained expression and Juliette hesitated. He looked at them, picking up on the atmosphere. “A Grimm thing? That?”

“It hasn’t happened before,” Nick said.

“You saw something? A place?” Sloane asked.

“Yeah. I don't know where I was…”

“What? Do you know where you are now?” Wu asked, trying not to freak out.

“Yeah…I had this blinding headache…” he said, looking pained just at the memory.

“What did you see?” Sloane asked.

“Some kind of old room…” Nick said, trying to remember.

“You're scaring me,” Juliette said, squeezing his arm.

“Yeah, me too,” Wu agreed.

Nick sighed, rubbing just above the bridge of his nose. “I'm okay.”

“Uh, you were on your knees, Nick.”

“Yeah, you couldn't see us,” Juliette agreed.

Nick looked at Sloane who sighed. “That’s not normal. And after everything that’s happened…”

“We're taking you to the hospital,” Juliette said, standing.

Nick shook his head obstinately. “No, I don't need to go.”

“Don't argue. We're going,” Wu said, pulling him to his feet. He and Sloane took up their posts at his side again to carry him out the door.

“I'm not gonna fall down!”

“You kind of just did. I got the door,” Wu said, letting him rest against Sloane more to grab it. She felt her heart lurch but ignored it. “Let me drive.”

\-----------------------

They got to the hospital and had Nick do a check up and brain scan. Juliette stayed with him while Sloane and Wu went to the waiting room.

“God, this just keeps getting better and better,” Sloane sighed, rubbing over her eyes.

“You’re not going to do something like that, are you?” Wu asked, eyeing her worriedly.

“No…” She leaned against the back of the chair. Glancing around, she noted they were alone and looked at him. “So…you want to go in depth on the Grimm issues now?”

He hesitated but nodded. “I can’t keep trying not to look. I see it everywhere…”

She nodded in understanding. “Okay…Well, first of all, you are right in that we’re trying to cover for Theresa. We’re not dirty cops or anything like that, it’s more complicated than that. There’ve been times we have to go outside of being a cop to get the killers. And there are times wesen attack us or do something else that can make us look bad. Remember when Nick and Hank got in trouble for taking down Santa Claus?”

“Yeah…wait, that was…?”

“He wasn’t our guy, but he was a wesen. He ran when he saw Nick and he pursued him thinking he might be the perp and, well…things went downhill from there. But we’ve had ones that will try and kill us on sight. That’s something Trubel has had to deal with for years…It’s how she lost her foster parents when she was a kid. But trying to explain it, she’s put away in mental institutions.” She looked at him. “If I hadn’t told you what you saw was real, you’d think you were crazy, right? You or someone else might’ve checked you into a place like that. But even there she wasn’t safe. We’re trying to teach her how to avoid being identified as a Grimm and how to stop the bad wesen, but I promise you she was not looking to kill anyone when those men attacked her. And they didn’t even know she was a Grimm at the time,” she said meaningfully.

Wu calmed as he listened, taking that in. “…Okay. I don’t like it, but I see what you mean with that. I’m not going to delete evidence, but I’ll avoid bringing it up.”

Sloane breathed out in relief. “That’s more than enough, thank you.”

“You mentioned the captain was…um…”

“He’s wesen. Well, half…it’s complicated. But he knows about us. He’s a good one. Well, at the very least, he’s good to us.”

“But what happened at Nick’s house? I mean, Trubel didn’t—”

“No no, she told the truth,” Sloane said quickly. “Renard was here to help Nick with something, and Weston ambushed him. Then Trubel took care of him when he tried to take care of her.”

“Okay, good,” he sighed. “That something though…is it related to what happened in there? Like a Grimm Migraine? Do you get migraines?”

“I’m getting one now,” she muttered. “No, that…that is not normal. He was having some kind of vision and that’s not a usual Grimm ability by any means. It’s probably related to what Adalind did to him…” she trailed off, mind going quickly.

“Adalind? Adalind Schade?” he asked, recognizing the name.

“Yeah. Look, I can go over _everything_ , but the more you know the more invested your going to be like it or not. Are you ready for that?”

He hesitated still and looked frustrated with himself.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Juliette said. They looked up in surprise as she walked over. “Nick’s getting an MRI…I heard a little of what you were talking about.”

“So, you…um…” Wu started.

Juliette nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah. Nick tried to keep it from me at first, but…a lot happened.”

“So, you’re dealing with it?”

She sighed deeply as she got a paper cup and fill it with water from the cooler on a nearby table. “I was a bit of the opposite to you. I threw myself into it. Trying to help as much as I could. But a lot keeps happening. To us, to our friends…I admit, sometimes I wish I didn’t know. I thought it’d get easier but…” she shrugged. “I was in the hospital because of Adalind and something she did. When I was in the hospital, all that time after I got out, I had horrible nightmares and dreams. It wasn’t real, but it was because some of it was my own memories. Do you remember the night that I fired the gun in the house?”

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded.

“There was some crazy stuff going on in my head.”

“Yeah, I thought Nick was gonna lose his mind because you couldn't remember him. Was that…part of it?”

“Yeah. It was a curse. Literally a curse. I’ve had one, Hank has had one…now Nick does. And all by Adalind. But it’s not the only Grimm thing that invaded my life.”

“…Uh, do you mean me or?” Sloane asked slowly.

Juliette managed a smile but shook her head. “You know what I mean. My point is…I’m not _scared_ exactly, but I feel like I should’ve been in the beginning. That I should’ve been more cautious and realized what was on the line for a lot of this. So, I don’t blame you for being scared.”

“…But I don’t want to be afraid,” Wu said. “Nick, Hank, all of you are my friends and coworkers. And you’re all going through this and I’m just…Stuck here in the same place because I’m scared to go through the door!”

“Door?”

“It’s a metaphor,” Sloane said.

“Ah. Well, um…I mean, fear is good. It keeps us alive. But it shouldn’t keep you standing in place…I mean, I wasn’t unafraid when I found out. I thought I was going crazy and it was super scary when I was remembering all the stuff I forgot. And I’ve been scared when we’re in danger. But I realized it didn't really matter. I had to lose my fear of it because…What might happen if I didn’t take action scared me more.” She looked down at the water in her hands, thinking over that. Tapping her fingers on the glass she finally roused herself and smiled. “We know you’re our friend, Wu. Just do what you feel you have to do. Even if it’s what you have to do for yourself.” She blushed as if realizing she might be going to far and laughed. “Um, but…I’m gonna go wait for Nick.” She turned and walked off.

“Is…Juliette okay?”

Sloane sighed and looked at her watch. “You eat anything today?”

“Uh…a bagel?”

“Hungry? I think it’ll be easier to explain this somewhere private like the car and we can give them some space…”

Wu nodded and stood. “Okay. Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is where things really start being DIFFERENT from the canon. I'm sad to say, if you haven't guessed, Adalind will not be pregnant this time around. The poison used included Witchweed, Chinaberry and Juniper, which have been used as anti-implantation drugs in past cultures (DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME THESE ARE POISONOUS). Basically, though not intentionally, it worked like plan B and there will be no fertilized egg implanting itself so no baby (I do a lot with women's health so I explain this often). I thought long and hard about this and I'm real sorry to Kelly, but Nick and Adalind having a kid doesn't fit with what I want to do here. Considered just not bringing it up, but didn't want any confusion and Sloane's involvement kind of made it happen in this universe sooo... Part of this is I have mixed feelings on Nick and Adalind and their development with the baby--they had super cute moments and development but how Kelly was conceived kind of didn't sit well with me (and admittedly I used it for Sloane's reaction). I also want to explore how Adalind might change for the better (not an intentional Wicked reference) that doesn't revolve around a baby and Nick and just...figuring out things for herself as relating to herself. Juliette/Eve too I look forward to writing! Trubel's already a little different maybe with a stronger female Grimm influence.
> 
> Obviously this is going to mean there will be a lot more changes from here on out! There will still be rewrites, but they may start veering a lot more, and some more originals that are going to move things along and keep developing what I have in mind on how the Grimms work.
> 
> On a lighter note, I did want to give Monroe and Rosalee and the others a bit more time to enjoy their wedding (I didn't forget why the glasses were meant for such a big reveal when I wrote the eyedrops in, what, psh!). Figured with what's coming up, they could use some good times...


	18. Get Well Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 18 of the Casebook of Sloane Larson!  
> Redos of The Last Fight, Dying on a Prayer, Cry Luison, and Highway of Tears (so...long chapter ^^;)
> 
> Sloane and Trubel pick up Grimm duties with Nick's powers being gone. Boxers, Golems, nefarious wolves and cults in junkyards make for a busy schedule. With all that Sloane has to deal with getting sick, FBI agents and worse, some budding romantic feelings!

It took a while to really explain everything to Wu about Adalind and what they’ve had to deal with. Long enough Nick was out of the room consulting with the doctor just as they finished, and they stood. “Hey…what’s the word?” Sloane asked.

Nick sighed. “He doesn’t see anything wrong with my brain…He wants me to see an ophthalmologist to be sure there’s nothing wrong with the nerves.”

“Are those like…naturally different for you guys?” Wu asked quietly.

“Yes, but only when we see wesen. I’m told and it’s not something normal people can pick up on from the outside. But…they might pick up some slight anomalies. Nothing that’ll send up a red flag though.”

Nick looked at Wu approvingly. “You’re…asking questions again?”

Wu sighed and crossed his arms. “I’ve realized denial should stay a river in Egypt. I don’t know how much help I can be and I’m not quite ready to be all in, but…I’m not going to pretend I don’t know what’s going on anymore. Plus, I do want to help if you’re in trouble right now.”

Nick smiled. “Thanks, Wu. For now though, I got my appointment tomorrow so…we’re kind of cooling our heels till we know more.”

He sighed but nodded. “Okay. I’ll drive you guys home then.”

They nodded in thanks, heading back down to the car. They agreed to keep in contact and Sloane got into her own car to head home. “Trubel?” She frowned when she got no answer and couldn’t find her but decided not to panic. Trubel wasn’t a child she knew. It was just hard not to worry about her.

When it was almost evening, she came through the door. Sloane looked up from the couch and sat up straighter at the agitated look on her face. “Hey…Everything okay?”

“Uh…yeah, fine,” she nodded. “Just…Fine.” That “fine” said nothing about being pulled into a van, taken to a strange warehouse, questioned and offered a job by FBI agent Chavez who figured out she was a Grimm, and then released. It said nothing about that because Chavez had said not to tell anyone, for their safety. So, after freaking out and walking around for a long time, she was there. Perfectly “fine”.

“Okay…Did you eat? I have left over pasta,” Sloane said. She knew something was up but didn’t press.

“Thanks, but I did grab something. I think I’m just going to turn in, kind of wore myself out…”

“Okay…Goodnight.”

“Night,” she said, quickly heading to her room. Sloane blinked but shrugged and turned to finish up her show before heading to bed as well.

\-----------

It was two days later when they were all back on call at the precinct. “Hey,” Nick said, walking over to their desks.

“Hey yourself. How’d it go with the eye doctor?” Sloane asked.

He shrugged. “I have a bunch of extra cones?”

“Uh…congrats?” Hank asked.

“I think that’s part of the Grimm genetics. So that’s normal for you.”

“Yeah, but apparently I have swelling that’s keeping them from being useful.”

Sloane frowned. “Now that’s a problem…How do you feel otherwise though? No more headaches?”

“Not since that night,” he sighed.

“Sloane was telling me about that. You saw someplace else?”

Nick nodded and then reached over to his travel case and pulled out his sketch book. “It was like this. But more…rat infested.”

They took the sketch to look over and Sloane frowned deeply. This…looks like a dungeon.”

“Yeah. Straight out of _Count of Monte Cristo_ or something. You really saw this?” Hank asked.

He nodded. “I don’t know how or why but yeah…”

Sloane sighed. “This isn’t something I’ve heard of…Whatever it is— “”

“It’s connected to what Adalind did to me,” Nick agreed.

“…Look, don’t worry about the Grimm stuff right now,” Sloane said, setting a hand on his shoulder. “You know me, I can handle it till we fix this. And I’ve got Trubel for back-up.”

“…Right…Um…What if…” Nick started. He was honestly worried to tell Sloane that he and Juliette had been discussing what if he _didn’t_ get them back. Or want them back. How leading a normal life might be possible again, at least somewhat. Not like before his “inheritance”, but maybe close. But for Sloane, this was normal. She was proud of being a Grimm, she took her work seriously. Would she be angry? Sad? _What would she think of me?_

“Larson, Griffin, Burkhardt!” They jumped and looked up where Lieutenant Reese was walking towards them. He was in charge while Renard was in the hospital and was under a lot of stress. “We have a call. Body pulled out of the river. Head over to the scene.” He handed the folder to Hank.

“Yessir,” Hank said, quickly grabbing his holster and jacket. Sloane and Nick did the same and they headed out to the car. Wu was the first to meet them, jogging up to where they parked on the hill overlooking the river. There was a path there, but otherwise it was covered in tall reedy grasses down to the pebble beach that no one frequented. There were refineries and factories nearby that made the water a bit suspect.

“Hey…So, um…I don’t know what to look at as far is it being up you guys’ alley, but it is a little weird at least.”

“What do we have?” Nick asked, following him towards the beach. A fish-pale body was lying on the rocks. His clothes were in bad shape, but it was hard to tell if that was the water’s fault or the four large wounds in his chest’s fault.

“City worker found the body this morning,” Wu said. “Dragged him out of the water. Body's pretty beat up. Looks like it's been in the water all night. Vic's name is Robert "Bang Bang" Moore.”

Hank blinked and then looked up with a skeptical smile. “"Bang bang" was on his license?”

“I didn't look at his license,” he said matter-of-factly. “I arrested him on a DUI 100 years ago. He's an ex-boxer. Did time for aggravated assault.”

“Well, something assaulted him back,” Sloane said, using her gloved hand to gently move a bit of his ripped-up shirt.

“Some pretty big holes,” Hank said.

“Not from bullets,” Nick nodded.

“So…what’s that mean?” Wu asked quietly.

“We’re not sure yet. Could be wesen, could be someone stabbed him with something unconventional,” Sloane said.

“He was probably dumped farther upriver,” Nick said.

“We got an address for “Bang Bang”?”

Wu pulled a page from his notebook and held it out. “Just ran it.”

Hank took it, putting it in his pocket. “Where's the city worker?”

“He's right over there,” Wu said, pointing to where someone was questioning a man next to his work truck. "Looks like he was mainly in charge of the river area with all the tools in there—nets, hooks and the like. He didn’t have much to add, just that he’d been driving along, looking for any trash or illegal dumping or the like when he saw the body in the water. He went in to try and see if he was alive and pulled him to shore as he is. So he called the police."

They nodded and walked up the bank. After speaking with him and thanking him for his time, they headed to the address on Moore’s license and spoke to his sister, Lanie Moore. She knew he went to meet with someone the night before, but she didn’t know who. She only knew Bobby had been very upset at whoever it was. He’d been at the Kingston Boxing gym the night before and had gotten busted up badly. He didn’t tell her exactly what he was doing, but she suspected he was still fighting. Despite getting beaten time and again, he loved boxing. That was what she said.

They decided the next stop was the Kingston Boxing Gym and drove over. The place smelled like sweat, a smell that was probably soaked into the rings and mats and bags by now. There were guys at skipping rope, punching bags, and punching each other. “Takes me back,” Hank sighed. His fists were moving subtly, as muscle memory knew what to do the moment they stepped in.

“You box?” Sloane asked.

“A bit. My dad was big into it, boxed in the army. Taught me a bunch so I’d be able to defend myself and my sister. Honestly should’ve taught her more though, she can kick my ass even with my training.”

Sloane and Nick chuckled as they walked over to one man with a clipboard helping another tape his arms. “Stan Kingston?” He shook his head and pointed over to an older man watching a younger jumping rope intently. He had the look of an old bulldog—older, but with power you shouldn’t underestimate.

“Come on, Clay. Put some energy in it! You gotta make weight,” he said to the boy who was jumping like a machine.

“Time,” the other trainer said. Clay put the rope down and went to square up against him.

Nick took that opportunity to walk over with his badge ready to the man still watching them. “Mr. Kingston, I'm Detective Burkhardt. These are my partners, Detective Griffin and Detective Larson.”

He looked at them with a bit of wariness but nodded. “Is there a problem?”

“You promote fights here?” Hank asked.

He nodded, smiling proudly now. “That's right. Clay, come over. Meet a couple of fans.” The younger man paused in sparring with his trainer and walked over. He was a tall African American man, solidly built but still agile looking. Kingston clapped him on the back with a grin. “This young bull is gonna be the next middleweight champion of the world.” The other man came over, a bit older but still fit with sparse gray hair over his head and face. “His trainer, Abe Tucker.” He nodded to them.

“Hey, how's it going?” Clay said, smiling humbly. “Nice to meet you.”

Kingston nodded and then looked at them like the ringmaster of a circus. “Tickets, anything you need, gentlemen, just drop your cards at the door.”

“Uh, I think there’s a little confusion on why we’re here,” Sloane said. The three men frowned curiously. “We're investigating a murder.”

“Murder?” Kingston asked, shocked. Clay and Abe looked equally surprised and confused.

“Bobby Moore,” Nick said.

“Bobby Moore?! You got to be kidding.”

“I’m afraid not. We found him this morning,” Hank said. “We understand he worked the fight here.”

Kingston shook his head, getting defensive. “Hey, I don't know what you were told, but Bobby was in no condition to work anymore. I mean, he was a great fighter in his day,” he looked at Abe who nodded, “but he stayed in the game too long.”

“But you saw him?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, I threw him a few bucks to keep the riffraff out,” he shrugged. “That's about all he could do.”

“And don't you have security for that?” Hank asked.

Kingston smiled beatifically. “I help ex-boxers whenever I can.” None of them were convinced of that.

“Bobby's sister said he was pretty beat up the other night,” Sloane said.

“He did his job. I paid him. He left. That's the last I saw him. Either of you see him after that?”

“No, sir,” Clay said, shaking his head. He looked antsy suddenly though, his confident posture slipping.

Abe shook his head as well and finally spoke up with a dour expression. “Probably got into it with some drunk at a bar somewhere. Wouldn't have been the first time.”

They looked them all over before sighing. Nick took out his wallet, pulling his card. “If you do think of anything else...” He handed a card to each of them and then nodded.

Turning to head back out, they paused under the awning of the gym. “Do we believe Kingston?” Nick asked.

Hank looked at him dubiously. “Did you just ask if I believe a fight promoter?”

Nick rolled his eyes but nodded. “Clay looked nervous.”

“Yeah. Bobby Moore's an ex-fighter. Whoever gave him that beating had to know how to handle themselves.”

“Well, we haven’t gotten the tox screen back. If he was drunk or drugged, someone less skilled could take him,” Sloane said.

“But someone beat the crap out of him before that. Can we say that’s unrelated?”

She sighed but nodded at the point. They all paused when they heard a loud, metallic bang. Looking over, they saw Clay down the street, punching a large blue dumpster like a bag. It didn’t seem to bother him—in fact, it looked like he was putting dents in it. Then Sloane saw it—he woged with two horns coming from his head.

“That is not normal,” Nick said.

“Not even close,” Hank nodded.

“Yeah…because he’s a Heftigauroch. He just woged,” Sloane said quietly. “Horns being a very prominent part of their anatomy.”

Nick glanced at her, and then back at Clay. Of course, he hadn’t seen anything, and he thought about what they’d have missed if Sloane hadn’t been there. “…So, he could be our guy?”

“A possibility, but I’d have to measure to be sure as far as wound placement.”

“Don’t think he’s going to be okay with you doing that,” Hank said.

“And we don’t have a reason to bring him in,” Nick agreed.

“I can go ask him some questions,” she said, moving to go towards him. Before she could though he saw her and quickly headed back inside. Abe was at the door and he looked at them with suspicion before shutting the door. “Well…so much for that,” she sighed. “I don’t suppose I could just…go back in and talk? Ask him what the dumpster did to him?”

“If we let on we know, they all might clam up, Nick sighed. “Let’s go do some research, see what we can find that might link this all together.”

“Fine,” she sighed. She still glanced back curiously at the door, thinking on how to get in.

They returned and spend the next couple of hours researching the three men, Clay and Kingston primarily. “Stan did two years for fraud and tax evasion, was acquitted in '07 of manslaughter, settled six lawsuits with ex-fighters out of court, but still got his promoter's license,” Hank summarized, adding a wry chuckle at the end.

“Very lax on the rules there,” Sloane said. “Abe Tucker isn’t nearly as interesting. Boxer in the navy, got the Ranked in the top 20 but then honorably discharged due to injury. Can’t really do it himself anymore, so he’s spent the last few decades as a trainer with Kingston and others and has had several students that went pretty far. Nothing really stands out.”

“What have you got on the kid?” Hank asked Nick.

Nick shrugged. “Still lives with his mom. Been in the fight game for less than one year.”

“It's cheating, right? If he's wesen?”

“Told you before, there’s wesen in a lot of major sports. And the Olympics? Hmph, doping is the least of their concerns,” Sloane said.

“But in boxing, that kind of edge can turn you into a killer,” Hank pointed out.

“You know, maybe they're all wesen... Stan, Abe, and Clay,” Nick said.

Sloane nodded slowly, seeing the logic there. “But we can’t be sure they’re all Heftigauroch.”

“What are those, anyway? You said they had horns?” Hank asked.

“Yes. They’re like…bulls. But not like Taureus-Armenta you’ve met before, during the Volcanalis incident. Unlike them, Heftigauroch are stronger than humans. Not faster, but stronger, with very strong hands and tough heads.”

“So, they’re big fighters,” Nick sighed.

“No. Actually, they’re generally very calm and peace-loving. Till you get them worked up,” she amended. “Once they’re ready for a fight, they will destroy what worked them up to it. And maybe anything else in their path.”

“Great…” Nick muttered.

“Do you think you can handle it, or should we bring Trubel in on this?” Hank asked.

“Maybe—"

“No,” Nick said firmly. Sloane looked at him in confusion and Hank sighed.

“Nick, she could be a good insider. They already know Sloane is a detective, they’d be suspicious if she went there to start working out there or something.”

“He’s got a point,” Sloane said.

Nick frowned at both of them. “Do neither of you remember that she almost got killed last time? I can't protect her anymore! And you can’t be everywhere,” Nick added before Sloane could ask what he meant by that.

“Nick, Trubel is a Grimm,” Hank said.

“And I'm not,” he said, finishing the unspoken half of that statement. Hank grimaced but nodded. “What are we supposed to do, bring her in to every case that we think involves a wesen? That's not fair to her. She's not a cop.”

“Neither am I, technically,” Sloane reminded him. “I’m here because Renard got me here. Plus, she’s already been through plenty, Nick.”

“Yeah, so why should we pile more onto her?”

“Because that’s how she’s going to learn,” she sighed. “Trubel isn’t going to be prepared just reading books, Nick. She needs to learn how to fight, how to win, and you do that by actually fighting and trying to win. I mean hell, Dierdre did a lot worse than we’re doing.”

Nick didn’t want to ask what was worse and frowned more in disapproval. “She’s a kid—”

“She’s twenty, Nick. She is definitely not a kid. And if you say it’s because she’s a girl, I’ll beat your chivalrous ass here and now.”

Nick blushed and looked down. “I didn’t mean it…like that.”

“Sloane’s right though, Nick. You and she are supposed to be teaching Trubel how to hunt and survive against wesen. And she needs practical experience. The more you teach her, the better she's going to be, and until we find out what's going on with you, we need her to be her best.”

He sighed, not looking pleased but finally nodding. “Okay…fine…”

\--------------

Coordinating with Trubel, they drove to Sloane’s house and she came out to meet them in the car. “What's up?”

“Got a boxer who might have been involved in a murder,” Nick said.

“And he's wesen?”

“He is, but we’re not sure he’s the murderer,” Sloane said.

“It could also be the trainer, the manager, or one of the other boxers,” Hank nodded.

“We want you to spend some time at the gym.”

“Doing what?” she asked, confused.

“Working out,” Nick said, stressing the words as he looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Don't piss anybody off. Don't follow anybody. Don't start any fights.”

Trubel nodded, still seeming to like the idea. “I like boxing gyms. I used to sleep in one in Chicago. I picked up a few moves too.”

“Well, don't use them,” Nick said.

Sloane rolled her eyes and leaned over, so he was looking at her. “Why would she be going to a boxing gym and not training to box, Nick? She’s gotta blend in somehow or this idea isn’t going to work. Ease up.”

Nick huffed and Hank tried not to smile. “The boxer we're looking at is Clay Pittman,” he said. “We know what he is, a…

“Heftigauroch. Think horned steer. Strong.”

“Other than that, we don’t know, so we want to know who's wesen,” Nick said.

Sloane handed her a new phone they’d picked up on the way and she took it with a smile. “Here. All set and ready to go, on your same old number luckily.”

“I texted you the address of the gym,” Nick said. He then turned in his seat and leveled his gaze at her. “You see something, you call,” he said firmly.

“I will,” she nodded, getting out of the car.

“She'll be fine,” Sloane said. “I like that you want to protect her, but she’s a big girl. She’s gotta figure things out for when we’re…not with her.”

Nick sighed, knowing she was right. It still didn’t sit right with him though.

“Whose alibi you want to check out first?” Hank asked.

“The kid,” he said, after a moment of thought.

They went to the address listed for Clay and found his mother, Delores Pittman. Sloane knew she was very possibly a Heftigaurach as well but that she could also be human. Either way, acting as they normally would and questioning her that way was the best option. She also didn’t miss an opportunity to brag about her son, pulling out an album of his fight memorabilia so far.

“Clay just had a knack for it,” she said, turning the page to a poster. She was a quiet, demure woman with close cropped hair and bright, spring-colored clothes that popped against her dark skin. “Such a quiet boy. I never knew he had it in him.”

“Well, he's done really well. You must be very proud,” Hank said.

“Oh, I am,” she said, smiling proudly. “He works hard.”

“You know where Clay was last night?” Nick asked, sitting in a chair across from them on the couch.

She sighed and thought. “After the gym, he came home, ate, soaked in an Epsom bath, went to bed. Sometimes, I wish he'd just go out with his friends.”

“How long has Clay been with Stan Kingston?” Hank asked.

“Oh, Stan discovered Clay about a year ago. He told me my son had something special,” she said, smiling. “He's a... he's a good manager... oh, and his trainer Abe, too. He's like a father to Clay.”

“Clay’s dad isn’t around?” Sloane asked, looking at the pictures in the living room. All of her and Clay, nothing to note a father.

“No, he's...he took off a long time ago,” she said, dimming a little.

“No contact with him?” Hank asked.

“None. But we will be hearing from him soon as Clay hits it big. That's the kind of man he is,” she said with a hint of bitterness.

“Well…he seems to have done alright without him,” Sloane said. She could relate, though she never even knew her father.

“I think so too.” She sighed and then looked at them all seriously. “Look, I'm... I'm not ignorant to the evil around my son... people wanting to take advantage of him, take his money. It's hard to know who to trust.”

“But you trust Stan?” Hank asked.

“I trust my son.”

Nick straightened when his phone started ringing, standing to grab it with a quick apology and go to the front hall. “Burkhardt.”

“Found Bang Bang's car about a mile upriver from where the body was found,” Wu said. “His cell phone was in the seat.”

Nick took a breath, thankful for the break in the case. “I need to know if he called anyone associated with the boxing gym.”

“I already checked. 3:02 P.M. yesterday, placed a call to Stan Kingston. Lasted 23 seconds.”

“Thanks, Wu.”

“Sure thing.”

Nick hanged up and then looked back into the living room. “We need to get back to the gym.”

They didn’t question why, just stood up and thanked Delores for her time.

When they got to the gym, they could see people gathered to watch a match—and then they saw Trubel in the ring, a red padded helmet on her head and gloves on her hand. In the opposite corner was a girl that looked like she could bench press Trubel and looked like she would do it and then twist her into a pretzel. Nick growled softly under his breath. “Didn't I tell her not to get in any fights?”

“She’s in a gym full of fighters, Nick. Someone was going to pick a fight with her somehow and how would it look if she refused?” Sloane sighed.

“…Stop using logic on me,” he said a bit petulantly. Sloane just smiled but then snapped her attention to Trubel when the bell ringed. Then she tensed more when she saw the girl woge into what looked like horse with the skin pulled tight to the skull.

“Shit, the other girl’s a Nuckelavee!” she hissed.

“What?” Nick asked, even more alert now.

The Nuckelavee rushed Trubel and let loose a barrage of blows. Trubel wasn’t prepared and though she defended against some, a left hook sent her sprawling to the matt hard enough her mouth guard popped out. The Nuckelavee sneered and Kingston just looked disappointed.

“We got to stop this,” Nick said.

Hank however was the one to put a hand on his shoulder. “Give her a chance. You'll blow her cover.” He looked at Sloane. “She can handle this?”

“Yeah, she should. Nuckelavee are strong but their more dangerous to plant life. They have this breath that can wilt plants because they like to eat rotten food. Could still make her sick but I doubt she’d use that here. They are pretty ruthless though…”

As she was talking, Trubel growled and slammed her gloved hand to the ring in frustration. Standing, she turned and squared up again. The other girl and Kingston both were surprised but she turned to fight again. Trubel tightened her guard rather than rushing in this time and when watched her carefully. When the Nuckelavee rushed her, she managed dodged her punches with quick steps Sloane had taught her. Less movement, less energy expended that she could use later. When she swung wide, Trubel stepped in and brought her heel down on her opponent’s instep. She shouted and then Trubel moved in under her guard and brought her elbow into her sternum from the side. Dodging another strike, she struck her into the ropes and Trubel didn’t give her an opening as she started a series of punches and jabs, ending in an uppercut that sent her sprawling this time against the red corner. She laid panting while Trubel pulled off her gloves and undid her helmet.

“That’s my girl,” Sloane muttered proudly, sharing smiles with Hank and Nick. Nick couldn’t deny being proud as well.

Kingston had pulled himself up by the ropes, focusing on Trubel. “You fight dirty.”

Trubel was panting but looked chastised. “Sorry, I shouldn’t—”

“Yeah, I like dirty,” Kingston said with a devilish grin. “You got a lot of potential, kid. Abe is gonna start training you full time tomorrow. Now, you go get a shower. We'll talk after.”

Trubel was surprised but nodded, getting out of the ring as Nick and the others came around the side. She glanced at them, but quickly glanced away as she headed to the locker rooms so as not to blow her cover.

Kingston saw them as well and looked aggravated before stalling Abe and speaking quietly. Sloane managed to pick it up though despite the background noise. “Keep Clay in the dressing room while I deal with this.”

She frowned but didn’t have time to mention it to Nick or Hank before he turned around and smiled at them. “Keep showing up, you're gonna have to pay gym fees.”

“A few more questions,” Nick said placatingly.

“Oh, I need to get my boy ready for a fight.”

Hank was surprised. “So soon?”

“Hey, I line them up. He knocks them out,” Kingston chuckled. “That's how you make a name for yourself. What do you want?”

“Bobby Moore called you at 3 P.M. yesterday,” Nick said. “Call lasted 23 seconds. What did you two talk about?”

Kingston rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he was looking for more work. Thought he could pick up a few bucks at tonight's fight.”

“And you just forgot to mention that this morning?” Hank asked.

He sneered back at him. “I got more on my plate than worrying about a drunk has-been.”

“Wow, harsh,” Sloane said.

“It’s a harsh world, sweetheart,” he said snidely.

Sloane narrowed her eyes slightly. “I work homicide and take down guys bigger than you for a living. I’m well aware, _sweetheart_.” He glared back at her, but he wasn’t stupid enough to press his luck.

Even so, Nick quickly set a hand on her upper back, a sign to cool it. She felt all her nerves shudder and frowned at herself and then him.

“Back to Bobby,” Hank said, “he say where we was?”

“No, and I didn't ask.”

“Where were you last night?” Nick asked.

“Aw, come on, guys,” he said, getting frustrated. “I've been through this before.”

“Answer the question,” Hank ordered.

He glared and then dramatically raised his hands. “Treated Abe and myself to a fat, juicy steak and a bottle of wine at Ringside. The restaurant, not the gym. Check if you like.”

“We will,” Sloane promised. Kingston glared and turned to head off, obviously frustrated.

They headed back out to their car since there wasn’t much else to gather at the gym—but just before they pulled out Trubel rushed out and quickly ran to their car and got in next to Sloane. “Stan’s wesen. Abe too, but a different kind. I saw them arguing and they woged.”

“You get a good look at them?” Nick asked quickly.

“Oh, yeah, just get me to the trailer.” They nodded, quickly heading out before anyone saw her with them.

\-----------------------------

Adalind rested against the cold stone wall of the cell. The last few days had been hell but on the bright side she wasn’t feeling sick to her stomach anymore. And no more blinding headaches—though that she knew must be a side effect of her spell because she saw Juliette and an officer in a vision. Through Nick’s eyes. _God, I’m not becoming a Grimm I hope—this isn’t what I meant when I was stealing his sight!_ Worse still was the knowledge it had all been for nothing. Diana wasn’t with Viktor, no one knew where she was now. She’d cried a lot ever time she thought about it but now it just made it hard to breath and her eyes ache. The gruel tasted awful and she ate it out of desperation, but it wasn’t giving her any strength. That was likely the point.

She vaguely heard stone moving and cringed. This was the other annoying part of this hole. The stupid voice laughing at her. She didn’t care anymore. She didn’t care about anything anymore.

“If I could show you how to get out of here, would you be happy?” the voice asked. It still sounded a bit too giddy, but it was more sincere.

Adalind blinked and perked up for the first time in hours. “Do you know a way out?” she asked, trying not to sound as desperate as she was.

He chuckled and it gave her a bad feeling. “Oh, I do. Six stones in, three stones high,” he sang.

“Six stones in, three stones high…? What does that mean?”

“Six stones in, three stones high,” he said again, laughing.

Adalind looked at the hole and then up and around before her eyes fell on the stone wall at her back. Turning, she counted from the hole where his eye was looking in on her. “Six stones in, three stones high...”

“Through the wall you must try,” he laughed.

Adalind looked at the large brick twice as wide as she was and as long as her torso. Normally she’d say it was impossible for her to move such a thing but had to try it. Placing her hands flat against the stone surface, she grunted and gasped as it pushed in smoothly. The grinding noise felt impossibly loud, but she got the stone all the way out till it dropped to the ground with a solid thud. Heart pounding, she quickly moved through the gap to the other side. It wasn’t outside though, it appeared to be another room of some kind. It was dark and she couldn’t see much of anything around her. “Hello?” she called. She gasped when she heard stone scraping again and turned to see the brick had somehow slid itself back into place.

Another chuckle echoed in the room and with a flick of a match the candle was lit. A man with long, scraggly hair and an equally scraggly long beard looked up at her with a smile full of crooked teeth looked up at her gleefully. He was filthy, with a worn brown jacket over a soiled grey shirt and workman’s pants and shoes that were little more than scraps of leather tied around his feet. Most obvious was the one, milky-white eye that crinkled when he grinned.

“My name is Hofmann,” he said. “You want to find your baby?”

She hesitated but then nodded. “Yes…Yes. You know a way out? I've got to find her.” He chuckled more, standing with a gleeful smile. “Please, get me out of here.”

He nodded excitedly, like a child despite his age. “It's a treacherous journey. You will need your strength.” He turned and grabbed a tin on a nearby rocky outcropping behind him and opened it to show what looked like slices of brown bread. “Here. Eat this.”

“Oh, my God, you have food,” she gasped, grabbing up a slice. She bit into it and though it was simple, it was so delicious she had to close her eyes in relief. As she was eating, the sounds of dogs barking gave her pause.

“We must go. Hurry,” he said, packing his things into his jacket and pulling her by the shoulder. He hobbled over and struck another stone, which made a small part of the wall swing inward. “Now, stay close to me. You must move quickly. They will be after us.”

Adalind glanced back through the opening for a moment but then quickly pushed on after Hoffman.

\-----------------

“What about this?” Nick asked, pointing at a picture of a dickfelig in one of his books.

Trubel shook her head. “He didn't have that horn on his head, but just as ugly.” Nick nodded and turned the page and Trubel’s hand shot out to the picture. “That's it! That's him. That's Stan.”

“You're sure,” he asked. Sloane came over to look as well, leaning over his shoulder.

“100%.”

“Hmmm…looks familiar but I don’t think I’ve met one in person,” Sloane said.

Nick browsed over the page, muttering the highlights. “"I witnessed this type of creature intimidating others around”… “This beast cannot be trusted”… Okay, here we are: “"Schinderdiv use their brutal force to pin their victim, and razor-sharp tusks to inflict damage.”” He pointed to a picture of a man with four puncture wounds, two large wide apart and two smaller a little further in and an inch down, and the photo he had of Bobby Moore’s body. “Same type of puncture wounds.”

“I think I found the other one Sloane mentioned,” Hank said, turning the book around. “A Heftigauroch is a bull-like wesen that morphs into rage when provoked."”

“Seriously? We're talking raging Heftigauroch,” Nick said, looking at the pictures of the bull-like wesen fighting a group of men.

“It's your book, man.”

“That's Abe, only he looks a lot older than that,” Trubel said.

“It’s Clay too…” Sloane said, curiously.

“"Their hard heads and strong hands make them great fighters. However, despite their inherent ability, it is not in their nature to fight."”

“So, they inherit this great ability, but they don't want to use it…” Nick said, turning thoughtful. Sloane glanced at him and he looked back down quickly.

“That makes sense that Clay’s that kind of wesen,” Trubel nodded. “He doesn't even like boxing.”

“They must do something to get him ready for a fight then,” Sloane said thoughtfully.

Nick’s phone rang and he quickly picked it up. “Burkhardt. …What?” he asked in shock. He listened to them again and then put the phone away. “They found a body a few blocks away from the gym. It's Abe Tucker.” They were all shocked for a second before quickly getting their jackets on to head out to the car. “What's the exact location?”

Trubel paused to look at the book with the Heftigaurach again, thinking over the idea of them usually being a peace-loving bunch. Clay had been very nice to her--even though Stan got after him for it. He didn't even like fighting. Then again, you did what you had to for money sometimes she knew...

“Trubel, come on,” Sloane called. She sighed and turned to quickly follow.

They got to the scene, which was the alley to the side of an old apartment building. Nick told Trubel to wait by the car while they walked over through the crime techs gathering evidence. Abe Tucker was lying on a block of upturned concrete with rebar jutting out, the rebar piercing his body.

“Looks like an apparent suicide,” the officer on scene said. “Jumped from the roof.”

Hank looked up at the near 10 story building and grimaced. “It's quite a jump.” He walked over and frowned more seeing the four holes on his sternum besides the rebar in his heart. “He’s got more holes than rebar in him.”

“Holes that look kind of familiar,” Nick agreed.

Sloane was kneeling by the body to look it over an pulled a piece of paper out his pocket. “Got a note.”

“What kind?”

“"I killed Bobby Moore. I'm sorry,”” she read aloud. She flipped it over dubiously.

“He's short and to the point,” Hank scoffed. None of them believed the note was his from the looks on their faces.

“You think Stan was having steak with Abe this time?” Nick asked.

“Let's ask him.”

They quickly headed back to the car and drove for the gym, parking a street over and getting out to head to the back. They split up to go both ways to be safe, Sloane and Trubel one way and Nick and Hank the other. As they did, they saw three strong looking men armed with clubs and bats gathered in front of Kingston. Sloane glared a bit, having a feeling how Kingston was getting Clay to fight now. Working him up before a fight would get him to let go of his peaceful nature for sure. She put a hand out to stop Trubel, nodding to the boys coming up. They’d opted to let Nick and Hank work Kingston up a bit first themselves, if only to try and get him to woge.

“Hey, don't hold back,” he told them.

“Nobody's going inside,” Nick called out as they walked up.

“What are you... I got a fight,” Kingston said impatiently.

Nick pulled out his badge and held it up, savoring the wide-eyed gawks of the men. “Anyone who doesn't belong here should go.” The men dropped their clubs and quickly ran off, not wanting to be arrested.

Kingston glared at their retreating backs then back at them. “This is harassment!”

“You're not going anywhere either,” Hank said. “You killed Bobby and Abe.”

He sneered, adjusting his suit. “You must have some pretty good evidence to make a charge like that.”

“We do,” Hank nodded.

“You're wesen.”

Kingston paused but huffed a laugh. “Got no idea what you're talking about.”

“Oh, yeah, you do,” Hank said.

“You're a schinderdiv,” Nick said.

He froze again and then with a growling huff he woged. His skin turned almost scaled in how leathery it was and his ears lengthened and flopped. Like a warthog, he grew two large tusks and two smaller just below like their curved teeth. He was staring between Hank and Nick but then relaxed a bit with a laugh. “You don't know anything.” So, it was a simple woge keirsheite wouldn’t see. Sloane nodded to Trubel and they stepped out.

“But we do,” Trubel said. He turned, still woged, to see them and backed up in shock. Trubel smirked. “That's right, dude. Grimms here.”

“You,” he growled, and rushed them. Sloane and Trubel broke apart and he moved for Sloane, but she brought her fist up to punch him in the throat. He coughed and staggered back but when Trubel tried to grab him he flipped her hard into the garage door with a loud metallic clang. Nick ran over and kicked him hard in the side to get him away from the two of them and get them space to work.

When Sloane rushed him again with Nick, he punched her hard enough across the face she saw stars and staggered while he flipped Nick. Apparently, he did more than just promote fights. Hank tried to get him and ended up tossed hard over to the dumpster. Growling, Sloane got her knife out and came in hot with an arching downward swipe. He barely got out of the way in time to only get a slash across the chest, but he roared at her and tried to barrel her down. She rolled out of the way and Nick tried to punch him when Kingston turned around. It didn’t do anything to phase him though and he tackled Nick, aiming to dig his tusks into his chest.

“Nick!” Sloane yelled, getting up to stab Kingston in the back. Before she could though, Trubel was already moving and grabbed him piggy-back style. He roared and stood up, trying to get her off as he moved around. Trubel held on for dear life, her hand wrapping around one of the bony tusks. She pulled, trying to keep him from hitting anyone else. But then there was a sickening _crack_ and he went down. Trubel stood up, confused and shaken. Hank and Nick got to their feet in the quiet and looked down as Kingston went back to looking human, albeit a very dead one.

“You broke his neck,” Hank said, catching his breath.

“It’s your Grimm strength…You still can’t control it all the way,” Sloane sighed.

Trubel looked up at them, shaking her head. “I-I didn't mean to kill him.”

Nick sighed and shook his head. “You didn't. I killed him.” She looked at him in confusion, but Sloane was nodding slowly. “He attacked officers of the law. You were not even here,” he said seriously.

Hank nodded, pulling out his phone. “Calling it in.”

Nick nodded and looked back at Trubel. “Tell Clay he doesn't have to fight.”

She hesitated, guilt playing on her face, but nodded and went for the door.

Nick was looking at Kingston with frustration on his face and Sloane frowned. “Nick? You okay?”

He shook his head. “No…I was next to useless in that fight.”

“No, you weren’t—”

“If you and Trubel hadn’t been here, I’d be dead,” he said. “I appreciate it, don’t get me wrong. But I…at least could hold my own once. I don’t know how long we can keep this up like this…”

Hank and Sloane didn’t say anything, but they couldn’t deny that things had been easier before.

“…You guys wait here, I’ll go make sure Trubel’s ok and gets out of here,” Sloane said. Nick nodded with a sigh and Hank was waiting on confirmation that more officers would be out soon. She headed inside and followed the signs to the locker rooms. She heard Trubel yelling from down the hall though and quickened her pace.

“Hey! Hey, stop it. Leave him alone. Clay, you don't have to fight. Stan's dead.”

Sloane sped to a run and got through the door just as Dolores Pittman woged.

“Grimms…two of them!” she said, her voice turning low and bellowing. Clay, who had been on the ground, woged as well and stood, grabbing the leg of a broken chair nearby similar to one Delores already had in her hand—had she been beating her son? It surprised Sloane but she figured they could discuss it more later.

“Kill them,” Delores growled. “Kill them before they kill us! Kill them!” She was cut off as clay struck her hard in the head, sending her sprawling. He was woged with rage, standing over his mother with the club looking ready to destroy her. Delores woged back to human in fear, staring up at him.

“No, Clay, don't,” Trubel said quickly.

“Put it down, Clay,” Sloane agreed. “Clay, put it down…This isn’t what you want, right?”

Clay’s eyes slowly cleared of the anger, looking instead as shocked and scared as his mother. Unwoging, he looked at his hands and then turned to rest one on the padded rest next to him. Raising the club, he brought it down hard on his own arm.

“No!” Delores cried.

Clay didn’t listen, bringing it down again, and again, until there was a crack and he gritted his teeth against the pain. Looking down at her, tossed the bloodied club down at her feet. “I'm done.” It carried with it a finality that meant he was done with more than just the fights.

Delores knew that too and whispered tearfully. “No, Clay...Clay... no, Clay, wait.” She cried as he headed for the door. Sloane glanced at Delores, then at Trubel and turned to follow her following Clay.

“Tonight's main event is a forfeit,” an announcement came over the PA system. “Winner by default, Fists of Fury, Frankie Solanos.” Clay didn’t seem to care, cradling his arm as he walked the halls.

“…Hey,” Sloane said, catching up, He tensed, looking at her warily. “…You want a lift to the hospital?”

He blinked, glancing at the two of them. “…You’re Grimms…”

“Yeah. And I’m a cop. She’s…not, but it’s complicated. But I’m not interested in killing you as you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“…I hurt people…they used Bobby and the others to make me ready…My mom orchestrated all this…she didn’t care about anything except me winning…” he said bitterly.

“…We can talk more about that later. For now, Stan is dead because he attacked us and we’re pretty sure he killed Abe and Bobby. Not you. So, I’m offering you a lift to get that arm looked at. After that, you decide what you want to do.”

“…I don’t know…This is all I’ve focused on for so long,” he said, sounding lost. “I mean…I don’t have insurance or anything—”

“I will worry about that,” she sighed, gently setting a hand against his back. “But cops are going to be swarming this place real soon and I’d like to get Trubel out of here for reasons. So, doctor?”

He hesitated but nodded and let her lead him out. Nick and Hank looked up when they came out and gaped. “What happened?”

“Mom’s also a Heftigauroch, stuff happened, Clay’s arm is busted up and I want to take him to the hospital. Keys,” she ordered, holding out her hand.

They looked at each other but Hank shrugged and fished the keys out. “What about us?”

“I’ll be back, you get to deal with the other cops asking questions.”

“Why is it always us that gets to do that?” Nick asked.

“Because I’m smart enough to get out of here.” She gently nudged Trubel and Clay down the alleys to the car and got in the driver seat to head out.

“…You guys aren’t going to kill me?” Clay asked.

“I could ask why you came with us if you thought we might but let’s leave it at no,” she said, heading for the nearest hospital. “Look, I know what people say about us and for the most part it’s true, but we’re a bit more discretionary when it comes to wesen. Trubel said you were a good guy, I believe her.”

He looked at Trubel and she blushed a bit and shrugged. “You were nice to me yesterday…I didn’t think you were the killer.”

“…So, I didn’t kill Bobby?” he clarified.

“You?” Sloane asked in surprise.

“I mean…Bobby was one of the guys Stan brought in to work me over, get me ready for the fight against Tyler. I thought maybe I hit him too hard and…”

She shook her head. “Bobby died from stab wounds. Likely by Stan given the layout.”

Clay bit his lip and looked down at his arm. “…Did Abe know?”

“…I think so. But I also think, from what Trubel overheard, he wasn’t happy with it. He wanted to come clean. And Stan killed him for that too.”

“He’s really dead?” he asked a bit more quietly.

“Yeah. I’m sorry,” Sloane said. She felt for this kid really. His whole world messed up in one night.

“…What do I do now?”

Trubel looked at him. “Whatever you want, really. I mean, you could be a cop?”

“Oh, noooo,” Sloane shook her head. “I mean, good guys as cops would be great. But if he would prefer not having to hit people and fight, and that’s probably what everyone wants, not the best idea.”

“Ah…right,” she said, blushing at the slip.

“I don’t have enough for college or anything…I was never all that good…” Clay said, looking down.

“…Listen, a lot has happened tonight. What I’d recommend is get your arm looked at, then we can drive you to get your stuff and check you into a motel. Try to rest and just…think about what you do like. I mean this day and age, you can probably spin anything into a job. Find something to do in the meantime if you have to, but just try and remember none of this is your fault. It’s because of a bunch of adults trying to use you in one way or another.”

“Including my mom…” he muttered.

“Yeah, but hey, parents are like that sometimes,” she sighed. “I've learned despite what they say, you can pick your family."

Clay didn’t say more, just stared out the window as they drove and Trubel sighed.

\-----------------

In the end Clay’s arm was broken and they had to cast it. Sloane paid the bill and Clay swore up and down he’d repay her somehow. She just told him to figure out his life first. They could find nothing to tie Delores to the murders, but the fact Clay now wanted nothing to do with her wasn’t surprising. While she was held for questioning, they helped him get his stuff and to a motel like they promised—he had enough for a few days. Sloane gave him her card and told him to let her know if she could help, and Trubel’s number was scrawled on the back. She didn’t know if or when he might use them, but she didn’t feel right letting him not have some sort of safety net.

It was late by the time they got Nick and Hank to take them home, but they approved of what they did. When Sloane and Trubel got home they both went to bed exhausted.

In the morning Sloane got up to make breakfast, yawning but awake. “Trubel, breakfast is almost ready.” She didn’t hear an answer and paused. “Trubel?” Still nothing. She finished the eggs and plated them before heading to the door. “Hey, you up?” She knocked and didn’t hear anything. Frowning, she opened the door and peeked in. She opened the door wider when she saw the bed was made and all of Trubel’s things were gone, except for the black knight chess piece resting on the desk in the corner. She knew she wouldn’t just leave that. But that she wouldn’t just take off suddenly either.

Going to her room, she grabbed her phone and dialed Trubel’s number. When she didn’t pick up, she growled but then dialed Nick.

“Sloane? Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, Nick…Is Trubel with you?” she asked hopefully.

“What? Uh, no, she’s not. Why?”

“Because I came to get her for breakfast and her room is empty. Even her bag is gone.”

“She’s gone? Where?”

“I don’t know! She’s just gone…” She tried not to sound as hurt as she felt.

“Okay, well…Your cars there, right? She couldn’t have gone far.”

“Unless she called a cab…Hold on.” She went back out and to the garage, looking in. “Juliette’s bike isn’t here so she must’ve taken that.”

“Okay, but where too then?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she’d go over to the shop or Monroe and Rosalee’s without us…”

He hummed in thought. “Well…what about the trailer? She likes it there.”

“The trailer? That’d be like two hours or more by bike!”

“Well, she’s determined, remember? Maybe she wanted to look something up?

“And take all her stuff?” She sighed, dropping the defensive tone. “It’s not a bad idea though. I’ll go check.”

“I’ll come too. I can pick you up on the way.”

“Okay…thanks.”

“See you in a bit.” 

They hanged up and Sloane quickly ate and changed before Nick got there. She got out and jumped in his car when he arrived and sighed. “I really hope you’re right; she’s not answering my calls still…”

“Or mine,” he said, sounding tense as well. “You two didn’t have a fight?”

“No,” she said defensively.

“Hey, I don’t mean anything by it. People living together have fights, it happens.”

“Well we didn’t. We get along pretty well…”

“You don’t sound sure,” he asked carefully.

Sloane looked at her phone then sighed. “She was talking about going out on her own one day…”

“Oh…And…you think she is?” he asked, unsure what to think of that.

“I don’t know. I hoped she’d at least give me a heads up…”

“…You mentioned once your mentor just up and left one day,” he said, trying to sound casual.

Sloane gave him jaded look. “Don’t go trying to analyze me, detective.”

Nick held up a hand. “I’m just saying, I can get why this would hurt. For you especially, but it’d hurt anyone I’m sure.”

“I wasn’t hurt when Dierdre left,” Sloane said, folding her arms. “I was 18, out of school and it was time. It’s what I expected.”

“Well aren’t you reminding me that Trubel isn’t a kid? She’s over 20.”

“But she hasn’t been training for 9 years,” she pointed out.

“…You plan on her being with you that long?”

“Yes…no…” she sighed and threw up her hands. “I don’t’ know, okay? I just don’t like waking up and she’s gone because…”

“Because…?”

“…It’s a crappy thing to do to someone…” she muttered.

Nick left it at that. He knew there was a lot that this Dierdre person had done to her that Sloane didn’t want to examine too closely, and he didn’t want to push her too hard at once.

They got to the trailer and Nick unlocked it. Inside they saw Trubel’s bag on the desk and they both let out a breath of relief. “Well…there’s her bag at least.”

Sloane nodded, going over to pat it. “But where’s the owner?”

Nick wasn’t sure either but set a hand on Sloane’s shoulder. When the door suddenly opened, they both whirled, ready to fight, only to see Trubel rush in. “Don't do that,” Nick snapped.

Trubel huffed a bit through catching her breath. “I had to make sure you weren't followed.”

“You don't think we know what we’re doing?”

“Easy,” Sloane said quietly. Nick took a breath to try and calm himself.

“Yeah, you don't know everything,” Trubel said. Both of them looked at her impatiently and she sighed, trying to calm down as well. “That's why I'm here. I didn't tell you something.”

“That you were leaving?” Sloane asked, folding her arms again in disapproval.

“That's why I left my black knight, so you'd know I was here. I was trying to be safe.” They both frowned at her in confusion and she collected her thoughts quickly. “You know that FBI agent, I think her name's Chavez? She's wesen.”

Sloane and Nick glanced at each other in surprise, then at her. “You saw her woge?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, when she kidnapped me,” she said with an annoyed huff.

“What?!” Sloane said, her protective instincts rising.

“What are you talking about?” Nick asked, unsure he even heard her right.

“I wasn't supposed to tell anybody,” she said ruefully. “It was sort of like a threat against me and you, which is why I'm here.”

Nick still looked confused and lost. “Why would the FBI want to kidnap you?”

“No, she said it had nothing to do with the FBI. There were three guys with her. They grabbed me off the street when I was riding Juliette's bike, put a bag over my head, and took me to some old warehouse, and then she woged right in my face. She wanted to see if I was a Grimm!” she said, getting more worked up. Nick was shocked but didn’t look like he thought she was lying. Pieces were coming to place in his head. “Did she come and see you?”

Nick nodded slowly, “Yeah, she did…She said it was just between the two of us. But she was very interested in you.”

“Well I’m feeling left out,” Sloane said, nostrils flaring and hands going to her hips as she moved agitatedly. “Maybe I should go pay her a visit and ask here where the hell she gets off—”

“Easy, Sloane,” he said quickly. “She didn’t ask about you, so I don’t think she’s aware you’re a Grimm. Or if she is, she hasn’t talked to you yet.”

“I’ll make her aware! Painfully aware!”

“Maybe don’t,” he said, a question that wasn’t quite a question. “It might be to our advantage she doesn’t know about you yet. If she tries to get you alone, don’t go if you don’t have to.” Sloane growled in her throat but huffed and didn’t argue. Nick looked back at Trubel, worried. “What did you say to her?”

“Nothing! I mean, I told her you weren’t wesen when she asked, just that you were my “cousin”, but we were pretty distantly related,” she said, looking at Sloane. “I didn’t want her to kidnap you too. But then she said there were people that were very interested in my services, said that being able to identify and destroy wesen influence in society was, like, a very valuable gift.”

“A wesen said that?” Sloane asked, arching her brow.

“Yeah. She wanted me to be a part of some group. And she told me to think about it and not to tell anyone, otherwise...They'd, you know, have to kill us or whatever.”

“I’d like to see them try…But wait, what group?”

“Yeah, she didn't say anything else about who this group was or where they were?” Nick asked.

“No, she just said she'd be in contact with me. I was hoping you'd know who they were.”

Nick shook his head. “I have no idea…Sloane?”

She frowned, thinking. “…The last I knew of, with Grimms and Wesen working together officially, was Aegis. The organization my grandmother worked with in World War II.”

“Is it still going?” he asked hopefully.

“If it is, I’ve never come across it. But according to my grandmother’s journal, they disbanded at the end of the war. So, I can’t say for sure, and even so, I don’t think I’d trust them without knowing them. 70 years is a long time for things to change.”

Nick nodded, seeing her point. “Yeah…”

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” Trubel said honestly. “I was afraid they'd hurt you guys, and Juliette.”

Nick sighed and looked at Trubel. “I think you should come back home.”

“Nick...” she said, shaking her head.

He reached out and set a hand on her shoulder, looking at her seriously. “If they find out that you just suddenly left, they might think that you told Sloane or me. We need to remain very close, at least until we can figure out who Chavez is and what it is we're dealing with.” Sloane smiled a bit at him and Trubel sighed but nodded slowly. “Now, if she contacts you again...”

“Trust me, I'm telling you. Both of you.”

“Good,” Sloane said, feeling relieved.

\---------------

Later that afternoon they got a call and coordinated to the scene in what looked like a relatively nice neighborhood. What might bring down the property values was the dead man in front of one house, covered head to toe in what looked like red clay.

“What do we got?” Hank asked, looking at the scene dubiously.

“Nothing but fun and games, and by that, I mean I don't know what the hell we're dealing with, as usual,” Wu said, lifting the crime scene tape so they could all duck underneath. “Victim's name is Keith Harrow.”

“Who found the body?” Nick asked, going over to look at it out of duty and a hint of morbid curiosity as they pulled on their gloves.

“That would be me,” Wu sighed. “Woman who lives here, Sara Fisher, was signed in at Treeview hospital last night. Hospital made the domestic abuse call. Ms. Fisher has a restraining order, which the vic didn't pay much attention to. In retrospect, he should have. I knew to hint you guys should handle it,” he added quietly.

Nick looked over the man carefully, grimacing. “Looks like there's something coming out of every orifice…”

“Great way to put it,” Sloane said, lip curling in disgust.

“It’s clay, I think,” the crime tech said. She was getting a sample into a jar. “My guess is ultisol, judging by the reddish color.”

“Ultisol?” she asked in confusion.

“It’s a reddish, clay like soil found in warm, humid climates. Not exactly native to the northwest,” she clarified. She packed up her sample and went to go assist with the next steps.

“I've heard of Russian mob guys pouring cement down an informant's throat, but Clay's a first,” Hank said.

“Where would they get it all?” Nick asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Maybe they brought a cement mixer...” Wu said. Nick looked up at him with a new expression of disbelief and Wu shrugged. “With a lot of clay in it. That’s the most normal explanation I can come up with. What’s yours?”

Sloane opened her mouth, but they were interrupted by a commotion on the other side of the tape.

“What's going on? Keith!?” a man yelled, trying to get over the crime scene tape. Like the body he was wearing a flannel shirt over a muscle tank and jeans and had a bit of stubble around his face.

“Hey, sir, you can't come out here!” Wu shouted, going over to quickly stop him.

“That's my brother! What happened?” he demanded.

The detectives rose to get there. “Hey. We got it, Wu,” Hank said. Wu sighed but backed off. “What's your name?”

“Nate Harrow,” he grunted, adjusting his clothes with an annoyed look at Wu.

“Your brother's body was discovered by one of our officers in response to a domestic abuse call,” Nick said.

Nate’s jaw dropped “Oh, my God…He's dead?” He looked around them, trying to confirm.

“Yes.”

“I don't believe it…”

“This is an active crime scene, sir,” Hank said.

“My brother was murdered?” he asked, getting angrier now.

“We can’t confirm that till we’ve had an autopsy,” Sloane said.

“Was he shot? Stabbed?” He tried to look at the body around them again. “What's that all over his body? Who did this?”

Hank held up a hand to try and get him to slow down. “Did you know your brother had a restraining order against him being on this property?”

He huffed and then looked around. “Where's Sara?” he moved as if to go to the house, but Hank got in front of him, holding the hand firmly on his chest now.

“Answer my question,” he said seriously.

He glared but nodded. “Yeah, I knew. He tried calling me last night, but I didn't get the message till this morning. But I could tell he was messed up. He said he was coming over here. If anybody killed him, it was Sara. His ex-wife. She hated him. Keith wasn't no Saint, but he was trying to get his life together. She either did this or hired somebody to.”

They all shared a look before nodding to another officer. “Sir, this officer's gonna take down your information. We'll call you when we know more.,” Hank said. He didn’t look happy but followed the officer as he was led away.

“Getting his life together? Haven’t heard that before,” Sloane said snidely under her breath.

“There's no way his wife was strong enough to do that to him unless she's wesen,” Hank said quietly.

“Yeah, what kind of wesen would use Clay to kill somebody?” Nick looked at her and Sloane shrugged helplessly.

“No idea. For all I know, Wu’s cement mixer idea might be right.”

“I think we need to talk to her,” Hank sighed.

\----------------

Nick knocked on the door of the hospital even though it was somewhat open. “Sara Fisher?”

A rather tired, frail looking woman with reddish brown hair looked up from where she was sitting in the hospital bed. “Yes?”

“I'm Detective Burkhardt. These are my partners, Detective Griffin and Detective Larson. We've just come from your home,” he said gently.

“This about Keith?” the man sitting by her bed asked.

“Your name, sir?” Hank asked.

“Oh, I'm Ben Fisher,” he said, standing and offering his hand. “I'm Sara's brother. Did... did you arrest Keith?”

They shook his hand but paused and looked over to see there was also a young boy of about 9 at a table, playing with a monster doll but looking at them with wide eyes. He had fair hair and eyes and a cast around his wrist.

“This your son?” Hank asked slowly.

“Yes, that's David.”

“It's probably best if David waits outside with Sloane while we speak with you and your brother.”

Sloane blinked and then looked at him. “Best he waits with _whom_?” she asked without moving her lips much.

Nick huffed but leaned in to whisper in her ear as he turned her around. Sloane desperately tried to ignore her heart speeding up as he did. “I don’t think he’s going to want to be alone with a man right now. Please.”

“I thought I was here to see if his mother is…” she held up her hand with three fingers as a W, their quick wesen sign.

“Sloane, please,” he said sincerely. “Just sit in view. It might be easier that way.”

Sloane glared but then sighed and turned. The boy was looking at her uncertainly and she looked probably equally unsure back. “Hey, David…I’m Sloane Larson.”

He nodded a little but didn’t say anything.

“David, can you go outside with Sloane while your Uncle and I talk to these men?” Sarah asked.

He didn’t look like he wanted too but Sloane walked over. “It’s okay. It’s just grown-up stuff.”

“Please, David,” his mother asked, similar to how Nick had pleaded with Sloane.

He sighed, grabbing his two action figures and standing. “Okay…”

Sloane awkwardly set her hand on his shoulder and guided him out to a table with a sight-line into the room. “Let's go right here.” She sat down facing the room while he sat down with her. She could vaguely make out what they were saying with a tiny bit of enhanced hearing, but she was focusing on Sara’s form to see if she shifted at all. She was distraught when Nick delivered the news but didn’t change from what she could see. Glancing back at David, she frowned a bit as he play battled with his action figures as best he could with a cast around one hand.

“How'd you hurt your wrist?” she asked curiously, as if making conversation

He hesitated, glancing at her and then back at the action figures. One was a man in a long coat and the other a large, ugly monster with nasty claws that looked like something she’d hunt. “I fell.”

A dim alarm went off in her head. Growing up, she’d get hurt in training now and then. Broken arms, cuts, bruises. Dierdre didn’t always hold back. Her excuses were varied, but “I fell” was in there pretty often. “…Does it still hurt?”

He shrugged. He had the monster knock the man down and then moved as if it was clawing him up.

“Monster kind of going to town there…your guy there better fight back or the monster will win.”

“He always wins,” David said quietly.

Sloane blinked and looked at the kid more closely. “…The monster always wins? Is he the hero?”

“No. He’s the monster,” he said, as if that was obvious.

“Just checking. My toys didn’t always stay in the same roles as a kid…” That was an odd sudden wave of nostalgia. “But I usually had the good guys win.”

“That’s just stories. They don’t win in real life…”

Sloane watched him and then picked up the figure of the man in the coat. “Have you seen the monsters win?” He looked up at her and then down at the monster figure before humming a yes. “Did the monster do that to you?” She was remembering the moment, as a 9-year-old herself, of being taken to a psychologist to talk about her grandmother’s death. How delicate they tried to be with her. David didn’t seem as delicate, but he was instead guarded. Like Trubel was, after spending years seeing something no one would believe.

“Yeah,” David said quietly.

“Was it your dad?”

“My stepdad,” he clarified. He looked up at her more clearly. “When he gets mad, the monster comes out.”

“…Like he seems to change? Like something inside comes out?” He nodded slowly. “What did he look like?”

“Real bad and scary.”

Sloane sighed. “A lot of monsters look like that…” She watched him again before tapping the monster figure with her finger. “When I was your age, I started seeing monsters. A lot of them.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah. They hurt someone I loved. My grandmother. They wanted to hurt me too, but she saved me…I hated feeling helpless and like I couldn’t do anything.”

“…Did your grandma win?”

Sloane tightened her grip a little on the hero doll and sighed. “No…that time you’re right, the monsters did win. And I lost her.”

“…I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Sloane looked at him and then tapped the monster again. “I’ve seen a lot of others too though. Big ones, hairy ones, sharp teeth and claws. And there’s one I met, you know what the worst thing about him was?”

“What?” he asked, looking worried.

“He looked like a giant booger,” she said with the upmost seriousness. David stared before he giggled despite himself. “I’m serious! He was all green and slimy! Like a big ol’ loogie, just walking and jiggling around. And he smelled like sweaty socks boiled in cabbage water!”

“Ew!” he laughed. He calmed and then looked at her more seriously. “Did they hurt you? The ones you met after?”

Sloane hesitated. How much does she divulge here? She didn’t want to scar the kid, but she didn’t want to sugar-coat it either. “Some do. Most tried.”

“What did you do?

“I got stronger,” she said honestly. “I learned how to fight back.”

“Did you kill any of them?”

“…Yes,” she said.

“How?” he asked almost eagerly.

She knew she couldn’t go over lethal methods, weak points and the like. David wasn’t Grimm she was sure, he didn’t need to know this at his age. “That's a secret."

"But--"

"Sorry, but it really is a secret," she said. "But you know what's important? Believing I was stronger than them.” She stood the hero doll up. “When you believe you can stand up to them and kill them, they don’t know what to do sometimes. And when you have something to fight for—whether it’s that belief or a person or a hope that…no one else has to go through what you did, you get a lot stronger.”

“Is that why you became a cop?” he asked.

“…Part of it, yeah. And I’m betting you’re stronger than you think.” She smiled a bit. “You might need a little training, but one day you’ll be able to stand up to them. Get brave, get strong, the monsters will know who to fear, right?” She moved so that the hero hit the monster and he went down.

David smiled a bit and hummed.

Nick came out then. “We're done.”

“Okay.” Sloane stood.

“Bye, Sloane,” David said.

She smiled a bit, handing the action figure back to him. “Bye, David…Here.” She pulled out a card. “You see anymore monsters, call me, okay? Something else I learned: Every hero can use back up.”

David smiled and nodded, putting the card in his pocket.

Nick was surprised as she straightened. “I…honestly didn’t know you were good with kids.”

“I’m not,” Sloane said. “But I had some common ground…”

“Anything from Sara?” Hank asked.

“No woge, but David said, when his stepdad gets mad, he turns into a monster.”

“Oh, that’ common ground.”

“So vic is a wesen,” Nick sighed.

“Too late to figure out what kind. You think Sara knows?” Hank pressed the button for the elevator.

“I'm not sure I know how to ask that question right now…If she saw something, she might just think she's crazy.”

“I hear that,” Hank sighed.

“But if David's stepdad was wesen, what killed him?”

“That’s what we need to figure out,” Sloane said, getting into the elevator with them. “Let’s get Trubel, the more eyes the better.”

Nick nodded and they headed out, swinging by to grab Trubel and fill her in on the way. “So…this kid’s stepdad was hurting him?” Trubel asked as they pulled up to the trailer.

“Yeah…and his mom,” Hank sighed. “She did say he was threatening them even more too last night. Sounded like he might’ve been dangerous.”

“…I’m not sorry he’s dead,” she said definitively.

“I agree it’s not a huge loss,” Nick said. “But we need to make sure that if whatever did this is a wesen, it’s not going to kill more people. We don’t know if it targeted Keith or if it was just luck of the draw for him.”

“Or if it was targeting David and Sara,” Sloane pointed out.

“That too,” he agreed.

They got inside the trailer and started pulling books, flipping and browsing for any lead. They were there for almost an hour in silence with only the pages of books turning before Trubel spoke up. “You ever wonder how many Grimms there are in the world?”

“Occasionally,” Nick nodded, glancing at Sloane.

“…I know of about 10 that may or may not be alive,” Sloane said, counting in her head. “That includes Kelly. But I know she’s alive,” she looked at Nick. “She texted me the other day. She and Diana are in Colorado for a bit.”

Nick smiled and nodded. He appreciated the update even if she couldn’t go into exact specifics.

“That still doesn’t seem like enough…” She glanced at Nick as well, her gaze more worried.

Nick either didn’t notice or didn’t deign to respond. “Well, I'M not finding anything with clay as its M.O.,” he sighed, flopping back in the chair near the desk.

“Maybe what killed him wasn't wesen,” Hank said. “Like the Volcanalis or that ghost lady.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Trubel said, sitting up straighter on the bed. “You're saying there's more than just wesen?”

“I’m afraid so,” Sloane sighed. “I still don’t know what that Volcanalis is technically, and I don’t believe in ghosts—”

“You weren’t there,” Nick said. This was a familiar argument ever since he told her about the La Llorna incident.

She rolled her eyes at Nick. “But I know there are other things in the world. Things even we don’t want to mess with…”

“Oh, great,” Trubel said with a groan. “Just when I was getting a handle on this. Perfect.”

Hank’s phone rang and he moved to grab it out of his pocket. “Detective Griffin…Mr. Fisher?” He listened and then stood, looking shocked. “Where are you?...Okay, stay there. We'll come over.” He hanged up and looked at them. “That was Sara's brother, Ben. He's interested in confessing to the murder of Keith Harrow.”

Nick was taken aback, and he looked at an equally surprised Sloane.

But what surprised her more was where they ended up. The building was old white stone with a couple of lion gargoyles on the front surrounding the stain glass window. It wasn’t a charge however—the glass was a beautiful depiction of a menorah in blues and greens with red and orange flames. Jewish scripts were engraved beneath the window and between the lions. On either of the front was towers made of red brick with white stone and tops, and the main part of the temple was in a similar style with domed tops in weathered brick. “This is…”

“Temple Beth Israel,” Hank said. He paused and looked back. “…You okay?”

“Yeah, just…” She felt strangely body-less looking at the building. Like she was free floating without a tether. They didn’t have a temple in Wildred growing up—what part of her Jewish heritage she really knew had been taught to her by her grandmother. And then had been put by the wayside like so much else from then when Dierdre came for her. Standing in front of it made her feel…small. And like somehow, she was a liar. Could she call herself Jewish if she wasn’t sure what she believed? “I’m okay,” she said, shaking herself. She walked in with them and was surprised again how beautiful it was on the inside—warm wooden benches leading up to the podium at the front of the room. Behind the podium was the Torah Ark— _What was the word? What was it?_ —and the chairs and tables for the Rabbis to use at worship.

“Mr. Fisher?” Nick called. Ben was sitting in one of the seats to pray and they noted he had a yarmulke on his head. He looked up and then rose with a sigh.

“Thank you for coming…”

“Not every day someone wants to confess,” Hank said, though he looked like he wasn’t sure what he was doing exactly.

“You killed Keith Harrow?” Nick asked.

“I did,” he said. His conviction was unwavering and though he looked somewhat guilty he also looked resigned.

“Want to tell us how?”

He nodded but then hesitated. “There's something I need to show you, in my study. Please, this way.” He gestured and then started for the back of the synagogue.

“You're a Rabbi here?” Sloane asked.

“For ten years. I was a grad student in linguistics. My thesis was translating ancient Kabbalistic texts. Eventually, I read myself into a new calling,” he said with a wistful smile. “What I'm about to tell you will be hard for you to understand, let alone believe.”

“Try us,” Nick said wryly.

He clapped his hands and rubbed them in anticipation. “All right.” Going through, he led them to a homey study in the back with many bookcases, glass cases and a fine desk. It was elegant but reserved and it reminded Sloane of a library in some of the old colleges she’d visited abroad. Ben went over to open one of the glass cases, pulling out something protected by a black velvet bag. “In the 16th century, several rabbinical sources recorded Rabbi Yehuda Loew, the Maharal of Prague, raising a golem from Clay, using this scroll.”

“Whoa, hold on,” Sloane said, jolting a bit. “A Golem? _The_ Golem? From the Vitava river?”

He was surprised as he set the scroll down. “You know the story?”

“…My grandmother told it to me, when I was young. She said part of our family were in Prague at that time. A protector, made of clay from the river.”

“Yes, exactly! It's an anthropomorphic creature that's supposed to protect its people from the holy Roman emperor, Rudolf II, only it proved too dangerous to wield.”

“Yeah, that’s about what she said too…”

“Now, the remains of the golem were supposed to be kept in the attic of the Alt-Neu Shul in Prague, the synagogue, but...” He went back over to the case and pulled out a ceramic jar, white with blue scrollwork painted on it, and treated it like he was hold a bomb. “The remains were reported missing in 1984 when a documentary film crew went looking for it.”

Sloane bit her tongue at that but was looking at the jar with a hard expression.

“Are you telling us that this jar contained the remains of a golem?” Nick asked, trying to keep calm.

“Well, I didn't really think so,” he said quickly. “The rabbi before me, Meisel, he brought it over with several other artifacts when he emigrated from Moravia. I didn't think it would do anything, but I was desperate, so I prayed. I prayed because I was so angry,” he said, trying to control his voice. “This man was destroying my family!”

“So, you read that scroll and called up a golem to kill Keith Harrow?” Hank asked.

“I did.”

“And you believe your prayers were answered,” Nick said.

“I know they were,” he said firmly.

Hank sighed and shook his head. “We appreciate you wanting to confess, but we can't arrest you for praying for someone to die.”

“Yeah, but I'm telling you the truth, and you don't believe me,” Ben said, disappointed but not surprised.

“Doesn't matter what we believe. It's what we can prove. Praying isn't a crime,” Nick said.

“I'm telling you, this is what happened,” he said stubbornly.

Hank set a hand on the jar and picked it up carefully. “We'll take the jar and test the residue. If it's the same Clay that killed Keith Harrow, our lab will verify it.”

“And if they do?” he asked urgently.

“We'll start believing,” Nick said.

\--------------------

“Residue from the jar matches the Clay at the crime scene,” Hank said, setting the papers down on Nick’s desk.

Nick was surprised but leaned back with a sigh. “So, we have a murder weapon.”

“All we need is a "how in the hell," and we got this one wrapped up.”

“And how do we arrest a golem?” he asked quizzically.

“Or Ben praying for one.”

“Can't wait to explain that to the D.A.,” he laughed. He looked over at Sloane and his smile dimmed a bit. She’d been rather pensive since they got back. “Hey, Sloane? You okay?”

She looked up and nodded. “Yeah, fine…”

“That was convincing,” Hank said.

She sighed, tapping her fingers on her desk before moving in closer. “My grandmother told me a lot about the golem as a kid. Though I realized later, our stories were a bit different than the usual ones.”

“How so?”

“Oma told me the story like this: The Rabbi created the Golem to protect his people because a someone was going around killing children and the Jews were being blamed. While it wasn't proved, people from their city were being assaulted by the other citizens and soldiers and some ended up dead. He built the Golem out of clay from the river and bound it to his will by saying a special prayer over the sculpture he made that brought him to life. He was meant to protect the Jews until the truth came out and help rebuild some of the destruction the panic had caused. However, when they were attacked again by a group of solders, the golem grew and grew and swept over the attackers, swallowing them in a wave of clay. A whole group of men wiped out. But, so too were some of the Jews, who tried to stop it because they didn’t want more deaths. When the Rabbi saw what had happened, he feared the Golem’s power and blamed himself for more death. He sought out a friend who was well versed in the strange powers of the world and together they figured out how to stop the golem and seal it away.”

“…That friend was a Grimm I’m guessing?” Hank said.

“Yeah, though she didn’t go into specifics then. I thought it was just a lesson on even the best intentions can make things worse…” She leaned back, looking up at the ceiling with a sigh. “…I don’t even remember a lot of the Hebrew she taught me I’m pretty sure…” she said quietly.

Nick blinked and hesitated, wanting to say something. What could he say though? What do you say when someone realizes another part of their past is lost?

Hank was thinking similarly but he couldn’t help a smile when he saw who walked in. “Hey!” Cheers and applause erupted, and Nick and Sloane turned to see Renard walking in. Sloane was surprised he was on his feet so soon.

He smiled at them all, nodding and holding up his hand.

“Thank you. All right, thank you. Please. Thank you,” he laughed, nodding to everyone. “Well, you know, lying in a hospital bed really gives a man a chance to think,” he said, knowing they were waiting for him to say something. “These past few years, this precinct has basically been my home, and I-I just want you all to know how grateful I am to each and every one of you for all of your support, and it's great to be back.” They all cheered and clapped again, and he smiled. “Now, Reese, get out of my office.”

“With pleasure!” he shouted, quickly heading out as they all laughed.

Sloane eased back into work, trying to put her memories to the back of her head again. They weren’t working long it felt before an officer came over and told them they’d gotten an alert that Sara had called 911 because someone attacked them at her home again. They were out the door practically running to the car.

“What's the status?” Hank asked the moment he got out.

“Suspect is the brother-in-law of the victim, Sara Fisher,” the officer said. “She's inside with her brother and son.”

“What about the suspect?” Nick asked.

“Left the scene before we got here.”

“Smart,” Sloane growled under her breath as they headed inside.

“Sloane!” David said, getting up to go over to her. She was surprised when he hugged her and looked at Nick like a deer in the headlights. Nick smiled a little. Obviously, she hadn’t intended for David to get attached to her, but he did.

“Um…hey, David,” she said. She hesitantly reached down and patted his head.

“You want to tell us what happened?” Nick asked, looking at them all. They were all pretty shaken it seemed, though David was feeling better with Sloane there. Ben looked like he’d had the wind knocked out of him and Sara was motioning David to come back. He did and she held him close.

“Keith's brother Nate was here when we got home,” she said.

“He thinks we have something to do with Keith's death,” Ben said, glancing up at them.

“And he hit you?” Hank clarified.

“Yeah, that doesn't matter. He threatened Sara and David,” he said, looking at his sister and nephew with a shaky voice.

“Do you know where he lives?” Nick asked.

“Off Germantown road,” Sara said.

“In the woods?” Sloane said, not that surprised. She nodded.

“We're gonna leave officers here until we make sure that we've got him,” Hank promised.

“Okay, thank you,” she sighed.

“I should go with you, 'cause it's very remote,” Ben said, rising.

“Be out in a second,” Nick said. Sloane hanged back as well but it was Nick that sat down in the chair next to David on the couch with his mom. He cleared his throat and looked at him. “How you doing, David?”

David looked hesitant but said quietly. “He was mean, like my stepdad.” He looked at Sloane. “He had a monster in him too.”

Sloane squeezed her fists a little in anger. She knew it was likely Keith was wesen, and she’d had a feeling Nate might be as well. But she wasn’t sure what kind since they hadn’t woged. “We’ll have to do something about that then…”

Nick didn’t contradict her but tried to sound gentler. “Well, I want you to know that nobody should do that to you.”

He nodded a little and then looked at Sloane hopefully. “Can you stay, Sloane?”

She froze. “Uh…me?”

“Yeah. You see the monsters too.”

Sloane hesitated, looking at Nick who was looking back at her uncertainly. _That’s probably why I should go with Nick because he **can’t** see the monsters right now!_ Was what she wanted to say, but she knew that wouldn’t go over well. A year and a half ago she’d have tried to find any way out—Mainly because she’d have been on her own and the only option. But seeing David look up at her hopefully and with a bit of fear made her heart clench uncomfortably. “…Let me talk with Nick.” He nodded and she motioned for him to follow her to the front of the house. “Okay, how do I get out of this one, smart guy?” she hissed.

“Why are you asking me?” he said in confusion.

“Because you got me into this! You asked me to sit with him!”

“And he liked you, go figure,” he said blandly.

“Nick, I am not a babysitter!”

“It’s not like that, Sloane. His mom will be here. You’re more of a…bodyguard.”

“…That’s only moderately better,” she muttered. “Nick, this guy is some kind of wesen. I don’t like you going on your own.”

He frowned at her. “I’m not helpless, you know.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not trying to dig at your machismo. I’m just saying, what if he’s something that takes you by surprise?”

“Then we’ll handle it,” he said evenly. “Look, David is scared. Whatever you said to him, he liked you.”

“I’m not good with kids!”

“Well apparently he disagrees.” She glared and Nick sighed. “Sloane, he’s scared. He thinks you fight monsters, which you do. I know this isn’t what you’d like to do, and I’d usually appreciate you coming along rather than Trubel if just because I still worry about her. But who knows if his uncle is still at that house, he might come back here. And we don’t know what the Golem might do. Having you here might be best in this case because David trusts you.”

“…I hate that you have a point. I hate it so much,” she sighed.

Nick just smiled and set a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Just…do whatever you did this morning.”

“…I have no idea what that is either! I just…talked with him.”

“Then that’s enough.”

“Stop trying to sound wise and mature.”

“Stop whining then.”

Sloane screwed up face but finally sighed. “Okay, go then! Get Trubel to go with you to be safe.”

“Right, right,” he said he said, turning to head out. “We’ll pick you up when we drop Ben off.”

“You better,” she said. She watched them go and then headed inside. “Hey…So, I’m staying.”

“You are?” David asked, smiling brightly.

Sloane couldn’t help but smile a little. “Yep. So, what shall we do while we wait?”

“Um…Have you ever played Super Smash Bros?”

“…I have no idea what that is,” she said honestly.

“What?!” He looked at his mother. “Mom, can we?”

Sara smiled, happy that David was acting much brighter and more active. “I think that would be great…”

\-------------------

Adalind sighed as they kept climbing the spiraling staircase. It felt like they had been climbing for hours. Looking down at the flights below them, it was possible they had been. Where in the castle were they that it could get this high? “How much further? We got to be at the top of the castle by now.”

“Shh. Don't wake them!” Hoffman hissed.

Adalind really shouldn’t have been surprised he was crazy, but it didn’t stop her from looking at him like he was. “There's nobody here.”

“I'm here. I heard you,” a voice said. Adalind’s eyes widened and she whirled around in confusion.

“Now you've done it!” Hoffman moaned, turning to try and race back up the stairs.

“No, don't go!” A face suddenly pushed through the stone wall—like a living statue but so realistic it could just be a person with stone or mud smeared on their face. It was a man about her age, and he looked at her with stone eyes. “I know where your baby is.”

Adaline backed away but paused. “What?”

“I know where she is.”

Another face morphed out of the stone near the stairwell. “Ik weet ook waar ze is,” she said in Dutch.

“Where?”

“Don't listen to them!” Hoffman yelled.

More faces appeared, all speaking different languages, all telling her they knew where her baby was. She looked around desperately, trying to understand but they didn’t tell her anymore information. It was wrong.

“We must go now,” Hoffman said, motioning her to follow. He quickly headed up the steps.

“I know where your baby is.”

“Where?”

“I know where your baby is.”

“Would you please just tell me where she is?” she shouted desperately.

“I know where your baby is.”

“Tell me where she is!” The voices grew in number, the noise sounded like an insessent hum as they overlapped—like a swarm of bees. “Shut up!” She screamed. “Shut up!” she sobbed, covering her ears and leaning against a clear space of wall. She felt hot tears falling down her cheeks. It was too much noise, too much hope and then despair knowing this wasn’t real—it couldn’t be. “Please just tell me where she is!”

The faces quieted slowly but then began to cry with her, in rivulets down their faces. It was like fountains being turned on, the water covering the floor quickly. “No, no! Stop crying!” she gasped. Stop! Stop! Stop! Please stop!” The water began to rise over the stairwell, pooling at her feet, and she scrambled up. “Stop, just stop! Please just stop. Stop! Stop! This can't be happening now…” She quickly moved to get up to where Hoffman had gone, but around the next bend she was met with a stone wall. “What…?” She went up, pounding on the wall in confusion, but it was solid. She gasped when a face began to form on the wall, much bigger than before, and flailed back. The face was hers. It was her face in the stone and it began to cry the largest of the tears. “No, no, no, no. You have to... you have to stop. Stop crying! You have to stop!” She turned to go back down and was met with water that was already past her ankles. “Stop crying! STOP!” she screamed.

The faces just cried harder. She couldn’t go back down; it was already under water. There seemed to be no way out above either. The water continued rising and she slapped the walls, trying to find a mechanism or loose stone or anything that could get her out of there.

\----------------------

Sloane groaned as David sent her character flying again and was declared the winner. “Dangit, that’s the third time! I thought you said this character was easier…”

“You don’t play a lot of video games, huh?” he laughed.

“No, I moved around too much. There were arcade machines when I was younger at a shopping center but that’s about it.”

“Wow, you’re older than I thought.”

“Hey…” she said, playfully ruffling his hair. He’d flinched the first time she moved for him, but he’d relaxed quickly. “This new?” she asked, noticing the box by the TV.

“Yeah…Uncle Ben got it for me. To replace the one he got for my birthday Keith broke…” he added quietly.

“Broke?”

“…I was making too much noise…”

Sloane frowned. “Hey, look at me.” He looked up hesitantly. “You did _nothing_ wrong. Okay? You’re a kid. You’re supposed to make noise and play games and do stuff that causes messes and all that. Keith was a…butt.” She cringed a bit but figured Sara wouldn’t appreciate teaching him the words she wanted to use. “A monster…a butt monster. I mean, not to speak ill of the dead but…can’t really sugar coat it.”

David was giggling and then nodded. “Yeah…”

Sloane stood up. “I’m going to see about something to drink. You want something?”

“If we have lemonade, please.”

She nodded and headed into the kitchen. She saw Sara there, sitting and going over some books. “Hey…”

“Oh, hey…” she said, standing. Sloane realized they were photo albums and looked away.

“Drink run. David said there might be lemonade?”

“Yes, um, the pitcher in the fridge.” She nodded and got it out, finding some cups to put it in. “…You must think I’m stupid, huh?”

Sloane paused and looked at her. “Pardon?”

“Ending up with Keith,” she said, laughing bitterly.

“…I see a lot of bad stuff in this job,” she said honestly. “I’ve learned things happen and try not to judge. I don’t know what you’ve been through.”

She sniffed and looked at the photos. “What I’ve been through…Isn’t worth what I’ve put David through.”

Sloane hesitated but sighed. She wanted to talk she could tell. She wondered if she had some sort of flashing sign she couldn’t see saying _Free Therapist_. Walking over, she looked at the photos and saw another man with her and a very young David. “…That your first husband?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes…Daniel. He was a good man. A good dad too.”

“…What happened?”

She took a shuddering breath. “Drunk driver…Daniel was driving home at night after a business trip. He didn’t want to wait, he wanted to come home and some…genius drove a twice the limit and hit him.”

“I’m sorry,” she said honestly.

She nodded, having heard it before. “David was four…First brush with death and it’s your father. Not easy to explain. Two years later I thought it would be good to start dating again. That he could use a male role model and I…I loved Daniel, but I didn’t want to be alone. I Met Keith at work—he was a construction worker doing a project at our office. He seemed…nice. No red flags till he asked me to marry him 6 months later. I should’ve said no but he asked me at the amusement park with everyone watching and…I think he knew I wouldn’t be able to say no. Then it all just changed. He was controlling and vindictive and jealous…paying attention to David made him jealous, my own son! And then he just…” she started tearing up. “I’m sorry…He cut me off from most of our friends and I just…I haven’t been able to really talk about it.”

“…I’ve had controlling, abusive boyfriends before,” Sloane said. “All I can say is…it’ll get better. Like, not just him not being able to hurt you now. Eventually you’ll think about it less and less and so will David. It’ll still be there but…it won’t hurt you all the time.”

Sara looked up in surprise but then smiled and nodded. She rubbed at her eyes and sighed as she closed the album. “I had to hide these from Keith. Now I’ll show David, remind him what his real father was like—Keith never really wanted to be a dad to him.”

Sloane nodded slowly, trying not to examine the sympathy she felt too closely.

“Sloane?” David called.

“You’re being summoned back for a rematch I’ll wager,” she chuckled.

“Great, more getting my butt handed to me by a grade schooler,” she said, grabbing the drinks. She headed back in. “I’m here, I’m here. And so’s your lemonade.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking the cup. Sloane sat back down then grunted and reached under her for whatever poked her. She pulled out the monster action figure. “Ah, the monster.” She offered him to David who took him and looked at him.

“…How do you fight monsters?”

Sloane paused in her sip and sighed, thinking what to tell him. “…Depends on the monster. They all have different weak points. Getting as much information as you can helps. But if you can’t, perseverance can get you a long way.”

“Perseverance?”

“Don’t give up. Keep fighting. Physically or with your brain, keep working to find a way out. Sometimes you can hide to catch your breath, but you can’t stay hiding. You gotta confront the problem and fight. And that’s true about everything.” David nodded slowly, thinking it over. “Which is why I will figure out how to beat you at this,” she finished, picking up the controller again.

He laughed and grabbed his. “We’ll see about that…”

They played another couple of rounds and Sloane was getting better, but David knew a lot of tricks she didn’t. When her phone rang she sighed in frustration and paused to look at it.

“Hey!”

Sloane looked at him apologetically but given it was Nick calling she didn’t have much choice. “Sorry, I gotta take this,” she said, standing to go over to the front of the house. “Hey, Nick.”

“Hey. Everything okay there?” He sounded agitated and she frowned.

“Yeah, just playing some games with David…I was considering offering to get some pizza delivered.”

“Well, you might hold off on that. We’re on our way back.”

“Yeah? It go okay at Nate’s?”

“No…Really no. He’s dead.”

“What?” she said, straightening with wide eyes.

“The Golem got him. We saw it, just as we were pulling up. Encased him and suffocated him like Keith. Then it disappeared.”

“It was like the ground swallowed him!” Trubel said, sounding a little freaked out.

“Damn…”

“That’s not the worst of it. Talking with Ben, we think it’s being summoned by David.”

“David?” she whispered, glancing back at him. He was playing with his action figures while he waited for her—and this time the hero was winning.

“Ben’s prayer was to protect David. So, the people who make him feel unsafe are in danger. Which wouldn’t be so bad, but we can’t control when that might happen or how it will take care of them.”

“No kidding…”

“We’re on our way back. There’s a way Ben has to stop it but…Look, we’ll talk when we get back.”

“Okay…See you soon.” She hanged up and turned when she heard Sara walking up.

“Is everything okay?” she asked worriedly.

“Yeah. My partners and your brother are coming back with some news.”

She breathed out in relief and nodded. “What'd they say?”

“They want to talk when they get back.”

“Okay…”

It wasn’t too long of a wait before Nick and Hank were at the door. Sara answered it and nodded. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Hank said, both walking inside with serious expressions. Sloane paused the game again and David looked up worriedly.

“So, did you arrest Nate?” Sara asked hopefully.

“You don't have to worry about Nate. He's taken care of,” Nick said. Sloane admired the subtle way he put it.

“Where's Ben?” she asked, noting her brother hadn’t come in.

“He's outside. He wanted to talk to David about what happened.” He nodded towards the back door.

“And I want to talk with you,” Hank said.

She was confused but nodded slowly. “Okay…David?” He looked up from examining his hero doll, nervous. “Your Uncle's outside, and he wants to talk to you, okay? Okay?”

He hesitated and Sloane smiled and patted his back. “It's okay, I'll come with you.” She got to her feet and pulled her jacket on. He nodded and stood as well. As they headed for the back door, David reached up and grabbed her hand. It surprised her but she shifted her grip and held on to him gently. She’d never felt a hand this small in hers before…

Outside, Ben was sitting on a bench towards the end of the back yard, looking nervous but resigned. “Hey Uncle Ben,” David said. He walked over to sit with him, and Sloane handed him his hero doll with a smile.

Nick and Trubel were off to the side and she walked over to join them. “What’s going on?”

Trubel and Nick both looked uncomfortable and Nick sighed. “You’re not going to like this but…play along, okay?” he said back quietly. Sloane frowned and turned to look at Ben and David.

Ben was shaking with nerves and emotion as he set a hand on David’s shoulder. “You know how much I love you, right?” he asked.

“Yeah…?”

“And you know I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Yeah,” he said again, getting worried.

Ben took a shuddering breath, looking close to tears. “I'm so sorry, but this has to happen…”

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused and scared now. Ben stood and moved away from the bench to stand with Trubel and Sloane.

Nick stepped forward then and stood over David with an imposing expression. Sloane frowned more. “David...What's wrong with you? Why would you lie to all of us?” David looked confused and glanced over to Ben and Sloane. “Listen to me!” Nick barked, making him jump and look back at him. He got down face to face with him, in just a foot away and raising his voice. “Now I'm gonna have to arrest you and take you to jail, and... and you can't play with toys in jail!” He grabbed the action figure and tossed it away. Sloane had caught on to the plan quickly—David needed to get scared to summon the Golem. But Nick was right, she did not like it. “Come on.” He grabbed David by his good arm and hauled him up to get off the bench and towards the gate to the front.

“No! Uncle Ben!”

Ben sobbed and moved to go after them. “Stop, it's not working!”

Trubel put a hand on his chest to stop him while David tried to get away from Nick.

“Stop! Don't! No, don't! You're hurting me! Sloane!” She felt a stab in her gut and her heart when he yelled her name and had to bite her tongue hard to focus on anything else. “Leave me alone!”

Nick did pause but got down on his knees again to grab David by the shoulders. “Why are you doing this? You can make all this stop if you just tell me what you did!” Behind him a puddle of red earth began to rise from the ground and take the shape of a huge, imposing man with a scowling face.

“Nick!” Trubel and Sloane yelled. He looked back just before a mass of clay swung at him and knocked him hard out of the way.

“Oh, my God, David!” Sara yelled. She’d seen Nick pulling at her son and came to stop him only to be confronted by the Golem. She didn’t believe, had no idea it was real.

Nick coughed, having the wind knocked out of him, but focused on Ben. “The shem! Do it now!”

Ben quickly pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and rushed towards the Golem to try and shove it inside of the clay and break the prayer. But even when it touched him, he just swiped Ben out of the way like a fly.

“No! Uncle Ben!” David yelled. He was scared and Trubel quickly grabbed him and pulled him back with her and Sloane.

“It didn't work…” Ben groaned. The Golem was moving towards both of them, intent on destroying the perceived threats.

Sloane reached up and pulled her knife from her jacket. “Trubel, watch David!”

“Sloane!” David yelled as she rushed forward.

She knew it wasn’t going to work—the thing was made of clay—but she still brought the knife down into its firm but gooey side. “You leave them alone!” she yelled. The Golem turned to her, and on a second swing it enclosed around her hand and started pulling her into its body. She grunted and tried to pull her arms out, digging her heels into the ground. “It’s got me!”

“Sloane!” Nick yelled, trying to get to her. The Golem swiped at him again, this time encasing his feet in clay so he couldn’t move. Sloane kept struggling but her arms were now inside the Golem’s body and she couldn’t move them, her legs were also being encased and pulled in.

“No!” Trubel yelled, moving to try and grab her. David stared with wide eyes, shaking. She grunted as she tried to pull. “It won’t let go! I can’t get her!”

The Golem pushed her away as well. Sloane screwed up her face as the clay started moving over her neck and chest. “David! Now’s not the time to be scared!” she yelled. “Fight it!” She took a breath as the clay covered her mouth and nose.

“No!” David yelled. “Don't hurt her!” He ran forward, grabbing his hero action figure from the ground and rushing to stab it into the Golem’s side. A deep rumbling came from it and he looked at David but didn’t move to hurt him. “Get away from her!”

“David!” Sarah screamed, but Hank grabbed her before she could move.

“Leave her alone! Get away from her!” David yelled, stabbing at it again and again. “Stop it!” The Golem groaned, bits of it actually falling away where the toy struck him. “Go away!” The Golem groaned even louder and then began to melt away back into the ground. Sloane gasped when it released her, stumbling back. David stared at the monster and then went over to her as it disappeared completely aside from the mud on their clothes. “S-Sloane?”

She coughed, spitting some clay out, and then looked at him and smiled. “You got him…My hero.”

David was a little shocked but then smiled. Sara got up from checking on her brother and rushed over to him. “I got him. I got him, mom!” he yelled triumphantly as she grabbed him close.

Sara gave a shuddering, giddy laugh. “I guess you did,” she agreed. She looked at everyone else as they stood and collected themselves. “Anybody want to tell me what the hell just happened?”

“I got him,” he said again proudly. “I got him, didn't I?”

Nick sighed as he went over and helped Sloane to her feet. “That's the last time I ever yell at a kid…”

“Better be,” she said, coughing again.

\--------------------

Since they couldn’t really say it was a Golem that killed Keith and Nate Harrow, they decided to just leave it as unsolved for now. They explained as best they could what happened and though Sara was shaken, she couldn’t deny it like her brother thought she would. After all she’d seen it with her own eyes.

Their car had protective seat covers luckily, but they’d need a lot of washing. Juliette had invited them all over so they could eat together and explain things. Hank declined, wanting to go home and take a nice shower, but Sloane and Trubel were hungry. First though they needed to pre-wash.

Sloane sighed as Nick turned on the hose and started spraying her down. “Man, this stuff gets everywhere..." she muttered.

“Well, I'm getting you just clean enough you can come through the house,” Nick said, laughing a little.

“Can this clean my sinuses too?” she said, spitting another wad of clay.

“I think that counts as waterboarding, so we won’t be doing that,” Nick said with a smile.

“Just one nostril, come on.”

He laughed. “You’re going to have to start keeping a change of clothes over here too.”

“You invited me,” she reminded him.

“Well, figure we should watch you, make sure it’s not like that virus that turns people into a demon.”

“That’s encouraging,” she said snidely.

Trubel ran the towel through her hair after having already been hosed down. “Do we make an entry for the golem even though it’s not wesen?”

“I think it would be good,” Sloane said. “Better to have the information on hand for us and future generations. Plus, I got the pot and the scroll already.”

“You what?” Nick asked in shock.

“Well, I will,” she amended. “I told Ben I didn’t trust that not biting anyone else in the ass and said I can keep it safe. It’ll be going back to Oma’s house and into the basement, under lock and key, next chance I get.”

“Well…I guess that is rather safe. What about the library though?”

“I’ll send them a copy of the info, but I don’t want a Grimm trying this either to be honest. Plus, our branch is still down.”

“Still?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “There’s a shortage of qualified individuals to work it. The front desk knows about it but isn’t cleared and they haven’t accepted the training to do it.”

Nick hummed and then turned the water off and tossed her a towel. “Well, hopefully someone gets found soon. I wouldn’t mind the extra resources…”

“I want to see it too,” Trubel said. “It sounds cool.”

Sloane smiled and shivered a little. Nick set the hose down and walked over to push her towards the door. “Take off your shoes and head inside. Water’s not the worst things we’ve had to clean up…”

She nodded, taking off her boots and setting them next to the door and walking in with her socked feet. Juliette was finishing up dinner when she walked in. “Hey. I grabbed some clothes for you and Trubel, you can toss yours in the dryer.”

Sloane and Trubel smiled and grabbed a set from the table near the door. “Thanks!” Sloane tried to echo it but then coughed into her arm and cleared her throat.

“Yeah, better go change now before you get sick…” Juliette said worriedly.

“I’ve got a good immune system, it’s just all the clay,” she sighed. “But thank you.” She headed for the laundry room with Trubel to change. When they came out—in shirts and pajama pants—with the dryer started dinner was ready.

“So, the golem was an answer to a prayer,” Juliette clarified, bringing the lasagna she made out to the table.

“A real badass prayer,” Trubel agreed.

“That's kind of big deal, don't you think? I mean, maybe somebody should be proclaiming this from a mountaintop,” she chuckled.

“Yeah, I tried to proclaim a lot of things. Look where it got me.”

“Plus, let’s not encourage people that any old prayer will do things. Otherwise we’ll just get a lot of confusion with the lottery and people getting promotions,” Sloane said. “See how well praying for protection went?”

“If David hadn't turned on his protector, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now,” Nick agreed as he opened his beer and took a sip. There was a knock at the door, and he sighed since he was the only one still standing. “I'll get it.” He headed for the door.

“Being a Grimm didn't help?” Juliette asked, looking at Sloane and Trubel.

“Nah-uh. That thing wasn't wesen,” Trubel said.

“Didn’t fear is in the least bit.” She coughed again and cleared her throat.

“Maybe I should make you some hot tea…” Juliette said, frowning.

Sloane shook her head. “Don’t trouble yourself, really.”

Meanwhile, Nick answered the door to see Rosalee, Monroe and of all people Renard’s mother Elizabeth standing on his doorstep. “Uh-oh,” he said automatically, having a bad feeling.

“No, no, hear us out, and then you can "uh-oh.”,” Monroe said, looking like he was about to deliver bad news.

“We've identified exactly what Adalind did to you,” Elizabeth said calmly and coolly.

“Yeah, we figured out a way for you to get your Grimm back,” Monroe said as he clapped him on the shoulder sand headed inside. He still looked worried despite the good news.

“It's a spell but a complicated one,” Rosalee added equally hastily. She paused when Sloane and Juliette both rose and came to the entrance to the dining room. Trubel was already digging into food. “Sloane? What are you doing here? And in pajamas?”

“Long story,” she said. “Borrowing clothes while we wash ours, clay is a bitch to get out with a hose.”

“…What?”

“Let’s focus, please,” Elizabeth said.

“Right, you said…you can get my powers back? With a complicated spell? How complicated?” Nick asked.

“There's a key ingredient missing, and you're not gonna like what it is,” she said, though she looked amused.

“What is it?” he asked hesitantly.

Elizabeth looked over directly at Juliette with a smile. “Her.”

It was quiet as they all looked at her as well and Juliette blinked owlishly. “…What? Huh? What do you mean me?” she asked, tensing at everyone’s stares.

Rosalee tried to smile comfortingly as she came forward. “Elizabeth recreated the potion that Adalind used on Nick.”

“Yeah, and in order to re-Grimm Nick, you have to, you know, do what Adalind did,” Monroe said simply.

“Do what Adalind did?” Juliette repeated skeptically. “Seriously?”

“Exactly what Adalind did,” Elizabeth said.

“Yeah, you know, breathe in the potion, and...” Monroe started, looking at Nick and trailing off.

“And what?” he asked.

“And make love to you,” Elizabeth finished.

Sloane felt her gut twist. Why was thinking about that making it hard for her to breathe?

“Make love to me? That's it?” Nick asked, obviously thinking that was easy.

“See? Not so bad, right?” Monroe said with a tight, forced smile.

Juliette narrowed her eyes at him. “Why do I get the feeling there's more to it than that?” Trubel and Sloane were also feeling that as well.

“When you do it, you won't exactly be you,” Elizabeth admitted slowly.

Nick’s brow furrowed now that things were getting complicated. “What do you mean?”

“The potion will transform you into...” she trailed off, looking regretful though still smiling faintly.

His eyes widened when he realized what they were talking about and the girls’ jaws dropped. “Oh, God, no,” he said, shaking his head as he tried to clear it.

“You don't mean...” Trubel asked, looking at Sloane in shock.

“Adalind,” Juliette said, looking particularly put out.

“Okay, hold on,” Sloane said. “Maybe we can like sit and talk about this? Start from the beginning—like, when did you start working on this?” She looked at Elizabeth with a touch of trepidation.

Elizabeth smiled back. “Sean, Monroe, and Rosalee mentioned you are also a Grimm?”

“Yeah, currently fully powered if a little damp,” she said, folding her arms and suppressing a tickle in her throat.

“I’m one too,” Trubel said.

“Well, two out of three working isn’t bad…But I think you’re right, let’s explain a bit more in depth.” She swept past Sloane, who eyed her still, and walked into the sitting area. The others followed and sat down around her. “I met Monroe and Rosalee at the hospital when they came to visit my son in hopes of helping Nick. Sean also wants to help, but he was in no condition to do so and I’d prefer he not overexert himself even now. So, I offered my assistance. He knew where Adalind’s storage unit was and luckily she didn’t bring it with her.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of weird, neat stuff in there,” Monroe said.

“Including, lucky for you, her mother’s book of shadows which I she used for this.”

“One of those again,” Sloane said with a sigh, remembering the one stolen to use for beauty spells that ended up with a body count.

“Indeed. Opening it up required a bit of blood on my part, but I found the spell and we are able to recreate it.”

“Why would you?” Trubel asked.

“Similar to treating someone sick, you have to know what kind of virus you’re dealing with,” she said smoothly. “But in this case, it’s also important to curing Nick.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a pointed hat that was a bit more traditional for witches, setting it on the table. “The potion is brewed with the hair of the one who’s form you wish to take, then breathed through the hexencap. These are specially made to do this. And this is how we will reverse what she’s done.”

“So, you're saying,” Juliette said slowly. “I have to breathe it in through this hat, and turn into Adalind, and... do everything Adalind did...

“As you,” Elizabeth nodded.

“And I'm supposed to sleep with Juliette, only she's gonna look like Adalind?” Nick asked, looking perturbed by the whole idea.

“To break Adalind's spell, we need to reverse it exactly. Every step she took also needs to be reversed,” she said sagely.

“No way. We're not putting Juliette through that,” Nick said flatly.

“The complex nature of Adalind's spell may have unintended effects on Nick. They could only grow worse. Might be just as dangerous to do nothing.”

“That's my problem, not hers.”

“Nick,” Sloane said. “Do you not remember the headache and…” she prodded.

Nick glanced at her but then away. “I’m fine. I’m not putting Juliette through that for me.”

“Then there's nothing more I can do,” Elizabeth sighed, standing and picking the hat up.

“Wait,” Juliette said quickly, though her words were halting as she tried to wrap her brain around it all. “If I do this, and I transform into Adalind, it's still me, right? I mean, I would know it's me.”

She smiled. “Yes.”

“And Nick would know it's you,” Rosalee pointed out.

“And presumably you would know that Nick knows that it's you,” Monroe said with a smile.

“Yeah, but she wouldn't be looking like Juliette,” Trubel pointed out. Monroe and Rosalee looked at her with a put-out expression and Sloane sighed. “Just saying…”

“Maybe think of it like wearing a costume,” Rosalee suggested.

“A costume of a woman who tried to kill me,” Nick said morosely, looking at her with a tired expression that made her wince.

“Yeah, I don't think it's so much about the romance right now…” Monroe said quietly, patting his wife’s shoulder.

“It's about getting it done,” Trubel said. “Just saying…”

Sloane sighed again, trying to ignore how uncomfortable she felt. It was strange, she wasn’t prudish by any means, why was this making her so squeamish? “Is it really the only way?”

“I’m afraid so. I would suggest a very dark room,” Elizabeth said.

“Well, forget it. No more potions,” he said bitterly.

“Nick, if you want to be a Grimm again, this is the only way,” Juliette said.

He looked at her in shock and she just looked back resigned and tired. He swallowed, taking a breath and then casting his eyes down. “We're gonna need a little time to think about this…”

“We get it, Nick,” Monroe said, nodding and getting up.

“Take your time,” Rosalee agreed, standing with him to head out the door. They paused when Elizabeth didn’t follow.

Elizabeth looked down at him with an unreadable expression. “If you do change your mind, do it quickly. I won't be here much longer.”

Nick didn’t say anything and neither did anyone else as she headed out.

Sloane looked at Nick and felt another pang in her chest. She knew she’d do anything to get her powers back in his shoes—but he was scared. And part of that fear, she knew, was losing Juliette. More than that, he was looking at the possibility of not being a Grimm anymore. To him, that was a tempting carrot on a stick. To her…when she first came, she’d have been angry she knew. It was a different feeling now though; one she didn’t want to really voice.

“…We’ll go ahead and go home,” Sloane said quietly, standing. “Give you two some time.”

“Thanks,” Nick muttered.

“Take some food with you. I’m…not very hungry,” Juliette said. “There’s some to go boxes we kept in the cabinet on the bottom next to the fridge.

Sloane nodded and numbly walked to go get some of the food. She hesitated but tuned in her hearing to Nick and Juliette as Trubel went to get their clothes from the dryer.

It was quiet a moment before they spoke. “A normal life sounds really good,” Juliette said softly. “Can we really go back to that?”

“…Maybe this is our chance to find out,” Nick replied, sad but hopeful.

Sloane felt her heart break a little because suddenly, like there was a huge chasm between them now.

\--------------------

When she woke up the next morning, it felt like the chasm had been filled with cement and then dropped on her head. She groaned when her alarm sounded and managed to fumble the slide on her phone to turn it off. The groan turned into a fit of coughs when she tried to take a deep breath.

“Sloane?” Trubel asked, knocking on the door before poking her head in.

“Yeah, I’m up,” she croaked, clearing her throat.

“Yeah, and you sound like a car trying to turn over…” Sloane gave her a tired look and Trubel frowned and came in. “You also don’t look very good.”

“I just woke up…” She flinched a bit when Trubel reached up to press a hand to her forehead.

“Oh, wow, you are feverish as hell, even I can tell that.”

“I’m fine…” she sighed, gently moving her hand aside and standing. She had to lock her legs not to sway a little bit.

“Sloane, you got covered in weird clay and doused with the hose and stuff. You might’ve gotten a cold.”

“I’m fine,” she said more firmly. “I don’t get sick. Gotta get ready for work…” There was an urgent sounding knock at the door, and she grunted softly. “Now what…?”

Walking over, she opened the door to see Bud standing there, looking around with an antsy twitch. “Sloane! Hey, I need to talk to…wow, you okay?”

She gave him a withering look. “I’m FINE—” she broke off into a fit of coughs and turned away.

“Sheesh, that doesn’t sound fine…”

“She got sick from a case last night,” Trubel said. Bud jumped when he saw her but slowly eased back. “You’re Bud, right?”

“Y-yeah…and you’re, uh…”

“You can call me Trubel.”

“Huh…neat. Uh, anyway, I didn't mean to bother you so early, but, well, we heard about Nick losing his powers and I wanted to say we know this might be rough so we’re happy to help! You know, while his whole Grimm thing is...kaput.”

Sloane managed to get herself under control and looked at him in confusion. “Bud, how did you find that out?”

“Ah, well…I went to talk with Monroe and Rosalee, because…” He glanced at Trubel. “Well, I was just a little concerned. I thought it was amazing Portland had 3 Grimms who don’t just kill willy-nilly and…they broke the news to me. I'm so sorry. It's the worst thing that ever happened.”

“It’s definitely not good,” Sloane agreed. She didn’t want to bring up Nick was considering staying “kaput”, so to speak. She didn’t like to think about it.

“I, uh, also did want to introduce myself. We haven't formally met yet. I'm Bud—well, you know that. We sort of ran into each other when you broke up the wedding. I don't mean broke up in a bad way, although it was pretty unnerving, especially for me when I saw you…Anyway, I was really relieved to hear that you were a friend of Nick's.”

“Nice to meet you?” Trubel said. She wasn’t used to all the chatter.

“Bud, you didn’t tell a lot of people about Trubel, did you?”

“No! I mean…I mentioned it to my wife, but we’re not going to just spread that around,” he laughed nervously.

She narrowed her eyes. “Bud, why did you really come here?”

“Uh, I'm glad you asked. I was wondering if you'd be willing to help me. I mean, now that Nick can't. Not that that reflects on him in any negative capacity, but I have this little wesen-type problem.”

“It’s not something the police can handle?” Trubel asked.

“Oh, no, no, no. It's... it's really kind of small potatoes. You see, my kid is being bullied by this wesen kid at school, and I thought maybe Trubel could talk to him.”

“Trubel?” Sloane asked.

“Well, I was thinking you at first, but you really look like you need to rest up…”

“I’m not sick!” Her voice cracked and she broke out into a fit of coughs again and had to grab hold of the table next to the door.

“Whoa!” Trubel quickly moved to support her. “Sloane, you _are_ sick. C’mon, get back to bed. I’ll call Nick and the others.”

Sloane tried to take some deep breaths and sighed as she followed. “I never get sick…” she complained.

“Everyone gets sick eventually,” Bud said following and fretting. “But I admit, I didn’t think you did. This isn’t serious, is it?”

“I’ve got a cough and my sinuses are killing me, that’s all. It must’ve been the Golem…”

Trubel helped her into bed and brought the covers up to her chin. “Okay, so, I’m calling everyone to let them know you need rest. And I’ll help Bud with this school bully.”

“You sure?” Sloane asked.

“I’m _sure_ you are in no shape to be intimidating anyone,” she said seriously.

“Don’t get smart,” she muttered. Sloane looked at Bud. “Trubel can get it done, I’m not worried about that. But try to keep her and what’s going on with Nick as much under the radar as you can.”

“Right, no worries there. I just need her help to, you know, smooth things over, straighten things out. Should be super easy.”

Sloane sighed, already feeling tired. “Okay…I'll leave it to you then.”

“Right. And you better stay here,” Trubel said.

Sloane waved her hand but turned over to curl up under her blanket. Trubel closed her door on the way out and pulled out her phone to call Nick.

“Hey, Trubel. What’s up?”

“Hey. Um, Sloane is sick.”

“What?” he asked, surprised.

“Yeah, she’s got a fever and is coughing and stuff. I managed to make her stay in bed, but I don’t think she’s coming in to work…”

Nick sighed. “Wow…Okay, yeah, she needs to rest then. Do you guys have medicine?”

“Ah…no, I don’t think so,” Trubel realized. “I was going to call Rosalee too, she could help, right?”

“Yeah, she should be able to one way or the other.”

“Alright. I gotta head out for a bit, Bud asked for some help with a wesen bully.”

“What?”

“Hey, Nick!” Bud called, and Trubel rolled her eyes and held the phone towards him. “Yeah, hey. Um, my wife and I heard from Rosalee and Monroe about your Grimm powers being well…gone. We just wanted to say we’re really sorry about it and hope it works out, you know?”

“I know, Bud,” Nick said patiently. “But you need help with a bully?”

“Well, my kid, not me. It’s pretty small time but I figured a Grimm can get through to the kid bullying mine why it’s not a good thing to do. So, you’re not really the guy I need…Um, no offense.”

“None taken…” he said blandly. “Okay, if you got this Trubel, I’ll play phone tree and let Rosalee know Sloane needs some help.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” Trubel said, taking the phone back. “Talk to you later.” She hanged up and got her shoes on to head out with Bud. The moment she locked the door, Bud put a hand on her shoulder with a panicked look on his face.

“I lied. We've got a huge problem. Nick's in trouble.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Trubel asked in surprise.

“It's all my fault. I told Monroe and Rosalee that I wouldn't tell anybody that Nick's not a Grimm anymore, but then I had a few beers with my buddy, Frank, who said he wouldn't tell anybody, but then I heard that Frank blabbed it to Phil, and Phil spilled it to Joe, and Joe leaked it to this Klaustreich fellow named Shaw.”

Trubel looked at him impatiently. “Well, who the hell is Shaw?”

Bud looked put out but also increasingly worried. “Believe me, you don't want to know, but that's why I'm here. You're gonna have to know. Shaw is bad news. He... he's got some kind of beef with Nick. When he heard that Nick's not a Grimm anymore, he started telling everybody that he was gonna teach him a lesson, and by lesson I think he means he's gonna kill him, and I can't stop him! So, I thought “Sloane, she’ll stop him!” but if she’s sick, she’s not going to be able to intimidate him or fight him if it comes to that. So, you’re the only other Grimm I know about that. So now you know why I'm here and why I had to lie to Nick, right? A-and Sloane, because if she knew, she’d go kick his ass even sick and she might get hurt and then I’d be in _really_ big trouble…”

Trubel had stopped listening at the fact this Shaw was planning on hurting Nick. “You know where to find this Shaw guy?” she asked, a little darkness edging her voice.

“I got no idea. But I know Frank, and Frank knows Phil, and...”

“I get it,” she said, turning to head to Bud’s car. “We need to talk to Joe.”

\-----------------------

Sloane slept for a long while. She heard a knock at the door vaguely but was having a hard time focusing. Dimly she heard the key to the front door turn and someone come in. “Sloane?” Rosalee called.

“Rosalee?” Her voice came out as a hoarse rasp and she ended up in another fit of coughs.

Rosalee came to the door, and Monroe, Nick and Hank were right behind. “Holy crap, you are sick,” Monroe said, looking at her sympathetically.

“Am I today’s entertainment?” she grumbled, glaring at them all.

“No, we came to check on you,” Hank said, walking over.

“We come bearing medicine, tea, and soup,” Monroe said, holding a bag from the store and another with a couple of huge containers of soups.

“…Thanks,” Sloane said honestly.

“Have you eaten anything today?” Nick asked worriedly.

She shook her head and then groaned as that made the world tilt. “No…not hungry…”

“You should eat a little something even if you’re not hungry,” Rosalee said. “I’ll heat up some soup. Chicken noodle?”

“…sure,” she said.

She smiled and took the containers from Monroe, heading for the kitchen. Monroe used his now free hand to pull out some cough medicine. “You can take this after you eat.”

“You guys didn’t have to do all this,” she sighed.

“We’re your friends, yeah we do,” Hank said.

“…Why’re you all together though?”

“Ah…”

“…It’s a case, isn’t it?” Sloane moved sit up, pushing the comforter down. “Let me get dressed.”

“Whoa, no you don’t,” Nick said, quickly helping Hank to keep her in bed.

“It’s a wesen case! That’s why you’re all together!” she accused.

“When did you get to be a good detective?”

“I always was, even when I wasn’t!”

“Touché,” he sighed. “Yes, we do have a possible case involving a wesen. Monroe and Rosalee were already picking you up some stuff so we agreed to meet here to discuss. But you are way to sick to be out of bed.”

“I’m not that sick,” she growled.

Nick frowned and set a hand on her forehead, pushing her back to the pillow. “If I can do that, yeah you are. Also, you are burning up!”

Sloane couldn’t deny she was feeling very warm. The fever for sure was part of it, but Nick’s hand on her skin was making her flare up as well. Weakly she reached up and batted it away. “I’m not that bad!”

“Well, let’s check.” Monroe pulled a digital thermometer out of the bag and pulled it out of its casing. “We figured you probably didn’t have one of these either.”

“…Maybe.” He just smiled and held it out to her.

Sighing and rolling her eyes, she took the thermometer and stuck it under her tongue. “Explain what’s going please.”

“…You, uh, gotta turn it on first,” Hank said, pressing the button. She glared petulantly at him. They then started explaining what they were called out for. Ava Diaz had hit a jogger the night before after crashing through the gate of her own house trying to get away from someone or something. Her husband, Gabriel Martin, said she’d had issues of paranoid delusions for about six months. And they usually involve a “Wolf man” chasing her.

“I have soup and hot tea,” Rosalee said, coming in with a small tray just as the thermometer beeped.

“And Sloane has a fever of…101!” Monroe exclaimed as he took it to read.

“That thing’s faulty,” she muttered, coughing again.

Rosalee set the tray down over her lap. “Does that mean you’ll stay in bed?”

“I think I would be fine—”

“Sloane,” she warned, glaring at her mildly.

She sighed but finally nodded. “Okay, yes…But I can still help you know.”

“We know,” Nick said. “That’s also part of why we’re here. We were just explaining, we have a case where a woman unfortunately hit someone with her car.”

“Not very wesen-y,” Rosalee said. She gestured at Sloane who sighed and blew on a spoonful of soup before eating it.

“Well, she’s been going through some mental issues. Apparently, she’s been seeing a “wolf man” who’s terrorizing her.”

“We were able to get a picture she drew in therapy,” Nick said, pulling the picture out of his pocket and unfolding it to show them. The picture was of a humanoid man with red-orange fur and huge ears off the top of his head, and very large fangs.

“Huh…that’s interesting,” Monroe said.

“We think is being stalked by a wesen, uh, sort of like a Blutbad,” Hank said.

“No, no, no. This is not a Blutbad,” Monroe said, shaking his head. “Blutbader are just one branch of a pretty huge family tree. There's all kinds of canid wesen, from the Russian with the Volkodlak to the Spanish lobo hombre.”

“Yeah, but your branch is one of the stronger I’ve heard,” Sloane said, taking another sip. “Rip people limb from limb kind of strong.”

“I won’t deny we are a hunky bunch,” Monroe said with a smile.

“Not what I said,” she sneered, gesturing rudely with her spoon. Monroe just smiled.

“Can we focus on what part of the tree you think this guy is from?” Nick asked.

“Right. This particular fellow is a Luison, South American in origin, you can tell by the ears. It's a dead giveaway.”

“Oh, those assholes,” Sloane said, looking at the picture with a look of pure disgust.

“You know them well?” Nick guessed.

“Sort of…You remember that story I told you, about why I don’t like guns?” Nick nodded slowly while the others were a bit confused. “It was a bunch of Coyotels and Hundjagers kidnapping people, but a family of Luison were at the head of the trafficking ring. Took us a while after that to root out the rest of them because they scattered to the wind. They’re usually more…analytical than others. They’ve got the claws and the fangs, but they’d prefer to have someone else get theirs dirty.” Nick hummed, looking at the picture.

“So, you think a Luison is involved here?” Rosalee asked.

He nodded but shrugged as well. “This woman's very wealthy. It could be her husband is trying to drive her mad.”

“He's doing a really good job,” Hank added. “She's about to be institutionalized.”

“And you can't tell her the truth, of course, because that'd sound even crazier than what she already thinks,” Monroe sighed.

“Are you sure the husband is the Luison?” Rosalee said.

“No, and there's no way I can find out,” Nick growled.

“I can—” Sloane started.

“You can’t do anything with that fever,” Hank replied seriously. “Just rest and get better.”

She grumbled into her soup and tea, fighting back another cough.

“But if we don't find out, there's nothing we can do for her,” Nick sighed.

“You want me to take a look?” Monroe asked.

“I hate to ask…” Nick said, though he sounded grateful. Hanks phone rang and he picked it up to see what news came through.

“You didn't. I'm volunteering,” Monroe said with a smile.

“Got it, thanks,” Hank said, hanging up the phone. “Ava's doctor. She's awake. She’s the one who drew those.”

Nick quickly gathered up the pictures back into the folder. “We better go visit her now then.”

“Want me to come with you guys, 'cause...” Monroe started.

“No, we should talk to her first. I’ll call you when we’re ready for your expertise.” Monroe nodded with a smile. Nick looked at Sloane and smiled. “You get better, okay?”

“Why, need me to carry you guys like usual?” she said, smiling a little maliciously.

“Get some rest, crabby,” he shot back.

She pouted as they turned to leave and sighed. “I hate being sick…”

“No one likes being sick,” Rosalee said sympathetically. “But rest is the best medicine.”

“And right behind that is actual medicine,” Monroe said, digging out the cough medicine. “Assuming this isn’t wesen related, this should do okay.”

“But I did add a few herbs to the soup and tea,” Rosalee winked.

Sloane smiled at them a little. “Hm. This is the first time I’ve been sick in years…last time I just had to ride it out…”

“Well, we’re here to help this time. Finish your soup and get some rest, we’ll stop by later.”

“You really don’t have to trouble yourselves this much—”

“It’s not trouble. Speaking of which, where is she?”

“Helping Bud with something…By the way, you told _Bud_ about Nick?” she asked, a little judgy.

They blushed a bit and gave wry smiles. “He kind of surprised us, worried about the “Third Grimm”, then about how you and Nick are great Grimms and Hank doing everything too…we had to tell him before he started talking about throwing you all a party or something,” Monroe said.

“He promised not to tell anyone,” Rosalee added.

“Its Bud,” Sloane said, lifting the bowl to drink the rest of her soup, chewing at the bit of chicken left. “He already told his wife.”

“Yeah…hopefully that’s the only person he told…”

\-----------------

The water was up beyond her shoulders now and Adalind was doing everything she could go keep her head above water. “Stop!” She begged. “Stop crying!” The water came up over her head and she felt stupid. She was about to die in a sea of tears! It was ironic, in a way. She’d told Renard she was done crying and now this.

But just as she closed her eyes, floating in the water, she was brought down hard to the ground as it disappeared. She gasped in a breath and looked around in confusion. She wasn’t in the stairwell any longer—now she was in one of the castle halls. Looking at her hand and her clothes, she was perfectly dry. Shakily she got to her feet and looked around. “What…the hell?” she whispered. She didn’t want to raise her voice in case someone was around. But also, just couldn’t find her voice.

Until she jumped and yelled when a hand came to her shoulder.

“Shhhh!” Hoffman said. Adalind was relieved to see him again, though a part of her was still angry he’d left her behind.

“How did I get here? Why did you leave me?”

“I told you not to wake them,” he said, pushing her to start moving.

“They knew where my baby was!”

“You heard what you wanted them to say. Now, hurry!” She started to move with him but froze when she heard a baby’s cry echo through the halls. “Don't stop!”

“There's a baby back there,” she said, the crying continuing. She turned, trying to pinpoint the sound through the echo.

“Do not go back!”

“That's my baby!” she shouted. There was no proof of course, but she felt it in her core. Wrenching away from Hoffman, she rushed back through the hall and turned a corner, trying to follow the echo. At the end of the hall she came to another that looked just like the one that she’d left. She tried again and ended up right back there. “Where's my baby?” she yelled, her own voice joining the echoing cries that never got louder or quieter. “Where's—”

“Do you know where she is?” her voice asked. But that wasn’t what she was going to ask. Turning, she saw a set of stairs at the end of the hall and she saw herself—a full body, twin of herself, climbing the stairs. She was confused but only paused a moment before following her. Her doppelganger seemed to move with a purpose, jogging through the halls on a path and she followed her.

“Wait! Do you know where she is! Please, do you know where my baby is!?” She followed her up the stairs and down several halls before down another small set of stairs. “Wait, please…where did she go?” she panted, coming to the end of the hall with three doors.

“Where did she go?” her voice asked from the left.

“Where did she go?” her voice asked from the center.

“Where did she go?” her voice asked from the right.

Adalind looked between them all. She wasn’t stupid. She knew something or someone was messing with her. Her desperation was having her make stupid choices. But she was desperate, and she felt the need to do _something_ clawing at her brain and her heart like a caged animal. Taking a breath, she moved to the center door and pushed it open.

She stood there, in the center of the room, a serene smile on her face. In her hands—dripping red with blood—was a platter with Hoffman’s head on it. But his eyes rolled open and he looked at her with a pitying stare. “I know…you just want your baby.”

Adalind screamed.

\------------------

The evening that next day, Nick went over to check on Sloane and update her. Trubel wasn’t home and he tried not to worry. Sloane had given him a key in case he needed to get to something in her collection, so he didn’t knock. “Sloane?” She didn’t answer so he moved in and went to her bedroom.

Sloane was asleep still, on her stomach with her arms under her pillow. She was still breathing a little raspy through her mouth, a bit of drool on her pillow, but seemed to be sleeping well. Nick tried not laugh but he couldn’t help but smile. He rarely saw her relax like this. It might have something to do with the cold medicine bottle that was half full on her nightstand. He debated just letting her sleep when she shifted a bit and cracked an eye open. “…Oh, it’s you,” she sighed, relaxing again. “Don’t sneak up on me, I have a weapon under here…”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Nick said, not doubting her. “How do you feel?”

“Mmm…still tired but…a little better?”

He walked over and set a hand on her forehead. “Well, you still have a fever…” He blinked when she didn’t push his hand away. In fact, she almost seemed to be moving into his touch. “Sloane?”

“Your hand feels good…” she muttered.

Nick sighed a bit. “You’re pretty out of it…”

“No I’m not…”

“Well you can still argue with me at least,” he smiled.

“Because you’re wrong…Why’d you come over anyway?” she said, looking up at him blearily.

“Partially to check on you, partially to let you know what we’ve found out. But maybe I should just let you rest…”

“No…I should probably eat something…” she sighed, sitting up.

“Want me to get you more chicken soup?”

Sloane’s face screwed up, but she sighed. “I guess…”

“Sick of the soup?”

“…To be honest, I don’t like chicken soup much,” she admitted, coughing a little.

“Oh? Even my mom got me chicken soup when I was sick. What would you prefer?”

“…Mulligan Tanny,” she muttered, thinking.

He blinked. “Pardon?”

Sloane started, maybe forgetting she said it out loud a moment before blushing. “Oma…she’d make this soup called “mulligatawny”. But I couldn’t say that when I was little, so I usually said “Mulligan Tanny”. She learned it in England but found the roots back in India and preferred it that way. It’s like…turkey and ginger and garlic and…” she sighed, rubbing between her eyes. “I don’t remember…I’ve never found something quite like it. Chicken noodle is fine.” She pushed the covers down and staggered to her feet.

“I could heat it up,” Nick said.

“I’d like to move a little bit. Fill me in one what’s going on.” She padded into the kitchen and Nick explained what they knew so far while she heated up some of the soup. That day the suspect—Gabriel Martel—was at an inquest regarding his wife’s accident. It was decided that Monroe would go to their house to check it out because that would be the best way to sniff out if he was a Luison or not. The courthouse itself would be too odorous with all the people in and out. He’d gone and managed to sneak in through the attic window by climbing a trellis. He was picking up some strong scent of a Luison immediately, which was odd he thought being in the attic. Even stranger there was a cot, a clothes rack and other odds and ends like someone was living there. Then the door opened, and a man had come through with a suit. Monroe had barely managed to get away before being found by climbing back out the window and dropping down to run, but he’d gotten a good look at the man. According to him, it was Gabriel Martel.

Nick and Hank were confused as he had no siblings listed and had seen Martel at the courthouse at the exact same time. A twin brother was the best explanation, and also explained how they were tricking Ava—one could look like “Gabriel” while the other woged and terrorized the woman. They figured they could explain it with some good masks.

“That would probably work best this time around. If she’s already thinking she’s going crazy—and her husband is behind it—I don’t think letting her know wesen are a thing would be best,” Sloane agreed, sipping her soup.

“Yeah…Wu’s being pretty good about this. I told him we needed to have someone check the house and he promised to give us a window without police. He’s leery about steeping in still…”

“If he wants to ease into it, he can try,” she cleared her throat.

“Where’s Trubel anyway?”

“I’m not sure…she left early this morning.”

“What, didn’t stay to help you?”

“I don’t need a nursemaid,” she said, frowning at him as she ate.

“Didn’t mean to imply you did. Just…sucks being sick on your own.” She looked at him and he stared back. “…Don’t tell me, Dierdre left you alone when you were sick?” he asked, knowing and dreading the answer.

“Yes, and I was _fine._ I couldn’t expect her to drop everything for me.”

Nick frowned but knew this wasn’t the time to argue. “…Something I forgot to mention earlier…Josh called me.”

Sloane paused. “Josh…Josh Porter? Rolek’s son?”

“Yeah. He was attacked in his home.”

“What?!” she coughed. Nick quickly pushed the water glass towards her and she drank. “By who?” she managed.

“He’s not sure but he doesn’t think they had good intentions. I told him not to stick around and come our way as soon as he could.”

She nodded, worried. “That’s good…It might be someone looking for Rolek’s things.”

“The key you mean,” he sighed.

“More than likely.”

“He can stay with us when he gets here, we have a spare room.”

“…You sure that’ll sit okay with Juliette?” she asked delicately.

“I think so. She’s not going to leave someone out in the lurch like that.”

Sloane thought about what she overheard—about Nick thinking of not getting his abilities back. She hesitated but looked at him. “Did you guys make a decision yet?”

Nick blew out a breath, wiping his hands over his jeans. “Not a decisive one, no. I just…don’t want to see someone else’s face when we…I mean, I thought it was Juliette before, and now it will be, but she’ll look like Adalind and it’ll feel wrong and just…”

“…I’m afraid I don’t know much about curses like these,” Sloane confessed. “Closest was my ex-boyfriend and that’s just how he was.”

Nick smiled wryly. “Yeah, we all have ones like that?”

“Oh, even you?” she shot back. “The way you talk about Juliette, I figured no one else compared.”

“They don’t, not really.” Sloane felt her heart squeeze and quickly took another spoonful of soup. “But there were others before. There was one in high school—Allison Jessop. I had to break up with her because we moved again but honestly, she was a little…clingy for me already. Talking about getting married and stuff when we were sixteen. I was kind of grateful for the move giving an excuse this time. But then she followed us! A state away, she booked a bus ticket to follow us. Showed up at the new apartment we got two nights after we got there with her bags intending to move in with us.”

“Holy crap!” she said, laughing in disbelief around a bit of chicken.

“Yeah. It was a very awkward call to her parents. Lots of crying from her “I thought you loved me!” and “We were going to be together forever!” I felt bad but Aunt Marie…heh, she took her in another room, and I don’t know what she said but Allison was ready to go soon after.”

“Yeesh…Glad I didn’t date in high school now to be honest, too many hormones.”

“Hey, that’s what made it fun sometimes,” Nick laughed.

She smiled and finished off her soup, only for a piece of rice to tickle her throat and throw her into another coughing fit where she had to lean over. Nick rushed and thumped on her back to try and help things move along. When she finally got her breathing under control, he went to rubbing her back and she sighed. “Okay, back to bed.”

“What?” she croaked, looking at him with watery eyes. 

He pulled her to her feet. “You need to rest. I wanted to keep you in the in the loop, but you’re still sick. Heck, I’m wondering if I need to take you to the doctor…”

She shook her head but grunted. “I’ll be okay, really…”

“Well, take some more medicine and sleep at least.”

She sighed but let him lead her back to the bedroom. “…Actually, I’d like to wash up,” Sloane said. “I’ve been in these clothes since yesterday. Warm shower sounds nice…”

Nick nodded. “Okay. Go ahead, I’ll put your dishes in the sink and head back out.”

“…Thanks,” she nodded. She grabbed another set of clean pajamas and shuffled to the bathroom.

When she got out from nearly boiling herself alive and completely drying her hair she actually felt better if a little sleepy. Stepping back into the bedroom, she was surprised to find her bed linens had been changed. A note was left on her pillow and she picked it up.

_Figured clean sheets might make you feel better, found these in your closet and put the others in the laundry room. Make Trubel do the wash and just rest! I’ll let you know how the case turns out. Rest up, we need our partner back._

_-Nick_

Sloane stared before smiling a little despite herself. She set the note in the drawer of her bedside table, downed her medicine and climbed in. She was further surprised to find they were warm and realized he must’ve fluffed them up in the drier before quickly making the bed for when she got out of the shower. Sighing, she buried herself in the warmth with a bigger smile.

\---------------

Adalind groaned as she slowly woke up. She’d stumbled back when she saw herself holding Hoffman’s head and had fallen backwards and passed out.

“I told you not to go back,” Hoffman said, laughing despite the admonishing tone.

Adalind blinked and looked up. The man was there, whole and unharmed, and he reached down to pull her to her feet. “What…?”

“You need to think about what you are seeing! And you need to listen!” he said. “Now, we are close to the end though. Whatever you do, don't stop when you enter this room. Get to the door on the other side.” He turned her around and Adalind was met with a white painted door trimmed elegantly in gold. It had a golden keyhole, but no handle she could see. “Remember, get the door on the other side, and you will be free! But don’t stop or you’ll be lost.”

“But how do I get into this door? There's nowhere to open it!” She pushed on it, frowning when it wouldn’t budge.

“With me. I am the key!” he chortled.

Adalind sighed, losing patience. “What do you mean, "you're the key"?” His laughter echoed down the hall and she jolted when she heard the metallic clink. Whirling around she saw that Hoffman was gone and where he stood was a large key with a triangular pommel the size of her hand. His laughter was still echoing through the halls. She picked up the key hesitantly, weighing it in her hands. She knew things were off the wall crazy, even for her. She had a feeling whatever behind that door was going to try and traumatize her. But Hoffman was trying to help. She’d caused that trauma by not listening. Is that what this stupid castle was trying to teach her?

_What am I saying, “teach me”? This isn’t sentient, it’s…it’s some kind of curse. Or I’m hallucinating because of whatever poisoned me. Or…maybe it is real…Maybe I’m just being led around to mess with me. It feels real, but then it’s not…_

Groaning, she finally walked over and pushed the key into the keyhole. _Whatever it is, I don’t have many options right now. I have to get out of here to find Diana!_

The key worked perfectly, and she stepped through into a sun filled room of the castle. Twisty, spiral columns were around the room, but so were stuffed animals of various sizes and types—a huge gorilla, little dogs and cats and birds and even a bit snake wrapped around the column. Across the way she could see another door, with a red and gold banner that said, “ _The door on the other side._ ” A bit pedantic but at least it had a handle she could see. Easy enough as the room was maybe 100 feet across. But right next to the door was a large, ornate bassinet. It was circular, with gold material draped around the sides and red bows for decoration. It was rocking steadily, not loosing or picking up speed as it moved from side to side. Adalind knew it was a trap. It was too tempting, too perfect. There was nothing there she was sure, it was just to make her sad. She quickly moved to the door and grasped the handle, intending to get out.

Then she heard a baby in the bassinet whine and cry, a sound that was like “mama”.

“Diana?” She gasped. Her grip slackened and she hesitated before moving to the bassinet. Inside was Diana—dressed in a golden christening gown with a matching bonnet. She looked up and smiled, cooing in delight and reaching her pudgy, uncoordinated arms up to her. “Oh, my God…Oh, my God!” Adalind sobbed. She reached down and scooped her up, holding her close. “I've got you back. I've got you back at last, Diana,” she sighed, feeling tears in her eyes. She had never in her life thought she’d feel this way about anything, but the relief at just holding her daughter nearly made her drop to her knees. She was never going to leave her again!

Diana fussed a little, squirming in her grip. “Diana?” Adalind pulled her away, only to see a piglet in her arms that squealed and screamed, dropping it. The piglet immediately ran away, the christening gown trailing behind her. “No!” She turned and tried to pull open the door only to have the handle break in her grip. “No!” she wailed, slamming her fist into the door. “No!”

Then she felt the floor give out under her and she was falling. The room seemed to almost explode outward around her with no sound or fire or pain. Bits of wall and floor were floating down with her, then the stuffed animals floating down into the void and the bassinet. Then they all started breaking and bursting apart, just bits and pieces disintegrating. It felt like her body was doing the same. She kept crying out No, no, _no!_

And then she was back in her cell on the floor. “No!” she screamed, holding her head and pulling at her hair. It was all a vision. It wasn’t real. She’d been through all that for nothing.

The hinges squealed like the pig as it swung open and she flinched and looked up. Victor stood in the doorway, unaffected by her pathetic state. He walked in and knelt in front of her as she felt the tears burning her face.

“Had enough?” he asked coolly. “I told you. This cell was made for hexenbeasts. When you fight it, it fights back. The way this room is made, the stones it’s made from, all made to drive you insane.”

She choked back a sob and looked at him with begging eyes. “I'll do anything…Just make it stop.” He looked at her with consideration on what he was going to do, and she grabbed the ankle of his pants leg. “What do you want from me?” she whispered.

“I want the same thing you want,” he said, tipping her face up. There was an emotion there that made Adalind shrink back. Her anger and heart ache weren’t like this. This wasn’t even righteous anger. This was wounded pride ready to shred someone apart. “To get our child back.”

\---------------

Another couple of days passed and Sloane woke up feeling clearer headed. Taking her temperature, she sighed in relief that the fever had broken. She still felt a little tickle in her throat and chest but figured that would get better soon. It was late in the afternoon and she went to go eat a light sandwich and what was left of the chicken soup. It was less bland now that her taste was better but still not what she was craving. She then spent a bit of time sitting down catch up on the news on TV.

Trubel walked in around sundown and she smiled. “Hey, you’re up.”

“Yeah…what’ve you been up to?”

“Uh…well, since you and Nick were out of commission, I tried to do a bit of training and stuff to be prepared,” she said a little evasively. “But how are you feeling?”

“Better,” she sighed. “My fever broke, and I don’t feel like I got zombified.”

“Good…Um, so…”

Sloane looked at her curiously, waiting for her to talk, but her phone went off in the bedroom. “Ah, just a sec.” She grabbed the phone and quickly answered. “Hello?”

“Hey! You sound better,” Hank said.

“I feel better,” she smiled. “What’s up?”

“Well, we’re about to head over to Ava Diaz’s house to sting Martel and his brother, after searching all over for a mask that’s pretty perfect for what we need. Had to rush custom order it from a shop.”

“Need me to get dressed?”

“Aaah, Nick is giving me a look so I’m going to say that you’re probably not that well yet. But Monroe is with us and we’re going to get together and his place after. We figured if you were up to it you could meet us there to go over everything and have dinner. About 8?”

“I think I’m up for that,” she said, smiling. “Trubel can drive me.”

“Great. We’ll see you there, provided this doesn’t go to hell in a handbasket.”

“Don’t jinx yourselves,” she laughed, coughing softly. “See you soon.” They hanged up and Sloane walked back out. “Trubel, want to head to Monroe and Rosalee’s for dinner? Trubel?” She frowned and looked around. She’d apparently left again, and Sloane tried not to feel let down. When she didn’t get back after sunset, she decided she was well enough to drive and headed out on her own after getting dressed.

When she got there and entered the open door, she had to pause when a scent caught her nose. Savory roasted meat, a hint of spice and the tang citrus mixed. She almost had to grip the doorframe as she felt herself suddenly feel like she was a child again as this scent filtered through her old home on cold days and when she was sick. She could almost see her grandmother standing at the stove, her dark hair pulled back with that one wisp of white over her ear, humming a song. “No…” she muttered in awed disbelief, taking a deeper breath.

“Sloane?” Rosalee called, breaking the illusion.

Sloane quickly moved through to the kitchen. “Rosalee…what are you making?”

Rosalee smiled at her. “Mulligatawny soup with roasted turkey—for us, tofu for Monroe.” She pointed to a smaller pot where she was making her husband’s portion.

Sloane strode over to look and the sunny yellow soup was simmering in the pot. “I…this is…how?”

“Nick got the recipe from your aunts.”

“What?” she asked, head whipping up to her.

“He called them yesterday to see if they knew how to make it. Apparently, they have a few of your grandmother’s recipes and they emailed this one to him, and then he asked if I could make it.”

Sloane looked at the soup again, her emotions now bubbling similarly. She had no idea what to feel or how to express it.

“Here, have a taste and let me know if I got it right,” she said, grabbing a spoon from the drawer and pulling out a bit with turkey and onion. She blew on it and then held it up to her with a smile. Sloane took the bites and the taste of lemon and garlic and turmeric and all the other spices burst over her tongue. The turkey was juicy and tender, and she savored it as she chewed and swallowed, letting the heat and spice coat her sore throat.

_“There now. You’ll be back on your feet in no time, Sunny, once you get the mulligan tanny sunshine back in you.”_

“Well? …Sloane? Sloane are you okay?” she asked, quickly setting the spoon down and taking her by the shoulders.

“Wha…?”

“You’re, um…” she reached up and gently cupped her cheek, wiping at a tear.

Sloane blushed and then quickly wiped at her eyes. “I…it’s good. It’s really good,” she said, sniffing a little. “Just, um…good for the sinuses,” she sniffed.

Rosalee smiled gently and hugged her, not pressing. Sloane hugged her back, grateful in many ways and for many things.

The soup stayed on simmer as they waited for the others to get there. Juliette came on her own a short time later and was glad to see Sloane was feeling better. Then the men returned they got ready to dish it all out while they regaled them with the story of Gabriel and his brothers’ arrest—all 3 of them! Quadruplets had been a surprise, but it was known to happen with some wesen. Sloane had tea while they rest had some wine as they waited for the bread to go with the soup to be done toasting in the oven.

Sloane noticed Nick move off on his own while they waited and hesitated before going to the living room with him. “Hey…”

He looked up and smiled a little, though he was troubled obviously. “Hey…”

“…Rosalee told me you figured out to call Mim and Jean for the soup recipe,” she said, sitting down next to him.

“Ah…well, I knew it might not pan out, but I figured it didn’t hurt to try. Luckily, they had it. And a recipe for cinnamon buns?”

“Oh God, Oma’s cinnamon buns,” she gasped, then coughed a little.

Nick chuckled. “They sounded good.”

“They’re amazing. …Thank you,” she said honestly. “You…all of you keep doing a lot more than I deserve…”

Nick frowned. “Deserve? Sloane, you’re our friend, you deserve this much.”

She wasn’t sure about that in the long run, but Monroe was walking into the room before she could argue. “Oh, hey…um, I got an awesome Willamette valley Pinot for you, Nick.”

Nick smiled and nodded while Monroe sat across from them. They heard laughter from the kitchen and Nick looked over wistfully when he heard Juliette’s laugh above it all. “Haven't heard a lot of that lately…”

“Yeah, well, the spell of a hexenbeast does tend to put a damper on the good times,” Monroe said, uncorking the bottle and pouring him some of the wine.

“So, does being a Grimm,” Nick sighed. He looked at Sloane and blushed a bit. “I mean…”

“No…you’re right,” she nodded.

“Wow. Okay. You two having a little down time?” Monroe asked, looking between them.

“I'm sorry,” Nick sighed. “I'm just trying to figure this all out.”

“Dude, come on. It's a big decision.”

“I don't know,” he shook his head. “You know, I just don't want Juliette to constantly have to worry about something bad happening to me, or to her, or to one of our friends.” He looked at Sloane. “Do you worry about that?”

“Constantly,” she admitted. “But last I checked I can’t wrap you all in Kevlar and kill everything that comes close.”

Nick’s lips twitched but he looked down again. “…I’ll be honest, the thought of...Just packing it up, moving someplace new, starting a family... that's very appealing.”

 _With Juliette you mean,_ a voice inside Sloane’s head said with an almost cruel glee. She gripped her mug of tea a little tighter, willing the heat to distract her.

“Hey, man, if that's what you want to do, do it. No regrets,” Monroe was saying.

Nick nodded and then took a breath. “The problem is...I like being a Grimm.”

Monroe and Sloane both blinked and glanced at one another before back to him.

“Are you serious?” Monroe asked in surprise. “You miss it?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “And I'm pissed that it was taken away from me. Especially like this, and especially by _Adalind._ Maybe I didn't want to admit to it, but I want it back.”

“You want to stay a Grimm,” Sloane said quietly, her heart ramping up. He wasn’t going to leave her behind—and God, that was the feeling she didn’t want to confront. That feeling that she didn’t want Nick to leave her behind. That Grimm or not, she wanted him to stay. Wanted him to help. Wanted him…

Sloane almost dropped her mug as the feelings she had tried desperately to ignore pushed their way to the front and grabbed her to shake her down.

 _I think…do I have feelings for Nick?_ She stared at him, trying to rationalize when this happened, how, why her brain was betraying her like this. He was her friend! He was in love with someone else! He didn’t feel that way for her, why the hell would her stupid emotions do this to her _now_.

“Ta-da!” Rosalee said, making Sloane jump and quickly look away from Nick. It didn’t stop her heart from trying to push out of her ribs. Rosalee and Juliette were carrying a tray filled with bowls of soup and a plate of hearty bread.

“Wow, that smells so good!” Juliette said. “I might need this recipe too. You don’t mind, Sloane?”

Sloane looked at her, felt guilt welling up in her stomach, but quickly shook her head with a smile. “No, of course. Oma would want to share it.”

“Here's to the chef for tonight though!” Hank toasted, Nick rising to toast as well. Sloane managed to do so, trying to calm down.

“I just wanted to say thank you to Monroe and Rosalee for putting aside their honeymoon,” Nick said honestly, looking at the two of them. “That means a lot.”

They all smiled and toasted again. As they did though they heard a strange sound—like a whoosh of air—and a flickering, dancing light suddenly illuminated the living room.

“Did someone just open a portal to hell on your lawn?” Sloane asked, setting her cup down. She froze when she saw something was actually on fire outside. “Oh shit!”

They all rushed out the door to see a huge effigy of a symbol burning on a stake in their lawn. It was like two acute angles on either side of a line, one facing up and the other down, with a line dividing it down the middle between the angles.

“What is it?” Nick yelled, looking at it in horror. He and Juliette rushed to the side to try and get a better look.

“A Wolfsangel. It's wesen,” Monroe shouted, looking at it with a mix of horror and disgust.

“Why’s it here?” Sloane asked, staring.

“It's because we got married!” Rosalee choked out, close to tears. Monroe put his arms around her, trying to shield her from the heat of the fire.

“You better get back inside. I'll check the back,” Hank said, rushing towards the gate.

Sloane moved out more but made the mistake of breathing in a draft of the smoke and started coughing hard. The two wesen quickly pulled her inside to sit on the couch and drink some of the soup.

Outside, Nick was staring in panic and his mind was racing when Juliette grabbed his arm. “I'm ready.”

He looked at her in confusion. “Ready for what?”

“You need to be a Grimm again,” she said seriously.

Nick’s eyes widened and he quickly pulled her around the side further from the burning mark. “I'm only gonna ask you this once. Do you mean what you just said about me being a Grimm?” he asked, urgent but hopeful.

Juliette searched his face. “Is that what you want?”

He hesitated but then nodded. “Yes.”

She nodded back with a sigh and a determined look. “Then it's what I want too.”

As they were talking, Hank had come back with the garden hose to douse the burning sigil. Once the fire was out, he booted it over, panting. “What do you want to do? Should we call it in?”

Nick shook his head slowly. “Not until we talk to Monroe and Rosalee.”

“I'm gonna rip their throats out!” Monroe roared inside. They quickly moved in to see him pacing in agitation.

“Monroe...” Rosalee started.

“They got a problem, they can deal with me,” he went on. “Take me on, but this...” He snarled and his eyes flashed a glowing, bloody red. “Cowards. I mean…COWARDS!”

“We can call this in,” Nick said as they headed in and close the door.

“What good is that gonna do?”

“We can make arrests!”

“That's not gonna stop them,” he spat. Rosalee took his arm, rubbing over his back to try and sooth him despite also being on edge.

“Who is them?” Sloane finally asked, clearing her throat.

Rosalee sighed, pulling Monroe to sit with Sloane. “Most likely it's the Secundum Naturae order Nam Wesen,” she said shakily. Monroe put his arm around her, trying to offer comfort to her now. “It's a... ancient organization founded during the middle ages to keep wesen pure.”

“To them, inter-marriage is a crime against man and nature,” Monroe added.

“That raises _a lot_ of alarm bells,” Sloane said knowingly.

“This is all because you got married?” Juliette asked, more askance.

“Yeah…”

“And this isn't the first time you've dealt with them?” Nick asked, feeling they wouldn’t have gone this far so soon.

Rosalee looked down but nodded. “That cracked window in the spice shop…it was a brick.”

“It had a wolfsangel on it,” Monroe sighed.

“You should have told us,” Juliette said, worried.

“Someone should’ve told me!” Sloane added. “Someone threw a _brick_ at you?!”

“We didn't want to worry you. Any of you,” she said guiltily.

“You got your own problems.”

“We didn't think it would go this far,” she added. Sloane frowned and reached over to take Rosalee’s hand, squeezing tightly. She squeezed back and smiled.

“So, the wolfsangel is their burning cross?” Hank asked, getting angry.

“I hesitated to say it but that was my first thought,” Sloane said with a little angry wave to her voice and he nodded to her. They had a rather more unique perspective on such things.

“Yes,” Monroe said, getting up to pace again. “It was originally a wolf trap, or in my ancestors' case, a Blutbader trap.”

“It came to symbolize control over all wesen,” Rosalee said, biting her lip a she tried to breath steadily. Sloane squeezed her hand again.

“Is the wesen counsel involved?” Hank asked hopefully.

“Officially, blood purity organizations are outlawed, but there are those on the counsel who still believe inter-marriage is a sacrilege,” she said, frustration evident with the crack in her voice.

“Well, you need to stay with us,” Nick said.

“Oh, no,” Monroe said defiantly. “They are not driving us from our home.”

“Well, assuming this isn't going to be a standard police procedure, how do we find them?” Nick asked.

“I don't know. They're all wesen. That's all I know, so it's not really your problem anymore,” he said, throwing his hands.

Sloane frowned and was going to say something, but Nick’s words gave everyone pause. “Well, it's going to be.”

They all looked at him. “What does that mean?” Rosalee asked, looking between him and Juliette in surprise.

Juliette sighed but seemed resigned and determined. “Nick is gonna sleep with Adalind.”

“What? Really?” Monroe asked. “You're gonna take the potion?”

“Are you sure you're up to this?” Rosalee added.

She nodded and looked up at Nick who nodded as well. “We're sure.”

“And ready. And the sooner, the better,” Juliette added.

Sloane felt a slight knot in her stomach. She should be relieved—Nick was going to be a Grimm again. But thinking about how he had to do it made her feel…jealous? _I’m being ridiculous! I’m just not used to someone do as much as he does for me! Heck, I thought I had a crush on Rosalee before I realized she was the best friend I’ve ever had. I just need to let it go…_

\--------------

Sloane explained things to Trubel when she got home, glad that she was there at least. She was scared to know there was a wesen hate group targeting Monroe and Rosalee, but relieved Nick would be getting his powers back.

The next day Sloane was pretty much back to normal and decided to go to work. As she did, she noted a car following her. Slowing down, she pulled into a parking lot near the station rather than the garage and got out of the car. “Agent Chavez. I was wondering when you were going to talk to me.”

Chavez got out of the car as well, eyeing her. “Trubel talked to you.”

“Only after worrying you’d kill me and others,” she said, folding her arms. Nick had wanted her to avoid Chavez, but she wasn’t the type to run from a problem if she could help it. “Honestly, I’d love for you to try it. I could use a warm-up and I am very pissed at you.”

Chavez had the decency to look away. “I’d like to talk to you in private.”

“Oh, you’re inviting me? Here I thought you preferred hauling people into vans.”

“You haven’t been to work the last couple of days—”

“I had a cold. I’m sure you know where I live, too much of a coward to just knock? Also, not going anywhere with you. You want to talk, it’s on my terms.”

“…Alright. Where?”

Sloane thought a moment before gesturing. “The station will work well enough. But we’re walking. And just you, I see anyone else try to come in with us and you’ll be lucky if I acknowledge you exist. Quite frankly, you’re already lucky I didn’t end that existence.”

Chavez said nothing but motioned for the man in the car to wait and followed her into the precinct. The found a free interrogation room and stepped in. “If Trubel told you about our talk—”

“Abduction. Call it what it is,” she said coolly.

“…If she told you about that, then I’m guessing you know why I’m here.”

“I have a vague guess. But I also have a job to do, so make this fast.”

Chavez looked impatient as well but then woged into a Steinadler—growing the gray-blue feathers and large beak Sloane knew well enough. She then quickly woged back. “So, you are a Grimm…”

“Yes. And you’re going to give me a _very_ good reason not to hold you kidnapping the girl I am training and scaring her half to death against you. Now,” Sloane said darkly.

Chavez swallowed a little. Even coming off a cold, Sloane knew how to project an aura of _danger_. “We needed to speak with her. Regarding our organization.”

“Yeah, this cloak and dagger bullshit makes for a great onboard interview,” she said snidely.

“We didn’t want to risk causing a scene. Many Grimms prefer to attack on first sight…”

Sloane sighed, rolling her eyes. “You’re not wrong but kidnapping and making threats isn’t a great first impression either. Not exactly building bridges. You burned mine already.”

“Fair point…Look, our organization isn’t intent on just wesen issues. We want to help make the world safe for everyone. In that regard, a Grimm would be very valuable. I’ve extended the offer to Trubel and I won’t hold telling you against her all things considered. But I’d like to extend the offer to you as well. Especially given your reputation…”

“My reputation?” she huffed. “You didn’t even know I was a Grimm.”

“I suspected. Though the last name I had for you was Sally Langston. Or Sarah Jones. Or Mary Donovan.” Sloane narrowed her eyes, her jaw ticking. “You had a lot of names over the years. Some tied with a few murders…”

“Is that a threat?” she asked.

Chavez held up her hands. “Just saying, you usually don’t work out in the open…I would think you’d be squandering your talents here, playing cops and robbers.”

Sloane smiled and laughed. “Oh, I’d have agreed with you once. But you have no idea what I do day to day here. Plus, I’m not “valuable”; I’m not a piece of memorabilia. You have no idea what I am.”

“Should I be intimidated?”

Sloane stared her down before taking a step forward and Chavez flinched back. She smiled. “If you weren’t, your hand wouldn’t be on your gun.” Chavez looked down at her waist and flushed when she saw her hand was there. She’d been trying to hide it, but Sloane was on a different level from Trubel. Sloane moved around her back for the door. “I’m not interested in your club. So, tell your men not to follow me, and not to follow Theresa either. This is my only warning because if any of them try something again, I will defend myself and what’s important to me. Please see yourself out.” She headed out back to her desk, trying to calm down. That was a decent distraction, but she needed to get to work and not think about Juliette and Nick…breaking the curse.

_That works way too well as a euphemism…_

Her desk phone rang, and she picked it up. “Larson.”

“Sloane, can I see you in my office?” Renard asked smoothly. She blinked and looked over to see him gesture for her from his seat at his desk and the phone to his ear. Shrugging, she hanged up and made her way over into his office. She was surprised to see Renard’s mother sitting in one of the chairs. “Please, close the door,” Renard sighed.

Sloane did so and walked over. “Did something go wrong with the reversal?”

“No,” Elizabeth said, smiling. “I gave Juliette the potion and we left them to have some time alone.”

“Oh…good. Then what’s going on?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

“I told my mother that her Granddaughter is currently in the care of Nick’s mother. She’s a bit…worried.”

“He let it slip that Kelly contacts you,” Elizabeth said. “I’d like to know where she is.”

Sloane frowned. “…No?”

“No?”

“Yeah, no. No one else knowing was kind of the point. Even Nick doesn’t know details.”

Elizabeth smiled and rose to look her in the eyes. “I don’t think you quite understand…I want my granddaughter.”

“And I don’t think you understand, she’s safest where she is right now until the royals are dealt with,” Sloane shot back.

“I can protect her just as well.”

“Is that why I’ve heard they tried to kill you and your son a couple of times?”

The serene smile dimmed a little. “…I guess I should’ve realized a Grimm isn’t easily intimidated.”

“Yeah. So again, Kelly can handle things.” She paused, glancing at Renard and then sighed. “It’s not her intention to just _keep_ Diana. If things can be made safe for her, she’d be fine bringing her back or settling somewhere. But she’s also apparently a strong little hexenbeast and we’d prefer she not use her powers in a way that’s going to cause anyone any harm.”

“You think I might be a bad influence?” she asked, smiling again.

“I think trying to glamor me while talking isn’t a good start on convincing me otherwise. I know what that tickle on my mind is.”

“Mother,” Renard said, looking at her.

“What? It’s not my best skill, but I thought I could give it a shot…” she said, chuckling. She looked back at Sloane. “…Sean is as worried for her as I am. Likely more so.”

“…She’s doing okay. Hitting all her milestones and then some. I’ll see if something can be worked out, but the less people getting updates the better. I doubt you want the royals getting her. Also, do not threaten Kelly—all of us stick together if you haven’t noticed and Renard’s mom or not it won’t end well for you.” She leaned over. “I’m being honest.” Renard held up his hand, apparently well aware his mother was on the verge of making enemies but having given up talking her out of it.

She nodded with a sigh. “It’s true I’d rather avoid that…” She smiled at her Sloane tensed when she reached up to gently lift her chin. “You are surprisingly kind for a Grimm, like Nick…both of you are cute of course. But I like the harder edge I can feel in you. Hopefully you don’t need to use it too much in the future. It’d be a shame to lose you.” Sloane felt a blush creep up despite herself and Elizabeth chuckled. She dropped her hand and picked up her purse. “Well, I call a truce for now. But I would appreciate some pictures of some kind. See if you can manage that and I’ll see what I can do to make things safe for her. Sean, please recover well and try not to die again.”

“I will try, mother,” he said, smiling.

She smiled back, taking his hand and squeezing it before kissing his temple. She turned and smiled at Sloane again before heading out.

“…Was your mother flirting with me?” Sloane asked.

“It’s a distinct possibility, yes,” he sighed, not surprised or affronted. “I need to get back to work and you need to catch up on some.”

“Right, yeah…” She quickly headed back to her desk, wondering what else that day was going to hold for her.

Apparently, it was another kidnapping, this time of a man out of a car that wrecked in the woods. Hank got the call and picked her and Nick up just as he was heading towards the station. Sloane took a deep breath before climbing in, thankful Nick was upfront. “Hey…so, um…How’d it go?” she asked lamely.

Nick was aware how awkward this was and sighed. “It…went well. But I’m not there yet. Elizabeth said it could take a little while to take full effect.”

“Yeah, she says a lot of things,” Sloane muttered. “How’s Juliette?”

“She’s good…better than I thought under the circumstances,” He said, smiling in relief. “I’m really lucky to have her.”

Sloane nodded a bit. “Yeah…definitely.”

They drove into he woods, parking a way back and walking up to where they had the area cordoned off with crime scene tape. Wu was waiting. “Captain give you this one specifically?”

“How’d you guess?” Hank smiled. “What do you have?”

“Car looks to have gone off the road late last night. Discovered this morning by a bicyclist,” he said, walking down the steep hill with them to where the silver SUV was smashed against a tree. The ambulance had managed to make it down much more safely and they were loading a woman onto the stretcher to be taken to the hospital.

“We know who it is?” Nick asked.

“Suleka Turner. Portland address. Car's registered to her husband, Dix Turner. First responders got here about an hour ago. She said something came out of the woods, took her husband, and dragged him away.”

“There’s the weird part,” Sloane said, nodding sagely.

“Yeah. We're searching for the husband, but no sign of him. Seat belt's been cut and there is blood, so...”

One of the EMTs came over to them. “She's pretty out of, but she's trying to say something. You might want to listen before we sedate her.”

They nodded and walked over. Suleka looked very shaken, bits of glass in her hair dark hair and tan skin, several cuts and what looked like a fractured leg all the obvious trauma they could see. She had tears in her eyes and was shaking softly.

“Ma'am?” Nick asked. “We're Detectives and we're trying to find out what happened.”

She looked at them and sniffed, trying to get her voice under control. “They tried to take me. They took my husband.”

“Who?”

“They were terrible…I've never seen anything like that,” she sobbed. “He said, they have to get another. Because they couldn't get me.”

That gave them all a chill and the paramedics had to quickly load her up to take her to the hospital.

Wu looked especially perturbed but led them over the car as he talked. “County sheriff got here before we did. They secured the area and made the determination there was a possible kidnapping, which is the reason you're here.”

“Well. They definitely hit something,” Hanks sighed, kneeling down and pulling his gloves on as he looked at the crunched in front. More specifically, a tire that was practically just rags on the rim. “This tire is shredded.” He started feeling around it and Sloane looked it over from other angles.

“That’s the least of the car’s problems,” Sloane said.

“Aha! Think I find something.” He grunted as he pulled out what appeared to be a thick wooden plank with sharp nails poking out from it.

“Well, that looks deliberate,” Sloane aid.

“What'd you find?” The turned to see the sheriff coming up to them, a woman with red-brown hair and tan skin with wide, doe-like eyes.

“Detectives Burkhardt, Larson and Griffin, Deputy Sheriff Farris,” Wu introduced.

“Good to meet you,” Nick said.

“You too,” she nodded. “Well, it looks like they hit a piece of wood with some nails in it…”

“I've seen something like this on this road before,” Nick said, taking it in his gloved hand.

“When?” Farris asked.

“About five, six years ago. One of my first cases. Maybe 15 Miles east,” he was nodding as he remembered. “Same deal. Wrecked car, two missing people. A spiked strip just like that in the tire.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember that case,” Wu said. “Nobody was ever found…”

“We need to take another look at that evidence,” Nick said.

“Yeah, bit too much of a coincidence,” Sloane agreed.

“Better get some dogs out here,” Hank added. He paused and then waved a hand. “Guys? We're not done over here.” They looked to see a wrecker crew had arrived to take the car away, marked JP & Sons.

“I'll tell them to hold off,” Farris sighed, going over to them.

“Thank you! Let's get that tire off,” Nick said. Hank gestured to the crime guys and they looked over the rest of the scene before returning to the precinct to find Nick’s old files.

“November 27th. Six years ago,” Nick said, opening the file box. He pulled out another bit of wood with nails sticking out of it, this one with red numbered tabs over each nail for evidence sake. “Homemade. Look familiar?”

“It’s another poor man’s spike strip…” Sloane said, frowning. “Whoever this is has been operating that long?”

“At least,” Hank sighed. He pulled out a file folder from his box, opening it up to read out. “The victims were Keith and Jennifer Blakely of Spokane, Washington. Reported missing at the scene. Bodies never found…It looks like there was a survivor.”

“Penny Conner,” Nick said, remembering with a deep frown. “Jennifer's sister. She was... 13 years old. Asleep in the backseat. Wasn't wearing a seat belt, got knocked to the floor during the accident.”

Hank looked at him sympathetically. “You really know this.”

“I remember what she said to me. Monsters took her sister and brother-in-law,” he said, sounding disgusted with himself.

Sloane set a hand on his shoulder. “Nick, that was a while before you inherited…you didn’t know.”

“Yeah, you wouldn't have known that six years ago,” Hank agreed.

Nick still looked guilty, remembering how he dismissed the girl’s story as just being trauma. Now he was sure in his gut it was wesen related, even if he couldn’t see them still.

“Get off!” They all looked up to see a man being dragged in handcuffs towards holding. He was fighting the officers, trying to hit out that them with his legs and body. “I told you, man, I didn't hit her!”

“Come on, settle down,” the officer grunted, holding on. Nick’s eyes widened as he thought he saw the man’s form rippling as if he were woging. He tried to move to get a better look, but they were already dragging him to the holding cells.

“You okay?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, I thought I, uh...Never mind,” he sighed. He didn’t want to get their hopes up. He did glance at Sloane who arched a brow back at him.

“Heard from the dog handlers,” Wu said, walking up. “Picked up a trail, but it dead ended back at the highway.”

“So... There was probably a car waiting for them,” Hank guessed.

“This was buried where the car went off the road,” Nick said, taking out an evidence bag and opening it up. Inside was a metal effigy of a humanoid figure made from rusted scraps welded together. But what stood out was the long, forked tongue curving down from the smooth face. “Search dog dug it up.”

“What the hell is this?” Hank asked, staring at it in confusion.

“Stuff nightmares are made of,” Wu said, looking at the tongue in particular. Hank gave him a worried look and Wu managed a smile. “Or bad art.”

“I don’t recognize it,” Sloane admitted. “If it’s wesen it’s either one I don’t know, or a ritual I’m not familiar with.”

“Well, if these crimes are connected, there may be another one of those where we were this morning,” Nick said. They glanced at one another, all knowing what they’d be doing next.

“I’ll borrow the metal detector from the supply room,” Wu said.

“We might need some shovels too,” Sloane said. Wu gave a thumbs up as he headed to the back rooms. “…He didn’t even flinch when I mentioned wesen.”

“Think he’s gotten used to it?” Hank asked hopefully.

“I don’t know if he’s ready to face one head on, but he’s at least not running from the words. Baby steps.”

They got everything they needed and headed back out to the scene, sweeping the metal detectors around.

“You know, my Uncle Andre had one of these things,” Hank said, watching his screen. He and Nick were using the detectors while Sloane and Wu stood by with shovels and Wu’s camera around his neck. “He spent hours and hours going up and down beaches. One time, he found a watch worth $5,000.”

“Wow, that's pretty good,” Wu said.

“He lost it the week before,” Hank smirked, laughing. “You can’t make this stuff up.”

Wu and Nick looked at each other but Sloane chuckled. “Hey, he broke even then.”

Nick paused when his metal detector went off. “I got something.” Sloane came over and handed him the shovel and held the detector while he dug it up. “Aaand…it’s another beer can,” he sighed.

“Popular spot,” Wu said snidely.

“Hey, working on a six-pack,” Hank said as his own went off. Wu held his detector while he quickly dug. A bigger chunk of earth came up with a very distinct shape of a lizard-man effigy.

“Not a beer can,” Wu said, leaning down to take pictures quickly. Sloane looked up and noticed the Sherriff car pull up and Farris come out.

“Looks like we got a connection,” Nick sighed. Sloane tapped his shoulder and he looked up as the Sherriff came over.

“Hey. They said I could find you guys here,” she said. She noticed Hank picking up the figure with gloved hands. “You got something?” She took a closer look at the spiny hands and long tongue with a frown. “That's kinda weird. It's important?”

“Just like another one I found six years ago,” Nick said.

“What is it? Some kind of totem?”

“Could be a signature,” Hank said, putting it into an evidence back.

She nodded then looked at all of them seriously. “I did some looking into related accidents on this highway. I went back ten years. The first was your case, six years ago,” she nodded to Nick. “Another case with similar circumstances three years after that. Young couple, last seen on route 406. They were camping and their SUV was found abandoned near a trailhead, so...Everybody assumed they got lost in the woods.”

“Campers get lost all the time. What's the similarity?” Hank asked like he had the feeling she knew.

“They left their camping gear behind,” she said scornfully.

“Where was the SUV found?” Sloane asked.

“About four Miles down the highway. That's why I came, I thought you guys might want to check it out.”

They nodded, following her back up to their cars to get to the spot. A bit more searching, and Hank’s detector beeped over an area near the road. He moved to take the shovel, but Farris beat him to the spot with a smile. “I can dig.”

“All yours,” he said, holding his hands up. She went over to start turning over the earth. On the second push in, Nick dully heard the sound of something metallic—something he shouldn’t be able to hear with a normal human ear, and it made him jump.

“Nothing here,” Farris sighed, moving to cover the hole back up.

“Wait,” Nick said quickly. She looked up ins surprise. “I thought I heard something.” All of them looked at him with varying degrees of confusion, curiosity, or skepticism. “Just, uh, keep digging where you were digging.”

“Okay…” She did so, and in the next turn of soil a rusted effigy with a long red tongue staring up at her. She stared in shock and maybe a little fear at the figure as Wu came in to take photos before they collected it for evidence.

“Anybody know any artists slash welders around here?” Wu asked.

“Couple of junkyards. They might know,” Farris said, nodding her head. “I'll look into it.”

“Alright, thanks,” Nick nodded.

“We’ll look at a few other possibilities too,” Sloane said. Nick nodded again and they loaded up to go their separate ways.

Going to the trailer, they managed to find a passage about Phansigars, who use their tongues to choke their victims. They were a subset of Skalengeck, similar to Komodo Dragons. What stood out was that the Hindu cult of Thuggee that believed in human sacrifice. The Phansigars had a more unique believe that required them also sacrifice a young couple to Kali every three years by burying the couple alive.

Also, Rudyard Kipling was a Grimm. That put a few things in perspective as he talked about slitting the Phansigar’s throat.

But the main thing they took away was that they needed a couple for this ritual. And right now, Dix Turner was their only victim, so their suspects needed a woman. The other good news was that they needed to be buried alive, so Dix must still be alive somewhere.

They explained all of this to Renard who was nodding as he looked the metal figure over. “So, this is a wesen case…”

“I didn’t know that the first time around,” Nick sighed.

“What about now?” he asked, eyeing him.

“…I’m not sure it’s coming back,” he sighed. “It’s been over a day…”

“Things take time. But if you’re still not at full power, you may need some help. The books say their part of a “cult”, that usually means multiple members.”

Nick nodded slowly, looking at Sloane. “He might have a point…”

She shrugged. “I’m feeling a lot better, but if we’re not sure how many we’re dealing with I’d rather be the one to overpower them than the other way around.”

There was a knock at the door, and they looked up to see Wu open the door. “Hey. Got the preliminary lab report on those little guys. They traced a paint on the metal. It's all automobile paint.”

“Scrap from a salvage yard,” Renard said, nodding.

“There's one out on that highway. Been there for 35 years. But it was bought out seven years ago by JP and sons,” Wu said, connecting the dots.

“Around the same time the disappearances started,” Hank nodded.

He held up a bit of note paper. “Address, anyone?”

Nick rolled his eyes and took it while Sloane looked at Wu. “Not coming with us?”

“Ah…You’re pretty sure this is wesen?”

“Yep.”

“Pretty sure,” Hank nodded.

“…Not quite there yet.”

“Hold on,” Renard said, holding up a hand and looking at them all. “Wu, you know?”

They all grimaced but Sloane was the one to look at him apologetically. “Ah…we forgot to mention that?”

“You did. How long?”

“…Since the Aswang case. The one involving my friend, Dana,” Wu said honestly. “I was not ready to really…accept all of it until recently though. I’m still kind of…”

Renard nodded slowly. “Alright…I understand. How much do you know though?”

“I know you’re…part wesen?” he said delicately. “But I haven’t asked about much more and they just mentioned it when I asked how you knew.”

“He’s been really good about it,” Nick said honestly. “I mean, he hasn’t told anyone.”

“Who the hell would believe me?” he muttered.

“You aren’t in trouble, any of you. I just prefer knowing these things, for obvious reasons. Wu, I know you’re a great cop. You seem to be doing alright now, so I’m not worried about what you’re going to do with the knowledge if you haven’t done anything with it yet besides help Nick, Hank, and Sloane. I guess, welcome to the club.”

“…Thank you, sir,” he said honestly, and the detectives all breathed a sigh of relief.

The headed out to first hit the Spice Shop for back up. Sloane called Rosalee to let her know they were on their way while Hank and Nick made a couple of calls as well. They entered just as the last customer exited and Monroe nodded to them. “Okay, so. What's the problem?”

“Phansigars,” Nick said.

Monroe blinked. “I... Never heard of them,” he said honestly, a little surprised.

“They're into human sacrifice.”

“That I've heard of,” he nodded.

“We need you to come with us,” Sloane said. “We’re not sure how many there are, and Nick is still not quite a Grimm. A Blutbad would be appreciated.”

“Guys, I... I can't leave Rosalee alone, not with what's going on,” he said, shaking his head and looking at Rosalee worriedly.

Nick sighed and nodded. “I know…”

“I hope you're not bringing a Phansigar here, because I have heard of them,” Rosalee said.

“Well, I wish what Juliette and I had gone through had worked, 'cause if I had another way to do this, I would,” Nick said a bit waspishly.

“Nick, it could still work,” Rosalee said gently.

“Yeah, well. It's taking its own damn time,” he sighed.

The door opened again, and they turned to see Juliette enter. “Sorry I'm late. I had to pick up more ammo on the way from work.”

Monroe blinked rapidly in shock and befuddlement. “I'm sorry, you brought your gun?”

She nodded, perfectly calm. “Yeah.” She then nodded to Rosalee. “Hey.”

“Hey,” hey she said, also non-plussed that Juliette was currently armed.

The door opened again and Trubel walked in. “Hey, sorry I'm late.”

“Hey,” everyone but Monroe said. She went over to join Juliette and Rosalee and it dawned on Monroe that they’d already coordinated all this.

“You're good to go,” Rosalee said with a smile.

Monroe nodded slowly and followed the detectives out without argument.

When they got to the junkyard, they found the front gate was padlocked. Luckily, they kept bolt cutters in the car for reasons like this and Nick grabbed them so they could head inside. “Monroe, stick close to Nick,” Sloane said.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

“If I didn’t need your eyes my pride might be hurt right now…” he muttered. They quieted as they got further in, heading for the center of the junkyard and following voices speaking in what they thought must be a form of Hindi.

“Sounds like some kind of ceremony,” Monroe said.

“Yeah. A ceremony where they bury their victims alive,” Nick said, moving with his gun down at his side but ready. “Let's hope we're not late—” He have a short cry and staggered, leaning against a car to his side and looking like he was in pain.

“Nick?” Sloane whispered, going to him quickly.

“Nick, are you okay?” Hank asked.

“I don't think so,” he said, pressing his free hand to his head and shaking.

“Should we get him out of here?” Monroe asked worriedly.

“No. I can hear something,” Nick said, trying to concentrate through the blinding headache. He could hear a woman groaning deliriously before the sound of her hitting the ground. Nick snapped his eyes open, realizing what that must be since it wasn’t a strange vision of somewhere else. “We have to get there.” He pushed away and pressed on and though she was worried, Sloane followed with her knife ready, Hank and Monroe with them.

They finally came to the center of the yard, where a huge lizard effigy was erected, big enough for a bonfire inside of it to light up it’s chest and mouth. It felt like they were in a Godzilla movie. An older man was chanting in Hindi while two younger men and several torches were around him, all in dark colored Kurta suits. They were in front of a rather large square shaped hole in the ground

“There they are,” Hank said

“I can't tell what they're doing,” Monroe sighed, trying to get a good look.

“Me either. Are they woged?”

“No,” Sloane shook her head. “But considering they need two people and I see two holes…”

“Can you see anything else?” Nick asked, glancing at both of them. Both she and Monroe shook their heads.

“Woged or not, I don't like what I'm seeing,” Hank said. “We have to take them down now.”

“Agreed,” Sloane said, adjusting the grip on her knife. The grip slackened when Nick grunted and nearly collapsed again against another car with a metallic bang.

“What is happening?” Hank asked.

“It's my head,” Nick choked out.

“We gotta get him out of here now,” Monroe said. Nick gave a soft cry and curled up more and Sloane frowned worriedly and knelt in front of him.

“Breath, Nick,” she said softly. “Deep breaths.” Nick tried to take in a breath, clawing at his forehead as he felt like something was trying to pull his eyes out.

“Where did they go?” Hank whispered quickly. In the moment they looked at Nick, the three men disappeared into the maze of cars.

“Help!” someone screamed from one of the pits—a man’s voice.

Nick was still trying to just breath through the pain, which was only getting worse. Hank hesitated but sighed and looked at Monroe. “Stay with Nick. Sloane, come with me.”

She nodded, squeezing Nick’s shoulder before walking out to the pits. Hank had his flashlight up with his gun to help him seek and aim, but Sloane let her eyes shift slightly to see better in the dark. Moving over, she looked down into a pit. “Holy crap…It’s the Sherriff Farris!” she said. She hadn’t anticipated they’d take her as their missing piece, but she supposed she was captured when she was inquiring about the scrap metal sculptures.

“I'm going in,” Hank said, jumping down. He knelt down to feel over her pulse.

“How is she?”

“Alive,” he sighed, working to undo the rope. “Think you can get her out?”

“I think so.” She kneeled, sticking her knife in the ground. “Monroe? Can you see about the other one? The quicker we get them, the quicker we’re out of here. We can come back to take care of the owners.”

Monroe hesitated but made sure Nick was situated by the car. “Nick, I gotta help them, okay. I'll be right back.” He quickly scrambled out from the car and rushed over to the other pit. “Oh, my God…Yeah, there’s a guy in here too.”

“I figured, can you get him out or at least go down to pass him up?” She said, watching Hank untie Farris. She was limp and had a bad looking welt around her neck that screamed “ _I got choked out by long reptile tongue.”_ Hank was just about ready to pass her up when Sloane heard rushing footsteps and turned in time to see a man rushing in. “Monroe!”

He gasped but didn’t have time to defend himself as the older man slammed into him and knocked him into the pit.

“Ahh! Oh, God, not again,” he groaned, having flashbacks to the blinder jaeger incident.

“Monroe!” Sloane moved to grab her knife, but the man was already advancing, and she had to roll out of the way before he could kick her in the head.

He loomed in the torchlight and she saw his face shift briefly, but he was maintaining control for now. “You've defiled our sacred ground. Now you must be sacrificed.”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” she said, grabbing the hidden knife in her boot and throwing it at him. He dodged admirably for an older man.

“Hold it!” Another voice yelled. She looked over and felt her body go cold when the two younger men came, dragging Nick between them. She cursed herself for asking Monroe to come help and leaving him alone—a stupid mistake. “We found another one, but there's something wrong with him... he's sick or something.”

“Let him go,” Sloane ground out, ready to rip them apart.

“Hold it,” the older man said. He picked up her knife and tossed it to one of his sons who caught it expertly. “If you take another step, we’ll just slit his throat here and now and he’ll bleed out in the dirt. Quite a waste, wouldn’t you say?”

Sloane froze and then eased back, eying them. “You’re planning on killing him anyway…”

“True…but you obviously care for this man. Our sacrifices work so much better when there is a connection between the two…”

“Well, sorry, but we’re just friends,” she said snidely.

“Hm. Better than strangers. So, it’s up to you—watch him die or die without having to watch.”

She glared but one sun was holding the knife to Nick’s throat now. He looked at her blearily. “Sloane…don’t give up…”

She stared a moment before sighing and closing her eyes as she felt a pain in her chest at the thought of him bleeding out. “Don’t…kill him. Please,” she said quietly, honestly.

The older man smiled. “Then get on your knees.”

She glared but dropped to her knees.

“Sloane? What’s going on!?” Hank yelled.

“They have Nick.”

“What?!”

“Yes.” He ordered one of his sons over to her in Hindi and the man grabbed a handful of her hair. Sloane glared up at him defiantly but was watching the man as he circled in front of Nick. His brother let go of Nick to come join them while their father stood in front of Nick. “I'll take care of you...”

“Nick!” She shouted, grunting as the grip in her hair tightened. She watched as the man woged and stood over Nick. Nick was staring up at him as well, and his expression changed from one of tiredness, to hope, to awe. The man’s face, meanwhile, even with reptilian features, changed into shock.

A smile came to Nick’s face. “You’re done.” The Phansigar hissed and his tongue wrapped around Nick’s neck. Nick had managed to keep a hand up to keep it from strangling him though and rose to his feet before punching hard enough to sever the tongue out right. The older Phansigar screamed, staggering away while Nick rushed the man holding Sloane and threw his father’s tongue at him, making him back way and let her go with a shriek. Sloane got up to her feet to stand at his side while the two younger men woged and stared at them. “A Grimm?” one hissed in shock.

“Yeah... I am. And so is she.” He glanced at her and Sloane knew when he wanted to move. They both rushed them and though they took swings at them they ducked under and struck them in the face. Nick felt his strength returning—his reflexes sharper, his strikes harder. Sloane didn’t have her knife, but she was just as formidable as he was with her fists. When one tried to rush him, he managed to lift and flip him into a car windshield.

Sloane ripped one of the torches out of the ground to swing it into the father as he tried to get up again, then bringing it down again on his prone form and making him scream as it burned. She brought it off and glared down at him. “Stay down.”

Nick struck the other brother before he could get to Sloane, then unleashed a flurry of punches to the face before kicking him to Sloane who brought him down with a kick to the face. Nick panted and looked at her. “You okay?”

“Never better,” she said, grinning a bit. She then gasped and Nick turned to see the one he’d back flipped staggering to one of the pits. He loomed there and they moved to get him when he just fell forward and Monroe yelped. But the brother was now out cold and dewoged at the bottom of the pit.

“Hey, some of us are still down here!” Both Sloane and Nick got to the edge and looked down. Monroe was pressed against the back of the pit, Dix Turner next to him still passed out and tied up. He looked up and smiled when he saw them. “Guys... You were right. It was a Phansigar!”

“I know,” Nick panted, smiling.

Monroe gaped then smiled back. “You mean you saw him woged?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, looking at Sloane. She grinned and hugged him in relief, and he laughed and hugged her back.

Monroe was laughing as well. “That's awesome!”

Sloane pulled back and then realized just how close she was, her heart leaping up to her throat. “…Hank!” she gasped, quickly going over to the second pit with Nick close behind. Hank brought up his gun when he saw the movement then relaxed when he saw it was Sloane and Nick. “Whoa, easy. We won,” she said. Hank sighed and lowered his weapon.

“How is she?” Nick asked, looking at Farris who was still unconscious with her head on Hank’s leg.

“She'll be okay as long as she doesn't remember any of this,” Hank said. H looked at Nick, noting the healthy glow about him. “How are you?”

Nick grinned again and nodded. “I'm back. Let's get you guys out of there.”

\---------------------

They got the suspects back to the shop—they were alive if very bruised and burned and bleeding. They were already having a team explore the area and it was believed that there were four other graves—six graves in total for six victims. They also told Renard and Wu that Nick was back in action and Renard was honestly relieved in welcoming him back.

Getting back to the Spice Shop, they were glad to find that nothing had happened there. And they were glad to find out that Nick’s powers were back. Sloane watched him and Juliette have their moment, hugging each other close, and she felt that tightness again. She couldn’t deny that she was developing feelings for Nick. Not the friendly kind—she’d acknowledged he was one of her dearest friends a long time ago. Probably around the same time as Rosalee. She wasn’t sure exactly when that started to turn to a romantic desire, but now that she identified that feeling it was not going to go away quietly. She’d just have to hope with nothing to feed it that feeling would shrivel up and her friendly love for him would just remain. After all, he had Juliette…

Trubel was also emotional, hugging Nick hard as well in relief. He and Sloane were the only Grimm she knew—losing one felt isolating even if Sloane was still there.

“I, um…also didn’t tell you something I should have…” Trubel said, looking between them.

Sloane and Nick glanced at one another and then back. “…What sort of something?” Sloane asked.

“Well…some of Chavez’s guys were hanging out outside the house.”

Sloane narrowed her eyes. “That little…I told her to leave us alone…”

“She talked to you?” Nick asked.

“Yesterday morning. I warned her not to try anything again and what would happen if she did.”

Trubel shrugged. “I mean…I slashed the guys tires and took off.”

Sloane arched her brow. “All of them or just three?”

“Just three, so his insurance won’t take care of it,” Trubel said.

Sloane grinned. “That’s my girl.”

“Sloane…” Nick said, torn between amusement and incredulousness.

“What? Not every skill I teach is solely Grimm related. Sometimes it’s a little harmless revenge.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed, and she smiled.

“That’s not the big part though,” Trubel said. “I went to Nick’s to hang out and, well…”

“No one’s beheaded, are they?” Juliette asked worriedly.

“No, just…um…Josh is there.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “Oh…Oh god, that’s right…I forgot about him!”

“I kind of left him at your house…he’s pretty freaked out,” Trubel said, looking guilty as well.

Nick sighed and looked at Juliette. “I…can explain on the way home?”

“You better,” she nodded, though didn’t look too put out. “We’ll see you all later.”

“Right, later,” Monroe said as they all started heading out and their separate ways.

Sloane sighed as they drove back to the house. Chavez’s man wasn’t there anymore but Sloane checked her locks and the rooms to be safe. “You think they’ll try something else?” Trubel asked.

“I don’t know what they’d try right now…” she sighed. She looked at Trubel and patted the back of her head. “Let’s try to get some sleep though. Who knows what’s waiting for us now…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated chopping this up more, but there's other things I want to get to so it's all going in here! Some of these guys might make more appearances--I know Ben and David will. I'm considering bringing Clay in too, I did really like him...if you have any thoughts or suggestions, I'm happy to hear them!


	19. Bad Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 19 of the Casebook of Sloane Larson
> 
> Sloane's ex-boyfriend and the kind of Grimm wesen parents warn their children about has come to town! Out of fear that he'd hurt her friends if he stayed and found out about them, she and Trubel agree to go with him on a hunt in another state and meet up with more of her former Grimm cohorts. Trying to balance who she is and who she was is a hard tightrope to walk, even more so when she realizes she might not be the only one who changed--but not for the better. What would happen to her and Trubel if they suspected they were "soft"?

“ ** _I can’t go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.”_**

\--------------------

**Bad Company**

\----------------------

Sloane scanned the crowd slowly, trying to find her target. The fall chill was enough she was finally able to wear her new leather jacket and she was grateful for it. Pulling her glove off, she took out her phone and dialed Renard’s number. “Hey. I’m at the square, but I don’t see the guy you told me about.”

“He’s good at hiding,” Renard said. “I’ve had to deal with Eddie Guinon before when I was a sergeant and he slipped away. After killing three people,” he added with a hint of frustration and bitterness.

“So why would he come back?” she asked curiously and with a hint of annoyance, looking around. “You didn’t tell me much in the office, if you recall.”

“Couldn’t say much with everyone else around. But Guinon has still got contacts here, and funds he hid I’m sure he wants back after almost six years. As a Racun rahang, he’s stubborn. He’s also smart. If he sees me nearby, he’ll bolt. But he doesn’t know what you look like. A Grimm will also make him a little bit more compliant I’m hoping. I do want him alive if possible, for information.”

“Nick’s usually better at that,” she reminded him, pulling out the picture again.

“Nick is still getting back into the swing of things.”

“It’s been a few days and he’s doing fine.”

“I know, but I also don’t want to push him too much.”

“You’re the one that got shot and was back at work a few days later!” she laughed. A couple of people looked at her and then quickly moved on, but she just kept looking around. “Seriously, Renard, you don’t always have to play the “good guy” captain with me—we’re not on the clock. Be honest.”

“Okay…The real reason is, you’re better at being the scary Grimm,” he said honestly.

“I’ll consider that a compliment…” she said, amused. “Really though, Nick is fine…hold up, I think I see your man,” she said, seeing a man with olive skin and a shaved head walking through the crowd. He was trying to look casual but was obvious from his body language he was keeping an eye out and trying to get to a particular building. Sloane pulled out the security photo Renard gave her out again and glanced down at it. “Yeah, that’s him. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Good luck.”

She ended the call and put the photo and phone in her jacket pocket. Maneuvering through the crowd, she managed to catch up to Guinon as he headed into a nearby building. It was a men’s suit store apparently, with mannequins and photos of sharply dressed men everywhere. She saw Guinon speak to the man at the counter and follow him to the back. Before he could glance back, she turned to look at a display of ties. He continued through the door and Sloane quickly tried to formulate a plan. If the clerks knew him, they likely would alert him if she just pulled the police officer card right away. She needed to get to Guinon alone.

“Can I help you miss?” a clerk asked, coming up beside her.

Sloane smiled, slipping into a perkier persona easily. “Maybe. My boyfriend and I are invited to a wedding and all his ties are…ugly. He needs something that doesn’t look like a twelve-year-old picked it out.”

The clerk smiled. “Understandable. Is it black tie or did you have a color in mind?”

For a second she imagined a pair of familiar dusky green-brown eyes. “Green…it brings out his eyes.” A small ball of confusion and guilt rolled in her stomach and she tried to blink away the image of Nick at Monroe and Rosalee’s wedding. _Don’t get weird._

“Well, green is a very popular color. We have a few shades as well.”

“Um, well, something light would probably be best…” She feigned embarrassment and leaned in. “I’m so sorry, would you mind if I used the restroom really quick? I chugged my morning coffee and I cannot make a decision like this…”

He smiled and nodded. “No problem at all, this way.” He led her over to a door near where Guinon had entered. “Would you like me to pick out a few green ties?”

“I’d appreciate that, thank you. Oh, maybe some reds or purples too? They are the wedding colors. Is that too much?”

“Not at all, I’ll select a few to show you in each.”

“Thank you! I might just pick him up a bunch and let his old ones mysteriously disappear,” she smiled and headed through the door. The clerk left, no doubt hoping to sell quite a few ties now, and Sloane took a breath. She waited a few moments before looking up and calling the store on her phone. She heard it ring and then someone pick up. “Hello?”

Ignoring the call, she cracked the door, ensured that the clerk had their back turned or was away, and quietly opened and slipped through the door. This led to the back, which was apparently a small warehouse with racks of suits hanging up. Ending the call, she circled the outside of the racks, figuring whatever Guinon was looking for it must be along the walls. Sure enough, she found him rummaging around at part of the wall.

“Edward Guinon?”

His head whipped up and he stood. “Who the hell are you? How’d you get here?”

She flashed her badge in her jacket. “Portland PD. I’d like for you to come downtown with me. And I prefer you come peacefully.”

He sneered. “Like hell. Christ, I’m back for less than two days and you’re already on my ass?”

“We’re quick on the uptake. If you do not come peacefully, I will put you under arrest.”

“For what?”

“Murder. Extortion. Money laundering-that’s what Renard told me anyway.”

“Renard…Oh, that upstart detective,” he laughed. “Am I supposed to be intimidated?”

“I’ll let my Captain know you said that.”

“Captain, oh, well, someone’s come up in the world while I’ve been gone-”

“Look, I’m not one for talking overly long, either woge and we fight, or I’ll just beat you now,” she sighed.

He started a bit before he did indeed woge, his face growing scaled, eyes slitted and yellow, and his teeth becoming rows of razor-sharp points. A reptilian hiss escaped him, and he stepped back slightly. “Grimm!”

“Yep. So, what’s it going to be?” He tensed, looking ready to fight, and she reached into her jacket for her knife. Before she could unsheathe it though, he suddenly turned and bolted. “Hey! Running was not one of my options!” she yelled, moving to follow. He pulled a rack of suits down, but she quickly bypassed it using a pillar to swing around and stayed on the move. He went out a back exit into an alley, only to find it blocked by a garbage truck on the other side, the vehicle too wide to allow him out. There didn’t seem to be anyone manning the truck either.

“Not your lucky day,” Sloane said, standing at the only way out of the alley now. Guinon turned and hissed again, his forked done flailing in agitation. Sloane tensed and readied for a fight. A Racun rahang was like a Komodo dragon-like wesen—reptilian and with a bite that could infect a person with a highly toxic saliva. Painful and possibly fatal. She’d have to stay on her guard and ready for a tough fight.

So, it was a surprise when someone did pop up from on top of the garbage truck and shot Guinon through the chest from the back. The man de-woged, staring at the growing patch of red below his collar bone, before collapsing without so much as a word. Sloane gaped a second before her eyes darted up as the figure climbed down. She raised her knife, ready on the defense. “Who the hell are you?!”

The man hopped down the last run of the truck’s ladder and turned and Sloane almost dropped the knife in shock. “Don’t tell me you forgot about me, love?” he said, a faint Irish accent coloring his words. The man smiled, a cocksure grin lifting one side of his mouth and god he hadn’t changed a bit in the years since she saw him.

“Collin?” she gasped. Normally she tried to hide her surprise, but it was hard. This was the worse person to be here now without warning. “Wh…what are you doing here?”

“Well, I’ve been tracking down this gobshite for the past couple of days,” he said, toeing Guinon’s body. “He caused a bit of a problem when I first arrived, killed off a man right close to where I was staying. Didn’t realize you were also after him, that’s convenient.”

Sloane was trying not to panic and quickly sheathed her knife. “…What are you doing in Portland though?”

“I came looking for you!” He walked over and smiled. He had a faint scar going through his right eyebrow, and his nose was slightly crooked, but he had a certain handsomeness about him that would draw girls to him. Nothing seemed to change about him at all and it gave Sloane an uneasy feeling in her stomach. “I need your help with something.”

Sloane shook her head. “I’m sorry, now’s not a great time…Did you seriously come all the way here just to talk to me? I still have a phone number." _Not that I would pick up for you to be honest…_

"Aye, but I wouldn't get to see you then," he grinned. “And it’s always a lovely sight.”

Sloane’s face didn’t lighten. "Collin, this really isn't the best time..." she said slowly.

He smirked again, coming a bit closer. "Come now, Sloane. Whatever you're doing here, couldn't you use a bit of help? We always did work well together." He reached up and put an arm around her, speaking in her ear. "We did a lot of things well together."

She frowned and smacked his hand, and he pouted when he took it back. “I’m serious.”

“You always are,” he sighed. “But, despite what you may think, so am I. I need to talk to you about some things-”

There was the sound of sirens in the distance getting closer and Sloane looked at him. “Did you steal that garbage truck?”

“Eh…borrowed more like,” he said slowly. “Was figuring on going in there to flush the bastard out myself once I got the other side blocked, but you did that part for me. Guess they realized it wasn’t where they parked it already.”

Sloane pinched the bridge of her nose. It was a familiar headache dealing with the Irishman. “Collin…look, I will handle things here, you better leave.”

“You can come with me so we can talk now,” he pointed out.

“I’ve got things to do this afternoon, I’ll be off the grid in the woods. Call me later if you’re so damn insistent but neither one of us wants to be caught around a dead body!”

“Always pragmatic, missed that about you,” he smiled. “We’ll talk later then.” He quickly ran towards the front of the alleyway, sprinting off. Sighing, Sloane pulled out her phone and dialed Renard as she headed back into the shop.

“Sloane? How’d it go?”

“Not…well,” she sighed. “Guinon’s dead.”

“He didn’t want to come peacefully?” Renard asked, not judging but sighing all the same.

“I didn’t do it,” Sloane said seriously.

“…Alright. You best get out of there then; I’ll arrange for him to be found.”

“Also not a problem, I hear sirens already. I got the stuff he came for at least,” she said, kneeling down to look at the hole in the wall.

“That’s something.”

“Yeah. But do me a favor and round up Nick, Hank and Wu and meet at your office. We have a bigger problem.”

\--------------------

Nick walked into the office, nodding to the others. “Hey, what’s the emergency?”

“I’m not sure, Sloane wanted to wait until we were all here,” Renard said, looking at her.

“I didn’t want to explain this more than a couple of times, I’ll need to tell Monroe and Rosalee too anyway,” she sighed. “To preface this, I was on a hunt earlier at Renard’s request. I was supposed to try and bring in one Eddie Guinon alive.”

“Eddie Guinon is back?” Hank asked. “Shit, that guy is bad news…He’s like old school mafia. My superiors used to talk about him when I was a beat cop. I thought he got run out though.”

“He did, I was part of that task force. He was also wesen, a Racun rahang. I heard he was trying to come back to Portland, at least for some important goods he left behind. Sloane did manage to find those.” He held up a small sack. “Mostly flash drives of what I believe to be some of his contacts and banking information, so that will be handy.”

“But no Eddie?” Wu asked delicately.

Sloane sighed again. “He was killed before I could get him…by another Grimm.”

“Another one?” Wu asked, shocked. Everyone was equally flabbergasted, even Renard was looking ruffled.

She shrugged. “There are more than you think in the world.”

“But why here in Portland?” Nick asked, shocked as well. “I mean, is this place just a Grimm magnet?”

“It feels that way, but no. He’s here for me,” she sighed.

Renard arched his brow. “You know him?”

“Yeah…” She said slowly. “His name is Collin Donahue and, um…I guess what you would call my ex-boyfriend.”

The men were all quiet a moment.

“Oh,” Hank finally said. “So…awkward?”

“Given how we left things, a little,” Sloane agreed, looking put out just thinking about it. “Apparently he’d spotted Guinon earlier and followed him, then laid a trap for him. It was a coincidence we were after the same wesen, but he did come here to find me. Because he needs something. I didn’t ask about the details, no time before we heard sirens, and he wants to meet up to talk about it.”

Nick frowned. “Should I come with you then?”

“Absolutely not,” Sloane said firmly. He frowned but she didn’t gentle her tone. “I’m here to tell you all this as a warning. Collin is more a traditional Grimm. How I was when I first came here? Multiply that by ten. And he will not change. He is proud of it. If he could stuff wesen and mount them on the wall, he would. And if you two meet; it’s going to be bad. You didn’t like me when I first came here, did you?”

“Uh, well…You were a bit…abrasive?” He said delicately.

Sloane rolled her eyes. “I was a bitch, just say it, I admit it. But I had it in me to change, even if I didn’t want to admit it at first. He doesn’t. I know this, I have seen what he is capable of and it is a big reason I left him. And he will try to hurt you—any of you—if he finds out about how we operate. He doesn’t like any wesen, he doesn’t like Keirshiete who get along with wesen, and he doesn’t like Grimms who don’t kill wesen on sight. So, you can imagine why I don’t want him knowing about you, or Monroe and Rosalee and the others,” she said.

Renard nodded, looking troubled. “This is troubling then.”

“Could we bring him in?” Wu asked. “Arrest him?”

Sloane shook her head. “He’d have covered his tracks as far as Guinon or anyone else, and he’d run for it before we’d be able to get him. While I don’t like his methods, I don’t bet on us being able to bring him in. And he’ll kill to get away if he thinks he has to.”

“So, you recommend we not engage him, but you do?” Hank clarified.

“I’d prefer not engaging at all with him…but yeah, basically.”

Renard sighed, resigned. “Knowing a man-eating tiger is out there is disturbing, but better than being in his line of sight or making him more agitated to attack.”

“Exactly,” Sloane said.

“But you’re sure you’re safe with him?” Nick asked again.

“Yeah, you sure you don’t need back up?” Hank said. “I know you can probably turn this guy into a pretzel if you wanted, but…”

Sloane smiled, though Nick noticed she didn’t look as confident as she usually did. “I appreciate the thought, but for now I’d like to have him just move on. I’m hoping I can get him to do that peacefully by just telling him I’m busy here, but I don’t need help.”

“Okay,” Nick said hesitantly. “Just be careful and call us if you think you’re in trouble.”

“Right. On that note, I don’t want him meeting Trubel either. I don’t want her even knowing he exists because I don’t trust him not to pull her down to his level. Oh!” She snapped her fingers. “That’s right, I’m meeting her this afternoon for some training. She’s probably waiting for me to pick her up.”

“I’d go do it,” Hank said. “She’d get curious if you canceled and we didn’t have a case.”

“True,” she sighed. “Training would help center me I think for dealing with him too…He knows how to get under my skin…”

“I’ll call and warn Monroe and Rosalee,” Nick said. “You go do that.”

She smiled and nodded. “Okay. I’m going to head out now then, I’ll call you guys after I actually talk with him.”

“Let me know if I can at least give him a parking ticket,” Wu called after her.

“He’d never pay it!” Sloane laughed. Inside she was still feeling her stomach tying itself in knots.

\--------------------

Monroe was working in the little part of the shop he’d claimed as a work area, so he could do some work on his watches while also helping Rosalee. Rosalee wasn’t complaining, it was nice to have the company and help, and even just knowing he was nearby was a comfort after all the talk of the Secundum Naturae Ordinem Wesen. It made him feel better as well to stick close to her rather than risk her being alone.

When his phone rang to the tune of Another One Bites the Dust by Queen, he carefully set his tools down and picked it up. He’d gotten into giving personalized ringtones after hearing Nick do it. “Hey Nick, what’s up?”

“Hey. You’re at the shop right now, right?”

“Yeah…is there a problem?” he asked cautiously.

“Yeah, but I’m really more just giving you guys a heads up. I know you’re stressed enough as it is, but I don’t want you guys getting caught up in anything unaware.”

“That’s ominous,” he said, standing and going into the shop proper and up to Rosalee. She looked up and frowned slightly till he mouthed ‘Nick’ at her. “Hold on, let me put you on speaker.” He took the phone back and pressed the speaker button, leaning over with Rosalee. “Okay, shoot, what’s this warning?”

“Okay, well…there’s another Grimm in town,” Nick sighed.

“Another one?” Rosalee asked in surprise.

“Good lord, they’re multiplying,” Monroe said, half-joking half-serious. “You met this one?”

“No. Sloane did. Apparently, he’s her, um…ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh God…Collin?” Rosalee gasped.

Nick was surprised. “Uh, yeah. You know him?”

“She told me about him,” she said, disdain in her voice. “He’s a bad Grimm, and a bad man in general. Sloane said she left him in part because he was too extreme for her. He didn’t believe in mercy, even for young wesen, and she only barely talked him out of killing them. And he started a fire once that killed several people, wesen and not, and justified it to her as necessary casualties. That was part of why she left him.”

“Yikes,” Monroe said.

“Only part?” Nick said, also disgusted just thinking about that.

Rosalee was about to go on but paused. “…The other reason is a bit personal,” she said. “But I know she said he was dangerous. She wasn’t too proud—she was thinking of marrying him when they were younger.”

Nick and Monroe both frowned. That really didn’t sit right with Nick especially. If he was that bad, he didn’t like thinking about her marrying the guy. “Okay…”

“What’s this guy doing here?” Monroe asked.

“Sloane said he wants her help with something. They didn’t get to talk about what, he killed a wesen suspect she was after and they had to split up.”

“Should we be concerned he killed someone?”

“Well, he was a violent suspect, Edward Guinon, who was part of the mafia a while ago.”

“Eddie Guinon? Huh…well, can’t say I’m angry at him for that,” Rosalee said. “He used to try and extort money from my father, only stopped when the council put its foot down. It didn’t stop him from giving my dad a scare breaking in one time. Then he got pushed out by police I hear.”

“Yeah. But I don’t want him to stick around and possibly kill someone else,” Nick pointed out.

“Agreed,” Monroe said. “But will he leave quietly?”

“Sloane is going to try and get him to. I guess she’s hoping their old relationship will give her some sway over him.”

“I don’t like her meeting him alone,” Rosalee said.

“…Neither do I. But she doesn’t want him knowing about us. Thinks it’s safer. Right now, she’s gone to pick up Trubel for a little training, then she’s going to go talk to him. She’ll probably talk to you guys later too.”

“Okay. Thanks for the heads up then,” Monroe said. “We’ll try to keep our heads down, though we were doing that already…”

“Hang in there. We’re still working on figuring out who’s terrorizing you guys too. How are you holding up?”

“We’re fine,” Rosalee said, smiling a bit more. “No trouble the last few days.”

“Maybe these backwards jerks got bored,” Monroe said, though he didn’t sound convinced.

“Well, call us if anything does happen.”

“Will do. You stay safe too.”

“Will do. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Monroe blew out a breath when he ended the call and looked at her. “So…A really, _really_ bad Grimm finally came calling.”

“Yeah…” Rosalee looked down, agitated. “I…I really don’t like Sloane meeting with him.”

Monroe put a hand on her shoulder. “You worried she’ll go to the dark side again?”

“No. No, I believe in Sloane. It’s this Collin guy I’m worried about…She told me about how it ended with him.”

“Okay, now I’m worried,” Monroe said. “Bad how?”

“Just…bad. I don’t want to go into it, she didn’t want to talk too much about it even before…”

“Okay…But if she’s meeting with him, she must be at least able to be in the same room with him.”

“I guess…” Rosalee looked at the clock. “I’m not going to be able to concentrate and it’s late in the day. You want to just pack up and head home?”

“Sure.” He kissed her temple and went to go get his things together. Rosalee tried not to get too much more anxious, but still couldn’t help the worry digging into her gut.

\------------------------

Sloane was finishing getting things together for the practice out in the woods. Trubel had already gone to the trailer to read before hand to read some of Nick’s collection. She’d gotten through a lot of what Sloane had on hand already.

She paused when there was a knock at the door and frowned. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Had Collin followed her? The thought made her break out in a sweat. But she couldn’t be sure. She grabbed up a push dirk blade and fitted the handle in her palm and her fingers around the handle with her fingers under the bolster and the blade sticking up over her middle and index finger. There was another knock and she moved up to the door and looked out. She relaxed when she saw two familiar faces out there and quickly shoved the dagger into a drawer in the table by the door. “Ben?”

“Hey, um…is this a bad time?”

“Not exactly…what brings you by?”

“Uh, this.” Ben said, holding up a box. “I meant to call but I was in the neighborhood and I didn’t want to have this in my car much longer…”

“Ah yes,” she nodded, taking it. She felt the weight of it and knew inside was the blue china jar that held the Golem’s clay, and the scroll with the prayer to raise it.

“You sure you know where to put it?” he asked worriedly.

“I know,” she nodded, going to set the package down. “As dangerous as it is, it’d be a shame to destroy a part of history…”

“I agree,” he nodded, sighing. “I’ve learned my lesson as far as dealing with “legends”. Oh, David says hi. He wanted to come, but he’s back in school.”

Sloane smiled. “Well, normally I’d be happy to chat, but I do have to head out in a bit…”

“Right, yeah. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“It’s not that. Um…actually, I’d like to ask a favor”

“From me?” he asked in surprise.

“Yeah. I’d like to brush up on my Hebrew. I’m out of practice.”

“Really?” He slowly smiled. “Sure, of course.”

“But I’m not sure about coming to Temple yet,” she added quickly.

“That’s fine,” he nodded. “I can get you some of the books we give the kids to start with. They’re nice, with nice pictures.”

“Oh, fun,” she laughed.

“Can I ask why? I mean, no judgement. Religion isn’t for everyone, and I didn’t expect you to still be practicing.”

“I’m not. I…my grandmother was teaching me, before she was killed,” Sloane said honestly. “I’d like to carry it on. But…me and God have a complicated relationship. If he exists, I may try to fight him,” she said.

Ben’s eyes widened. “…I believe you. But you know, our sect…we’re flexible on the God thing.”

“…Huh?”

He smiled. “I’ll bring some books to help explain that too. Chanukah’s coming up, but I’ll leave that up to you too.”

“Yeah…gotta think on that one,” she nodded.

“Right. But I don’t want to keep you.”

“Right, yeah. I’ll take this where it needs to go soon,” she nodded to the box.

“Thanks again. I’ll talk to you later,” he nodded and headed back out the door and Sloane sighed softly. She went and locked the box in a chest in her closet for the time being, then grabbed the bag of training weapons to head out. She still caught herself looking around, paranoid that Collin was around. But she didn’t see a sign of him and got in the car to drive off.

\------------------------

Trubel took a deep breath, keeping her eyes closed behind the blindfold. She tried to focus on her ears. Turning her head minutely, she heard something off to her right. She was tensing to move but heard the whistle as the dodge ball flew and hit her in the chest. “Ow!”

“I did not throw it that hard,” Sloane said, a chuckle in her voice.

“Harder than necessary…” Trubel grumbled.

“Work on dodging then. I taught you how to roll and slide. I know you can hear and sense it, but you keep hesitating and second guessing yourself.”

Trubel pushed the blindfold up and pouted. “Is this the best way?”

“It’s effective and won’t cause us grievous bodily harm way. Unless you want me to let a little air out, might leave a nice welt then.” She tapped her hands over the ball teasingly.

“No thanks,” She answered honestly. “Just...Can we do something else? I don’t think my Grimm hearing is up to this yet…”

Sloane smiled, not perturbed at all. She knew Deirdre would’ve gotten on her case about complaining but…that didn’t feel right to do to Trubel. “Sure. How about you see about getting the drop on me? Work on hunting me. Bonus to get me from above because you need to work on jumping and landing.”

Trubel smiled, maybe looking forward to a little revenge. “That sounds good.”

“Grab one of the padded clubs. I’m not going down without a fight. I’ll start off through the woods a bit while you do.”

Trubel nodded and headed back to where all their stuff was, near the trailer. Sloane headed off through the woods at a moderate pace, covering her tracks as she did. As she did though, she felt like she was being watched. Trubel couldn’t have caught up that fast, and it was almost silent. But she knew someone was there. Slowing her pace slightly she opened her senses a bit more.

Sure enough, someone’s soft footsteps were just behind her. They reached out for her shoulder, but before they could grab it she kicked out. Grabbing the knife from her boot as she did, she brought it up against the throat of her follower when he blocked her foot.

“Easy there, love!” a familiar voice exclaimed.

"Collin?!" She pulled the knife away, backpedaling in shock. “What are you doing here?”

Collin smirked. “I got impatient.”

“And how did you find me?” she said more clearly.

“You said you’d be doing something out here in the woods, I drove till I saw your car. I still remember it well. Then I just tracked you down using my senses.”

Sloane narrowed her eyes, sheathing the knife again in her boot. "Yeah, because that’s not creepy.”

“Aye, yes, I admit a tad extreme. But I’ve been trying to tell you this is a bit urgent. I can’t keep waiting around while you’re doing whatever you’re doing out here. What are you doing? Seem a little calm for a hunt.” He eyed her a bit suspiciously. "What could be so damned important you would stay here? How long have you been staying in this area anyway?"

"I don't know...Not too long.” she shrugged. _A year and a half, but you don’t need to know that._

"Well, I know for a fact it’s been in this city for over a year.”

 _Shit._ She arched her eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”

“I ask the right questions of the right people, you know that,” he said with a grin. “But the library’s been closed for Grimms since several months ago. What have you been doing all this time? You're one of the best of us; you shouldn't be having any problem tracking and offing your target."

"I don't have one target exactly..." she said slowly.

"What, is there a lot of them here? I'm willing to help you like I said. It'll be just like Prague way back when."

Sloane frowned disapprovingly. "I'm not looking to repeat Prague."

She was actually surprised when he looked shamed. “Ah, not the fire…I…I know I messed up there, Sloane. I tried to reason it away as the ends justifying the means, but I’ve come to realize I can’t. I’m sorry about that whole thing.”

She eyed him before sighing.” Collin, I don't really have time to reminisce. I'm here training—”

"Sloane?" a voice called out, interrupting them. She cursed under her breath, turning her eyes heaven ward as if to ask what she did to make some powerful being so angry.

Trubel came through the forest, still grasping the club. She looked at Collin and gripped it a bit tighter. “Who’s this guy?”

Collin arched his eyebrows, looking her up and down. "And who's this then?"

"I asked first, buddy..." Trubel replied in her usual defensive manner.

Sloane sighed and went over, gently patting her shoulder. “It’s okay, Trubel, I know him. Collin, this is Teresa Rubel, or Trubel as we affectionately call her.” She smiled at Trubel, surprising Collin. “Trubel, this is Collin Donahue. Collin is a Grimm as well."

"As well?" Collin asked before Trubel could say anything. He smiled and walked over, offering his hand. “Well, always nice to meet a fellow.”

“Um, yeah,” Trubel said, moving the club to her other hand to shake his. “I don’t know many, to be honest. I’m, uh…new to this.”

"Oooh, so she's your apprentice? Why didn’t you say you were mentoring someone?” Collin laughed. “That’s a perfectly good reason to stick around for a bit! Though really, you should be traveling around more if you want to give her the real Grimm experience.”

“It’s still a new arrangement,” she said evasively.

“Well, why don’t I help out?” he grinned. “You and I trained together all the time after all. In all sorts of things.”

Trubel blushed a little at the insinuation but Sloane just looked impatient. “Collin…”

“Just joking around…But I do have something I need to talk to you about. Why don't you and I meet up somewhere nice and quiet to talk now?" he grinned.

“I still have some stuff I need to do…”

“It’s important,” he said more seriously.

Sloane hesitated but then sighed and looked at Trubel. “You mind us calling it good for today?”

“No, that’s fine,” Trubel said, “I’ll meet you later?”

“Actually, you should come too, new girl,” Collin said. “This might be a good thing for you to get in on too.” He pulled out a slip of paper and offered to Sloane. “Here’s where I’m staying, meet me there as soon as you’re ready.”

Sloane took it and looked at it. “…Fine.”

“You still don’t seem happy to see me,” he teased.

“I’m agreeing to meet you, be thankful for that,” she stated, narrowing her eyes.

He held up his hands in mock surrender, turning to walk back off through the woods.

"...That's guys another Grimm?" Trubel asked, watching him go curiously.

"Yes,” she said, motioning him to follow as they headed back towards her car.

“And you two…have thing?” she asked delicately.

“ _Had_ a thing. I broke it off a long, long time ago,” she said. She hoped her tone got across how done she already was with him.

Trubel nodded, that much being obvious. “So, we’re going to meet him, right?”

“I’m going, I’m not sure you should…” Sloane said slowly.

“What? C’mon, he invited me along,” Trubel said, bristling.

She carded through her hair, sighing. She didn’t really like this train of conversation. “Trubel, Collin is not like Nick, or even me.”

“What, you’re worried he’ll be a bad influence on me?” Trubel laughed.

“Honestly, yes,” she said plainly.

Trubel was surprised and frowned more. “I’m not a kid…What kind of Grimm is he?”

Sloane sighed, and paused in packing up. “He’s…traditional. Like how I was when I first came here, a shoot first and ask questions later kind of Grimm. Except…I’d say he’s even worse because he’s reckless.” Trubel frowned a bit, knowing that Sloane was vehement she not just go around killing wesen. “But the fact is, I can’t let him know I’m not that kind of Grimm anymore. Because then he’ll start wanting to know more about why I’m here. We need to get him out of here before he finds out about Monroe, Rosalee and the others. Because he will _kill_ them. No questions.”

Trubel frowned again worriedly. “Okay…I mean, couldn’t we explain?”

“No, not to him. He cannot meet them, _period._ And Nick too. Those two meeting would be like gasoline meeting a lit match. And he especially can’t find out about you and I working with them. Collin has a temper and big mouth and if he tells certain other people...Let's just say there are confrontations I want to avoid even more than him. So, whatever happens, don’t tell him about any of them, okay? Please?” she added, looking honestly worried.

Trubel nodded slowly they finished packing up. “…I want to go too though. I mean…knowing another Grimm could be good, right?” she said carefully. “Even if it’s just knowing what not to do? Plus, he’ll be suspicious if I don’t go.”

Sloane pinched the bridge of her nose, thinking. “…Alright. But, you follow my lead.”

“Right, will do,” she smiled. Sloane had a bad feeling about this all the same.

\---------------------

Sloane and Trubel pulled up to the motel. Collin was waiting outside, smiling when he saw them. “Glad to see you made it. Was worried I’d have to come hunt you down again.”

“Seriously, Collin, that’s not a great way to phrase this,” Sloane said, crossing her arms. “I don’t want to worry about you stalking me.”

“Oh come now, we haven’t hardly interacted in what, over 7 years? At least that long since we last had a proper conversation. Can’t you be a little happy to see me?”

“Be thankful I am even talking to you,” Sloane said tersely. “I’m trying to be civil, but you need to stop acting like you did nothing wrong.”

Collin frowned but sighed. “Fair enough, I stepped over some lines.” She gave him a look. “Okay, _a lot_ of lines. I got impatient and emotional and I did some very wrong things in trying to do things you weren’t ready for. I admit that, and I’m sorry.”

At that Sloane was surprised. She had not expected Collin to finally apologize for what he did. He’d mostly blamed her all this time. She’d told Rosalee a little of the story before: 7 years ago, he had tried to tamper with her birth control and get her pregnant—and had met her anger with his own anger. And jealousy. And trying to pin her down and—

She shook herself and looked at him. “So, I’m not “overly emotional”?”

“I know, I said bad things too,” he said, looking ashamed. That was also new for him. “But I’m not like that anymore, I promise. I’m trying to do better and part of that is wanting to at least be a friend to you. Any teasing is just teasing.”

Sloane didn’t feel convinced but could feel Trubel’s excitement next to her and sighed. “Fine. We’re here, what did you need to talk about?”

“Inside, please,” he said, opening the door to his motel room. Sloane eyed him but then walked through, Trubel close behind. It was like any other cheap motel room, with an ugly carpet and bedspread that had seen better days. A small table and chairs were in the corner, near the TV unit with an older model TV on it. With quality like this, they probably didn’t ask questions though.

Sloane sat down at a nearby chair, folding her arms expectantly. Trubel sat at the other chair.

“Alright,” Collin began, rubbing his hands together. “I need your help with a hunt. I’ve already got a small group, but I knew you’d be a huge asset given your skills.”

“Group hunting?” Sloane asked with a frown. “I know I broke away first, but I thought we’d all split ways. What in the hell are you after you need a group?”

Collin grinned in excitement. “There’s a _community_ of Wendigos.”

Sloane’s eyebrows rose. “Community? Seriously?”

“I know those,” Trubel said, looking between them. “But do they live in communities?”

“No. A few family members maybe, but whole communities aren’t known to live together,” Sloane said.

“Aye! I was shocked too, but following a lead, tracked one back to it and it’s this whole little village they made in the woods. A commune! A sick little cult. Like a couple of big houses, a bunch to a house, grouped together on a bit of land out in Idaho. We think they’ve been there for only a few years; they seem young.”

“They like…eat people, don’t they?” Trubel clarified, remembering the ones she’d seen and tried to eat her.

“That they do,” he nodded, sobering slightly. “These bastards have been picking off people visiting the Rockies for years. Kidnapping others from towns too. Cooking them up and eating them.”

“That’s awful!” Trubel said.

“Yes…So you’re planning on going after the whole commune? At once?” Sloane asked slowly, doubting that was wise from her tone.

“Aye. There’s about fifty of them, and as much as I like to think I’m tough shit even I think that many Wendigos is too many for one Grimm.”

“Fifty?!” Sloane gaped. “Fifty—you want to go fight fifty Wendigos grouped in the same place? That’s suicide.”

“I told you not alone, even I’m not that daft,” he said dryly. “I’m getting together a good-sized group of some of the best Grimms I know…that I can find. Basically, I’m getting the band back together! But you were at the top of my list. Lucky me you aren’t that far from Idaho now, eh?” he grinned.

Sloane eyed him. “How did you track me down?”

“Oh, you know, just usual tracking techniques…” he said evasively.

“Collin,” she warned.

“Ugh, fine,” he sighed. “I called the Library Network, asked if you’d gone to any of the dealer rooms lately. You went to the one here in Portland twice in one year before It folded up…I figured I’d be able to track you backwards. I honestly didn’t think you were still here.”

“Yes, well, things change and come up suddenly. Portland ended up being a good place to stop over.”

Collin leaned in, looking at her seriously for the first time. “Look, Sloane, I know we don’t have the best history, but I also know you’re not going to let a bunch of Wendigos keep hunting down innocent people.”

Sloane frowned, looking torn. “…Who all do you have signed on to this?”

He smiled. “Jacob, Antonio and Melinda.”

“Ah…You really are getting the band back together?” she chuckled. “I haven’t seen them in a long time. What about Amy?”

“…Ah, I guess you didn’t hear with the library down…Amy was killed in a hunt three months ago,” he said somberly, looking down.

Sloane froze and then looked down as well. “Oh…I…Yeah, I didn’t hear…”

“That’s…how I heard about this.” He pulled out a letter. “She dictated her Dead Letter to me. Amy was tracking this commune first. They’re the ones that…”

“…Why didn’t you just say that before?” Sloane asked, looking at the letter with a dark expression. She reached for it, but he pulled it away.

“Well, I suppose I hoped you’d want to help _me_ for old times sake…and it’s still a sore spot as well.”

Sloane growled slightly. “Help _you_ , huh?”

“Well how long since you talked with Amy anyway?” he snapped. Sloane flinched and he sighed. “I’m sorry, Sloane…I just…She came back in bad shape. Barely had time to write the letter before she passed. They took one of her arms! I had to watch her go.”

Sloane was quiet and Trubel looked at her worriedly before she sighed. “Okay…I need to make some arrangements but then we’ll come help.”

“How long?”

“Give me tomorrow. We’ll leave Wednesday morning.”

He nodded. “Alright. Need any help?”

“No, I’ve got it.” She stood. “We’ll meet you here at sunrise that morning. How long is the drive?”

“About 7 to 8 hours.”

“We’ll be ready then,” she sighed, heading for the door. “C’mon, Trubel.”

Trubel quickly got up and followed. “Uh…nice to meet you.”

“You too. Look forward to seeing what you can do,” he grinned.

Sloane gave him a warning look and grabbed Trubel’s hand to pull her out. “Hey!”

“See you Wednesday, Collin. Don’t call unless it’s an emergency.” She got in the car and Trubel got in next to her.

“…Is he really that bad?” she asked hesitantly.

“I admit he apologized well and that’s rare for him…” Sloane muttered, her keys out to start the car. “But I don’t want to get too comfortable. I’ve learned a lot being away from him and that includes that he wasn’t the best boyfriend even before our huge fight.”

“…Who’s Amy?”

She sighed as she pulled away from the Motel. “…Back when I was your age—maybe even younger—I started traveling with 5 other Grimms around my age. Collin, Jacob, Antonio, Melinda and Amy. Amy was the youngest…I was hard on her, but she was too freaking nice for this kind of work. Like…she should’ve been a kindergarten teacher. She didn’t have a proper mentor, was learning by going with us after her parents were killed. I was most worried about leaving her, but…I couldn’t stick around after calling it off with Collin.” She squeezed the steering wheel. “…These people were the closest things I had to friends at one time, but I didn’t really keep in touch. Knowing she’s gone and it was because of this…”

“I’m sorry…” Trubel said quietly. “Why…I mean, “closest thing”?”

“…All of us have lost people we care about. All of us watched each other get hurt, injured, nearly killed…we tried to find a balance between having fun, watching each other’s backs, but not getting too close because…well, no guarantees in life. Staying here I took a lot of chances getting closer than I did with them probably…”

“…It still hurts though, huh?” she asked knowingly.

She sighed deeply again. “Let’s just…go home and get some rest. I’ll have to call in tomorrow to get some time off. Then we’ll need to pack”

“Right,” Trubel nodded.

\---------------

“So, Sloane’s Ex is in town?” Juliette asked, sitting down to dinner with Nick.

“Yeah…She makes him sound pretty bad too. Is it bad I’m kind of surprised she, well…had one?” he asked guiltily.

“No, it’s surprising,” she nodded. “I mean, given what she has told us about growing up and her life as a traveling Grimm, I sort of figured she didn’t date. I mean, how would she?”

“I think they’re dating was hunting,” Nick said.

“Romantic,” she grimaced.

“Sorry, should I eat upstairs?” Josh asked, pausing in the entrance to the dining room.

“No, Josh, come eat,” Nick said. “We were just talking about something Sloane has to deal with.”

“A bad date?”

“No, a bad ex.”

“Ah, wow. Didn’t know Grimms had mundane problems too,” he said, taking a plate of chicken stir fry when Juliette offered it.

“How you holding up?” she asked.

“Uh…as well as I can be not knowing what the hell I’m going to do now,” he sighed. “I mean, thank you so much for putting me up, but…I don’t want to have to stay here forever, no offense. I don’t think you guys want that either.”

“We want you to stay safe more than anything,” Nick said honestly. “We’re going to try and figure out a safe option for you.”

He smiled gratefully. “Thanks…I’m worried whatever is looking for me follows me here though.”

“If it does it’ll have a lot more to deal with.”

Juliette nodded and then grimaced a bit. “Ugh…I think I messed up the chicken, it’s way too much spice.”

“Tastes fine to me,” Nick said.

“Yeah, me too,” Josh said.

“Huh…is it just me?” she took a gulp of water. “Usually I’m good with spiced up stuff.”

“Hopefully you’re not getting sick,” Nick frowned.

“Would that usually make it harder to taste things?” Josh asked.

“I don’t think I’m getting sick…I’ll take something later though,” she sighed.

\---------------

Renard looked up when there was a knock at the door shortly after he arrived. It was early, and he didn’t expect someone already. “Come in.”

Sloane opened the door. “Hey…”

“Hey…is this case related or…?”

“Other,” she said, closing the door.

“The other Grimm?”

“Yeah…I’ve made a deal with him. He needs help with a hunt. We leave tomorrow.”

He arched his brow. “Didn’t think to clear this one by me?”

“It’s the only way he’s going to leave without asking more questions,” she sighed. “Plus, it is a pretty serious issue. A giant group of Wendigos.”

“…Hmm, that is concerning…Where?”

“Idaho. If I leave tomorrow, I’m hoping we’ll be back by Sunday. Trubel wants to come with me.”

“So, you need the rest of the week off?”

“Yeah.”

Renard sighed, looking at her pensively. “Sloane, this isn’t you slipping backwards is it? You said this was your ex-boyfriend.”

“Ha…trust me, I don’t want to stick with Collin longer than I have to,” she said bitterly.

“You sure?”

“Would you take Adalind back so easily?”

He hummed and nodded at her point. “Then why go at all? Surely there’s others.”

Sloane hesitated but sighed. “The one who found out about this commune was another old friend of mine…She died getting away from the Wendigos. Her last request was taking care of them. I want to help.”

Renard took a breath then nodded slowly. He could understand that. “Okay…Give me a call if you’ll be gone longer than after Monday, alright?”

She nodded. “I need to go prepare today then. Nick and Hank should have anything that crops up covered.”

He nodded. “Alright. And I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Thanks…wish I’d talked to her more now,” Sloane said honestly.

“That’s always how it is I think when we find something like this out. Just do what you can but stay safe.”

She nodded and headed out. As she was leaving though, Hank and Nick were coming up the steps and she groaned quietly, having hoped to do this later.

“Hey! Where’re you going?” Hank asked.

“Home. I have to prepare to leave.”

They looked at each other in surprise and then back at her. “Uh, bit more of an explanation please?” Nick said.

“…Later, at the Spice shop? I need to let Monroe and Rosalee know too.”

“Alright…” he said. “But…You’re okay, right?”

Sloane smiled a little despite herself. “I’m fine. I’ll explain later. Renard already knows, I’ve got time off. Let’s meet for lunch at the shop.”

They nodded, watching her go to the garage. “…Why does this worry me?” Hank asked.

“Me too. We’re either paranoid or psychic,” Nick huffed.

Hank smiled wryly. “No, we’re just detectives with suspicious natures.”

Nick smiled in agreement, but still couldn’t shake the worried feeling as they headed in. He thought about asking Renard what Sloane had said but decided to trust that she would tell them.

Sloane meanwhile went home to go through her weapons with Trubel—debating over the ones that would be best to bring, sharpening a few and inspecting them overall. Sloane had been meaning to do an overhaul of them for a while and this was at least a good start.

As she was going through things she paused and sat down at her desk to pull out the old scrap book. She hadn’t put anything new in it in several months—she didn’t feel compelled to collect articles or bits of things since after going back to her childhood home almost a year ago. Looking through the earlier pages though, she found what she was looking for and pulled out an old photograph. In it was a younger Sloane, wearing a knit cap and looking a bit more punk—she didn’t really know how to dress herself then. Collin was next to her, his arm around her and grinning. There was a boy with tan skin and dark hair in a ponytail up close, having taken the picture, making a funny face. Another boy with sandy blonde hair was next to Collin making a stupid face as well, and a beautiful dark-skinned woman was next to him. And then next in front of Collin was a petite girl with red-blonde hair and dark lipstick laughing.

“Sloane?” She looked up to see Trubel in the doorway. “Hey, uh…you okay?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine,” she sighed.

Trubel walked over and looked down. “…Those your friends?”

“Yeah…That’s Amy,” she pointed to the girl with red-blonde hair. “Amelia Blakely. Met her when she was 17. Parents died a year before; she didn’t want a mentor but wanted to know what to look out for and how to fight. So, she came with us. The rest of us were…assholes,” she laughed. “We were together since our late teens and just didn’t care about anything but hunting wesen and getting our fun where we could outside of that. Like, Antonio took this with a camera he stole from a hunt and just took a bunch of pictures with it. We thought we were tough shit. Invincible…”

“Well…you made it this far?” Trubel said.

“Yeah…most of us.” She closed the book and set it down again. “Let’s finish packing. Then we’re having lunch with the others.”

“Okay…”

They finished up most of the packing of the weapons before heading to the shop. Rosalee looked up and tried to smile. “Hey…Nick and Hank are on their way.”

“Good,” she nodded.

“…Sloane, does this have to do with Collin? I remember what you said about him…” She glanced at Trubel.

“It does, but…there are other things going on.”

Nick and Hank arrived then, with Juliette and Josh behind them. “Hey, got the sandwiches…”

“Full house,” Monroe said with a smile. “I’ll go clear off the table in the side room.”

“Should we be worried that’s where you prepare a lot of this stuff…?” Hank asked.

“…I’ll wipe it down too.”

They chuckled and went to go help. Sloane started explaining everything as they ate, and everyone had stopped eating to look at her. Monroe had even paused mid chew of his veggie delight.

“You’re going _with_ him?” Rosalee barked.

“Yes, I know,” she sighed.

“Are you really sure this is a good idea?” Nick asked worriedly. “I mean, you told us this guy was super bad news.”

“Yeah, but…I don’t know. He seems at least a little more mature. Seven years will do that to some people.”

Rosalee looked at her worried. “You’re not thinking of getting back with him?”

“Why does everyone keep asking that?! I have no interest in being with him again, but I can stand him for a hunt. I’ve had to stand him on occasion in the past after all, I just usually left before we got to talking more than necessary.”

“But you don’t want to encourage him to hang around, right?”

“No—look, I get that after what I said about him, going with him is a bit surprising,” she said impatiently. “But a big community of Wendigos is a big deal. An old friend of mine was killed by them. I don’t want to sit out this one, and I’m not here to ask permission.”

They glanced at one another and then sighed. “Okay. We trust your judgment, really,” Monroe said. “We’re just…worried.”

She smiled back, relaxing now. “I know. I appreciate that. We both do. But I’m not going to let anything happen to either of us.”

“Yeah, plus it’ll be my first job outside of Portland,” Trubel nodded. “Well, I mean where I know what I’m up against.”

“I guess it’s good experience then,” Nick nodded. “Are you sure I shouldn’t come though?”

“Again, yes,” Sloane said. “For one thing, a Grimm should be staying behind, in case something comes up.” She glanced at Monroe and Rosalee and then back to him. “And B, you will not like these Grimms, and they will not like you.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said wryly.

“I’m serious, Nick. I’d personally would like you to come because the more Grimms the better and quite frankly, you were bad ass during that Phansigar fight. You barely got touched. And you broke one of their tongues with your fist!” she finished with a grin.

“We’re eating,” Hank reminded her, working his tongue sympathetically.

“Sorry,” she laughed. “But I’m in no way worried about your skills, Nick,” she said honestly.

Nick smiled. “Okay, that makes me feel a little better.”

“So, it’s just that he’d clash with the others?” Juliette asked.

“Yeah. Collin especially isn’t big on new guys—definite Alpha Male type. Girls he’s okay with,” she said, glancing at Trubel. She then looked at Monroe and Rosalee. “Plus, it’ll be easier to make sure they don’t find out about you guys. You’ve got enough to worry about without adding trying to fight these guys into the mix.”

“That I appreciate,” Monroe nodded. “But I mean…if these guys are that bad, you sure you want to go?”

“They aren’t…bad,” she sighed. “I mean, Collin might be in a lot of ways, but he’s not some mindless killer—he’s just extreme. And he’s gotten better since he actually apologized for some of what he did. I don’t trust him enough to have him stick around, but I think he’ll at least be good on the hunt and that these Wendigos are bad news. I’d also rather make sure he doesn’t go overboard again…”

“…Sure, it’s just not nostalgia?” Nick asked.

She gave him a flat look. “Have I not said enough “I don’t like him” enough? Or am I not allowed to be upset an old friend is dead?”

“I didn’t mean that,” Nick said gently, not getting upset like she expected. She wanted him to in a way—fighting would maybe get her to stop thinking about how she didn’t _want_ him to be upset or dislike her. “I’m just worried…I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Sloane blushed and then looked down. “…Thanks, but I’m not going to let him hurt me. Or the Wendigos. And they won’t hurt Trubel either.”

The others looked at one another but then nodded slowly. “Okay. Just be careful and let us know if anything happens,” Rosalee said.

“And don’t sleep with your ex. That never ends well, I know.” He paused, glancing at Rosalee who arched her brow at him. “That was before we got together, of course, and will never ever, ever, ever happen again. Obviously.”

“Good save,” she said, patting his arm. The others all chuckled a bit.

“Again, no worries there,” Sloane said. Rosalee looked at her now and she smiled a bit to show she wasn’t worried. She really wasn’t.

\------------------

The next morning, Trubel and Sloane were up before dawn to load into her car and head to Collin’s motel. He was waiting outside next to his own car, a newer blue SUV with Massachusetts plates. He smiled when they pulled up and went over to Sloane’s door. She rolled down the window. “Well, top of the morning! Here I worried you might blow me off.”

“If it wasn’t an emergency, I’d consider it a lot more heavily,” she said. She held out her hands. “Directions?”

He set a printout in her hand and she handed it to Trubel. “I set it to a nearby motel. We’ll meet up with the others there to discuss the best strategy.”

“Sounds good,” she said, moving to roll the window back up. He set a hand on it.

“Sloane…I know whether to forgive me or not is your choice and I’m not going to push too hard. But I really am trying.”

She looked up at him and sighed. “You want me to stop holding it against you? Let me decide when that is.”

He sighed but held up his hands. “Fair enough…can we at least all have lunch together? There’s a nice place in a town we hit about noon I remember.”

“We’ll see. You have my number.” She rolled up the window and pulled out to head to the highway. She was reminded of the road trip she took with Nick back to Wildred a few months ago. At that time, she’d focused on keeping in contact as much as possible with walkie-talkies and the like. Now she had Trubel riding shotgun and she didn’t want to talk to Collin as long as possible. But it hit her again she did wish she had let Nick come with them. Then she was frustrated with herself because she wanted that. _You need to get that under control…Nick’s nice to you because that’s how he is. He’s a good friend. But he’s in love with Juliette…and that’s good. You don’t need the kind of drama that comes with this sort of thing. It’s just a little crush—maybe not even that! I just have to ride it out._

“You okay?”

She started at the question and looked at Trubel. “I’m fine. Just…hoping this is a quick hunt. Easy is asking too much with fifty Wendigos…”

“Well…a gun might help? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like the blades too, but I’m not as good with a spear as you and I don’t want them coming at my throat…”

Sloane frowned but nodded. “I know, but I don’t have many. I know Collin and the others will though and one of them will have an extra you can borrow. Just…be careful.”

“Nick took me to the shooting range, I will be.”

She blinked and glanced at her. “He did?”

“Yeah. He figured I should know how to use one—but he’s not getting me one. I need to figure out how to get one that won’t require a background check or one of you two having it on your record…”

“…We have weapons specialists. I’ll give them a call; they’ll be able to get you something. But while you’re living with me, I want it properly stored. Unloaded, in a secure place.”

“You really don’t like them, huh?” she asked, a little surprised.

Sloane sighed but then smiled wearily. “I’ll tell you a few stories from my time with Collin and the others while we drive…including that one.”

Trubel was eager to hear more, but as the stories went on, she realized how much Sloane had to deal with. Trubel had dealt with cuts and bit marks and the like—but traveling in a group had its own problems. The drama, the infighting, jealousy, were all prices to pay for having someone at your back and the closest to friends a bunch of people raised to be paranoid survivalists could have. She talked about Maria, the 15-year-old girl she’d killed by just firing and not looking. Trubel understood why she was leery of using a gun now even though she was certain Sloane wouldn’t make that mistake again. There were also stories of a pack of blutbader—one of whom had killed her grandmother. She’d tracked him down with the others help and they took care of them since they were also picking off others in their territory. She’d tracked down a lot of the other wesen that had attacked them and got away too.

“One is still out there…” She finished, sipping from her second water bottle. She was getting tired from talking.

“…Are you going to go find him?” Trubel asked.

“I looked for a long time. Now…I don’t know,” she admitted. “I like living in Portland. Nothing good lasts so I know I’ll have to go sometime but…I’d like to make the most of it.”

“…If you did know, where he was, what would you do?”

“…Huh…it’s a harder question than I thought it would be,” she admitted. “The man is a Blutbad as well. I…still hate him, but it doesn’t hurt as much…”

Trubel was quiet, unsure how to question that further. They drove in silence for a while before, around noon, her phone rang. “I got it,” Trubel said. “Uh…Not sure about this number?”

“Probably Collin, he switches phones more often. Go on.”

She accepted the call and held it up to her ear. “This is Trubel.”

“Oh, that’s a fun way to answer the phone,” Collin laughed. Trubel blushed a bit. “But hello, Trubel. This is Collin.”

“I figured. Um, Sloane is driving so I’m doing the talking.”

“Right, I figured. We’re coming up on a little town called Coperas, that’s pretty much our halfway point. And there’s a nice place to eat here too called Barton’s Well. I have it marked on the directions.”

“Uhh…yeah, I see it,” she nodded, seeing the other page.

“It’s a good place—Kind of an American pub but with nicer food. I think Sloane will like it.”

“Just a sec,” She pulled the phone away. “He has a restaurant in mind for lunch. It’s like a pub?”

Sloane pursed her lips and then looked at Trubel. “…You hungry?”

“Starving, to be honest,” she nodded.

Sloane sighed. “Alright, we’ll meet him there. I need to get gas anyway.”

Trubel smiled and relayed message.

“Great! I’ll see you then.” He hanged up and Trubel did as well.

It was only a few minutes later they headed into the town. It was small but bustling, being rather close to the Umatilla National Forest. A bit of a tourist town but still scenic and lovely. Sloane stopped for gas first at a station near the restaurant. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket and pulled it out to see a text from Rosalee.

Rosalee: _How’s the drive so far?_

Sloane sighed a bit as she thought that over.

Sloane: _Long. Telling old hunting stories to Trubel._

Rosalee: _I put mace in your bag._

She blinked.

Sloane: … _Why?_

Rosalee: _In case Collin tries anything._

She blinked again and tried not to laugh.

Sloane: _You realize I have worse things than mace, right?_

Rosalee: _Yeah, but mace can be used in public._

Sloane: _You have a point. But he’s behaving so far._

Rosalee: _Well, better safe than sorry._

Sloane: _Thanks. I’ll let you know when we get to our destination._

Rosalee: _Let Nick and Hank know too, they’re worried._

She blushed a bit and smiled.

Sloane: _I will. Now worry about you and Monroe. If anything happens call and I’ll rush back. Hell, I might ask you to make something up._

Rosalee: _Let me know what you need ;3_

She laughed and sent a bye note when her gas finished. Trubel came back out with drinks and snacks to the car and looked at her askance. “We’re about to go to lunch…”

“These are for later,” she said.

Sloane just shook her head with a smile and climbed back in to get to the restaurant’s parking lot nearby. Collin waved when he saw them, and she sighed and girded herself for an awkward lunch.

“There’s my lovely lunchmates!” he sang when they walked up.

“Uh huh. Why this place in particular?” Sloane asked, looking at the pub-like exterior.

“Tried it on the way in and liked it. Plus, reminds me of London. The Crown and Lion?” he said, smiling charmingly.

“That was a long time ago,” she reminded him, heading in. Trubel followed and they were lucky to get a booth just at the lunch rush was starting. Sloane had to admit it brought back memories. Collin had brought her to the UK to hunt where he was first raised. She’d been 18 and they’d been dumb hormonal teenagers, so she had a feeling what he was remembering was different from what she focused on. _I should go back to London…maybe tour some of the places Oma was during the war now that I know._

“They really lay on the British here,” Trubel said, looking at the menu.

“A bit thick, yeah, but it’s still good. Ever been across the pond?”

“Me? No,” she laughed. “I’ve traveled a lot but only here in the US…I don’t have a passport.”

He smiled and leaned in. “Neither do I, strictly speaking. We have ways.” He winked.

“Really?” she asked, brightening.

“Oh, aye. Be a bit hard for us to keep up with those sorts of things. Got some contact that can-do passports, licenses, the whole shebang!”

“We still need to figure a few things out before then,” Sloane reminded him.

“Oh, sure, not a quick step. But you’ll need to travel a bit! Grimms ain’t the kind to set up roots.”

Trubel glanced at Sloane but just smiled. “Maybe…”

\-----------------------

Nick glanced at Sloane’s empty desk and sighed, tapping his pen against his mug.

“I realize you think it’s quiet, buddy, but that’s getting a bit annoying,” Hank said, looking up from a report he was proof-reading.

Nick blushed and smiled ruefully. “Sorry. Just…I got used to be a trio. Feels weird with her gone.”

“She’ll be back in a few days,” Hank smiled. Nick nodded but he didn’t look comforted. “You still worried about her?”

“…A little. The situation she described sounds rough. I worry about her and Trubel. I know she’s not comfortable with how this is all going down either…I would just prefer being there to watch their backs.”

“Hey, she’s going to have other Grimms there. She wouldn’t have gone if she thought they were a danger to her or Trubel in a short visit.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, tossing the pen down. “But I finally got my powers back and waiting in the wings wasn’t my first choice on the matter. She didn’t really give me one though.”

Hank shrugged. “Call her later then to check in. She didn’t’ say you couldn’t do that.”

Nick frowned. “Is that too much like a worried brother to call her when she’s gone?”

“It’s like being a worried friend,” Hank said. “Call her, I’ll text or something. But I’m pretty confident the Sloane we know is going to kick ass and be home real soon.”

Nick smiled and nodded, knowing he was being silly worrying so much.

“Hey, guys,” Wu said, walking over. “Got a case for you…Where’s Sloane?”

“Out for a few days on _business_ ,” Hank said.

“Oh, without us?”

“Out of state,” Nick nodded.

“Didn’t realize you traveled for this sort of work…Well, on our end it’s just a normal robbery turned homicide I’m pretty sure. I don’t think you’ll need your special skills for this.”

“Great…” Nick said blandly, taking the folder. “What puts this in our hands then?”

“Your turn basically. Here’s the address, the officers on scene will fill you in when you get there.” He handed them the paper and Nick and Hank headed out.

\--------------

After some decent fish and chips, Sloane finished off her soda and sighed. “Gonna hit the restroom then I’ll be ready to go.”

“So soon?” Collin asked.

“We’re done eating, I want to get there ASAP.” She headed for the restroom sign and Collin watched her go with a frown.

He then turned to look at Trubel. “…Trubel, is she usually like this?”

“Uh…well, Sloane is usually pretty goal oriented,” she said.

“But not usually this harsh, hm?” He sighed, looking dejected. “I’m trying to be patient and let her do a she wishes, but I also want her to bloody well forgive me…”

“…What did you do exactly?”

He blinked. “She didn’t tell you?” Trubel shook her head. “…I tried to rush things a bit. I thought we’d be married pretty quickly, figure out how to do the whole family thing. Grimms don’t usually have big families but my dad managed to have several little rugrats and I wanted the same. Though with one woman—he did have a couple of wives and I just wanted…Sloane,” he said honestly. “But she wasn’t ready, and it caused a big fight and some things were said I regret. I’ve tried to take them back, but she does hold a grudge…”

“…Well, it’s kind of up to her if she forgives you or not,” Trubel said, though she felt for him a little.

“Aye…Look, Trubel…do you like arcade games?”

She was thrown a moment but nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“They got an arcade next door. I’ll give you a twenty to go play as many games as you can and give me a little time to talk with Sloane,” he said, smiling.

“Oh…I don’t know, I don’t think she’d like that,” she said with a grimace.

“C’mon!” He pulled out his wallet and grabbed the twenty, offering it to her. “You’re about to have to go on a hunt, might as well have a little less strenuous fun first. And I need to smooth things over with Sloane or we’re not going to work well together. I want to know we have each other’s backs like in the old days, even if she doesn’t want to do much more.”

“Sloane wouldn’t let you die or anything…” Trubel muttered. She looked at the twenty and then at Collin, doing some damn good puppy dog eyes. Sighing she grabbed the twenty. “I play till this runs out and then we leave.”

“Deal! Now go, quick, before she’s back.”

Trubel headed off, hoping Sloane wasn’t too angry with her later.

When Sloane returned and Trubel wasn’t there, she immediately looked at Collin. “Where did she go?”

“She saw an arcade and wanted to play some games. I thought it might be nice to let her do so for a bit, have a bit of fun.” Sloane narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Oy, you don’t have to give me that look! If you want to go find her, tell her the fun’s over, me my guest. You used to do it all the time back in the day.”

“…It’s fine,” she sighed, sitting down.

“Oh, so you have loosened up a bit,” he grinned.

“If I remember correctly, I was usually having to corral you and Antonio before you did something stupid or got us in trouble. Like stealing a garbage truck.”

Collin laughed but had the decency to look abashed. “Aye, yes, we were a bit bold sometimes.”

“Stupid was the word I usually used,” she reminded him, accepting a refill from the waitress with a smile and a nod. She motioned for the bills as well.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he shrugged. “Look, Sloane…I want to say again I’m sorry. I messed up and I hurt you by…well, trying to make your choices for you. I’ve regretted it ever since.”

Sloane hesitated but sighed. “Fine. Thank you for the apology.”

Collin smiled broadly in relief, obviously thinking that was forgiveness. She decided to let it slide for now. “Thank you for finally accepting it. I don’t want to keep you angry at me—I know what you’re capable of,” he chuckled. “In all seriousness though, how long have you been in Oregon?”

“…A year or so,” she said, keeping to that timeline. “Trubel’s old enough we don’t have to worry about school like our mentor’s did. I figured sticking in one place would make it easier to catch her up on things.”

“She was untrained before?” he asked curiously.

“Yeah. Since she inherited, she and everyone else thought she was just crazy…” she said somberly. “Foster homes, Psychiatric hospitals, the streets…we ended up crossing paths after she killed a couple of wesen in self-defense and I was able to show her she’s not crazy. Till then she’s just been having to deal with wesen randomly assaulting her and no one believing her.”

“Shite…” he cursed. “I forget we’re lucky sometimes having family in the business.”

“…How’s your parents anyway?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Ah, well…Dad finally retired,” he sighed. “Didn’t have much choice, got his leg sliced open by a Malan Fatale.”

“I’m sorry,” she said honestly. “That must be driving him nuts though.”

“A wee bit, yeah,” he laughed. “Mum’s running the Dublin Library still. But none of the grandkids have inherited…no late bloomers among my brothers and sisters either. Just me. And they don’t want much to do with me either.”

Sloane looked at him in confusion. “Why?”

“Ah, well…I started telling Grimm stories to my nephews. They got pumped, wanted to learn. Thought it wouldn’t hurt to teach them. Just in case. Then they forgot weapons aren’t toys and one got cut up pretty bad…Another bad decision on my part,” he admitted, looking pensively into his beer. “I knew but got defensive…now they don’t want me near the kids. ‘Bad influence’. Dad’s getting to be a bit addled too and mum doesn’t want me working him up. So, I’m pretty much the black sheep now instead of the Golden Child I used to be.”

“…I’m sorry, Collin,” she said sincerely.

He smiled awkwardly and finished the beer to focus on the water. “I could hear your voice in my head at the time. “Collin, don’t, they’re kids and they’re not Grimms!”” he said in a higher voice, making Sloane roll her eyes. “I ignored it and as usual it bit me in the ass.” He sighed deeply. “I know I called you a nag sometimes, but honestly you were the voice of reason in our group.”

“Common sense more like,” she said, though it wasn’t as sharp as her other rebukes.

“Well, any wonder I don’t have that given how we grew up?”

“I don’t know if that’s a nature vs. nurture thing, Collin. You might just be stupid,” she said snidely.

He laughed again. “Oh, ouch. There’s that wit I missed too. Blunt as a club yet sharp as an axe.” He smiled more honestly. “It’s good to talk to you again. I miss that the most to be honest.”

“…Yeah…it’s better than ignoring you if we can get along…”

“I missed being all together,” he went on. “Like I said, you were the voice of reason in our group. Got us to stop bitching at each other and do our work. After you left, it didn’t take long for us to all go our separate ways…I knew it’d happen eventually though. Just thought we’d be going the same way, so to speak.”

“Collin,” she warned.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, holding up his hands. “I’m still finding closure too, give me a bit.”

“Please,” she sighed. “You flirted with women even before we broke up.”

“That was all harmless fun! I never cheated on you,” he said adamantly.

“Just saying, I doubt you’ve been alone all this time.”

“…True,” he admitted. “But then…none of them were you.”

Sloane stared a moment. She wasn’t stupid—that should be a romantic line. It was lines like that, that got her to agree to date him before. Collin could be a charming bastard and he knew it, and even when she was angry, he would pull this and she’d fall for it because really, who else was there for her? But she felt nothing. Nothing at all. Even after she left, she worried about still wanting him, but it only took a few months to really stop focusing on those feelings. _Hm…I guess I was over him. Always thought I’d be more bitter if it came to this, or worried I’d be weak, but I just…feel nothing._

“…Collin-” She was saved from having to respond by the waitress returning with two checks. Sloane took care of her and Trubel’s meal and Collin his own as they had agreed.

“I could’ve gotten it all,” he said. “I mean, what are you doing for money?”

“…We make do,” she said. “Savings, odd jobs and the like. What I can get from random hunts.” She was straight up lying now, but she couldn’t admit she had a steady job as a detective. That would be like waving a red flag in front of bull.

“If you need help, just let me know,” he said, and sounded honestly wanting to help.

“I’ll keep that in mind…” She stood up. “Why don’t we see how Trubel’s doing at this arcade?”

Collin frowned a second but then sighed and got up. “She’s not a child, you know.”

She was used to telling Nick that, but it sounded more irresponsible coming from Collin. But she wasn’t going to say so. “I know, but it doesn’t hurt to check.”

They headed out and over to the arcade, where Trubel was playing a racing game. “C’mon…no no no no no!” she groaned as she skidded out. “Man, I was in second!”

“Not first?”

She jumped and looked over to see Sloane. “Oh…hey…”

“Hey…having fun?”

“…Yes?”

Sloane sighed but smiled. “That’s good…”

Trubel relaxed, glad she wasn’t angry. “Is it time to go? I’ve, uh…got couple of tokens left?”

“I’m sure Sloane wants to get on the road, give’em to—”

“These are connected?” Sloane asked, looking at the two steering wheels.

“Yeah?”

Sloane sat down and held out her hand. “Race you.”

Collin stared, surprised. But Trubel smiled and set a token in her hand. “I’ve got about four more.”

Sloane looked up. “Something you want to play, Collin?”

“…I can take a crack at the pinball?” he asked, confused. Trubel handed him a token too and they settled in to play. Sloane grinned as the game started and Collin was at a loss for a moment before he went to go play.

\----------------

Nick and Hank arrived at the crime scene after the victims were taken to the hospital. The house itself was very nice and upper scale, trying to recreate a colonial mansion on a slightly smaller scale. Officer Hale was there and nodded as they came up. “Hey, Hale,” Hank nodded. “What do we have?”

“Nothing good. Robbers broke into the very nice house of Mr. and Mrs. Dobson while they were supposed to be gone for the night at a friend’s party. They knew how to disarm he alarm. But the couple came home suddenly for some reason and surprised them. The robbers beat and tied them up. The maid found them this morning and Mr. Dobson is dead while Mrs. Dobson is not doing well due to a being struck hard in the head with something.”

“Damn,” Nick swore. “We got a cause of death?”

“That’s the odd part…Mr. Dobson was definitely hurt much worse, but aside from some bruises we’re not sure what got her husband. Come on,” he motioned for them to follow and they did, finding the body in the closet. The man was dead but looked oddly swollen. He was dressed in a nice suit and his hair looked like he might’ve been sweating before he died with how it was plastered to his forehead. He had a bit of post-mortem bruising but nothing a fistfight wouldn’t get him.

“Huh…not sure what killed him?”

“Not yet,” Hale nodded. “The ME thinks it’s some kind of reaction, but she needs to more fully examine him first. That’s why we’re trying to get him out of here soon.”

“Well, let us look a bit first,” Hank said with a good-natured smile.

“Oh, right, of course—I didn’t mean…” he started.

“It’s fine,” Nick said, pulling on the gloves and kneeling down. They looked over the body, the closet—including a large bloody pool nearby where Mrs. Dobson was found and the splatter over the clothes and wall—and everywhere else they could. They found shoe prints on the hardwood they made sure would be taken, but not much else at that time. Plenty seemed to be missing as a jewelry box in the bedroom was practically empty. What was left seemed expensive though Nick had to guess, looking at an earring that was left behind. White gold and a diamond. “Hale? Can you check and see if they have insurance on their jewelry?”

“Why?”

Nick blinked and reminded himself Hale was rather new. “If they do, then the company will have information on the pieces. We can use that to try and track them down if they’re pawned or anything like that.”

“Oh! Got it.”

“Find out anything else they have insured too.”

“Right…um…how would that all work?”

“…Well, we’ll see if we can find any documents to run, but if not, you’ll have to call around to insurance companies to see if they have a policy for them.”

“Right! I’ll start figuring that part out.” He quickly turned to head down to his computer.

Nick watched him go and then looked at Hank who just smiled. “Hey, we were rookies once too.” Nick laughed and they went back to examining the scene.

In the bathroom, there was a lot strewn about but Nick saw a black case on the vanity and picked it up. Opening it, he saw two EpiPen’s in the case, filling both slots. Turning one, he saw “Franklin Dobson” and a recent refill date on the prescription. “Huh…”

“Found something?”

He held it up to face Hank. “Mr. Dobson used Epipens…”

“Surprised they didn’t take those with how much they cost,”

“Yeah…Do we know why they came home early?”

“Not yet, why?”

“Just wondering why he’d leave these at home.”

“Ohhh…You know, they said they thought some kind of reaction was the cause of death.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Nick nodded. “Let’s contact the people from the party.”

\---------------

Sloane sighed as they pulled into the motel late in the afternoon. They were just outside of Boise, heading towards the mountains, but that was enough for today. They weren’t toing to be raiding the Wendigos tonight—that would be suicide given they had better night vision and would be well rested. For now, meeting at the motel to eat dinner and strategize would be best.

Collin also had a printout of the motel on the directions and it was easy enough to find. Simple and cheap, both Sloane and Trubel had stayed in worse but it left a lot to be desired compared to home. Sloane parked up front—a place like this you might end up with your car ransacked if you parked in the shadows. Sloane got out and went to the front desk.

“Hey, Sloane!” Collin called, smiling as he pulled up. “So, about the room situation—”

“I’m going to get a room for Trubel and me,” she said.

“…Not even going to talk about it?”

“Nope. Because unless something has changed, Melinda is getting a room on her own and I’m not dealing with Antonio’s snoring.”

“Oh, so you remember,” a feminine voice said with a laugh. Sloane looked up and smiled as a black woman walked up. Unlike the photo from years ago where she’d long microbraids, she now kept her hair longer and natural with a head band to keep it back from her face.

“Mel,” she smiled. “Nice hair.”

She laughed. “You too.” She reached up and flicked a lock of Sloane’s hair. “Platinum blonde suits you, Skunky.”

“Skunky?” Trubel asked and Sloane blushed and batted at Melinda’s hand.

“Quit it with that…Trubel, this is Melinda Romaneck. Melinda, this is Theresa Rubel, but we call her Trubel.”

“Nice,” she smiled. “Antonio flew in earlier and is resting after being in Spain for a while. Snoring up a storm like you said.”

“Surprise, surprise,” she said sarcastically. “What about Jacob?”

“In with him, listening to whatever hipster underground techno album he got recently on full volume to drown out the sawing logs.”

Sloane huffed a laugh. “Well, somethings never change…Let me get Trubel and me settled and we can talk more over dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan, we’re all meeting in 208. Good to see you again though, girl…we missed you.”

Sloane smiled a bit and nodded before going to the front desk to get the rooms worked out. Once they had their key cards they went to unload and put things away in the room which had two twin beds waiting. Trubel lifted the sheets and mattress protector. “No bed bugs…”

“Collin does have standards,” Sloane sighed. “He’d have scoped this place out already, made sure the staff weren’t going to go through our things and the like but also not ask a lot of questions.”

“That’s good…Melinda seems cool.”

“She is,” Sloane smiled. “I remember wanting to be a lot like her, she seemed so…put together even though she’s only a year older than me. Usually just ignored the guys doing stupid shit while I got angry, so I wished I was more refined.”

Trubel nodded, looking at Sloane as she unpacked a few things. “Yeah, I get that…”

They finished getting things put away and she looked at her phone. “Probably time to head up. We’ll order something in I think.”

“Sounds good. Oh, didn’t Nick want you contact him?”

“Ah, right,” she sighed.

\------------------------

Mr. Dobson’s death was explained by the end of the day—Anaphylactic shock. Apparently, he had a severe allergy to shellfish and no one at the party thought to mention one of the finger foods being passed around was a shrimp puff pastry. He had forgotten his new EpiPen and they’d rushed home only to be beaten and tied up by robbers. His injuries weren’t life threatening, but without treatment he died when his airway closed. The ME confirmed this after an autopsy.

Then Mrs. Dobson died. They’d hit her hard enough to cause internal bleeding in her head and abdomen and they couldn’t save her at the hospital when the damage shut down her organs.

Nick sighed when they got the news and rubbed over his face. “Dammit…”

“Well, definitely murder, manslaughter at the least...” Hank said, disappointed as well. It was always hard when you had a victim live at the scene who didn’t make it. “Their daughter managed to make it from Washington state in time at least…”

“Should we ask to talk to her?”

“Let’s call tomorrow, I think she’s had to deal with enough…”

Nick nodded and sighed. “Well, as far as suspects so far who knew they should be gone, there’s the maid, the daughter, the two sons, and anyone who was at that party that might’ve told anyone else that have worst intentions.”

“Or dumb luck,” Hank pointed out.

“No, the alarm didn’t go off, remember? So, someone who knows the code must’ve been involved.”

“Well, I’d think that’d rule out most of the party guests…” Hank nodded. “The maid seemed pretty shaken up.”

“She only had to tell someone the code, she might not have been expecting her employers to end up dead.”

“Also true…Man, are we too suspicious?” he asked, remembering the earlier joke about being paranoid.

“Only if we’re wrong,” Nick laughed. He looked at his phone and sighed. “Sloane should be where she was heading by now…”

“I’m sure she’ll call soon,” Hank said. “Heck, she’s probably having an easier time than we are, getting to catch up with old friends.”

“…Are they still old friends after all this time?” Nick wondered. “I mean…Some old friends contacted me through Facebook and stuff and honestly, when I saw how much some of them changed for the _worst_ , I didn’t want to catch up. Maybe that’s why I’m not on there much…”

“Eh, I agree, but who knows how much they’ve changed. Sloane did, after all.”

“She’s pretty convinced they didn’t…gonna be like old times.”

“Man, you gotta stop worrying she’s going to change back,” Hank sighed. “I get it, but you need to have a little faith in her.”

“I do! I just…don’t trust them. If their as bad as she says, and she thinks they’ll hurt her or us if they find out, I don’t like her and Trubel being alone with them…Plus, I guess…I wish things were different and I could’ve gone too. I’m curious what a big group hunt with a bunch of Grimms is like,” he admitted.

“My guess is: bloody.”

“Ha, yeah…hopefully it’s not their blood.” His phone chirped and he picked it up and smiled. “Well, speak of the devil. She says she’s in Boise, about to meet up with the others and plan out the hunt for tomorrow.”

“See, worrying for nothing.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. He still felt uneasy—maybe he just wanted her to get home as soon as she could. He was back in power so to speak, but he’d come to appreciate Sloane being there for him. He was used to it being her, Hank and him—the three musketeers as everyone on the force seemed to call them. Some called them the Three Stooges, but that was mostly the men Sloane had embarrassed. Being just him and Hank again…felt wrong.

\------------------

Rosalee looked at her phone when it beeped and sighed. They were trying to relax by reading, a baking show on in the background mostly for noise. It was hard to relax when it felt like eyes were always on them, and two of their key players so to speak were away. So, Sloane’s text was a small relief. “Sloane’s in Boise. They’re going to go over a strategy and try to get the hunt done tomorrow.”

“Working fast,” Monroe said. “Guess she really doesn’t want to catch up much.”

“I think she wants to get home…”

“Yeah…what are we going to do when she does though?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, these other Grimms know she’s been here a while…That’s gonna cause some problems if they don’t like her being friends with us. I mean, if they come at the wrong time, it’s going to come out…”

She frowned and looked down at her magazine. “I…don’t know. But I don’t want her to have to leave…I know she’d do that if she thought it would protect us.”

“Yeah,” Monroe nodded. He smiled a bit. “It’s weird, both our best friends are Grimms. But it’s kind of awesome too.”

“Yeah,” she smiled. They both froze when headlights passed by the window, relaxing only slightly when it passed. “…I hate living like this. Waiting for the shoe to drop.”

“I know,” he agreed, reaching over to take her hand. “We’ll get through it though. Either they’ll lose interest, or we can figure out who it is and make them stop. People like this work in secret because they know nowadays if they showed their real face, they’d be the ones most people would turn on.”

She smiled and held his hand back but sighed all the same.

\--------------------

Sloane and Trubel headed up stairs to room 208 of the motel. Knocking on the door, a man with close cropped sandy hair and glasses answered and he smiled brightly. “Sloane!”

She smiled and accepted the hug when he opened his arms. “Jacob, good to see you.”

He pulled back and looked her over. “Well, you seem to be doing pretty good.”

“I try. You look pretty good too.”

“Yeah, but Melinda has us beat still.”

“Just because I kick ass doesn’t mean I don’t find time to moisturize!” she said, making them smile as they walked in. Collin was already sitting at a table with a map spread out. Melinda was with them, and so was a man with dark hair and tan skin. He smiled at her. “Sloane. Long time no see.”

“Antonio. I’d like to introduce you both to Theresa Rubel.”

“Hey,” Trubel said, waving slightly.

“Nice to meet you, Theresa,” Antonio said. “Collin let us know that Sloane had a protégé coming with her.”

“Yeah. Uh, call me Trubel though, no one really calls me Theresa…”

“Ah, you’re lucky your nickname works so well,” Jacob sighed.

“We used to call him “Cubby”,” Antonio stage whispered. “Incident at a gay bar, involving a bear who wasn’t a Jaegerbar and us finding out Jacob was gay in a hilarious moment of thinking he needed saving—”

“Shut up,” he said quickly, putting a hand over his mouth with a blush. Antonio was smiling a shit-eating grin under it as he loved that story.

Sloane smiled, remembering similar banter when they were together. It was nostalgic to say the least.

“How did you and Sloane meet?” Jacob asked. He then quickly took his hand back, looking at Antonio in disgust as he had licked over his palm.

“Oh, um…I was drifting from town to town and didn’t really know I was a Grimm. Just thought I was…crazy? But after I got into a fight with a skalengeck, Sloane found me and let me know I wasn’t.” They’d agreed on that abridged version that left out Nick and the others on the drive over.

“Oh, you were an Untrained Eye?” Melinda asked. “That’s rough. I was the same for a couple of years since I was adopted. My adoptive parents thought I was crazy and tried to get me medicated. Did not help.”

“Yeah, I get that. I got put in a couple of psych wards before,” Trubel nodded.

“Yeah. Luckily, I made friends with a librarian who was a _Librarian_. She figured out what I was and got me in contact with a mentor.”

“What about your parents?” Trubel asked.

“Ah, well…Ultimately I think they’d pretty much given up on me to focus on their other kids,” she shrugged. “I’m afraid most of us don’t have great family stories for you.”

Sloane glanced at Collin who sighed and looked down.

“Mine died,” Antonio said, holding up a hand. “Killed in the line of duty. I mean, my father was a soldier who was killed, and my mother died on a hunt.”

“Oh…Um…I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” he shrugged.

“Mine just kicked me out. Grimm life they can handle, gay not so much,” Jacob sighed.

“Assholes,” they all said in unison, then laughed a bit.

“Anyway, we’re going over some of the information we have,” Collin said. “What Amy was able to find out was: There are roughly fifty—”

“Hold up, bud,” Jacob said. “I’m all for strategizing, but we need dinner too.”

Collin sighed but nodded. “Aye, yes that’s true…I think I saw an Indian Restaurant nearby.”

“Nope, not doing that to my stomach,” Jacob said. “I vote burgers.”

“I’m good with that,” Melinda said, Antonio nodding as well.

“What says the newbie?” Collin asked, looking at Trubel.

“Oh, uh…I’m good with anything, really. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, ya’know? Especially when you don’t know when your next meal might come…” she said, feeling a bit awkward.

“Ageless wisdom indeed,” Collin nodded. “I’m fine with burgers then. Sloane, you want to come with me? Give us a bit more time to catch up.”

Sloane hesitated, but Melinda was quick to put an arm around her. “Hey, you’re not the only one who needs to catch up. You can get the food and we’ll come down to help bring it up but give us a little time with her and Trubel.”

Collin frowned but then sighed. “Fine, alright…Write down what you want and I’ll go.”

They quickly wrote down the orders and handed it over along with cash for him and he headed out. “So, what have you been up to?” Antonio asked.

Sloane sighed and gave a vague sort of description of going to Portland and meet Trubel. Walking back, she talked a little about her other adventures—from Japan to Europe and over the Americas. They chimed in about their own adventures there or in similar places and Sloane wondered, idly, why this felt different from eight years ago. At that time, hunting was everything. These were the closest thing she had to friends, but she still kept them at arms’ length most of the time because, well, they could die. Like Amy. It wasn’t something they talked about, and even now she wasn’t sure how to voice it. Attachment as a rule was discouraged. But after living in Portland, getting her world turned upside down…she suddenly craved feeling that with them. Even though that was dangerous because who knows what they would do if they knew what sort of Grimm she was now. It still made her uneasy, but she listened intently.

“…and then, I grabbed on to the guys pants while we’re out the window and just, bring them down to his ankles,” Antonio said. “Full moon out in the daylight, with me hanging under three stories up!”

Sloane snorted and started laughing and they all paused now to look at her. “…What?”

“You…seem different,” Jacob said, tilting his head. “I mean, you didn’t used to really laugh at Antonio’s lame jokes before.”

“Hey…”

“He’s right, you’ve changed a bit,” Melinda said. “You seem…a lot calmer.”

“Well, you all seem more mature too,” she pointed out. “We were still kinda immature before…No matter how grown up we tried to act.”

“True, but…I don’t know, it’s like you’ve made peace with something,” Jacob said. “I’m kinda envious, you seem happy.”

Sloane blushed and hesitated. Trubel looked at her, unsure what to say either, but she finally sighed and shrugged. “I guess…I found out more about my grandmother. And that kind of helped me feel more like…I know myself better too.” It was true enough, though not the whole reason for her being different now.

Melinda smiled. “Well, I’m glad. I worried about you sometimes…”

“Worried about me?” She said, arching her brow.

“Well, I know you were one of the best of us,” she said. “So not about hunting. But more like…That you’d just jump in and die at some point,” she said quietly. “We all did…” Sloane blinked and looked at Jacob and Antonio, who seemed a bit chagrinned Melinda said anything but nodded.

“Yeah, we did worry,” Antonio said. “I mean, you wouldn’t tell us what Collin did to make you so angry, and neither did he, but you could be kind of reckless sometimes. Without back up, we worried you’d just end up dead.”

“Really?” Trubel asked. “I mean, she’s super careful and tells me when I’m being too reckless now…”

Antonio laughed. “Well, that’s a change, aside from telling others what to do!”

“Like I said, I matured,” she muttered.

“I wish you’d kept in touch,” Jacob said suddenly.

Sloane flushed and looked down. “…I had to go through a lot of stuff…but sorry I didn’t.”

They all suddenly reeled back. “Did Sloane Larson just apologize?”

“She did,” Melinda stage whispered. Antonio crossed himself and Sloane rolled her eyes.

“Apparently I am the only one that matured.” They laughed and Trubel smiled a little, feeling like things were going much better than Sloane thought they would.

Their phones went off with a group text from Collin that he was outside. Heading down, he was waiting by his car with several bags of food. “Right, come help me and we’ll sort it out upstairs. Hope you lot didn’t have too much fun without me…”

“Mostly just talking about old missions,” Jacob said, taking some of the bags. “Let’s start talking strategy though. This should be an interesting hunt to say the least.”

\----------------

“It’s my fault!” the maid, Kristen Cortez-Brown, sobbed. Nick and hank glanced at each other, inwardly sighing. That morning they’d pulled her in for further questioning and she had started crying and confessing to everything the moment she sat down. Except, she was confessing to things that had nothing to do with the case—every little indiscretion, from pickpocketing a candy bar when she was 5 to washing her client’s clothes all together instead of separating them like she promised. She was surprisingly fearful of cops despite not really doing anything illegal. It was getting old.

“What’s your fault?” Hank asked patiently.

“Their murder!”

“Why do you say that?”

“I…I told someone the code,” she said, her breath shuddering from crying. “The security code…”

They got them more interested, finally making headway. “Who?”

“Another maid,” she said, wiping at her nose and trying to calm down. “M-my boyfriend got tickets to a game we wanted to go to, so I got her to cover for me since the Dobsons were going to be out all day then. I-I should’ve just told them, but I’ve had clients that have fired me for asking for a day off and I was scared…”

“And you think this other maid did something?”

“She…she was fired recently for stealing,” she nodded. “I didn’t know that at the time—we were only friends through the agency for a short time, but she said she’d do me a solid.”

Hank was nodding, writing it down. “What’s her name?”

“Sabrina Meyers. I thought it was weird she was working with us to be honest—she was one of those white girls with lots of tattoos and such and didn’t really seem the maid sort. She told me she’d gotten in trouble in the past but was trying to get her life straight and this was the only job she could get. I figured we all do what we gotta do…”

“Know her contact info?”

“Um…I have a number for her, but I don’t know if it’s current. She didn’t want to talk after she was fired even though I tried to be nice about it.”

“It’s a start,” Nick said, handing her a pen and his own notebook.

“Do you think then she might’ve done it?” She asked worriedly.

“It’s a possibility, and if she got fired for stealing it’s worth looking into. But even so, it wouldn’t be your fault they chose to do this.”

“But they might not have done it if they didn’t know the code…” she said.

Nick wasn’t sure he could argue that exactly but sighed. “People’s choices are their own.”

She sighed but handed it back to him after looking the number up in her phone. “I thought she was nice and pretty good at her job…I really hoped she’d do good. But I guess it’s not that easy to change…”

Nick felt a little twinge in his gut but nodded a bit. “People can change, but…it’s not easy. I guess even with temptation.”

Hank glanced at him and then nodded to Kristen. “I think that’s all for now. We’ll let you know what we find out.”

“Okay…” she wiped at her eyes again. “I’m really…the Dobsons were nice people. They didn’t deserve this.”

“Most don’t,” Hank agreed.

Nick looked down at his phone and sighed before going through the numbers.

\----------------

Trubel and Sloane returned to their double room late into the evening, after going through several ideas to eradicate the Wendigos as efficiently as possible. A lot of ideas were tossed around, from explosives (too noisy) to poison (too small of a chance it would reach enough of them without a special event). Finally, a direct approach was decided on--seal them inside their commune and go to town, so to speak. Not very imaginative but the best way to make sure they all went down. When they decided to turn in, everyone bid each other goodnight.

"They really aren't so bad..." Trubel said, getting ready to brush her teeth.

"...I never said they were bad at what they do," Sloane said.

"No, but you were kind of implying they're...bad people," she said around a mouth full of foam.

Sloane sighed and rubbed over her eyes. "...Something I've learned is that good and bad are relative. Most wesen see us as the bad guys."

"Well...we don't eat people?"

"Neither do all wesen, even those that traditionally do," Sloane pointed out. "Again, things I've learned. But Collin is...a bit more black and white. And the others tend to follow his lead."

"Why?" she asked, spitting and wiping her mouth.

"I'm not sure, other than he's prone to manipulation and "my way or the highway" type tactics," she sighed. "He had pick up artist skills down too. Could judge the weak points in people's armor. Flattery for some, insults for others to try and make them want his approval. With me he'd act sweet but...I started to see it was an act to get me to do what he wanted and pushed back. Then he tried insults but I'd already caught on to his game and would tell him to knock it off. ...Then came the lies and manipulations, sometimes blackmail."

"...Well...He seems better now?" Trubel said, though uncertain. "I mean, the others seem alright with him?"

"Maybe," she sighed. "Granted, I trust everyone else more. But I still don't want them knowing about Nick and the others."

"...Ever?" Sloane looked at her and Trubel blushed. "I...I mean, I felt lucky just finding you and Nick. But with so many more Grimms, it...I just..."

"...Never say never, I suppose," she sighed. "Except Collin."

"I mean, maybe he's changed though? He's being nice. And he still likes you."

She eyed Trubel a little. "...Some things you don't forgive. And further, I don't think he'd change in that regard. He was raised from when he was small to hate wesen. So were his siblings--he's the only one that actually ever inherited though. Last I remember, most of them went on do do other things with their life but Collin doesn't have anything but the hunt. I don't think he's going to pick up a hobby at this point..." She stood and walked for the bathroom. "I'm acting civil and so is he, I think that's good enough at this point. And if he asks you to try and soften me up for him again, you can tell him where to shove it."

Trubel blushed and ducked her head a bit shamefully. "...He just...seems lonely."

"Lonely?" She asked, pausing in washing her face.

"Yeah...I know the feeling so...I guess I can spot it. And he's been really nice to us so far."

"...Sympathy is a good thing," Sloane said, patting over her face with a towel. "But he uses that to his advantage too. Just...let me trust my gut, but I won't stop you making friends, okay? Just remember to be on your toes around him."

"Okay," she nodded.

"Good. Let's get to bed."

\-------------------------------------

The woods were relatively quiet—they’d been there since the morning and it had stayed fairly quiet all that time. After strategizing last night, they’d gone to bed to get up before dawn and drive the last few dozen miles to the woods near the mountains. Leaving their cars off the road a way back, they were walking through to the coordinates Collin had. Dawn had come and they started climbing the foothills around the mountains. It reminded Sloane of when she hunted the Wolkenkratzer, the wesen that brought her to Portland when it got away. She hoped this wouldn’t end up the same way.

Getting to one ridge after a couple of hours, Collin halted them and then pointed down. They crouched and lined up, looking over the edge into the trees. Focusing their eyes with a touch of Grimm in them, they could make out through the trees a group of ramshackle group of double-wide manufactured homes arranged around each other. There were about eight of them in a huge clearing. Around them were cars of various years and models and condition, ATVs, a barn and pen full of animals, a garden plot and all around that was a fence made of what looked like old railroad ties set up with razor wire.

“Shit, it’s Wendigo Jonestown,” Melinda muttered. “When you said commune, I didn’t immediately think cult.”

“I did,” Jacob said. “Cannibal cult, seemed like something they’d do…”

“The animals are a surprise,” Antonio said. “I see pigs and goats and chickens…I guess they need something when they can’t get humans.”

“Amy didn’t mention them,” Collin said. “They must be new, or they just stocked up. I don’t think it changes the plan much, they should be fine.”

“Well…what are we going to do with them?” Trubel asked. “We can’t just leave them, they’ll die.”

“Best think of that when we’re alive at the end,” Collin said breezily.

“Might be able to use them for a distraction,” Sloane pointed out. “Let them loose, pull their attention somewhere else.”

“Aye, could be good for that,” he grinned. “You and Jacob were always best with animals. Think you can manage?”

“I think so,” she glanced at Jacob who smiled and nodded.

“What about me?” Trubel asked. “You said we can do stuff with animals, but I’ve never really tried…”

“Bit high stakes for a practice run,” Melinda said.

“Yeah, we’ll practice later, I promise,” Sloane said. Trubel frowned and Melinda chuckled.

“Why don’t you help me set up around the perimeter. I promise, it’s a fun part. Jacob got some good stuff.”

Trubel smiled again and nodded.

“We should do this now then, before nightfall,” Antonio reminded them.

“Are we sure they’re all there though?” Sloane asked.

“Even if they aren’t, we’ll have disrupted them enough I think,” Collin said.

“I suppose…Let’s get down there then.”

They moved back from the edge and rose, heading back down to the woods quickly and carefully by hand over the rocking outfacing. Trubel needed a little help, but they were quick to provide it and had been sure to wear drab colors that wouldn’t draw attention if anyone below glanced their way.

Getting to the bottom, they started moving around to the side of the compound when Sloane froze at the buzzing in her pocket. The others—with their hearing up—paused as well and looked at her in shock.

“Did you bring a phone?” Jacob whispered in surprise.

“It’s a habit!” she muttered, quickly fishing it out. She paused when she saw Nick’s number.

“Sloane?” Trubel asked.

“…I will be right back.”

“What?” Collin hissed.

“It’s just a minute, I need to check something!” she hissed back, quickly heading into the trees. The others looked at one another in confusion as this was something she had never done before.

Sloane quickly moved further in where they couldn’t hear easily and accepted the call. “Nick? What is it, what’s wrong?”

“Ah…nothing?” he said, caught off guard.

She paused and then sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Oh…good, I thought something happened to Monroe and Rosalee.”

“No, no, it’s been fairly quiet,” he reassured her. “No wesen case either.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Then why are you calling all of a sudden?”

“I wanted to check in, make sure you were okay.”

She felt a twinge in her chest and sighed at how it made her annoyance evaporate. “I’m doing fine, Nick. Really. But I’m in the woods right now, we’re about to go in.”

“Oh, crap, I’m sorry!” he said quickly. “I didn’t realize you were working that fast.”

“It’s fine, I don’t think they’ve heard anything.” She wasn’t sure if she meant the wendigos or her hunting party.

“I’m sorry, I just…I’m just too used to having you around,” he sighed. “You’ve only been gone less than a couple of days and I miss you.”

Sloane felt her heart ratchet up a few beats and swallowed. “Y…You miss me?”

“Yeah. We all do. Feels like something’s missing without you and Trubel here. And knowing what you’re going into scares us all.”

“Ah, right,” she nodded, feeling a bit less stressed and a tiny bit disappointed. “But I mean, we’ll be back soon.”

“I know, I didn’t say it was logical,” he laughed. “Just with everything you said, we can’t help but worry…I know why you said I should stay behind but I wish I was there with you. To make sure you get back okay.”

Her heart hammered a bit harder again. “…I wish you were here too,” she said honestly. “But we’ll be home soon and then things can get back to normal.”

“Right. I better leave you to it then,” he sighed. “Promise you’ll be careful?”

“Careful as I can be.”

“Okay…Bye.”

“Bye.” Sloane hanged up and pressed the phone against her chin. Her heart was still a little fluttery and she really, really wish it would stop. But she couldn’t help but smile a little, thinking about Nick saying he missed her. _And Trubel! He’s just missing his friends, do not get all lovesick!_

“Sloane?”

She didn’t jump, but she straightened and turned to see Collin standing nearby. She’d been too deep in thought. “Hey…sorry, I just needed to handle that real quick.” She put her phone back in her pocket. “Let’s go do this.” She moved to head past him and he caught her arm. She paused and looked at him. He was giving her a searching look, with his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Who was that?”

“What?”

“Who called you, now of all times?”

Sloane glared and pulled her arm from his grasp. “None of your business.”

She gasped when suddenly he crowded her against a tree, looking down at her intensely. “You’ve been not yourself lately…Where’s my Sloane?”

Her gaze hardened back at him. “Your Sloane? Excuse you?”

“You know what I mean,” he growled in frustration. “I know you’ve changed—but there’s something _different_ about you.”

She tried to breathe through being this being as close as this, but it was giving her the feeling of being trapped. She put her hand to his chest and pushed him back firmly with a little of her strength. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Also, where do you get off?”

He suddenly wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. “Oh, you know that answer well,” he said seductively, leaning down and kissing her. Sloane’s eyes widened—she’d let down her guard because he’d been civil up till this point, but she realized quickly he hadn’t changed.

He tried to deepen the kiss despite her trying to twist away but she finally broke away and pushed him hard enough he stumbled back. “What the hell?!”

“What? There an issue?” He playfully made as if he was checking his breath and she gaped at him.

“Yes! You…oh god, you always did kiss me to try and distract me,” she remembered. “I hate that!”

“What?” he asked, frowning. “I…but this is how we always built up to a bit of romance.”

“It’s not romantic! I just stopped arguing because it was easier, but I’m not doing that now. And why the hell would you think it was appropriate now?!”

“Sloane, c’mon now, we were doing well! Getting back together and going on a hunt like the old days-”

“Getting back—Were you honestly intending to try and get me back?!” she gaped. “After everything I said to you?”

“Yes! I-We’re meant to be, love!” he said, looking honestly confused.

“Bullshit!” she spat again, her words and onto the ground. “Meant to be—no one is meant to be with anyone!”

“But I know you better than anyone!” he barked.

She started a moment and then gave a derisive laugh. “You “know” me? Fine. Then what’s my favorite movie?” He blinked and she turned, feeling ready to fight him and he tensed and backed up. “What did my grandmother make me when I was sick? What do I like to do when I’m not hunting? What’s my favorite color?”

“What does that matter?” he asked helplessly.

Sloane paused at that. _What does it matter? Huh…wow, he’s right. None of that mattered when we were together. It was all about wesen and hunting and sex and any “romance” was tied to that. Any friendship was tied to that. I…don’t know hardly anything about any of them besides the basics and what came out in a hunt…I don’t know any of that stuff about him. I only know about his family because he trained with them. Was that why it was so easy to leave?_ _Was that why I barely thought of them as friends anymore? And he doesn’t see anything wrong with this?!_ She stared as those pieces fell into place and then couldn’t help it: She started laughing even harder. It was a cruel laugh, but it was directed at herself—at her past self, who if she was standing before her right then she would’ve shaken and asked her what the hell was wrong with her that she didn’t think this was so bad! “Oh my God! Oh, wow, that…that puts a lot in perspective, wow…”

“What?” he snapped, getting impatient.

She pulled herself together and looked at him with the brightest smile she had ever given him really. “Let me spell this out for you: I don’t want you. Whatever we were, it’s over and dead. It’s been over for years and it’s not getting a reboot. Never kiss me again—in fact, never touch me again, because apparently you haven’t learned a damn thing. And if you wanted to be a friend, you’ve messed that up royally, so you better be on your best behavior.”

“Sloane!” he started, moving for her. She moved back and glared.

“Never learned.” She turned and started back for the others. “We’re finishing this and then I’m out of here and you better not contact me ever again.”

He stared in shock, but she just kept moving, trying to calm down. A lot of feelings were conflicting inside her—relief, anger, disappointment, disgust, anxiety. But she wasn’t going to just shut them out. Not again. She could feel without exploding as much as she felt like it.

But maybe her fuse wasn’t lit yet.

As she was walking up to the group, she slowed down when she saw there was someone else there. A woman it looked like, with short ash blonde hair and of a shorter build than them. She was scared for a moment someone from the compound found them, but they were all smiling. Trubel just looked confused and maybe worried. Melinda noticed Sloane and waved at her. “Hey! Look who decided to show up.”

The woman turned, wearing much less make up than before but with the same bright eyes and rosy cheeks that made her look much younger than them even if it was only a couple of years. She looked equally surprised to see the two of them coming from the woods. Sloane blinked and stared. “…Amy?” she breathed.

\--------------

Rosalee finished measuring a few herbs out for satchels—quick brew packets basically for things like sore throats and congestion since flu season was in full swing. She looked up when the door rang and was about to greet a customer when she saw who walked in. “Oh, Josh? Hello.”

“Hey,” he said, a little awkward. “Sorry to bother you, but I was getting a little stir crazy. Juliette mentioned you were here so…”

She smiled and finished sewing up the end of the packet she was on. “No, it’s fine. How are you?”

“Ah…been better,” he sighed. “But Nick and Juliette are great and putting up with me…”

“Hey, don’t put it that way,” she said gently. “We’re happy to help, really, it’s not “putting up with you”. Just…putting you up.”

“Thanks, but I know this isn’t ideal for everyone,” he sighed. “What are you doing anyway?”

“Homemade tea packs. Demand spikes around this time of year.” Josh paused and tried not to glance around the empty shop. Rosalee wasn’t blind though and chuckled wanly. “Well, people aren’t always coming in person.”

“Oh, you do online stuff?”

“Try to.”

“What’s your web address?”

“Uh, it’s on one of those online marketplace things...”

Josh frowned. “Hmm…you don’t want your own?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure where to start with it,” she sighed. “I just did the shops because it was easier.”

“Well…I could help?”

“You could?”

“Yeah. I’m a web designer—I worked for a marketing firm before. It’d be nice to work on something instead of just lazing around scared monsters are going to get me. Uh, no offense…”

“None taken, and that’d be great! I’ve always wanted a professional website…Oh, but I’ll pay of course.”

Josh smiled. “I’d appreciate that. Do you have some pictures or a camera? Seeing the shop can help people feel more connected.”

“I know I have some old pictures, but we can take some new ones. Monroe has a nice camera, I’ll ask if we can borrow it,” she said, picking up her phone. She tried not to frown that there was no message from Sloane but decided to focus and called her husband.

Monroe brought the camera and helped take pictures, insisting on taking a few of the “Beautiful Owner”. Josh meanwhile had sketched out an idea for how the website will work with some paper and colored pencils he picked up—it seemed artistic talent ran in most Grimm families even if the Grimm abilities weren’t there. Rosalee was excited to see it even 2D. Warm amber letters just like her shop door over a dark grey background for the header, an elegant but simple art nouveau frame around it the letters. Down the sides were banners with vined leaves like those outside the shop, concentrating everything in the center with the parchment white boxes for pictures and text. The pictures would also have frames around them.

“Oh, that’s gonna be nice…” Monroe said with a smile. “You might get busier with this.”

“Well, better than letting the ingredients go to waste,” she said, smiling as well. It turned a bit sad and nervous. “My dad would love how this looks…Freddy too. Even if they’d bluster and say that herbs don’t belong on the internet.”

Monroe smiled and hugged her around the shoulders. “If you think this is the best next step, you know I believe in you.”

She nodded, brightening again. “I think so.”

“I’ll start on it then; I did manage to get a new computer and transfer all my licenses for my programs over…”

“We’re sorry you’ve had to do so much to start over,” Monroe said honestly.

“Thanks. I think I’ll head back to Nick’s to start then.”

“Okay, be safe,” Rosalee said, waving. When he was gone, she sighed. “I hope everything works out…”

“Yeah…I know the holiday season gets pretty hectic, but this is ridiculous,” Monroe sighed.

“Granted, I don’t think most people have to worry about we all worry about.”

“True, true. Instead of turkeys, gifts, and feuding relatives we got bigoted wesen, Grimms both good and bad, and…well, at least our relatives aren’t feuding anymore.”

“Thank god for small miracles,” she sighed, and he chuckled and kissed her temple.

\--------------

“Sloane?” she asked. Her eyes flicked to Collin, who was making an expression like someone was about to set his car on fire, then back to her with a smile. “Hey…um, why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“…I’m not. But I’m going to.” She turned and Collin had the good sense to back up.

“Now Sloane—”

“You lying—”

“I can explain—”

“Conniving—”

“I swear, it’s not what it looks like!”

“Piece of shit, rat bastard-” She was advancing on him, ready to kill, when the others rushed over and quickly grabbed her and got between them.

“Whoa, what is going on?” Melinda said.

“Can everyone keep their voices down? Considering we’re not to far from a compound of killer wesen?” Jacob reminded them.

“Then cut out this liar’s tongue!”

“Okay, chill, Shakespeare,” Antonio said.

“He said Amy was dead!” Trubel said quickly. They all paused and looked at Collin now. He had the decency to look ashamed.

“W…why would you tell her that?” Amy asked, looking hurt.

“I panicked! I just…I wasn’t sure Sloane would come. So I embellished it a little bit…”

“Why wouldn’t she come?” Antonio asked in confusion.

“I had a lot on my plate and was trying to figure out how best to do this,” Sloane said. “But telling me that wendigos killed Amy—took her arm off you said—made me think this was a real big emergency and that I needed to avenge her! And stupidly, I thought even you wouldn’t lie about that.”

“Collin,” Amy said, looking at him reproachfully.

“As I said, I panicked,” he said more defensively.

“And as I said, _stop shouting,_ ” Jacob hissed at all of them.

Melinda sighed and eased her grip on Sloane. “I think the hunt is a wash today, we saw someone leave. Let’s find a place to camp somewhere secluded and we’ll try and regroup for the morning.”

The others all agreed, and Sloane huffed and walked in front. Trubel looked at the others, who didn’t go to catch up with her and frowned before moving to her. “Hey…what do you need?”

Sloane slowed just slightly, glancing at her and managing a slight smile. “I need to…not be around Collin. At all.”

“I know he’s messed up—kind of in more ways than one—but I mean…we’re here now, right?”

“Yes, and we’ll see this through, but Collin tried a lot more following me,” she said quietly. “Not to sound too conceited, but I think he still wants me. And that’s a problem, because he might not give up easily.”

“…You think he’d follow us home?” she guessed quietly.

“Yes, and cause a lot more trouble if that’s possible…”

Trubel glanced back and saw Collin was looking between them curiously. Amy was walking close to him and watching them more warily. The others just looked more put out then upset and she wondered why they weren’t more outraged. Maybe they were waiting to say something.

The got more than a mile away from the compound, Melinda spraying mist of something she said would mask their scent along the way from an auto-triggered spray bottle. They found a good clearing and began setting up a camp using the packs they’d brought just in case. Jacob showed Trubel how to set up some simple perimeter alarms with string and bells, to try and make sure they weren’t snuck up on. These would go in an almost spider web like pattern around them at different but low heights and Trubel thought they were simple but neat. Sloane meanwhile put up the tent, and credit to Collin he finally knew not to test her by coming close.

She was just about done when Amy walked over. “Hey…um…”

“…I’m glad your alive,” Sloane said honestly. She seemed surprised by that.

“Oh, uh…me too?” she laughed. “I mean…I’m glad you are too; we haven’t talked for a long time.”

“Yeah…A lot of stuff going on.”

“I get it, really,” she said, holding up a hand. “No judgement.”

“…You still hunt?”

“On and off,” she sighed. She glanced over at Collin, who quickly looked away. “Look…I don’t condone what he did, but you know Collin—he acts before he thinks and that includes running his mouth.”

“I know that very well,” Sloane agreed blandly, glaring over at him.

“But you’re here now. And you were getting along for a bit, right?”

“Trying to…he still doesn’t know when to quit.”

Amy paused a bit at that but took a deep breath. “Again, that’s just him…My point is, you’re not going to leave, right?”

Sloane glanced at Trubel, who was smiling as Antonio showed her a few tricks with his knife. “No…I made a commitment to see this through. But Collin is now eternally on the shit list.”

“That’s fine,” she said. “I just wanted to be sure because we really could use your help. You were always one of the strongest of us.”

“Yeah, well…Dierdre wouldn’t raise me any different,” she sighed.

“How is she?”

“No idea, haven’t seen her in a couple of years.”

“Really?”

Sloane looked at her with a wry smile. “It’s Dierdre. You think she’s going to call just to see how I’m doing?”

“I guess that’s true…And your friend?”

“Her names Theresa Rubel. We call her Trubel.”

“Oh, that’s adorable,” Amy said and though she said it brightly, Sloane frowned when she thought she heard a bit of a snide edge to it she didn’t remember Amy having.

“Were you the one that found these Wendigo?”

“I found them with Collin. We’ve been traveling together on and off,” she said causally. “I was helping track everyone down when I got asked to look into another issue in Montana really quick. I guess Collin found you then and didn’t think I’d be back so soon, but it really wasn’t much of an issue. Just a Fuchsbau.”

Sloane felt a slight jolt in her at the word. She knew it couldn’t be Rosalee, but it still had her heart hammering in her chest. “…Fuchsbau don’t seem like much of a target compared to this.”

“Ah, this was a nasty one though. Eating people’s livers,” she stuck her tongue out a little.

“…That’s not a Fuchsbau then, that’s a Kumiho. It’s a Korean relative, similar to the Kitsune from Japan but-” she started, a little relieved. She knew they could still be dangerous, but it wasn’t as if Fuchsbau had that same craving for human organs that Kumiho did.

“Fuchsbau, Kumiho, Kitsu-whatever—who cares? They’re all wesen,” she sighed impatiently. That was new. Amy used to think that sort of information was fascinating. She was eager to please and grow. Now she was acting grown and beyond it all. “And wesen die by Grimm hands.”

“…Right,” she said. Best not to disagree right now. “Just…thought I’d clarify.”

“Yeah, you always thought you were smart,” she muttered.

Sloane flushed and straightened indignantly. “Excuse me?”

“…Sorry,” Amy said, looking repentant. “I just…I’m not a teenager anymore. It’s been almost a decade; you don’t need to lecture me.”

“…Well, alright then. Sorry. Guess I’m just in that mode still.”

“With Trubel?”

“Yeah, she’s still learning.”

“I see…you think she’ll be alright then?”

“Yes, she’s not a push over.”

“Good, because it’s going to be hard enough without us trying to save someone. Oh, I better go help Collin, he’s not the best at setting up tents.”

Sloane frowned a bit but decided not to comment further as she walked off. Taking out her phone, she sighed as she sent a mass text to the others.

_Hit a snag. No one hurt, but we’ll likely have to hunt tomorrow. I’ll call, please wait to call or text me._

She put her phone into her pocket and finished staking the tent down and tossed her and Trubel’s sleeping bag in. She then helped finish setting up the others. They created a circle with their entrances facing inward and only a few feet from one another to create circle of protection. It was only late afternoon by the time they were done, so they ended up sitting and talking again. Trubel was a bit perturbed no one called Collin out on his behavior except Sloane—they just seemed to accept that he lied but what was done was done.

When it started getting dark, they used a group of battery powered lanterns rather than a fire and they ate a dinner of sandwiches they’d picked up earlier.

“Who wants watch?” Jacob asked.

“I’ll take it,” Melinda said.

“I can go after,” Trubel volunteered.

“No, hon, I’ll go all night and get you all up at sunrise.”

“What? But like…won’t you be tired?”

The others chuckled. “Oh,’ she’ll be a bit crabby, but not tired,” Antonio said. “You haven’t trained her there yet?”

“Not yet,” Sloane sighed. “With studying, I wanted her to rest her brain.”

“Trained me where?”

“Grimms can stay up a lot longer than most people as far as needing sleep,” Collin said. “Part of having great stamina—we can stay up probably three nights before it really starts to effect us.”

“That being said, getting regular sleep when you can is still better for you,” Jacob said quickly. “Like, staying up three nights, getting one night of sleep, then staying up another three nights is not a good idea. You should sleep at least a full day and try to hold off on that if you don’t want to like…see sound or something.”

“Or just be super crabby,” Antonio added.

“Good to know,” Trubel said, nodding a bit.

“Yep. So, I’ll be fine, you all go to sleep,” Melinda said again.

They thanked her and started getting ready for bed. Sloane decided to go to the bathroom at the edge of the tree line first. As she turned to head back though, Collin was there, and she glared. “Not talking to you, but if I was, I’d say don’t follow me when I go to take a piss you creep. But again, not talking to you.”

“Please?” he said, giving her puppy dog eyes. Sloane glared and moved to go past him, but he quickly got in front of her. “I just want to apologize! I didn’t want this to be you mad at me again!”

“You should’ve thought about that when you lied!”

“Aye, yes, you’re right,” he said quickly. “I’m stupid, I know! But I just…seeing you, I just wanted you to come with us so badly! I wanted you to come with me.”

“Collin,” She warned.

“I love you!” he said, taking her by the shoulders. “I love you; I’ve always loved you. That’s why I wanted to spend my life and have a family with you and I’m sorry I did this shite, but I want it still and I’ll do anything to make this all up to you!”

Sloane sighed, finding her anger fizzling into just being plain tired. She pulled his hands off her shoulders and pushed them back to him. “Collin…I don’t feel the same. And I don’t think you actually feel that way.”

“Yes, I do—”

“No, you love whoever I was from when I was 20 backwards,” she said. “I don’t even love that person anymore. They were just this angry teenager who had no personality or life outside of hunting! I was a blank canvas that just followed along with Dierdre and then you and gave you what you wanted because I was scared of being completely alone. And that’s what you liked. Until I was more scared to be with you.”

He stared at her and tried to smile through the confusion and a bit of heartbreak. “I…what? Did you see a bloody therapist or something?”

“No, I just finally started asking myself “why?” a lot. Like why I put up with your bullshit when it drove me crazy, why I never called you out except when I knew you’d just laugh it off…Why I let you touch me when I didn’t want to be touched.” She let go of his hands and backed up when he reached for her again. “Collin, I’m not some doll you get to play house with. What you did hurt me on a lot of levels—you broke my trust, you tried to use me, you gaslighted me constantly, you tried to force me into things I wasn’t ready and may never be ready for. And you thought it was okay. I’m not going to forget that. So just…stop. Move on. I already did.”

She moved around him and this time he didn’t follow.

\----------------------

Everyone who got the text tried not to worry.

Hank sighed and resisted texting back for details. Glancing at Nick, he could tell he was even more tempted but put the phone down with a deep sigh.

Rosalee very nearly texted something but deleted it when she realized that was counterproductive.

Monroe was confident she would be okay. He just wished she could’ve explained a bit more.

Juliette was working and didn’t check till an hour later. She sighed but hoped it would all work out.

\-------------

In the morning, Melinda woke them all up and they quickly and quietly took down their camp. Jacob wound up the bells and made barely a sound doing it after years of practice. The blankets and tents went back to their packs and they got them all ready to head out again. A few hundred feet from the compound they stashed the packs and started preparing. No one was stirring, but Amy was sure that all the cars they’d observed were there so no one should be missing. There were no children either, she said, these were all adults and it was a new set up. Sloane was grateful for that. From what she could tell, this compound was made up of Wendigos from all over Idaho and other surrounding states that decided to come together after leaving their families or needing new territory.

To try and keep them from getting too far away, Jacob brought out large rolls of thin wire he’d gotten from the Kansas Library on his way in. Using thick gloves to protect their fingers, they all started working to wind the wire around the trees at foot, sternum, and neck/head height tight enough that running into it would cause a lot of cuts and lacerations. Maybe more giving how fast and hard Wendigos could run.

“This is pretty sick…I mean, in a good way,” Trubel said.

“Thanks,” Jacob whispered back. “I’m not the strongest Grimm, so I figure how to use my brain. This wire is great because it’s so strong but hard to see. I considered mines or explosives, but those are hard to travel with.”

“…Yeah, I imagine they would be,” she nodded slowly, glancing at Sloane who didn’t seem shocked at all. At the same time, she remembered Petrevski and his traps. _If he’d been born a Grimm, he and Jacob would get along probably_ …It was a slightly bitter thought, so she pushed it away.

“Sloane?” She looked up as Antonio came over. “I know you aren’t fond of them, but here.” He held out a gun and she stared at it a moment before reaching up to take it. “It’s for emergencies. I know we’re going to try and be quiet, but if hell breaks loose, a bullet works as good as a blade on them. And I want us all getting out of this for real.”

“…Right,” she sighed. She made sure the safety was on and secured it in the gun part of her holster under her jacket she usually left empty. “Trubel going to get one?”

“She can use it?”

“Yeah, she can. Though honestly, I’d say the machete is more her best weapon.”

“Nice,” he smiled. “You’ll look out for her?”

“As much as I can. She’s also out to prove herself a bit I know so I don’t want to hold her back…”

“Well, I’m hoping we all come out in one piece. And that we can maybe get along later?” he asked hopefully.

“You and I are fine. Collin is the one that needs to stay away from me. And not send you to do his dirty work as usual.”

Antonio sighed and held up his hands. “Just thought I would try…”

She hummed and went back to securing the wire.

Once the wire was in place—which was very quickly thanks to all of them working together—the sun was still barely up. Since the wendigos were still asleep, they decided to use that to their advantage and forgo the distraction plan.

“Over the fence?” Melinda asked.

Sloane nodded and readied herself, then ran and leapt over the fence. She couldn’t normally jump like this in the city with so many witnesses around but using her leg strength she soured over the high timbers of the wooden fence and rolled to a stop softly and quietly like a high jumper. The others followed suit, including Trubel but Sloane quickly caught her before she landed hard.

“Told you to practice,” she whispered.

“Didn’t think I’d need it so soon…” she whispered back.

Melinda put a finger to her lips, and they quieted. Taking out their weapons, all bladed swords and knives, they set to work. Each one of them had a gun as well, but the goal was to get as many as they could without alerting the others first.

The houses were set up in a circle and they fanned out, Trubel going with her to one house. The inside had one living room and doors on one end to the bedrooms, a kitchen on the other. Trubel made the mistake of glancing towards the kitchen and froze for a moment. It was covered in blood, old and new, and there was a body on the table. A human body, but it looked like a turkey after Thanksgiving with how it was picked over. It hadn’t been last night, the stench was too horrible, but knowing that’s what they’d been doing while they watched the outside, while they pretended to be this hippie commune…She felt bile in her throat and almost had to retch when a hand went over her eyes. “If you aren’t ready for that, look away. But we’re going to see a lot of blood in a moment,” Sloane whispered into her ear.

Trubel breathed deeply and turned when Sloane nudged her. She nodded, didn’t’ close her eyes again as they moved to the doors. Opening one door, they saw three people in one, four in the other, bunked like a summer camp. Sloane motioned at the door with three with a questioning look at her while look at the other door and pointing to herself. Trubel took a breath and nodded before they both snuck into either room.

They tried to make it as quick, quiet and painless as possible, going through the throat with a quick stroke that prevented screaming in more than a gurgling rasp. Them being asleep helped, and soon they were up by seven with minimal fighting back.

They got out and snuck towards the second house, nodding to a bloodied Jacob and Amy as they moved quietly to another as well. It was the same layout, and bloody kitchen décor, in the next. Four to each bedroom this time. They split up again and were both on their last one when a scream rang out—loud, piercing and inhuman. The eyes of the woman Sloane was about to kill snapped open and they were a deep yellow. She looked at Sloane with wide eyes and then woged, her skin growing a pallid grey, her teeth becoming needle sharp, her ears growing pointed and her hair turning scraggly and white. “Grimm!” She screamed, moving her clawed hands for her. Sloane ducked out of the way and brought the knife up into the underside of her chin. She choked, twitched and then her eyes rolled back and she dewoged as Sloane had gone right through her hard palate into her brain with that move. Pulling her knife out, she rushed when she heard the other door breaking to see Trubel wrestling with a wendigo man. She managed to get out from under him, grab a chair and smash it into his face before jumping on him and bringing the knife into his neck. He dewoged and went face first onto the floor.

“You okay?” Sloane asked.

“Yeah, but that didn’t sound good.”

She nodded and they both rushed out to see pandemonium. They had maybe got half the wendigos in their sleep, but the other half were now trying to hunt them down. Sloane and Trubel rushed out and started getting all the ones they could, keeping them from getting the other Grimms when they couldn’t protect their backs. “What happened?” Sloane asked.

“One of them was in the living room!” Melinda shouted. “She woke up when we got inside and alerted the others!” She yelled when one slashed at her arm, giving her some hard scratches, but she brought her gun up and hit it in the head. “I know you’re not a fan, but you might need to use a gun here!”

Sloane frowned and instead pulled the short sword from her side and rushed in. And as awful as she knew it was on a level to enjoy it, her heart was beating as she almost danced in her movements around him. Trubel almost stopped short to admire how she moved, dodging the wendigos movements and then bringing her blade around into their necks, shoulders, abdomens.

Soon, there were no more coming for them. It felt soon, but they’d been fighting for a long time according to the sun and Sloane sighed as she wiped a bit of blood from her face.

“I stand corrected,” Melinda said, smiling a little. “I forgot you can’t be beat when it comes to a sword like that.”

She smiled a little despite herself. “Viking short sword. Every girl’s best friend.”

They laughed a little and Trubel smiled.

“Everyone alive?” Collin asked, looking around.

“Barely,” Jacob sighed, limping slightly. “One of them actually tried to take a chunk out of my leg! I mean, I know we fight Wendigos pretty regularly, but these guys were particularly rough.”

“They’d been gorging themselves from the look of it,” Antonio said. “at least one dead body in every house, maybe a few days old…”

“Let’s look around, make sure that’s all of them,” Collin said. “We also need to gather the bodies, take care of them.” He was pointedly not looking near Sloane and she was fine with that. He’d ignored her all morning which was an improvement.

“I’ll go see if anyone tried to run and hit the wires,” Jacob said.

“You’re legs not doing you any favors, I’ll go,” Antonio said.

“I’ll go too, it’ll be faster,” Melinda said. “Why don’t you sit down, Cubby?”

“I’ll get you for that later,” he said, hobbling over and sitting on a porch to look at his wound. Sloane walked over and kneeled down, surprising him. “Sloane?”

“Let me take a look,” she said, sitting and grabbing his leg and undoing his boot in her lap. She rolled up his pants leg and looked at the bit wound. “Well, good news, you keep the leg.”

“What’s the bad?” he asked lightly, grimacing at the dozen or so puncture marks in two half-moons.

“My salve is in my pack, so you’ll have to bear with it a little while longer.”

“I can get it,” Amy said, looking at a deep scratch on her arm. “We all could use some, but I haven’t made any for a while…”

Sloane nodded at her and then paused, seeing something move in a window. “…We’ll check some of the houses then.” She set Jacob’s leg back down.

“I’ll check some too.” Collin’s tone was curt, and Sloane resisted rolling her eyes but motioned for Trubel to follow her into the house she noted before.

“Something wrong?” Trubel asked.

“I saw something…” Sloane pulled her knife since they were indoors again, and shorter range would work best. She checked the front bedroom where she saw someone move and nudged a few of the bodies, but they were all dead. Focusing her hearing, she imagined the house in her head and listened for any other sounds. She heard a rustling and quietly headed out to the other bedroom, Trubel following with her knife ready. Getting to the bedroom, it was a bit emptier except for two bodies in it she remembered killing before herself. Her eyes went to the closet though and she looked at Trubel. Trubel nodded and got ready for a fight as she walked over and opened the door.

A woman with tan skin and dark hair gave a sharp gasped and pulled a small child closer to her. Sloane froze, her mind racing in seconds— _No children, Amy promised no children, why is there a child here—_ only for it to stop short when they both woged into a couple of Langenohren. She held her even tighter, with more fear in her eyes as she muttered a prayer in Spanish. The child hid her face in her mother’s shoulder, convinced they were about to die it seems.

“Those aren’t Wendigos,” Trubel said, surprised and relaxing.

“…I think they were dinner,” she said.

“The kid?”

“Dessert, probably,” Sloane said in disgust. She quickly put her knife away and the woman looked confused. Sloane knelt down. “My Spanish isn’t great; do you speak English?” she said gently.

The woman blinked and the child peeked at her.

“I…yes,” she said. “Y…You are Grimm?”

“Yes. We came for the wendigos. Um, there all dead. Were you taken by them?”

She gave a shuddering breath and nodded, blinking tears. “W-we were coming through, and we heard they needed help with a farm for money, so we went and…and they brought us here…”

“Okay…don’t worry, we’ll get you out of here.”

“I, but…you won’t kill us?”

“Not that kind of Grimm. These guys were hurting a lot of people. I assume you don’t?” Sloane said quietly. They shook their heads quickly and Sloane nodded.

“I’ll go tell the others,” Trubel said. Sloane quick as flash straightened and grabbed her arm.

“No, don’t,” she said. “ _We’re_ not those kinds of Grimm. They are. They will kill them.”

“What?” she asked, confused. “I—Sloane, I know you have your differences with them, but these are a couple of rabbits! Not man-eating monsters.”

“They don’t make that distinction, Trubel. A wesen is a wesen, and I’m going to be outed and out voted if we tell them and they’ll be dead.”

“Her kid’s like 12!”

“Collin doesn’t care,” she said. “I know, trust me.”

Trubel frowned more and then jerked her arm from her grasp. “Sloane, they aren’t like that.”

“You’ve known them what, a day? Traveled with hem for years!”

“A long time ago! Look, I’m going to tell them, we’ll get them out of there, it’ll be fine.” She turned and headed off and Sloane growled under her breath and glanced at the mother and daughter who were worriedly looking at her.

Trubel headed out and over to where the others had gathered. “Hey, found a couple in the wires!” Antonio said, gesturing to bodies with nasty cuts. “Just tending wounds.”

“Did you find something?” Collin asked, eyeing the house.

“Yeah. We found a, um…I think Langenohren mother and daughter, hiding in a closet.

“Langenohren?” Melinda asked. “What are they doing there?”

“Sloane thinks they were taken as dinner.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Amy said, nodding. “You two take care of them?”

Trubel paused. “Uh…well, I mean, they’re just victims here?”

“Doesn’t matter, no witnesses,” Collin said.

“What? But—”

They all jumped when a gunshot rang out and there was a scared, high pitch scream—not like the one before. This one was full of anguish. Then there was another shot and it was quiet. “Sloane?!” Trubel yelled.

She came out of the house, looking sad and defeated and holding the gun in her hand. Everyone was surprised and Collin looked at her with an assessing gaze. “…What happened?”

“Langenohren mom and kid,” she said. “We were considering letting them go, but they tried to attack me. Caught me by surprise with their speed so I had to shoot them.”

Trubel stared in shock and the others looked at one another before back at Sloane. “You got them both?”

“Yeah. I didn’t have a choice, the kid got in my shot. I got the mother as quickly as I could.”

“Sloane! Why?” Trubel asked, going up to her.

“I told you, they attacked me!” she said. “I’m sorry, alright, I didn’t want to have to kill a child! But I didn’t have a choice! I just…put the blanket over them and got out.”

“…Didn’t think you liked guns anymore,” Collin said.

“It’s been 8 years, I worked through it,” she sighed, but unloaded it and held it out to him. “But I’m not feeling the love now. Look, can we just…finish up here? I don’t want to hang around all day.”

“Okay,” Melinda nodded, also looking at her oddly.

“Sloane—” Trubel started again, obviously angry and upset. Collin set a hand on her shoulder.

“She did the right thing, lass.”

She looked at him in shock. “Sh…she killed a kid! And her mother!”

“They were wesen. You gotta get used to that. You leave the wee ones alive, they just grow up wanting to get revenge and causing a mess on their own. Event he most harmless looking ones can be pains in the arse. Better just to nip it in the bud.”

Trubel backed away in disgust and looked at the others. None of them would look at her or argue. Sloane didn’t say anything either, just worked to start getting the bodies ready. Trubel moved off away from them, trying to come to grips with what happened. This wasn’t how she saw the hunt going. Heck, going to confront Shaw, the Klaustrike who wanted to hurt Nick, she’d done her best to just seem like she was ready to kill and give him a cut on the neck as a warning. He hadn’t done anything but talk big and knew Nick and Sloane would disapprove of more. So why did she do this? She risked glancing in the window and saw the two bodies in there from before, as well as bloody lumps under the blanket like she said. She saw Melinda was just getting around to cutting the wires down as well and recoiling them. No one got out of there.

Sloane disappeared while the bodies were being piled into the barn. Haphazard at best, blatantly uncaring at worst. Trubel didn’t like Wendigos by any means but it did strike her as a bit sad to leave them like this. Then Sloane reappeared, carrying a body in a sheet. She’d gone to retrieve the Langen Ohren and carried them herself. Trubel didn’t watch as she carried a smaller bundle in the bed sheet and added it to the pile soon afterwards. Antonio set a hand on her shoulder and she glanced at him but just sighed. “So, how do we do this? Fire might be dangerous out here and we don’t have a back how to dig a mass grave.”

“As remote as this is, we can probably leave it for a while,” Amy said. “I can let a clean up crew know where it is, and they can come later for it.”

“Clean up crew?” Trubel asked.

“The Libraries know some professionals for these sorts of cases,” Amy said. “The ones where there are going to be literal piles of bodies.”

“…Fun…”

“What should we do with the farm animals?” Jacob asked.

“There’s just a few of them left. We could turn them loose,” Antonio said.

“Eh, I saw farm not too far. They didn’t do anything wrong; I’ll just drop them off there in that travel trailer and let the farmer sort it out.”

“Fine, if you want to do the extra work.”

“…Trubel, want to help?” She looked up, glancing at Sloane again before nodding and going to help load them up.

“…Look…Sloane would not have done that if she didn’t think it was necessary. She’s the first out of us to say, “no killing kids”. It was a big thing between her and Collin, he’s a lot more “everyone is fair game.””

“…What about you?”

“…I do what I gotta do,” he sighed. “This life isn’t for a pacifist; I can tell you that much. But you can’t exactly get out of it either.”

“Not unless you die,” she said.

“Yeah, there’s that. But hey, just…I know Sloane cares a lot about you and what you think.”

“…Are all Grimms “do or die”?”

He hesitated but then nodded. “Most we know. Some might be a bit less so, but they get talked about a lot. Not in a friendly way. No matter how good they are, being friends or more with wesen is…”

“Bad,” she guessed.

He nodded, getting the last of the animals loaded. “I’m going to use one of their trucks to get this out of here while I can. You want to come?”

Trubel was about to say yes when Sloane put a hand on her shoulder. “I think we both need to clean up,” she sighed.

“You want anything from here?” Antonio asked. “We’ll probably hawk the cars and a few other things for cash.”

“They’re all yours, I’m doing fine, and I don’t want a reminder,” she said. She grabbed their packs, handing one to Trubel. “We’ll see you guys back at the hotel and I’ll treat tonight.”

“Oh, you must be good for cash then,” Melinda said. “Go on.”

Sloane nodded and grabbed Trubel’s hand to lead her out. Trubel frowned, glancing back towards the barn. “…You said never kill children.”

“I say a lot of things,” Sloane said, still marching forward.

Trubel growled and jerked her hand out of her grasp. “You told me not to kill every wesen I met! That some could be reasoned with, like Rosalee and Monroe! But then you go and do that! You could’ve taken them in a fight! And they…they just…”

“I warned you,” Sloane sighed.

“Yeah, well, what makes you any different?! Besides being a hypocrite!?”

“…Call me what you like, but I want to get out of here. Now. And unless you want to give them a piece of your mind and see what happens, you’ll follow.” She turned and continued and Trubel glared at her back. But she ended up following and was puzzled when she veered off. Frowning, she followed and was surprised to see Sloane’s car by the dirt road the Wendigos used.

“What…when did that get here?”

“I brought it earlier, when I could get away. Ran full tilt back to get it and bring it here.”

“…Why?”

“To get out of here as quickly as possible. C’mon, inside.” She opened the door and climbed in and Trubel followed. Sloane started the car and quickly U-turned back onto the road to head up it.

“…So, am I just supposed to never talk about it again? Not tell Nick and the others?” Sloane didn’t answer and she looked to see her staring at the rearview mirror. “Sloane? Hey! I’m talking to you!”

“Hm? Sorry, what?”

Trubel glared more. “Am I not supposed to tell the others you killed innocent people when we get back to Portland?! Do I just keep that a secret? Because…because I don’t want to keep secrets from Nick and Juliette, or anyone else…”

“You don’t have to,” she said, still distracted.

“So, you want me to tell them?” she gaped. “I…do you not care? And why are you looking in the mirror like that!?”

“I want to be sure no one followed,” Sloane said, letting out a breath and speeding up down the road.

“Why?”

“Because then they might see our guests.” She turned and tugged on a dark sheet—the one from her pack—that Trubel hadn’t noticed before. “Coast is clear. Um…Estamos bien,” she said.

The sheet moved and both mother and daughter popped their head out, looking at her in wary relief.

Trubel gaped and then looked at Sloane. “You…how?”

She smiled. “I had them play dead.”

“But…I heard…” she looked at the mother who smiled.

“She told me to scream and shot close to us. Then she hid us, under the sheet, and fired again. She said not to move till she came back for us and she’d get us somewhere safe.”

“She got us out the window!” The girl added.

“Well, a little bit before that part,” Sloane said. “I had to wait for Melinda to take down the wire, then I said I needed a sec. I grabbed the blanket out of my pack and ran full tilt to the cars—made it there in about half an hour. Drove back a ways, then got out and went to get them. Pulled them out of the window, then sent them to wait at the car under the sheet to be safe.”

“We’re very fast too,” the girl said. “Mama thought about leaving, but we don’t know the woods.”

“Hush,” her mother said, blushing.

“But…the bodies…” Trubel said.

“We were never sure of exact numbers. I wrapped up one woman, and then found the smallest I could to pose as them.” Sloane slowed to a stop and looked back at them. “Do you guys have a home around here?”

“Ah, no. We just came to Boise when they offered me work, said I could bring Araceli as well,” she said, hugging her daughter. “I should’ve known it wasn’t what it seemed, but we were desperate…”

“Okay…” she nodded, mind already moving. “I don’t think you should stick around. I’m going to get you bus tickets in town, okay?”

“What? I…but…” she said, looking at her in confusion.

“It’ll be the best way to keep you safe,” she said.

“Thank you, I…you’ve done so much, I…” she started crying a bit and her daughter comforted her.

“It’s not much, really…” Sloane said, uncomfortable with the tears.

They headed into the city and first to a thrift shop to get them some new clothes after noting they were filthy and a little bloody to be going on a trip. Matie, the mother, kept saying it was too much, but Sloane waved her off. After getting them dressed and to the station, she bought them a ticket for the first available bus, luckily leaving that day. Sloane added a little money for food to the deal before they left.

“Thank you…truly, thank you so much,” she said, holding Sloane’s hand.

“You’re welcome,” Sloane said. “When you get there, look for Miriam Garcia and Jean Oberto—tell them Sloane sent you and they’ll do what they can to help.”

She nodded and they went to sit and wait. Heading back out to the car, Sloane sighed long and loud. “Man! I get she’s grateful, but I was scared she was going to start praying to me like a saint…”

“Well…you saved their lives,” Trubel said. “And…I’m sorry, for what I said…”

Sloane looked at her and smiled, reached up to pat her head. “Forgiven. I mean, I couldn’t exactly come out and say it right then and there. You being angry helped make it seem real.”

“Still…I said some stuff…”

“I said it’s fine,” she sighed, ruffling her hair. “But we can’t let the other Grimms know what I did, obviously.”

“Yeah…But we’re seeing them tonight?”

“Have to. Gotta get our stuff and get ready to head out. And try to figure out how to keep them away from Portland…”

Trubel nodded. “Yeah…I mean…if we had to fight them, what would you do?”

“…I don’t know. I’m not like them anymore in a lot of ways, and I’m still like them in others. I don’t know if we’re friends but we’re all Grimm at least…” She sighed and rubbed over her face as they stopped at a red light. “I don’t _want_ to hurt them…”

Trubel frowned and set a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s try not to then. We’ll…figure out something.”

She nodded and they continued back to the hotel. They headed to the room and agreed Trubel would take a shower first. Sloane sighed and took off her jacket to look it over, cleaning it off carefully at the table. There was a knock at the door, and she got up to look through the peephole. “Amy?”

“Hey…can we talk?”

Sloane blinked in confusion but opened the door. “Yeah, sure…what’s up? I figured dinner would be here in a bit.”

“Yeah…I just, um…needed to tell you something,” she said slowly. She looked around and glanced at the bathroom.

“…Trubel’s in the shower.”

“Right. Good, I wanted to talk alone.” She looked up at her, being a bit shorter, with determination. “Stay away from Collin.”

“…Pardon?” Sloane asked, bewildered.

“You left. He’s not yours anymore, so just back off.”

“…You…Oh god, Amy, no, please tell me you don’t want to get with Collin,” she said.

“I _am_ with Collin!” she snarled, startling her. She didn’t remember Amy being prone to anger, she was usually much bubblier.

“Are with him? …For how long?”

“For a couple of years now! We’re going to get married! I was there to pick up the pieces after you left and I’m not giving him back just so you can-can break his heart again!”

She stared and then pinched the bridge of her nose. “Collin, you son of a bitch…” she muttered.

“What?” she snapped.

“Amy, I don’t _want_ Collin!” she snapped back. “I never had any intention of getting back with him!”

“You didn’t?” she asked, confused now. “He said…”

“I’m sure he lied to you too, but no I don’t want him! And honestly, I would advise not being with him in the first place!”

“What? What the hell do you mean?” she asked, getting riled up again.

“Amy, the man is not stable,” she said impatiently. “He is a gun ho, reckless, feckless, narcissistic egomaniac who only cares about himself. He told me you died!”

“He just…was trying to get you to come along, he thought you wouldn’t if he asked because of how you left…” she said.

“Have you ever known me not to kill a wendigo,” she asked honestly. “He told me you were _dead,_ that you died horribly, and this was your Dead Letter. He used me feeling sad against me to make a quicker decision. He does that all the time; he’ll guilt you or push your buttons to make you do what he wants and he’s not above lying to do it.”

“…Shut up.”

“Amy—”

“What the hell do you know!? You left! You left and you didn’t look back! And so, did the others! It was just me and Collin, and he’s been there for me when you weren’t! He loves me!”

“…Amy, I have seen love even if I haven’t had it. It’s not like that,” she said honestly. “I’m sorry I left you all and I hurt you all, but Collin…he came on to _me_. He doesn’t love like that.”

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not! Amy, this is serious—”

“I know what serious is, I’m not a child!” she bit out. “Stop treating me like some wayward lamb! You never took me seriously, always tried to protect me, but I’m as much a Grimm as you! And Collin knows that, he doesn’t talk down to me. I’m not going to listen to some lying slut!”

Sloane gaped and then turned to fully face her, looming over her. “Excuse me?” she said darkly. Grimm aura could work on other Grimms too, if it was strong enough. And Sloane’s was strong.

Amy had the good sense to back up a step but then just turned with a huff. “Just…watch yourself. That’s not the only thing we know about you! So, you and your friends better be prepared.” She opened the door and went out.

Sloane stared after and quickly put the chain up. She breathed, trying to get her anger under control. _What happened to sweet little Amy who puked the first time she saw blood? And carried band aids with cartoon characters because she thought it was funny?_

Sighing, she heard the shower stop and took a few more deep breaths. The sun was going down and if Amy was there, the others likely were too or at least close.

“Hey, shower’s all yours,” Trubel said, coming toweling her hair.

“Thanks…”

She paused and looked at her. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just…need to clear my head,” she sighed, heading for the bathroom with a change of clothes. She quickly got in and started washing up, getting the worst of the dirt and grime off. As she did, she thought over what Amy said and paused. “…Shit…shit shit shit!” she hissed, quickly rinsing off and climbing out. She left the shower going and dried off enough she could get dressed before going out. “Trubel, we have a problem. They know.”

“What?” She looked up in confusion.

“Amy came to talk, and she alluded they knew something about us. They _know_.”

“How much?” she asked worriedly.

“No idea, but I have a bad feeling. We need to get out of here, now,” she said, starting to pack up.

Trubel didn’t ask more, just started packing her things quickly. Sloane peaked out the door and when she saw the coast was clear and quickly rushed to her car. Checking the back seat to make sure it was clear as well, she tossed her stuff in the trunk and Trubel did the same before they started the car.

“Sloane, what are we going to do? Are we going back to Portland?” she asked.

“…We’ll head that way. Once we’re a safe distance away, we’ll call Nick and try to figure out what to do that won’t bring five angry Grimms their way,” she sighed.

“They wouldn’t really hurt him, would they? He’s a Grimm too!”

“I don’t put anything past Collin,” she said, pulling out onto the highway. “The others…maybe could be reasoned with, aside from Amy who apparently is in love with him. But I have no doubt Collin is going to stir them up like a hornet’s nest before we can try, and I don’t know what he’ll tell them. He’s proven he’ll lie, cheat, whatever to get his way. But I want to put distance between us before I call in case they have anything to listen in.”

Trubel just nodded, trying to calm down. They were outside the city in about an hour, driving through the country roads, when she looked at the passenger side’s mirror. She squinted and then moved her head to look back and turned on her dark vision. “…There’s a car following us, no lights.”

Sloane glanced up and sighed. “Great…Okay, hold on, I’m going to try and—”

She didn’t finish that sentence before another car, a black truck that blended into the night even better than the one behind them, rammed into her from her side. Sloane’s SUV skidded over the road and she tried hard to keep control, but it ended up rolling down a steep embankment. It came to a rest at the bottom, wrecked badly but upright, the lights flickering and the windows and top crunched and scratched.

Up at the top Collin got out to look down at the wreck, the other four Grimms joining him and looking down at the car with mixed hard expressions.

And in Portland, it was quiet as they all looked at their phones with no news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a two parter :3 and I leave it there for now. The holiday season is a busy time so hopefully I have time to finish the next part soon...
> 
> According to the wiki, the Phansigars from last chapter are supposed to be based on kamodo dragons--but I felt like that negated the more notable feature of them being their bite with all that deadly bacteria in there in favor of long tongues (also, they aren't from India? and Indonesia is mostly muslim?). So I made up the Racun rahang, which is Indonesia for Poison Jaw (according to google) and more heavily inspired by them. I'm going to say the Phansigars are more based on the Bengal Monitor, and they are the reason the Bengal Monitor gets a bad rap despite being mostly harmless. Oh, and despite basing this on another story that'll become clearer next chapter, the quote at the top is from Alice in Wonderland, but it fit so perfectly!
> 
> Happy Holidays!


	20. Ultimatum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 20 of the Casebook of Sloane Larson!
> 
> Part 2 of Bad Company!
> 
> Sloane's ex and her former hunting party have her captive. Nick and the others are coming to the rescue, but Collin has plans for them. Can they rescue Sloane? Will she rescue herself? Who will die in the process?

_“Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude.”_

\------------------

**Ultimatum**

\------------------

Sloane groaned, opening her eyes. It felt like she’d been tossed in a rock tumbler and spun around till her joints cracked. Looking around, she saw the airbag and her cracked windshield first, her headlights flickering to the trees in front of her. Taking a deep breath—and it hurt, but she didn’t black out. She was glad Grimms were fairly sturdy. But she could feel something was wrong down her left side when she tried to move and hissed at the burning pain in her leg. She couldn’t move nearly as well as she hoped. The pain cleared her head a little though and got her thinking. _Driving…driving back to Portland, fast…why?... Collin! Collin and the others made like they knew about Nick and the others somehow. Then there was a car behind us, but another car hit us…we rolled down the side…_ She looked over and saw the steep embankment they’d flipped down. Then she blinked and reached up to wipe at the blood trickling down over her face. “Bastards actually did it…” she muttered. She heard another groan and gasped, looking at the passenger seat. “Trubel!” she hissed. She moved to try and get to her and hissed again, looking down to see her leg was pinned by the door. “Shit!”

“Sloane?” Trubel asked, blinking. She was a bit cut up as well, but both had been wearing the seat belts and the airbags had deployed. “What…what happened?”

“They rammed us over the side down that steep hill,” she said. “How are you?”

“Sore,” she grunted, moving around slightly. “But…but nothing broken, I think…What about you?”

“I’m pinned,” she sighed.

“What?” she gasped, getting more alert.

“I’m pinned. The door. Not sure what shape my leg’s in, I’m trying not to move too much to be safe…”

“I…I’ll call 911,” she said quickly, moving to try and get her phone. Sloane reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

“No time…They’ll probably be coming soon. 911 won’t be help and might get hurt. And that’s assuming they even get here in time,” she sighed.

“Then we have to get out!”

“Again, I’m pinned,” she sighed. “Even at full strength, you’d need help getting me out. And I’m not sure I can run. I’d slow us down or we’d be sitting ducks.”

“Then what do we do?” she asked, trying not to panic.

“You need to go,” Sloane said decisively.

Her head snapped to her; not sure she heard her right. “What?”

“You need to go. I’m convinced Collin is in charge of this, and he’s only interested in getting back at me. He’d use you to hurt me. So you need to go, and you need to call and warn the others.”

“But what about you?”

“I’ll handle it,” she sighed.

“Sloane, you might be really hurt—” she started.

“I will handle it,” she said more forcefully. “Trubel, you might be the only chance to warn Nick and the others. If we’re both caught and they search our phones or whatever, they’ll find them and if they don’t know already, it’s all going to come out and they’ll just be in trouble. So please, go and warn them. Go get to safety.”

Trubel hesitated, looking torn and maybe close to tears, but squeezed her hand hard. “We’ll get you back. I promise.”

She smiled and squeezed her hand back before managing to grab her knife out of her jacket and cutting Trubel’s seat belt. She then held it out to her and Trubel hesitated but took it and got her door open. She was wobbly a moment as she jumped out and looked back to see shapes moving down the steep incline slowly. Echoing she could hear them talking and paused to focus for a moment.

“…believe you hit them! You said to follow them!” Melinda was shouting.

“What if they’re hurt? Or dead?” Jacob asked.

“We’ll deal with that when we get down there, but you can quit bitching! Who bloody well cares about a couple of wesen loving bastards!” Collin snarled back. “And if Amy hadn’t let it slip this wouldn’t be an issue!”

Trubel wanted to stay and fight but knew that wasn’t going to be the best idea. She quickly and quietly made a run for the tree line, planning to follow the road back to town.

Sloane sighed and then turned to look out the window turned into the figures she once knew so well, and she scowled at Collin as he walked up. He leaned down punch through what was left of her driver’s side window, making her close her eyes and look away from the glass. He then looked at her with smile that didn’t quite match the manic look in his eyes. “Well…seems you had a wreck.”

“Seems I did,” she said. “You hotwire that car too?”

“Nah, was one of the wendigo’s.”

“Ingenious,” she said blandly.

“Trubel’s gone,” Jacob said, looking at the open passenger door.

“You had her leave on her own?” Collin asked.

“Don’t know, just woke up,” she said. “Bit addled, you know, from you wrecking my car.”

Collin smiled. “Well, I admit, going down the hill wasn’t my intention. Looks like you’re trapped…let me help.” He grabbed the door and Amy grabbed the other side and they managed to rip it off it’s hinges. Sloane gave a shout through gritted teeth at the sudden release of pressure and looked down. Her leg wasn’t obviously broken but it hurt enough she was worried it might be fractured or at the very least bruised down to the bone. It was going to be a pain to move. “Oh, looks like you’re a bit banged up too.”

She didn’t say anything, just glared and breathed deeply through the pain. He cut through the belt and wrenched her out onto the ground. Sloane tried to push herself up and he planted a foot on her.

“Collin,” Melinda said in warning.

“What? Gotta check and make sure she’s not hiding anything. Amy.”

Amy knelt and felt over Sloane’s body. She pulled one blade out from her boot, but only found the empty sheathe under her jacket. “Her family knife’s gone.”

“Shame, that would’ve been a nice keepsake. Tie her up and let’s get her out of here.”

“Why are you doing this?” Sloane asked, grunting as he pushed her down again when she tried to move.

“You didn’t think we wouldn’t find out?” he laughed.

“Find out what?”

“That you’re _helping wesen_ ,” he spat.

“…”

“Not even denying it?”

“Sloane?” Antonio asked, surprised.

“…I wouldn’t exactly say “helping” in how you’re thinking,” she sighed. No point in lying now. Amy tightened the rope she was tying around her hands and Sloane grunted again as she pulled her up to a sitting position. She straightened one leg, trying to keep it stable.

“Then how would you put it?” Colling sneered.

“I put more thought into my hunts. I find out what’s going on, and I hunt those that need hunting instead of just any wesen I meet. Others…I talk to. I learn things from. Hell, I’m friends with a few,” she laughed. She might’ve had a concussion after all. Or maybe she just didn’t care.

Antonio, Jacob and Melinda looked at one another in shock. Collin laughed in triumph at them. “You see? I told you! She’s gone soft! She’s with the enemy!”

“Oh, come off it,” Sloane sighed. ““Enemy”? You’re still treating this like a war or a crusade?”

“Yes, because that is what it is!” he hissed. “You saved those wesen at the compound.”

“Yeah. I did,” she said, not even looking ashamed. It threw him a moment, but he crouched down to look her in the face.

“Where are they?”

Sloane breathed a little easier, glad they didn’t see Matie and her daughter leave. “No idea. Dropped them in town and left. I just didn’t think killing a couple of Langen Ohren who were kidnapped already was justified. Especially one so young.”

“Justified? So, you get to decide what’s justified?”

“Isn’t that what we’ve always done,” she asked dully. “You felt just being a wesen was justified. I disagree—now, more than ever. They didn’t kill anyone; they were just victims of our real target. If they were human, they’d be the kind of people we would be saving. But then, that never interested you much either—”

She gasped as he stood and kicked her in the stomach. “You think you’re better than us then?”

Sloane breathed and looked up at him with a glare that spoke just how much she thought she was better than him. Growling, he kicked again, and this time caught her across the temple hard enough she crumpled to the side. “Collin!” Melinda shouted.

“Shut up! Get her up the hill and we’ll get her somewhere we can question her properly. I want to know what the hell happened to her to make her like this.”

Antonio looked at Melinda, Jacob and Amy, but Amy was following Collin. Sighing, he knelt and got Sloane over his shoulders in a fireman carry and started up the hill with the others spotting him.

\-----------------------------

Nick jolted awake when his phone went off and sighed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes as he fumbled for it. Juliette groaned a bit and turned over, figuring it would be a case. So did he until he realized the ringtone was “Trouble”, by P!nk. He was more alert as he accepted the call. “Trubel? What’s up, it’s…3 in the morning.”

“That’s not important,” she said urgently. “This is the first time I’ve had reception in hours and my phone is going to die, so listen: The Grimms turned on us. They have Sloane.”

Nick froze and sucked in a breath. “W…what?” Juliette sat up slightly, hearing the panic in his voice.

“They have Sloane!” she choked out again. “They somehow figured out we weren’t just going to kill every wesen we came across and we tried to get away but they hit Sloane’s car and we rolled down a hill an-and she told me to get away and I did, I left her, and-”

“Trubel, calm down,” he said, getting out of bed. “Where are you?”

“Outside of Boise. I don’t have a way to get back to Portland—and I have to find her! I don’t know what they’re going to do with her.”

“Okay, do you have any money on you?”

“A little…”

“Okay. Can you find a safe place?”

“I don’t know! I mean, our motel is a wash because they were there too, but I could find another or something.”

“Do that and get a phone charger. Text me where you’ll be. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“O-okay. But Sloane—”

“We’ll get her back,” he said, hard and determined. “But save your energy and tell me more when I get there. And stay safe.”

“Right…Right. I’ll see you when you get here,” she said, trying to calm down. Hearing Nick be calm and rational helped.

“See you there.” He hanged up and quickly started getting dressed.

“What’s going on?” Juliette asked, sitting up.

“Sloane’s been taken.”

She gaped and get up as well. “By the wendigos?”

“No, the other Grimms. Trubel says they wrecked her car and took her—I didn’t get much more, but she’s freaked out and alone.”

“Where?”

“Boise.”

“Idaho? They’re still there?” She asked, grabbing her own jeans to put on.

“Yeah—what are you doing?”

“I’m getting dressed. You don’t think you’re going alone, do you?”

“Juliette, this isn’t a normal thing, I’m not even sure what all is going on—”

“More reason you’re not going alone,” she said back firmly. “Besides, we need to get Monroe and Rosalee.”

“They have enough to worry about,” he said.

“Nick, stop it,” she sighed, going over and grabbing his face to surprise him. “If you went off alone, even if you succeeded, do you know how angry they would be you didn’t tell them? Further, your dealing with a bunch of experienced Grimm. You think you can handle them all without back up? And get Sloane out safely? You need to stop trying to protect everyone and know when to ask for help.”

Nick hesitated but then sighed and grabbed his phone again, knowing she was right. Sitting, he dialed Monroe. “Hey man…you know what time it is?”

“I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t an emergency,” he said seriously.

“…Shit, okay, hold on.” He heard him wake up Rosalee and put the phone on speaker. “What’s up.”

“…The other Grimms betrayed Sloane.”

“What?” Rosalee said, more alert now.

“I don’t know all the details, Trubel called. Sloane made her run for it, but they’ve got her.”

“They’ve got her? What are they going to do with her?”

“I don’t know!” Nick said helplessly. “But I gotta get to Boise.”

“You mean we!” Monroe said.

“Guys—”

“She’s our friend too, Nick!” Rosalee yelled, already getting up to pack and change. “You are not going to go charging in without us!”

“That’s what I told him!” Juliette said, having been in close enough to hear.

He sighed but smiled despite himself. “Okay, you’re all right…But there’s not much charging in, right now I’m just going to meet with Trubel in Boise. So we can plan and get the full story.”

“Then we’ll meet you at the airport,” Monroe said.

“…Okay. I’ll call Hank too and we’ll meet you there.” They hanged up and Nick finished getting dressed, putting things in a small carryon bag quickly while Juliette did the same. But as she did, she suddenly gasped and doubled over.

“Juliette?” Nick asked quickly.

“I’m okay,” she huffed. “Just…been having some body aches lately…”

“That seems a bit more than an ache…” he said worriedly, helping her sit up.

“Okay, so I guess there like…fully body migraines?” she amended, wincing through the pain.

“Yeah, that sounds bad,” he said, getting worked up. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I just thought it was that potion working out of my system…It’s really not that common, maybe once or twice a week.”

“That’s not encouraging,” he said in alarm. “You need to stay here.”

“No,” she said. “I want to help.”

“I know, but I don’t want to be worrying about you too,” he sighed. “If you get a pain during the fight…”

“Uh…what’s going on?” They both froze and looked up to see Josh peaking in on them. He looked at them worriedly. “Did something happen and we have to make a run for it?”

“No, nothing like that,” Nick said. “We’re just…going on a rescue mission.”

“Oh…cool,” he nodded. “Wait, am I going to be here alone?”

Nick sighed and looked at Juliette who was still trying to catch her breath. She sighed and shook her head slightly. She was obviously feeling wiped just for that few seconds of pain and knew Nick was right. She would only be a hindrance like this. “No, I’m staying…”

“Thank you,” he sighed, kissing her forehead. “I’ll keep you updated on what we do.”

“You better. Now hurry, I can at least start making flight reservations from here.”

He nodded and rushed to finish before heading out the door and to the airport. On the way he called Hank to update him as well, and after a bout of colorful cursing he’d meet them there as well. Between them all they should have a good force, he told himself.

\------------

Trubel found a 24-hour convenience store that was open and bought a charger like Nick suggested, and some band aids and wipes. She also made it out with a couple of snack cakes and a soda hidden in her jacket. The clerk had the good sense not to try her, noting the cuts across her temple and hands.

Next was a place to rest. She knew Nick would try to get there as soon as he could, but she didn’t want to spend more money than she had to. The bus station might be an option, she’d used them in the past, but it didn’t feel secure enough. The streets or a park even less so. The library was likely not going to open for a bit. Sighing, she knew that a motel was probably her best bet like he said. She walked until she saw the first one, she could afford, put her name as “Sarah Jones”, and quickly went to the room, locked the door, put a chair in front of it and plugged in her phone. While it charged back up, she went and cleaned the cuts with the wipes and put Band-Aids on them. She heard her phone come back to life and quickly texted Nick the address before she collapsed on the bed. The ache from the car crash was coming back hard and the adrenaline was wearing off. After the hunt just hours ago, walking for hours and constantly looking over her shoulder she passed out.

Meanwhile, Sloane was just waking up, blinking groggily. Her neck was stiff, and she grunted and tried to move her arm to it to work out a kink, only to find she couldn’t move it. Looking down she saw she was tied to a chair—her wrists bound to the arms and her ankles to the front legs. Her left side felt like one giant bruise and she noted a makeshift splint going down to her ankle. “The hell?” she muttered.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” a snide voice said. She looked up, able to focus now, and saw Amy standing near a large iron door. It looked like they were in a storeroom of some kind, but one that hadn’t been used in many years from the state of disarray. Dust was everywhere, what little furniture was there was barely being held together, the light flickered just slightly and wasn’t helping her headache at all.

“Amy…?”

“Yeah. I got first watch on you.”

“…Lucky you,” she said.

“Don’t I know it,” she spat.

“…So, what did Collin tell you this time?” she sighed.

Amy glared more and walked up to her. “You should take this a bit more seriously, you know. Collin says you helped those langen ohren escape rather than shoot them. You _helped_ a couple of wesen—wesen that could tell people what we did! What we look like! That’s dangerous even if they aren’t maneaters!”

“And Collin has proof of this, I take it?” she said airily. “I hope so or I’m going to be even more pissed you wrecked my car like a bunch of mindless drones. I mean, you have an excuse to follow his whims I suppose, but the others I thought were smarter.”

Amy slapped her and Sloane gritted her teeth but moved with the blow. “Shut the hell up! You always thought you were better than us, it drove me crazy!”

“Now you’re just repeating him like a parrot,” she sighed, working her jaw. “And really, Collin, listening at the door? Shameless.”

Amy frowned and then turned when the door opened, trying to hide her surprise. “This room is nearly soundproof. You always did have sharp senses,” he sighed. “But so do I.”

“You opened the door a smidge. Then again, not hard to hear a grown woman throwing a tantrum,” she said, glancing at Amy. Amy glared and moved to hit her again, but Collin caught her hand.

“Enough. Let me talk to her. Alone.”

“Collin,” Amy said, unsure. She grunted when he gripped her hand sharply and then let go.

“I said alone. Now out.” She rubbed her hand and cast one more petulant look at Sloane before turning to leave.

“…You know, you could be nicer. She seems think you two are an item,” Sloane said breezily.

“Hmph. We’ve slept together, yes,” he sighed. He eyed her, maybe hoping for a hint of jealousy, but she just looked at him like she was done. “I was planning to call it off after this hunt.”

“And yet you made the moves on me during it. Then had the gall to say I was the one who tried it! I was giving her a hard time since, you know, trying to kill me, but you really are a piece of work,” Sloane said.

He glared, looming over her, and she tipped her head back to look up at him with a bored expression. “I have loved you since we were young. I didn’t give up on getting you back. She doesn’t mean anything special to me.” His tone sounded like he was trying hard to be sincere, but there was an angry edge to it. Another tantrum thrower.

Sloane wrinkled her nose in disgust. “So what, you’re leading her on? Even worse.”

“She’s just some moony-eyed, love-struck girl!”

“Well, considering she does love you, I’d take it where you can get it. You won’t get anything from me.”

He growled and suddenly shoved the chair. She gasped and then jolted when he stopped it just before the back—and her head would hit the ground. “Why…are you so damned stubborn?”

Sloane looked at him again, arching a brow. “I wonder.”

“It was nearly a decade ago!” he snapped, righting her hard-enough head bobbled a little. “You should’ve just forgiven me by now!”

“That’s not how that works! I downplayed what you did for years but I’m not anymore. And you’re an even bigger idiot if you don’t think what you’re doing right now—what you’ve been doing as you lie and keep trying to force your way back into my life—doesn’t make me _hate_ you more,” she snapped back. “I’m not some “moony-eyed love-struck girl” that’s going to forgive any of that or this!”

He laughed, harsh like a serrated knife over skin. “Oh, you aren’t love struck?”

Sloane blinked in confusion. “No? I wasn’t even “Love struck” when we were together!”

His jaw ticked. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” she sighed. “I mean…maybe I thought I should love you at one time. But I was with you mainly because it was the logical next step and let’s face it, our mentors tried to set it up. Mostly your dad, Dierdre didn’t really care I think…But if I did, I don’t think it would’ve been as easy as it was for me to leave you. I felt better leaving.” She’d never told him that because as much as she disliked him, she’d never wanted to actively break his heart. Or maybe she was scared what he would do.

Collin was quiet for a while before nodding to himself. He looked pained but also barely holding it together. “Well…maybe you’re not in love with me. But I saw you earlier. On the phone.” Sloane blinked again, confused a moment, before remembering the phone call in the forest and tensing just slightly. “Aye, yes…I followed, wondering what the hell you were doing taking a call at such an important time. Who would be so important? This… “Nick” apparently is.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said evenly. She grunted when he grabbed her jaw hard enough to bruise.

“Now, don’t lie to me. I heard you. I _saw_ you. That look on your face and that tone in your voice is something new. You’ve never, ever looked like that before. Like just bloody talking on the phone makes you happy! Saying “I miss you too” like some—some sappy little twat!” Sloane stared, not missing the pain in his voice. But she wasn’t sympathetic. He growled and let go, his nails grazing her slightly. “Never looked at me or talked to me like that!”

“You think I will now? After all the lies you’ve told, nearly killing me by running off the road—”

“Oh, you’d have lived!”

“Putting Trubel in danger!” she shouted over him, getting angry now.

“If she didn’t survive, she’s not fit for the title of Grimm!”

“You’re crazy!” she said, shaking her head in revulsion.

“Ha, maybe I am…but then, if you’re so unashamed of your new friends, why did you run?” She didn’t answer right away, and he moved towards her. “I have a theory…after asking around, I know you haven’t left Portland in a while. Word around Portland is there’s a Grimm that “helps” with wesen crime. Not just hunting everything but hunting down and helping wesen that need it. And has wesen _friends_.” He stared her down. “I found this out within days of being in Portland trying to track that Racun Rahang. But I didn’t want to believe it was you. I thought maybe it was your apprentice—that you hadn’t gotten her to stop being so soft yet. But you’re the one that went soft. Now I wonder what I could find out if I tried harder. Maybe I could find out just who those friends are.”

Sloane glared. She was fairly sure that it was Nick he was talking about as they’d tried to keep the rumors of their being more than one Grimm as tight as they could. Which means he didn’t know Nick was a Grimm as well. She didn’t know if that was good or bad. “And what do you think these threats are going to accomplish? Other than make me hate your guts more.”

He flinched and then glared. “Well…I’m planning to fix you.”

“Fix me?” she laughed.

“Yes! Back to how you were before!”

“God, you are so deluded,” she finally said. “You think I’m just going to magically love you and give up the life I’ve built? One where I’m actually _happy_? Ha! I didn’t even know what love was really like till recently!”

He glared more. “So, you do love this “Nick”?” She didn’t say anything, biting her tongue. In truth she’d meant more feeling loved by her friends, something new when they held each other at arm’s length when together before. She _saw_ what romantic love was supposed to be like looking at Monroe and Rosalee, Nick and Juliette, Jean and Mim. And whatever her feelings for Nick were, Collin had already seen them. “Well…I’ll have to take care of that.”

\------------------

Nick and the others pulled up to the airport in record time. Hank was waiting as they came in and waved them over—Nick had called him while. “Hey. I asked and all the flights to Boise are full—soonest one is tomorrow at 10PM.”

“We could drive there faster,” Monroe said in frustration.

“He’s right though, they’re full!” Juliette growled in frustration over the phone. “I’ve been trying to find anything, but there’s nothing.”

“Dammit,” Nick hissed. “There has to be something!”

“…I’ve got an idea.” Rosalee said, pulling out her phone. “Hank, call Renard and tell him what’s going on and that we need an emergency flight clearance…thing! He should be able to pull some strings.”

“Uh…Okay?” he said, pulling out the phone. “You sound pretty confident; you got a guy?”

“If he’s here, yes…”

\----

“Okay, we should be descending soon!” Clint yelled back at them.

“Fantastic,” Hank yelled back, gripping the worn seat beneath him. He hadn’t really been that confident they’d make it in the old plane, but knew they were lucky that Clint was at the airport. Even more so that, after a call to Renard to explain the situation, that he got them clearance within in an hour by pulling a lot of strings. Clint had been sleeping in his plane, but quickly gotten things ready and after 3 hours since they got to the airport in Portland they were coming into Boise. Though with the time change, the sun was just beginning to rise and turn the sky red and purple.

“You going to need a ride back?”

“Possibly, we’ll keep you posted,” Nick said, sitting up front with him.

He nodded, not looking perturbed. They’d promised to pay him after all this time. “So, someone really kidnapped that Sloane girl? I mean, that took some balls,” he laughed. He cleared his throat when Rosalee shot him a look. “What I mean is…she’s tough as nails, I’m sure she’s fine.”

“She better be,” Nick said, a threat in his voice.

They descended and though the landing was a little hard, they made it. They thanked Clint again and quickly headed out. Nick checked his phone and sighed. “Text from Trubel, she’s got a motel room.”

“Good,” Hank nodded, adjusting his backpack. “Does she have weapons though, because we couldn’t bring anything through TSA…”

“I’m not sure, we couldn’t talk long. We’ll ask more when we meet up. But first we need a rental car.”

They nodded, and luckily Juliette had been able to coordinate that from home and got them a tough SUV. They drove quickly to the motel, knocking on the door. Trubel started awake, groaning as she sat up, but quickly got to the door and looked. She sighed in relief and opened it. “Guys! You got here fast.”

“As fast as we could,” Nick said. He frowned and reached up to push her bangs out of the way. She had several small cuts over her face, and several had bandages on them now. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sore and a little cut up, but surprisingly not bad,” she said, letting them all quickly get into the room. “Sloane…I don’t know. She was pinned because they hit her door, so I don’t know if she’s got broken bones or bleeding or—”

“Calm down, we’re all stressed,” Rosalee said quickly, swallowing.

“Yeah. Can we go over this from the beginning?” Hank added.

“We stopped and grabbed food,” Monroe added, holding up a box full of takeout bags.

Trubel sighed but nodded. She started explaining everything: Driving down with Collin, meeting the other Grimms, and planning the hunt, Amy showing up, the camp out, the hunt itself and rescuing the langen ohren, and ultimately the wreck.

Everyone was a bit quiet afterwards and Trubel gulped some water but was still amped up and pacing. “I felt _sorry_ for Collin! I told Sloane to give him a chance! I’m so stupid!” she yelled, throwing the water bottle and then nearly pulling her hair out.

“Easy, Trubel, it’s okay,” Hank said sympathetically.

“No, it’s not! I should’ve listened to her!”

“And would that change what’s happening now?”

“…I…I don’t know…maybe? I mean, they might not have known about the langen ohren?”

“No guarantee about that,” Monroe said. “My bet is they figured it out on their own. And if this Collin guy pushed them to do this, he’s not playing with a full deck anyway.”

Trubel sighed and nodded, sitting down. “I just…She told me to leave…to protect me. I don’t want to be…” _The reason she dies._ It was implied and they all understood.

Nick walked over and pulled her into a hug. “Whatever you’re thinking about yourself, stop. She told you to run, you ran. And it’s good you did, or we might not have come here.”

“But we don’t even know where she is,” Trubel said, pressing her palms to her eyes.

“Hey, you got detectives here,” Hank said, holding out his arms.

“We don’t know if she’s alive…” Trubel said more quietly and they all kind of paused. They’d all been thinking it but had hesitated to say it out loud.

Nick jumped when he felt his phone go off, Bad Reputation playing loudly, and he quickly fumbled for it to answer. “Sloane?” he gasped. The others all looked up hopefully—had she gotten away?

“Not quite. You be “Nick” then?” a cold voice said. He had an Irish lilt as he spoke, and Nick felt his blood run cold then flash heated to boiling.

“I be,” he responded, trying to keep his voice even. “And who would _you_ be?” He knew, like he knew what the Eiffel Tower looked like without ever seeing it in person. A surety that comes from secondhand knowledge from trusted sources. The others all deflated and looked confused.

“Collin Donahue. Sloane’s mentioned me I’m sure.”

“Never,” he said. He thought he might’ve hard his teeth grind. “At least not till a few days ago. Where is she?”

“Oh, she’s alive, if that’s what your worried about,” he said breezily. “Bit banged up. Bit from the car, bit from other sources.”

“What did you do to her?” Nick asked darkly.

“That’s my question, boyo!” he bit back. “Sloane was one of the best Grimm I knew, now she’s some soft little den mother! Taking care of wounded animals and shite! You be having her singing little tunes next!”

Nick looked at the phone in confusion a moment before putting it back to his ear. “Sloane is one of the most amazing people I have ever met, Grimm or no! Whatever she’s doing, it’s her choice!”

He laughed and it sounded course. “Well, listen to you! You do got a bit of the glad eye, eh? I’ll blind it for you,” he added, his voice dropping several degrees.

“I don’t know what that means—just tell us where she is. We’re getting her back!”

“We? …Ah…I thought you seemed a bit ready. Trubel already got you, eh?”

“She did,” he confirmed.

“Well…Alright then. You want to settle this? I’ll text you the place to meet up.”

Nick was surprised a moment but was already thinking. “I’m guessing this is meant to be a fight.”

“Damn straight! We’ll take anyone you brought with you on, and I’ll have your guts for garters!”

Nick didn’t even flinch at the near scream in his ear. “Name the place. But first, I don’t even know if you’re telling the truth and she’s alive.”

“What, don’t believe me? …Aye, fair enough,” he sighed. Nick could hear him walking over to a door and open it—it sounded heavy. “Oi. Your man is on the phone.” Sloane looked at dubiously, then noted her phone to his ear and felt her gut twist. “Go on, say something to him. He called you “amazing”, what you gotta say back? Wants to know your alive so he’s got something to rescue.” Sloane glared at him and kept her mouth shut. Collin glared back and walked over, yanking her hair back. “I said talk! Don’t want them thinking I’m a liar now.”

Sloane took a deep breath through the pain and just glared at him again. He stared her down a moment before letting go—and then suddenly grabbed her leg that had been pinned in the accident, over the makeshift splint. They weren’t sure if it was just badly bruised or fractured either, but she shouted in surprise, trying to move away even as Collin’s hand dug in hard enough she was going to have five new bruises on top of bruises.

“Sloane?!” Nick said. The others had heard the yell because Collin had put the phone right up to her face when he did it.

“Nick, don’t listen to him, don’t come—” she shouted, and Collin pushed her chair to the floor sideways, making her shout again as her shoulder it the floor. And she couldn’t save herself with her hands and legs tied.

“I think that’s enough. I’ll text you the address and we’ll discuss things a bit more face to face. Say about six tonight? If you come early, I’ll just leave with her and you’ll never see her alive again, I promise you.”

“Wait!” Nick said, but the line went dead.

“What happened?” Rosalee said, looking shaken.

“…She’s alive. But hurt. They have her prisoner somewhere.”

“Where?” Monroe asked.

The phone dinged and Nick quickly opened the text. “He didn’t say, but I’ve got coordinates to where he wants to meet for a showdown…He said five, so we’ve got most of the day to prepare.”

“Okay…then we need weapons,” Hank said. “And I don’t think the local PD is going to let us borrow any. Or any other contacts.”

“…I might have one,” Nick said, quickly going through his phone again.

\-------------

She looked at him darkly. “If you hurt him, I will hurt you back.”

He stood and turned, heading for the door, and Sloane felt a chill at the sinister gleam in his eyes when he turned to look at her again. “I’m not worried. I’ll make sure you have nowhere else to go but back to me or in a grave.” He headed out the door and started back up the stairs to the main level. Outside he saw Melinda, Jacob and Antonio finish parking their vehicles outside the office. Melinda’s red Dodge Ram with a camper top stood out, but so did Jacob’s large RV that was like a mobile house on wheels. Antonio traveled light, since he was more global oriented like Collin rather than focusing on the US, so he’d taken one of the Wendigo’s jeeps as his own, liking the dark olive green of it.

Turning, he went to walk up another set of stairs to the office where he’d brought some of his things. Amy was there when he walked in and he breathed deeply to try and keep his patience. She smiled, albeit with a hint of nerves, when he walked in and stood up.

“So…how’d that go?”

“She’s being a pig-headed bitch,” he growled.

“What else is new?” she said, huffing. Collin gave her an annoyed look and she tried to subdue herself. “Why are we keeping her around?”

“Because I’m not giving up on her just yet. Sloane is one of the strongest Grimms in the world in terms of breeding and ability. We can’t just kill her. It’d be like killing an endangered animal. Well, an actually valuable one.”

“If she’s so strong, why was it so easy to take her down?” she pointed out. “Maybe she’s just gotten that weak.”

“We took her by surprise, and in a bit of an underhanded way,” he said, showing a bit of shame at the admission. “In a straight on fight, it wouldn’t be that easy. You saw her at the hunt. Didn’t even use a gun once. Except to try and lie to us,” he added bitterly.

Amy frowned and walked over to wrap her arms around him from behind. Collin craned his neck slightly to look at her with an annoyed expression and she squeezed him, trying to make it go away. “We don’t need her, Collin. She’s not worth this.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek, missing the roll of his eyes. “We should just leave her tied up down there and move on with our lives!”

“Amy, stop,” he sighed, taking her arms from around him.

She glowered and grabbed his hand before he could pull away. “Why? Why is it always her? I’m the one that stayed!”

“And who bloody well asked you to?” he snapped, taking his hand away. “Christ! I’m not some child that needs looking after! And neither are you!”

“I never said that!” she said, getting a bit desperate. “I just meant _I_ love you! I always have, since we met. You saved me, you trained me!”

“It was a bit of a group effort,” he reminded her, sounding impatient.

“But you’re the one I love!” she said again. “I tried to be patient, I tried to wait till you and Sloane broke up because I knew it would happen and it did!” He looked at her with building anger, an expression she didn’t see as she released all the tension built up. “But you’ve always, _always_ , focused on her! We could’ve been married, with kids, by now if you just forgot about that stupid bit-”

Collin rounded on her then and grabbed her shirt front, nearly lifting her off the ground as he pulled her up to his face. His patience was razor thin now and ready to cut someone down. “Quit. Your. Caterwauling.”

“Collin?” she said, a little fear trickling into her voice.

“I am sick of this. You know why we’re “together”? Because you’re convenient. You’re convenient because you wouldn’t leave me the hell alone. You’re barely passable as a Grimm, even less useful than Jacob, and so many times you were more deadweight than help but you just wouldn’t _leave._ So, I figured I should get some benefit out of this and slept with you. But there is no way in hell I would marry you or have children with you because of your weak blood. Theresa was more promising than you and she only just started training! So, get this through that thick skull of yours: I do not love you. And when this is over, however it ends, I want you to unlatch yourself from my side and go.” He let go of her and Amy stared, tears in her eyes, but he sighed. “Oh, for the love of God—go blubber outside, I’m not in the damned mood!”

She sobbed and quickly ran for it and Collin just huffed.

\------------

Cynthia Gallin was reading on her tablet—the best place to get some Lesbian romance stories weren’t always published in paper—and drinking tea. Central Texas didn’t get hit by the cold like Portland did in the fall and it was still shorts weather by many people’s standards. The new semester had just started, and she had already finished her first round of studying and was taking a break. She was glad to be able to put down the medical texts and read something for fun again, lounging on the couch with her feet up.

When her phone rang, she blindly grabbed it off the coffee table and looked at the screen. _Det. N.B._

She was sitting up immediately. This was different. She and Nick hadn’t talked in a while—not that they were on bad terms, but they weren’t working to be best buddies either. He had her email and knew she preferred that if catching up. This smacked of being an emergency. She quickly accepted the call and held it to her ear. “Detective Burkhardt?”

“Gallin, hey,” he said. “I’ve got an emergency.”

 _Called it._ “Okay, what sort of emergency? I mean, there’s not much I can do…”

“I just need to know where the Library is in Boise, Idaho, and how to get into it.”

She blinked. “Boise? Why are you in Boise?”

“It’s a long story, but we—I need to get into it and get some stuff for a…hunt.”

“…A little fishy, but okay…You still have your library card?”

“The one you gave me? Yeah.”

“Good. Give me a sec, I think I still have my entrance references.” She quickly went to her cloud and searched through some of the encrypted documents before pulling it up and searching _Boise._ “Bangkok, Baton Rouge, Bismarck (Germany), Bismarck (North Dakota) …Boise! Okay, so, where you’re going is a little different—The Carnegie Library building. This used to be a _Library_ Library, but it’s law offices now.”

“It is?” he said, a little anxious.

“Yeah, but don’t worry. When it was being renovated, we made a separate entrance. The Grimm Library was too massive to move on its own and over a hundred years old. So, you’re going to go down into to the garage across the street. Right at the entrance, turn left and you’ll see a door. Hold your card under the scanner and it’ll open. Go down the steps and go to the door at the end of the hall—it should be open too and it will lead down. Now, hidden just behind the stairs to the side is another card scanner. Scan it, and it should open the door it’s attached too that blends into the wall. This will lead to a tunnel that connects under the street, all the way to the Grimm Library under Carnegie.”

“Wow…that’s…”

“I know, over the top, but Grimms kinda are sometimes,” she laughed. “The Librarian’s name is Eric Lumb. I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard good things—a little strict but nice.”

Nick quickly wrote that down. “Got it…thank you, Cynthia.”

She smiled but couldn’t help feeling worried. “No problem…are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“I will, just…we need to get on this fast, we’ve only got a few hours.”

“…Is it Collin Donahue?”

Nick froze a moment. “…How…?”

“He called a few days ago—I haven’t changed my cell yet in the directory. It’s a bit of a process. He was asking questions about Sloane and Portland. I had a bad feeling so I just told him about her visiting twice in a few months and that I couldn’t tell him more because I’m not a Librarian anymore.”

“…Yeah. He’s got Sloane…basically kidnapped her.”

Cynthia’s hand went over her mouth. “Oh God…Nick, I should tell you—Collin was put on a watch list by his mother, a Librarian in Dublin.”

“A watch list?”

“We have a few kinds—not all trained Grimms are homicidal maniacs, I promise— but she put him on the kind to watch out for regarding dangerous behavior. Apparently, he nearly got one of his nephews killed.”

“What? How?” he asked.

“It’s a bit sketchy on the details, but gossip was that he was “training” them, despite them not inheriting yet or maybe ever, and one got cut really bad. Instead of rushing him to get medical attention, he actually stopped him and left him in the woods. He said it was so he could get his first aid kit to treat him, when his sister—who never inherited—saw the blood she rightly freaked out and he started arguing with them instead of helping. They found the boy nearly dead from blood loss. I guess this was the last straw and none of his family is talking to him now.”

“Can’t say I blame them…”

“Me neither. There’s been a lot of other past reports from others about bad behavior. Progressively more. I’m not a psychologist but he’s got issues.”

“And what do Grimms do about those?”

“Well, the best method is therapy, but you try getting a bunch of hunters to go to a therapist on the regular—”

“Ah, no, I meant the reports,” Nick clarified quickly.

“Ah, right…Mostly we’re encouraged to keep an eye on them to make sure they don’t like…blow up a building or something and stop them if they do go to the dark side so to speak. But Collin’s gotten a _lot_ of them. The fact his own mother did stood out to me. But…Sloane submitted a few.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, mainly over concerns regarding a fire in Prague. We don’t tell them when they’re on the watch list, but, well…Mrs. Donahue said in her report that he tried to sneak information to look for Sloane more than once and she failed to report it. A mother’s love only stretches so far for some though. It struck me as very stalkery, so I tried not to give anything away, I swear! I never said she’d settled there.”

“…Thanks for the information, Cynthia. I believe you, don’t worry.”

She sighed. “Thanks…please, get Sloane back. I don’t know what Collin is thinking long term or if he ever does, but it can’t be good.”

“No kidding. I’ll let you know what happens. Bye.”

“Bye.”

He hanged up and looked at the others. “Okay. I’ve got the Library location here in Boise. I’m going to go see about getting some weapons.”

“Dude, you’re going to need help to carry all that out,” Monroe pointed out.

“…I don’t know how to bring non-Grimms in, I didn’t think to ask,” he said, grimacing a bit at that hole in the plan.

“I’ll come in,” Trubel said. “I mean, I am a Grimm, if they need to check.”

“Wesen should probably stay on the outside,” Rosalee said.

“As curious as I am, yeah,” Monroe sighed. “We can watch the car.”

“I’ll try it,” Hank said. “What’s the worse they can do, flash a “Grimms Only Sign” at me? I can see about suing them for discrimination.”

Nick tried to smile but was still worried.

They quickly loaded up in the car and drove down towards Carnegie Library. It was a classic, beautiful white brick and sandstone structure. It was two stories tall, with arched windows on tip and rectangular on the bottom, all trimmed in sandstone frames. The front had a peaked roof and two globed lampposts. Lots of old trees lined the lawn in front and gave it a very stately appearance despite being located in the middle of the city. Nick turned to go directly across into a car park located there. He parked as close as he could and then the three volunteers exited while Monroe and Rosalee tried not to stay calm.

Nick went to the door Cynthia specified and pulled the card out of his pocket. Setting it under the scanner that should be for key cards, a black light popped on and the G briefly lit up. The door clicked open and they walked through and down to the other door quickly, then down those stairs. Nick turned to look for another card reader and frowned. “I’m not seeing anything…Maybe I should just call her back.”

“Hey,” Trubel said, tapping his shoulder. She pointed a black slot set into the stairs at waste level.

“Or it could be that,” he said. _Should’ve asked she specify if it was a different kind of reader._ He pushed his card in and it sucked it in with a force that made him jump. There was a pause and then the wall next to the stair well slid back and to the side.

“Whoa…” Trubel said, watching it in rapt fascination.

“Yeah. The one in Portland is hidden under a secret table.”

“Awesome…”

“Reminds me of murder mystery books,” Hank said, a bit more dubious. “Agatha Christie wasn’t a Grimm, was she?”

“Not sure, I’ll ask around,” Nick smiled. His card didn’t pop back out so he hoped it would be given back later and they stepped through. The door closed behind them. It was dark a moment and then a row of LED lights lit up along the path deeper in. The hallway was wide enough they could walk side by side. At one point Nick could hear the traffic above them and wondered how this was kept so secret. Then at the end they came to a similar steel door. He knocked twice, paused, then knocked three times.

“A secret knock?” Hank asked.

“Shh! Sloane did it. I think…”

The panel slid open and aged brown eyes looked at them. “…Mr. Nicholas Burkhardt?”

“Yes.”

“…You have guests.”

“Uh, yeah. This is Theresa Rubel, my, um…student. We need to get supplies for a hunt, and she needs to get her card.”

The eyes didn’t betray emotion and slid to Hank. “And you, sir?”

“Oh, I’m his partner, Hank,” he said, trying to smile.

“…Very progressive. I do not judge,” he said, sliding the panel closed.

“Wha—No, not that kind,” Hank said quickly. Nick honestly wanted to laugh but the door was being unlocked and he wanted to seem serious.

A gentleman in a suite stood there, older and with greying, thinning hair and a hawkish nose. He was dressed in a waistcoat, long-sleeved shirt and dress slacks. He held Nick’s card out to him, and he took it with a nod. “I am Eric Lumb, the Librarian. Please, come inside.”

He reminded Nick of a butler and it was hard not to think of feeling like Batman as they walked in. The Grimm Library in Portland was a bit like a cold war bunker—well stocked but very practical. Concrete, metal cage lockers, modern desks. Boise’s Library must’ve come from a different time. Instead of metal shelves they were polished wood, lined with weapons and vials and other curiosities in neat organization. The walls were painted a bright ivory with wood paneling, and the floors were black stone tile. Antique lights now fitted with modern fixtures hanged from the ceiling with five globes. A large horseshoe shaped desk was set up at the other end of the room with a computer set on one side, and old-fashioned typewriters on the other. Framed posters of anatomical charts for wesen were hung up, as were a few portraits of what must’ve been famous Grimm standing over prone wesen in woge. Nick was a bit put off by these and quickly looked at the rows and rows of weapons. The room itself was also at least twice the size of Portland’s Grimm Library—maybe 4000 square feet.

“Whoa,” they all said together, looking around.

“Is everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah,” Nick said. “This is just…one of the nicer libraries I’ve been to.”

“We’re one of the oldest,” he said with a bit of pride. “Built when Carnegie built the library above, though he didn’t know it. We had someone else on his board helping pull the strings there.” He strode over to the desk. “I will help the young lady with her card if you would like to look around for what you need for the hunt.”

“Right,” Nick said, nudging Trubel. She quickly walked over to help fill out information—it didn’t need an address or anything like normal library cards, just her name, her fingerprint, photo and signature. He used a digital camera to take the photo and went to upload it. Here they had been sure he would be the one using the typewriters.

Nick meanwhile was looking over the weapons, trying to think what was needed. There were dozens of blades hanging on wracks according to size. Some had tags on them, and he looked at them to see they were actually a sort of provenance for them, saying when they were made, by who, where, and any other notable attributes.

“This is pretty damn impressive,” Hank said, looking at a tag as well.

“Thank you.” They jumped when Lumb was behind them again. They could hear the sound of a printer/laminator working and Trubel was looking over things as well. “I’m a retired lawyer. Once I did retire, I had more time to devote to the Library.”

“It shows,” Nick said, smiling in what he hoped was the most complimentary manner.

“What sort of hunt are you on? I’m happy to make recommendations.”

Nick froze a bit, glancing at Trubel.

“Wendigos,” she said quickly.

“Wendigos? Plural?”

“Yeah,” Nick nodded. “A huge group.”

“Ah, yes, we had a Grimm come in mentioning them a few days ago. A whole commune of them?”

“Right, we’re part of that hunting party,” Nick said quickly. He guessed they hadn’t updated Mr. Lumb yet and he was thankful. “But we weren’t able to bring our own weapons due to some conflicts and just need to stock up to go out and meet them.”

“Hm, yes. This is a very different sort of hunt for Wendigos given their numbers. You’ll need some firepower of course.” He walked over to a row of drawers and set his thumb on an area that lit up. It then opened the drawers and he pulled the first one out to reveal a glass case full of firearms.

Nick’s eyes widened. “Wow, that is…extra,” he said without thinking. He glanced at Eric, worried he’s insulted him, but he just looked amused.

“Our benefactors enjoy the latest tech and a little “extra” flare. A bit too 007 for my taste, but it is secure which I appreciate. Please, take a look.”

They walked over, seeing a lot of different kinds of guns in the case. “…I have a confession, Mr. Lumb, I, uh…I’ve only been to one other library with the person who introduced me to all this, and we didn’t really get the chance to check anything out. How does this work?” Nick said.

Mr. Lum paused, glancing between them with a searching gaze, before nodding. “It’s simple. As you have your card, I will enter what you take from this library into record. I.E., “Nick Burkhardt, twenty-fourth of September, rented one Beneli Black Eagle, at Boise’s Branch.”” He gestured to the large rifle in question. “We make any necessary notes. When the hunt is done, we request it be returned to us, or to another library as soon as possible. Ammo is provided for additional cost—market value of course, and sometimes less. If damaged, we request either it be paid for monetarily, or with trade. The same if you would like to keep the weapon. This can be with a weapon or resources of equal or greater value, or with information deemed to be worth the weapon. Single use items such as grenades are limited in how many we distribute and must be bought or bartered with. I do confess, those Grimms who do regularly provide information however are often given better prices or “perks”, as they have essentially created a tab so to speak.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Trubel said.

“Yeah,” Nick nodded. “Okay…what would you recommend.”

Mr. Lumb smiled, and Nick felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

\---------------

Sloane opened her eyes when the door creaked and only slightly relaxed when Melinda came in. “…I got you some water. Why are you on the floor?”

“Collin,” she said.

She frowned in disapproval and sighed, setting the bottle down and then helping to sit her up right. She then grabbed the bottle, with a straw in it, and held it out to her.

“Thanks…” She managed to get the straw into her mouth and sucked down the cool water, realizing how parched she was.

“…Sloane…I wanna talk.”

She looked up and arched her brow. It hurt a bit with the bruises and cuts. “I mean…I’m kind of a captive audience,” she said, moving in the chair a tiny bit to show she couldn’t go anywhere. Then she felt it—the slightest bit of give in the left armrest. She quickly masked the moment of interest and settled down.

“I didn’t want this,” she said quickly. “Collin told us what he thought, and we thought he was crazy. But he insisted. Then we saw you run, and he got us to follow. We just wanted to talk; Collin decided on his own to do this...”

“You should really stop following Collin,” she said.

“You make it sound easy,” she sighed. “He’s an asshole, but he’s persuasive in his own ways. His determination was admirable once. But I didn’t think he’d T-Bone you like that!”

“And yet, I’m here tied up like prisoner of war,” she said blandly.

“What you said shocked us!” she shouted, then tried to calm down. She set the water on a table nearby and paced a moment as she collected her thoughts. Sloane admitted she’d rarely seen Melinda so frazzled. She looked at her with a hard expression. “Have you gone soft?”

She sighed and shrugged. “Kind of, I guess.”

Melinda stared at her. “…I…You are not handling this how I thought,” she said, looking honestly lost. “You punched a man once for just insinuating you were sympathetic to wesen.”

“Yeah, not my finest moment on reflection,” she grimaced.

“Sloane, seriously, this isn’t like you—”

“Stop,” she said, her voice deep and commanding. Melinda stopped, recognizing that tone. “You’re sounding like Collin. I’m gonna ask you something: What do you actually know about me?”

“…You’re a Grimm, you’re one of the greats! You fight like a madwoman, you berate people who do stupid things, you—”

“Melinda, what do you know about _me_?” she stressed, looking at her with a forlorn expression now.

“…I know your grandmother died protecting you from a bunch of wesen,” she said seriously.

“Yeah…but did you know she had two wesen friends who were like daughters to her?” Melinda reeled a bit, gaping. “Yeah. Me neither, I admit. I mean I knew them, they helped raise me, I just didn’t know they were wesen till about a year ago. But I never mentioned them once, did I? Or that I’m Jewish. Or that I love music—”

“Okay, we knew that. You and Jacob talked about it,” she said quickly.

“But did you know I like to dance? I wanted to learn when I was a kid. I was a _ballerina._ I like ballroom dancing. And I still like it, I just hid it from you all.” She was quiet again, looking confused and a bit like she was seeing Sloane for the first time. Sloane sighed. “My point is…I’m sorry.”

She blinked, not expecting that sudden shift. “Sorry? For…”

“Not for “going soft”, no. I’m sorry…that I wasn’t a good friend.” She sighed, looking down. “I didn’t _want_ to tell you any of that. None of you. Not even Collin. I didn’t want to acknowledge those parts of me. I didn’t want to be _me_ because that meant I was also that little girl. That I…wasn’t strong enough. I wanted to be the badass hunter who didn’t actually need anyone but was needed. And to do that, I needed to be close to all of you but not attached enough it would hurt if anyone died.”

“You’re not the only one that felt that way,” she said, a fierceness in her tone. “All of us, we all basically lived that way. That doesn’t mean we weren’t close.”

“But I’m out the other side,” she said, looking up. “I, as reluctant as I was, got pulled into being best friends with people. The kind of friends where we sit and watch movies and talk about stupid stuff and…we didn’t do that. I kind of wish we did now.”

“And you found this with wesen first?” she accused.

“Yeah. I mean, we always heard about it, Grimms becoming friends with wesen.”

“And how anyone who did it got shunned for it! They were cautionary tales of Grimms making friends with wesen and then no other Grimm or library or anything would touch them!”

“But why? They were still good hunters. They could still save people and stop the truly dangerous wesen. That’s what my grandmother did! I never knew she was shunned! Why were they shunned for treating wesen as individuals when they still stopped the bad ones?”

“Because…” she started, fired up, but she floundered. “Because they’re wesen!”

“…I don’t think that’s a good enough answer anymore,” she said.

“So, what, you’re just…pushing us aside for your new friends!”

“That’s just the thing…I kept you all at arm’s length. We had our inside jokes and all, but I…treated it all like it was temporary. Because it was. And you all were fine with it. Maybe that’s what we thought we needed, just a group to be alone together. But…I like the life I have now. For the first time in almost two decades, I’m not angry all the damn time! Hell, I’m happy most of the time. So, it’s not like I want to push you aside. But I guess if you want to think of it that way, I’m not the same person you knew. And…I don’t wanna be that person anymore.”

“This…this is sounding a little too new age,” she said, looking torn between laughter and panic.

“Eh, one of my friends is vegan,” she said, chuckling. “And he’s a blutbad.”

“What?” she gasped.

“Yeah. Go figure,” she laughed again. “I just got done being the Maid of Honor for his wife in a wedding—she’s my best friend and a fuchsbau! She’s an herbalist and has helped me with a lot of stuff, has saved us all a bunch of times and—”

“Sloane, I think we hit you real bad,” she said, worried about the laugh and how much she was talking.

She sighed and shook her head. “Mel…I realized the moment I saw you all again I don’t care what you think. And I’m a little sad at that,” she said honestly. Melinda looked hurt as well. “But the only reason I lied was to protect them If I wasn’t worried what you or Collin or…or Dierdre would do, I’d have been outright. I’m not going to act ashamed now. They’ve helped me on hunts, watched my back, helped catch the bad wesen, all that. I’m still a Grimm. But now I just know to balance that all out.”

“…So why say it all now?”

“Because I know Collin is probably going to kill me soon so…better to say it all now.”

“Sloane, he wouldn’t. He’s still in love with you. If you just…”

“What? Give up and myself to him?” she asked, now looking disgusted. “I’m not gonna sacrifice myself _like that_ , thanks.”

“No, not like that, but if you just…let go of those monsters—”

“Melinda,” she said, her voice dropping to a warning tone. That tone she knew, and Mel saw the old Sloane for a moment and realized just how angry she really was. “Do not talk about my friends like that.”

“Sloane—”

“You know why I left? Because Collin pushed me down and tried to rape me after I caught him tampering with my birth control. Trying to make me get pregnant when I didn’t want kids.”

Melinda’s eyes widened. “He…what?”

“Yeah. I told him we were through; he didn’t like that. But even before that, he liked to get physical sometimes. And I got physical right back—he liked it. I didn’t. You suspected though, didn’t you?”

“…I thought he might’ve done something to hurt you,” she admitted, looking down. “I mean, I didn’t understand how because you didn’t seem like the battered partner type. I figured he’d be nuts to hit you, but I didn’t know…I thought you just needed to time to work through some stuff. I didn’t know he…” She looked sickened.

“Yeah. Just like a Ziegvolk, huh?” she laughed bitterly. Mel couldn’t deny the resemblance. “But even if he hadn’t, why should I barter myself to him like that? Would you? Even if he’s the only man who ever says he loves me, I’ll move on. But that night, that moment, I was more afraid of him than any “monster” I’ve ever met,” she said. “You want to preach to me like Grimms are infallible still?”

Melinda was quiet before turning and walking out the door. Jacob and Antonio were on either side—Amy had refused to come, too busy crying for some reason. They had listened in to see what she would say.

“…What do we do?” Antonio asked.

“…I don’t know,” Melinda sighed. “Nothing in my training or all my years has prepared me for this kind of shit. But I also…I also don’t think she’s lying. About any of it.”

“You think Collin will kill her?” he asked somberly.

“I don’t know what he’s capable of right now. He’s lost his damn mind,” she sighed, rubbing her temples. She looked over and saw Jacob was seeming lost in thought. “Hey…you okay?”

“…I gotta think a bit…” he pushed away from the wall and headed down the hall, still limping slightly on his leg. Melinda looked at Antonio who was obviously feeling the conflict as well.

Jacob walked out and took a breath, took off his glasses and tilted his head up with a hand over his eyes. He paused, flexing his leg a small bit before sighing. They were holed up in an old mining community, an offshoot of the ghost town Silver Springs but closer to Boise and only big enough for a mining office and a few houses that had been ramshackle when they were new and were now nearly dust. The offices were built to last though, even if they were musty and had some dry rot in a few places. Sloane was currently locked down below, where the ore that was mined used to be kept before processing, behind those large iron doors.

He squinted up at the sky, which was covered in white-gray clouds that hurt his eyes and felt brighter than a sunny day. Sighing, he put his glasses back on and headed inside. But instead of going down the stairs, he headed to the side and up another staircase to the next level. The stairs were old and looked like they might break if one didn’t step carefully, but with his training they didn’t even creak as he moved up. Even the slight pain in his leg didn’t hamper him.

At the top was the old offices for the mine, and that was where they’d made their own base. Collin was there now, looking at something on a laptop sitting on the old desk in the corner. It must’ve been Amy’s because the man was not the best with technology, and he knew better than to try and touch any of Jacob’s gear—it was one of the few things that could really set him off.

“Hey…where’s Amy?” Jacob asked, going over.

“Told her to go for a walk, she was bothering me,” he said tersely.

“…And what are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out who this “Nick” is I found on her phone…” he muttered. “No last name on the phone.”

“…You realize it’s, um…a rather common first name?”

“I’m aware,” Collin said testily. “But he must live in or near Portland.”

“Oh, so that narrows it down to like…a couple hundred. Thousand.”

He looked up with a withering look. “You here to be a gobshite or actually do something?”

Jacob frowned then noticed the phone on the desk. “…That’s Sloane’s phone, right?”

“Aye,” he said.

“…I might be able to find something out if I can get into it.”

“You already cracked the password, that’s all I needed.”

“But there might be other information,” he said. “Geotags, pictures, messages, etc. You focused in on this Nick guy, but other friends might have information too. But I’d need to use my computer—it has a better set up for going in depth on it. It’s down in my RV.”

Collin looked considering before nodding and handing it to him. “Fine. See what you can find out. I doubt she’s stupid enough to say which ones are wesen, but then I didn’t think she was this stupid either…”

Jacob took the phone and just nodded, putting it in his pocket. “It still might take me a bit given I gotta run it off my generator. Want me to grab some food too?”

“Sure, yeah,” Collin said, waving his hand impatiently. “Just be back soon. This guy is coming at five and I’ve got a little trap in mind.”

He paused and looked at him. “What?”

“That Nick guy. Trubel got him, he’s on his way here. Told him meet us here at five and we’ll settle this.”

“Settle it? I—You don’t even know who or what he is, Collin! Were you planning on telling the rest of us?”

“Didn’t I?” he said, looking confused.

“No!”

“Oh…well, tell the others. Not sure who’s with him but if it’s just him it’ll be quick and easy.”

Jacob stared at him. “Tell them what, you’ve invited a stranger here intending to kill him? And where is Trubel in this, does she get the same treatment? And what if there’s more? And what about after, because Sloane will be even more pissed—”

“Shut up!” He snapped, turning to round on him and out of his chair in a fluid motion. “What does it matter? He’s the one that made Sloane like this. As far I’m concerned, I’m going to slit his damned throat in front of her! And any other wesen-loving bastards that come this way! Maybe when they’re all dead she’ll remember her damned place in this world! If she doesn’t, then she doesn’t have a place! Now do what you’re bloody good for and get that information!”

Jacob stared a moment before just turning headed down the stairs, looking resolute.

\----------------

It was about two hours after entering the library, the three members of team Rescue Sloane walked out with a duffle bag full of weapons. One was full of guns—a handgun for Hank, Nick, Trubel and Rosalee, and a rifle that Monroe said he was fine carrying. And ammo. And a couple of mean looking knives for those without claws. They were all also a little shell shocked. Cynthia knew weapons, Nick was sure, but she had never been so…graphic with what they were capable of.

“…I don’t know if that man is amazing, or terrifying,” Hank said. “Didn’t he say he was a lawyer?”

“I guess everyone has hobbies…” Nick said. They headed to the car and set the bags in the back.

“Hey…I’m not sure if that was quick, but it felt long,” Monroe said, looking back at them. “We were starting to get worried.”

“The Librarian there is thorough,” Nick said. “Probably good you didn’t come in…”

“Yay…I grabbed some protein bars at a nearby shop. They’re vegan, but they’ll keep you going. So, uh, you think we’re ready?”

“As we’ll ever be…” He closed the back and went to hop in the driver’s seat, bringing up the address. “He said be there by 6 and it’ll take a couple of hours.”

“Better early than late,” Rosalee said, a hard set to her jaw. “We’re getting Sloane back.”

Nick nodded, not mentioning the threat of running away if they were early. He wasn’t going to let that happen. He started driving, having to loop around to the exit. When he did, a man was standing in front of them and he hit the breaks quickly. “The hell?”

Trubel leaned over and then quickly grabbed Nick’s shoulder. “That’s Jacob!”

“Jacob?”

“One of the Grimms!”

Nick’s eyes widened and he turned back. The man was already gone, and he jumped when there was a knock at his window. But it was gentle—urgent, but gentle. He looked worried but determined. “Hey. I need to talk to which ever one of you is “Nick”. It’s about Sloane.”

Nick stared, looking at the others who were all unsure, but he finally rolled down the window a small bit. “I’m Nick. Nick Burkhardt.”

“Jacob Sauer,” he said. He looked through the rest of the car. “You got a lot of back up…that’s good. Trubel, you okay?” Trubel looked at him warily and he sighed. “Okay, I get being cautious…but I’m here because honestly, I can’t take this anymore.”

“This?” Nick asked.

“Collin. I always knew he was powder keg waiting for a match, but he’s either exploded or a spark landed on him now. I want to help get Sloane out of there.”

Nick looked at the others again and though cautious, Rosalee leaned over to address him. “How do we know we can trust you?”

“I guess you can’t, but I know more about where they’re keeping Sloane than you, and what you’ll be up against. I don’t know the exact plan because he’s not in a sharing mood, but I can do you better than sending you in blind.”

“He makes a good point,” Hank said.

Nick hesitated, looking at the watch on his wrist. “…Alright. What do you know?”

“Not for nothing, but this set up is a little awkward,” he said, tapping the glass again. “I parked my RV over this way on the street, it would be easier to talk there. No traps, I promise.”

Nick was unsure but finally nodded. Jacob backed up and he rolled up the window before parking again and climbing out with the others. Out on the street it was hard to miss the large RV—the kind that looked a lot like a bus—parked near the library.

“You sure about this?” Monroe asked.

“No, but if he does have information, I’m getting it,” Nick said with an edge to his voice. They climbed out and walked to join Jacob heading inside. The interior reminded him a lot of Marie’s trailer. It was much more spacious than they expected, with a table set up under the windows and dark cabinets all along the top and the sides adjacent. Some cabinets were solid wood, others had glass shelves showing rows of books inside. There was a sink, a sliding door to what must’ve been the bathroom, and the back was a bed area. A large TV was set up there, as well as what appeared to be several desktop computers.

“This is impressive,” Hank said.

“Thanks. I found I preferred having more with me traveling than some, so this was a good option.”

“Nick’s aunt used a trailer,” Trubel said, looking into a cabinet.

Jacob paused and then looked at Nick with wide eyes. “Y…are you a Grimm too?”

“Uh, yeah…” Nick nodded. “So were my mother and my aunt.”

“Oh…well, that explains a few things,” he said, nodding as well. He then looked at the others. “So…some of you are wesen I take it?” They all looked a bit worried and he held up his hands. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not like Collin. I’m…more like Sloane and I guess you too. Though I didn’t know that till yesterday.”

They all turned to him in surprise. “You are?” Trubel asked. “Then why did you help him?!”

Jacob sighed at the indignant yell and sat at his table. “It’s…complicated.”

“Like this isn’t?” Monroe said.

“A different kind of complicated,” he clarified. He pulled out a can of ginger ale from his small fridge and sat to sip it. “Okay…I was never the strongest Grimm. I rely on my wits and schemes and such. But for a couple of years now I…haven’t even really been hunting.”

“You haven’t?” Trubel asked, confused.

“No. I keep up with my training a bit, but the wendigo hunt was the first in several months. Part of why I was sloppy.” He flexed his foot with a slight wince. “This is the first time I’ve used my RV in over a year. I just…don’t do it. I never really felt suited to it. I mean, I’m _good_ at my methods, but I…I didn’t like it. Then, I, um…got a boyfriend.”

Nick blinked in confusion. “…Okay?”

Jacob took a breath and braced himself. “He’s a Pflichttreue.”

Everyone froze. “That…sounds like a wesen,” Hank said.

“It is. It’s a white leopard—like Alexander from the council…” Rosalee said. “A Grimm and a wesen…”

“It’s not all that uncommon,” he said defensively. “Well…I mean, it happens, but then the Grimm and the wesen are usually shunned by everyone, if not outright killed back in the olden days. But my family already kicked me out because of being gay so I kind of stopped giving a damn…”

“…My aunt was engaged to a steinadler once. I get it,” Nick said.

“Really?” he said, looking relieved. “Wow…I mean, I say it’s not that uncommon, but I’ve only heard of like 3 ever and they’re all dead.”

“So’s she…” he said. “Um, mostly from cancer though. And she broke up with him because she had to raise me…”

He deflated a little, maybe having hoped to meet her. “Oh…Well, I’m hoping to do stay with it. Live a long happy life, or at least be with him a long time. His name’s Wes. We live in Colorado. I work regularly as an IT guy slash computer repairman and I DJ sometimes. He’s in security. We’re thinking of starting a company. I met him when I ended up hurt and he didn’t kill me. And…last three years have been some of the happiest of my life. I have other friends who are wesen too and I just…stopped being a Grimm. Well, I mean as much as I could, things always come up and some guys just don’t leave me alone. But I’ve managed as normal a life as I can.”

“That’s…great,” Nick said. He was surprised he wasn’t quite as envious as he might’ve been before. He didn’t think normal was possible, but Jacob was trying. “I…okay, so you basically tried to leave the fold or whatever. Why come back?”

Jacob looked pensive at the question. “Collin sent word he needed help with a hunt a few weeks ago. I knew that if I refused, he would want to know why. And…well, while I know Sloane makes him particularly compromised emotionally, I knew without a doubt he’d try to kill Wes, maybe me, and definitely everyone else I’m close with. The same as he’s trying to do now to Sloane. He’s always been a little too keen on the old ways, but we thought it was just talk till a few years ago when he tried to torture someone with fire into woging. So, I knew playing along was the best way to keep him off my back till…I could hopefully think of something to keep him out of my life. Honestly, I should’ve just not checked in with the Library a few months ago. His mother was a Librarian and he knows all the tricks to use it track people…”

“That’s pretty much what Sloane did too,” Rosalee said. “She didn’t want Collin finding out about us, so she played along.”

“Yeah, but Collin isn’t playing anymore. And Sloane told us—well, Melinda, but we were listening—what Collin did to make her leave. We honestly left pretty close after her because we all knew Collin tried to be the leader, but it was Sloane that really knew how to keep us all alive. He was going to get us killed if we didn’t cut loose.” He looked a bit reflective before sighing. “We need to get her out of there. I don’t want to hurt the others, but…Collin at least might not give us a choice. Amy too, she’s in love with him and kind of blind to his worst points unlike Sloane. Antonio and Melinda…I don’t know. They’re not crazy like Collin, but they don’t know about me and they’re not usually the “merciful” types. They don’t go out of their way to kill every wesen, but they think of it as being thorough. It’s how we were all taught…”

The others looked at one another before back at him. “We have weapons,” Nick said.

“From the library, I figured when I saw where you were.”

“Yeah, how did you do that?” Monroe asked.

He pulled out Sloane’s phone from his jacket and held it up. “Took this from Collin. Told him I’d try to get more info on you, but I used it to triangulate your phone number instead. Figured the Library was the most likely place you’d be in this area.”

Rosalee took the phone quickly, looking over worriedly. “…What do we do?”

“We plan as best we can,” Jacob said

\--------------------------

It had been nearly five hours since Collin had seen Jacob. His watch just struck 3:30 and he never showed up to help him. It was annoying because he had to set up a lot of his plan himself. But he could sense that Jacob was hesitant to help him anyway. So were Antonio and Melinda. He seethed at how faithless they were in being a real Grimm.

And he seethed more so that he needed help.

He’d been able to set up most of it, but it was about time to get Sloane into place. Antonio was watching her and the look he gave Collin when he started down the stairs gave him pause. They’d always butted heads a little. Antonio was too easy going in some cases, but he also had his own set of standards and a code he lived by. And the way he glared at Collin promised that if he came any closer to that door, it was going to be a fight. Collin wasn’t afraid of fighting him but knew in a fair fight it would be rough and he didn’t want to be at partial strength. An element of surprise was needed.

Melinda was a no go. Jacob was still MIA. So that left…

“Bollocks,” he muttered. He steeled himself and went searching for Amy. He found her easily enough, breaking whatever she could find in an old house. It was easy to find her and explained why Melinda was out of the way—Amy had developed the destructive tendency a little after Sloane left and she’d nearly been hit by it before by accident. “Amy.”

She paused, still holding what was left of a chair in her hands before turning to glare at him. “What?”

Collin put on a gentler tone and expression as he walked forward. “I’m sorry, pet. I said a lot of things but it was…I’m just stressed and angry and I took it out on you.”

“You do that a lot,” she said, smashing the chair again. “I forgive a lot, why should I forgive you this time?”

“Because you are right. You’re the one that has stuck around all this time. You even tried to help with my family. And I do thank you for that, all of it.”

She eased her defensive stance a little, looking at him with uncertainty. “…You’re trying to manipulate me.”

“Amy,” he said, disappointed.

She turned and talked over, something she hadn’t done before. “You said you didn’t love me! That I was convenient! Did you think I’d forget that? That I’m that stupid?”

“Amy, I’m sorry,” He said again. “I told you, I was angry—not at you, but at Sloane. I know I treated you badly…I treated you like you treated that chair,” he said, gesturing. “You’re angry at me, and Sloane, and you’re taking it out on that chair. I was angry at Sloane and I took it out on you. Now the chair’s a chair, but you didn’t deserve that. I know. You’ve done a lot for me.”

“…I’m not useless or a bad Grimm.”

Collin had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the petulant tone. This woman was in her twenties and still sounded like a petulant teen sometimes. But he smiled kindly and walked over, gently cupping her cheek and leaning in. “No, you aren’t. I’m sorry for that too. You’re the closest person to me here, I know that.”

She smiled and let go of the chair to hug him and give him a kiss. This time he did roll his eyes since she couldn’t see but hugged her back and returned the kiss before she pulled away and cuddled up to him. “Thank you, Collin…”

“Of course…Now, I’ve got a plan and I need your help. I think you might enjoy some of it.”

She pulled back, frowning. “Can’t we just leave?”

“No, no, this is important. And we need to take care of Sloane.”

\-------------------------

Juliette sighed as she tried to focus on her work. It was hard because she kept thinking about Nick and the others. She wished she’d gone with them. It always felt like she was on the sidelines and it was frustrating. She’d been useful in the past—hell, she’d nearly taken out a Siegbarste before she even knew wesen were real! She beat up a klaustrike when he attacked! But Nick worried so much about her being in the middle of things. It was sweet but she didn’t want to be the weak link in what was happening. She was good for more than breaking curses and spells, dammit!

She was running some blood work for a schnauzer when she felt the world tilt a bit. She quickly grabbed the edge of the counter, breathing deeply as her stomach turned. She managed to quickly run to the bathroom, thinking she might vomit. But after spitting a couple of times—a bit of bile in there from the taste—it calmed. She sighed and looked at herself in the mirror. She was a bit pale and she ran some water to splash her face.

“Juliette? You okay?” one of her coworkers asked, knocking on the door.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m alright. Just had a little vertigo for a second.”

“Oh, the changing seasons do that to me too,” she said. “Take a break, I’ll watch your tests for you.”

“Thanks!” she said. She looked at her reflection again, wondering just what was wrong with her though. It felt like too much was going on to be a coincidence.

\-------------------------

Amy was walking down the stairs towards the storage room. Antonio was outside, playing something on his phone. He looked up when she came and frowned a bit. “Hey, Amy…you okay? Melinda said you were doing some stress breaking.”

“Fine,” she said, smiling. “I came to get Sloane. Collin wants to move her for the plan.”

“…What plan?”

Amy blinked but then sighed. “Did Collin not tell you?”

“No…”

“He lured her friends here. He’s going to execute her in front of them,” she said, folding her arms.

Antonio stared before shaking his head slowly. “No. No, we’re not doing that.”

She glared at him. “Excuse me? Why not?”

“Why not—We’re not executing our friend!” he said, looking at her askance. “We’ve done enough to her!”

“Friend? “Done enough to her?”” she sneered. “What, do you want to sleep with her too?”

“Hey now,” Antonio said, frowning. “I’m just saying, Sloane’s done a lot for us. Whatever she’s doing now…that’s her choice. I don’t think it deserves a freaking death warrant. Plus, I just…I’m not sure Collin would do that to her.”

“Oh, because he’s still in love with her?” she asked, getting angry again. “Or you think I’m lying?” Amy asked, looking hurt.

“Well…I just mean, you seem a bit wound up—” He didn’t finish because she suddenly rabbit punched him twice, in the temple and neck, quick enough he couldn’t put up his defense intime. He fell back against the wall, groaning and dazed.

“I’m not, for the record,” she said, shaking out her hand and opening the door. Sloane looked up from having been trying to move the arm rest on her left—it was loose but still not quite giving—and looked at Amy warily. “I trust your “keen ears” heard that?”

“The part where you hit him or the execution bit?”

“Both,” she spat, walking over and grabbing the back of the chair. “Your friends will be here soon, and we need to get you in place.” She hauled her around and dragged her, still tied to the chair, out of the room.

Antonio looked up and got to his feet. “Amy, no. I’m not letting you do this.”

“Well, you’re not going to stop me,” she said. Amy move past him, pulling her charge like a sack of potatoes up the ramp and then the switch-back to the next floor. The elevator in the room was obviously broken beyond repair so it was this arduous task instead. She at least had the strength of a Grimm. Antonio came up past her and stood at the top, blocking her path.

“Amy, Sloane isn’t some random person or enemy! She’s our friend! She’s looked out for us all this time; you can’t just throw that all away.”

“Move, Antonio,” Amy said.

“No! C’mon, so what if she’s gone a little soft? We all have in some ways. We’re not our mentors. Just…Just let her go, and we don’t have to take this any further. I’ll deal with Collin.”

“…Maybe you’re right,” she said. Antonio relaxed, relieved. “Or maybe you should stop underestimating me.” She said slowly, reaching behind her. She brought out the gun and fired it once, hitting Antonio in the leg. He yelled and his leg buckled under the pain.

“A…Amy?” He gasped, stumbling back, a hand going to the wound on instinct even as blood started leaking through. Sloane had craned her neck when Amy was talking and gaped.

“Antonio! Amy, what have you done!?”

Amy ignored her, pulling her one handed up the slope. At the top he tried to move towards her and she brought the gun around again and fired into his stomach, making him gasp and scream.

“No!” Sloane fought, trying to get out of the chair, but Amy was moving again and hauling her to a back door as she put the gun away. “Antonio! Antonio, hold on! We’ll get help!”

“What happened?” She looked up to see Collin standing by a stone path leading to the woods.

“Amy shot Antonio, twice! We need to get him help!” Sloane yelled.

Collin looked at her and Amy shrugged. “He was in my way and wanted to let her go.”

“…Aye, fair enough,” he sighed.

“Are you insane!?” she barked. “He might die from that, Collin! Whatever business you have is with me, there shouldn’t be collateral!”

He sighed and walked over to her, looming over her in the late afternoon sun. He pulled another piece of rope from his pocket. He then grabbed her aching side again and when she opened her mouth in surprise, he shoved the rope in while Amy tied it with a smirk. “I don’t remember you talking so much,” he groused. “But I do need you to be a little quieter till we’re in place.

Sloane glared and struggled, but they picked up the chair again and kept hiking.

\-------------

It was about a 2-and-a-half-hour drive to the spot Collin had specified.

“It’s a ghost town,” Hank said.

“An off shoot of Silver City,” Jacob said. They’d driven over most of the way in their rental car then as agreed drove over with Jacob the last mile to try and keep their arrival fairly low key. They could see the ghost town as they rounded a corner of woods on the road.

“Is Sloane here?” Nick asked, looking at all the buildings critically, trying to figure the most likely location.

“Yes, but I’m not saying where. I’d prefer you just meet him up the main road like he wants right now, till I can figure out how to get Sloane safely out without Collin castrating me…” He parked at the edge of the town.

“Is he that big of a problem? I mean, you’re both Grimms,” Monroe asked.

“Well, who would win in a fight, a moushertz or a Blutbad? They’re both wesen,” he shot back a touch sarcastically.

Monroe nodded, chagrinned. “Okay, I see your point…How does Sloane fair in a fight?”

“I don’t know what kind of condition she’s in given the wreck and that we haven’t seen each other in a long time…but 8 years ago, she’d could probably take us all out if she didn’t hold back. But Collin’s off his rocker now so maybe he has crazy asshole strength to make up for the stupid.” He looked out over the town. “Head in from here and I’ll drive further in, so they hopefully don’t know we came together right away.”

They nodded and filed off the RV while he drove the rest of the way in. They started heading up the road in the middle, weapons ready. It felt surreal, a bit like being on an alien world being hunted and the hunters.

Nick paused when a sound hit his ears. He recognized it after using them before. It was a crossbow being readied and he motioned for everyone to wait, cocking his head. “…Down!” They all scrambled out of the way just as a crossbow bolt came down at an angle to the center of them, nearly striking Monroe down.

“Well, good senses, I’ll give you that,” a cool voice said. They looked up to see a black woman cocking another. “I thought I’d give you a sporting chance with this and see if you wanted to leave.”

“Melinda,” Trubel said.

“Trubel…these the friends from Portland? I admit, I didn’t think there would be so many…”

“Where’s Sloane?” Rosalee said. She shakily pointed a gun at her. “If you don’t tell me, I will fire.”

“…Yeah, I’m not terribly intimidated by that. You don’t know how to use a gun, I can tell.”

“But we do,” Hank said, Nick and he pointed their guns up now and Trubel following suit, all steady. “We don’t want unnecessary casualties though. Be a shame to put a hole through that face.”

She smirked. “Well, aren’t you a charmer. I feel the same, really. So just turn around and leave.”

“No dice,” Nick called up. “We’re not leaving without Sloane.”

“You don’t think Jacob led us into a trap, do you,” Monroe said quietly. Nick had been thinking the same thing, trying not to panic.

“…You came all the way here, loaded up to go to war, and are willing to fight four Grimms for her?” she asked, looking a bit more considering.

“She’d do the same for us,” Trubel said without hesitation, everyone nodding. “And she’d do the same for you probably.”

Melinda didn’t say anything then brought the cross bow up. “I’m not like her though. I gotta put myself first, and I don’t think making enemies of the other Grimms is going to go well for me. They find out about any of this and we’re all going to be in some deep shit because none of this looks good.”

There was a tense second as they stared each other down. Even if they fired, and even if they hit her, she might still get a shot off and hit one of them. “Listen to me,” Nick said finally, slowly lowering his gun. “I’m a Grimm too. I’m here to save Sloane, with our friends. I don’t care what else has happened so long as she’s alive.”

Melinda didn’t lower the crossbow but looked at him curiously. “You’re a Grimm too?”

“Yeah. My mother was Kelly B…is Kelly Kessler. And my aunt was Marie Kessler,” he said.

She froze and then narrowed her eyes. “That’s a big claim.”

“It’s the truth!” Monroe shouted up. “And she’s met all of us! She knows how we operate and is okay with it! …Right?” he added quietly, looking at Nick.

“Yeah, she is. Look, it doesn’t have to be black and white—Grimms can still do what they have to do but we don’t have to be indiscriminate killers! That’s all we’re trying to do,” Nick said, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. He really didn’t want to be shooting everyone they came across. He had a feeling Sloane would still be upset if all her old friends died.

“But you’ll kill me to save Sloane?” she asked coolly.

He gritted his teeth but then nodded. “I don’t want to, but if we have to then yes.”

She eyed him a little longer till Jacob suddenly came running out of another building near the edge of town, waving his hands. “Melinda, don’t! Don’t shoot them!”

“Jacob?” she barked. “What are you doing?”

“I found something we all need to look at, including them!”

“Jacob, if we get them to leave this ends!”

“Melinda, come off it!” he shouted back, surprising her. “Collin has gone insane and it’s not going to end just because they don’t rescue Sloane. And if you hurt any of them, I’m pretty sure she is not going to forgive you. So, let’s just get her out and then we’ll figure out what to do with our real problems.”

She was surprised but then slowly dropped her aim and jumped down from the roof. “…I know you’re right,” she sighed. “I just…”

“We can all talk more later and has this out,” Nick said. “Where’s Sloane?”

“This way. Be ready, Collin will not go down without a fight.” She started for the big mining office building just up the road but slowed. “Why is the door chained?”

“I don’t know,” Jacob said, going and pulling at the padlock. He looked through the window then paled. “A…Antonio? Antonio!?”

Melinda moved next to him and a look of horror came over her face. She then used her crossbow’s body to shatter the window, rushing in with Jacob close behind. Nick and the others looked in and saw a man slumped on the floor, blood seeping from a wound in his leg and his stomach. “Antonio! Answer me!” Melinda said.

Antonio opened his eyes, looking at her blearily. “Ah…hey there, beautiful…and Jacob,” he laughed. “Was wondering what my last sight would be.”

“Tonio, this is not a time for jokes,” Jacob said.

“No…guess not. A-Amy and Collin took Sloane somewhere. Don’t know where…Amy shot me when I tried to stop them…Didn’t think she’d do it…”

Melinda looked shocked but Jacob was trying to press down on the wound. “We’ll get them, just stop talking! Jacob, what can we do?”

“I’m thinking!” he said.

Rosalee managed to avoid the broken glass and went over to look at him. “...He’s lost too much blood. I’ve got some medical tools, but I don’t think he’d make it to town and I’m not prepared for this…I’m sorry,” she said honestly.

“You must be one of Sloane’s friends,” he sighed. “The Fuchsbau?” She nodded, and he smiled when he looked at the others. “Ah…I always knew Sloane would be a popular girl if she lightened up a little…glad she’s got good friends.” He put a hand on Jacob’s hand trying to staunch the blood. “It’s alright. I knew I’d die bloody. I just…wanted to hold on and tell you what happened...”

“Tonio,” Melinda choked out. Jacob eased back, knowing there wasn’t a way to stop the bleeding.

He smiled a bit and leaned into them. “I don’t have a Dead Letter…but my last hunt is to stop Collin and Amy…”

Melinda and Jacob wrapped their arms around him. It was a minute, surrounded in that embrace, before he exhaled and didn’t breathe again. Melinda gave a shuddering breath before pulling back with Jacob. They were both misty eyed but laid Antonio down and stood.

“I’m sorry,” Nick said. He could see they were trying to push away the hurt and it reminded him of Sloane. He wondered if they were all trained that way.

“No. They’ll be sorry,” she said.

Jacob nodded and like that they were back under control. He looked at his watch. “It’s almost five. Collin has something set up for you, it might help us figure out where they are.”

They nodded, following him out and then down further to another building, what looked like an old store. Inside they were surprised to find a TV set up, running off a generator that was already whirring away. “Where did all that come from?” Melinda asked.

“Not sure, it’s not one of mine. Could be from the Wendigo camp. I was gone for a while; he must’ve set this up during that time…” Jacob said. “I saw the lines for the generator and was investigating it while you menaced Sloane’s friends.”

She shot him an annoyed look but huffed. Hank was looking it over curiously. “I don’t see a cable box or satellite, so I don’t think it’s for entertainment.”

“Not on our end,” Nick said, getting a bad feeling.

“Collin set this up because he wants us to see something?” Trubel asked, sharing that feeling.

Hank walked over to look at it. “It’s set up to receive a signal from something wirelessly I think…”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure of the source,” Jacob said. They moved back quickly when it suddenly turned on.

Monroe looked at his watch. “It’s five now…”

They watched as the screen jumped and fizzled a moment before it stilled, and an image came up of Sloane tied to a chair in what looked like a cave. Collin was next to her and from the way the camera moved they guessed Amy was holding the camera.

“Hello there,” Collin said, smiling. “I hope you guys are comfortable. I checked an external camera and saw you go in. Along with Melinda and Jacob…bad form, guys, bad form. I’d ask where Antonio is, but I can guess.” Melinda glared, her hand tightening on her cross bow. “I’m truly sorry it came to that, but he made the wrong choice to cross me. Though I admit it could’ve been handled better.”

“I did what I had to!” Amy said quietly, but enough the camera picked it up.

“No matter, really, it’s done. Now we’re going to go on to why I’ve brought you all here. Because we’re here to have a trial.”

“Trial? What the hell do you mean?” Rosalee asked.

“You see, through the events of the last couple of days, we’ve found out Sloane Larson is a traitor to her kind,” he went on. Nick was able to figure out this wasn’t a two-way signal, Collin couldn’t see or hear them, only broadcast to them. “Now, how does the defendant plea? Oh, sorry, love,” he added snidely, loosening the rope gag. Sloane licked her lips but still looked almost meditative in the chair. They felt their hearts clench seeing that she was bruised, and her leg was in a makeshift splint though. Her arms and legs were secured to the chair as well and Nick felt his gut twist that it reminded him of someone strapped in for an execution. He got in close quickly, looking over the screen for any clue as to where they were. He knew it must be a mine from the look of the wooden support behind them, but he had no idea where it was in the area.

“This isn’t a trial,” Sloane sighed, looking more annoyed than anything. “You already know the answers, we’ve gone over them enough. Get on with it, I’m done with this melodrama.”

“No, I want this recorded for posterity,” he said, taking out a sword and holding it to her throat. “I want you to say what you’ve done. Then you’re going to choose: Your head or theirs.”

“Mine.”

“…I said—”

“Oh, for God’s sake—” she shouted, then looked at the camera with a bright, manic smile. “Hi, my name is Sloane Larson. I’m a Grimm and I have killed A LOT of people, wesen and non-wesen, and now that I decide maybe I should make sure they’re actually dangerous before I do and be more careful, this asshole has a problem! So, I made friends with Wesen, became a detective and made more friends, and they are good people who I’m not turning on so get that little fantasy out of your goddamn head! Oh, and because Collin Donahue feels emasculated that I still won’t roll over and pop out a child for him, after he ASSAULTED ME wanting one about 8 years ago, he thinks I need to die. After already doing this much, that sounds like a mercy. There’s your confession! Now I choose me, and by God just kill me and get it over with so I don’t have to listen to you anymore!”

“Sloane, no!” Nick said. He wasn’t surprised but he really didn’t want her to goad him.

“I don’t think they can hear us,” Jacob said. He was on a tablet and typing something in, kneeling next to the generator by the TV. “I’m trying to track the signal but it’s close enough I can’t get a set location!” He then looked at the generator and started messing with some wiring.

Collin meanwhile looked like he was about to either cry or scream. “Just kill her!” Amy screamed at him from behind the camera.

“You aren’t blameless either! If anyone is there, go to the mining building! Antonio is hurt!” Sloane added. “Amy shot him! These two are killing other Grimms in cold blood!”

“Shut up! Collin, just kill her or I will!”

Collin looked like he wanted to yell at her back, but he finally swung his arm back with the sword aiming for her neck. Just as he was coming through though, Sloane snapped the loose arm rest off and brought it up, still tied to her hand, blocking the swing as it imbedded into the wood and ropes. Collin and Amy were both shocked for a second, but it was only a second she needed. Sloane wrenched the sword down hard enough that Collin lost his grip and the ropes snapped. She caught the hilt, bringing it around to cut through the rope of her other arm. They came to their senses then and Collin moved for her while Amy dropped the camera and their feed was gone.

“Where are they?” Nick asked quickly. Two against one still wasn’t favorable unless Sloane could get all the way out of her binds. “It must be the mine!”

“It’s this way, come on! Head for the gravel road!” Melinda said, rushing out.

They all moved to follow but Trubel paused. “Jacob?”

“I-I’ll be right out,” he said, still doing something to the generator.

“Dude, come on,” she went to grab him and paused when she saw he was messing with the wires that seemed to be haphazardly attached to the generator. Smoke was curling up from one area, steadily getting thicker. “What is that-”

“Move!” Jacob yelled, jumping up to try and grab her. There was a loud bang and Jacob gave a scream of pain. They turned to see the generator he’d been standing next was on fire and he was sprawled out on the floor as the fire started to spread along debris, they hadn’t noticed with all the wires.

“Jacob! Trubel!” Melinda yelled, running back in. She put down her empty crossbow and with Monroe’s help grabbed the two of them and pulled them out of the building just as the fire spread with a _whoosh_ over the floorboards. Monroe cursed and beat a bit of flame out of his pants leg as they got out, the whole building starting to go up in flames.

“H-he rigged it to explode and do that,” Jacob was saying. “I saw it too late, tried to deactivate it…He must’ve seen my notes how to set a trap like this, it’s my fault…”

“Shut up, no it isn’t,” Melinda hissed, looking over him worriedly.

“Trubel?”

“I-I’m okay,” she said, shaken. “Oh God, Jacob…” They all winced when they saw the burns up along his arm and face where he’d gotten flash burns and bits of metal. One bit was dangerously near his eye, and another was sticking out of his shirt near his ribs. “Oh shit…” she hissed.

“I’m okay,” he said, though he sounded pained.

“…Let me help,” Rosalee said, kneeling beside him. “I’m more of an herbalist but I know a bit about these sorts of wounds too.”

“…You’re a wesen? Antonio said…” Melinda asked.

“Fucshbau,” she nodded. Then she woged and Melinda tensed but Jacob put a hand on her arm.

“It’s okay…I’m fine with it and I trust her. She’s Sloane’s best friend,” he said.

“You trust her? Just like that?” she asked a little incredulously.

“I’ll explain later, but you need to stop Collin,” he sighed. “I’m no good like this.”

Melinda hesitated but put his arm over her shoulder as she lifted him up. “I’ll get you back to your RV and let her look you over there. Collin didn’t stop knowing we were in there; I think he’s not planning to let us out of here alive at this point and I’m not sure what else he has planned.”

“Sounds about right,” Trubel said.

“Don’t worry, Rosalee. I’m going to rip his throat out for what he’s done,” Monroe growled, eyes turning red. She just nodded, not dissuading him this time.

“I want to do that,” Trubel said, holding Sloane’s knife in her hands.

“Well, whoever finds him first gets the honor,” Melinda said, eyeing Monroe. She then frowned, counting them all. “…Where’s the other Grimm?”

“…Nick? Nick?!” Hank asked, looking around. “Goddamit!”

The rest of them ran for the gravel road, trying to catch up, just as there was another loud explosion at the water tower at the edge of town. Everyone froze as the iron support screamed as it started tipping.

Nick, who’d been just up the road, skidded to a stop at the first bang was trying to see what was happening. He could just make out Jacob on the ground, but he was moving so he hesitated, thinking he could still get to the mine as fast as possible. Then he saw the other blast and the tower come crashing down, destroying the large building where Antonio had been. He felt the vibration through his feet up to his teeth. “Guys?!” He rushed back over. “Guys?! Are you okay?!”

“We’re not hurt!” Hank yelled. “We were far enough back. Gave me a bad flashback to that Blind Hunter incident, but we’re okay.”

“Except we can’t get to you!” Monroe said. He moved so he could see Nick through some of the lattice support that had been between the iron beams of the water tower. Nick moved to see him back and could see everyone else behind him—Rosalee and Melinda were helping Jacob to his feet. “We’re gonna have to find another way around!”

“Okay…” he breathed, relieved. “I’m going to go on ahead.”

“Nick—”

“Let him,” Trubel said. “Sloane might be fighting for her life right now!”

They hesitated but then nodded. “We’ll find a way around to you as soon as we can.”

He nodded and turned to run up the hill and follow the path.

Melinda sighed and then grabbed a walkie-talkie off of Jacob’s belt despite a moment of protest and held it out to Trubel. “Take this. You can reach me on it if there’s trouble, but I’ll come meet you as soon as I can.”

Trubel nodded, taking it in hand as they moved to head back through town and find a way around.

\----------------

After the camera had fallen and smashed on the rocks, Sloane managed to rock out of the way of Collin, punching him square in the jaw and sending him reeling. She cut one leg free and used it to catch Amy in the stomach with a leg thrust, knocking the wind out of her. Getting her left leg free, she lurched up and nearly fell again when she felt a pain all up her leg. Grunting, she gritted her teeth and concentrated. Blocking out pain was one of her first lessons under Dierdre and she managed to get her legs moving. She brought the back of the sword down on the base of Amy’s skull when she moved to grab her, and she crumpled back down.

Collin was getting up to go after her and Sloane looked around for any way to slow him down. Looking at the wooden support, she saw the top was loose and already crooked to one side. Jamming the sword in between the wood and the rock ceiling, she used it like a pry bar and brought it down to block the path, as well as a good chunk of rock that knocked the sword from her hand. She stumbled back as more fell, covering her face to protect it as did Collin. When the dust cleared, the entrance to the open area they were in was blocked off by the top beam and the two sides collapsing into each other with a lot of rocks. “Sloane!” Collin shouted, filled with rage. He tried to reach for her through the gap that was shoulder height for him, pulling at the rocks and beam like an animal in a cage. She didn’t stick around to see how long till he dug himself out and turned to quickly move back towards the entrance. They hadn’t gone deep into the mine, but she was moving slower than she liked. The sounds around her echoed fiercely to the point her labored breaths sounded like someone else coming up behind her and making her jump and try to shuffle faster. It was dark enough even her Grimm sight wasn’t helping. None of the lanterns were lit after all and the flood lights were broken.

Nick meanwhile was running up the path to the small hill range behind the town. He’d heard a bang but had kept running, not knowing how long Sloane could fight them off or if he was too late. At the top of the hill he saw the entrance to a mine and skidded down the slope to rush over to it. When he got to the entrance though he felt a sting on his cheek and backed up. He felt his cheek and saw a smear of blood come off, then looked a little more closely. Razor wire was set up in the entrance. _Psycho bastard…Glad I slowed down or I’d be chopped brisket._ He moved more carefully, ducking and weaving through the wire which was luckily just a few strands. Inside was dark and he pulled out his phone to turn on the flashlight feature.

“Sloane?” an echoing call came down the shaft.

She paused, confused a moment. _I’m hearing Nick’s voice…am I delirious?_

“Sloane, answer me!”

“Nick?” she asked, hesitant.

With her hearing she could just making out his relieved exhalation and then running footsteps. She saw the light from his phone in the path up ahead before he rounded the corner. He smiled and rushed over, pulling her to him. “Oh, thank God…when the video went dark…”

Sloane swallowed but leaned into him on instinct. It was such a different feeling compared to Collin even years ago—warmth and safety and relief. Collin always hugged her like a spoiled child hugged a toy. Possessively. Hard. Clingy. Then guilt soured the good feelings, but she still gripped his jacket. “I…I got out…What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean what am I doing here?” he said, pulling back enough to look at her. “We all came!”

“…” She leaned over to see if more people were behind him, then looked up at him with a resigned expression. “You rushed on ahead?”

“Well…yes,” he admitted. “But the town had a trap.”

“What? Are they okay?” She asked quickly.

“They said they were, but they had to find another way around. I came on ahead because…I’d started out first.”

Sloane tried to tell herself not to read too much into that. She hid the little flutter in her chest with a playfully sarcastic tone. “And you say I’m too impulsive.”

“Yeah, well, I was worried,” he said.

 _That didn’t help at all!_ Sloane blushed, thankful it was dark even with his cellphone light. “…Thanks. But we need to get out of here, they are right behind me I’m sure.”

“Right, the entrance isn’t far.”

“I can make it,” she said, moving as fast as she could. It wasn’t a run, but it was better than a walk or crawl. They rounded a corner and Nick held up a hand. “Careful…he did trap it.” He pointed at the cut, which she could see now in the thin light from the setting sun outside. She frowned, angry Collin had managed to even put a scratch on him but nodded and followed him as they moved through. He helped support her when she had to balance on her bad leg and she sighed when she got into the fresh air, then coughed a little. She started brushing the dust from her body.

She paused when she felt Nick gently brushing some out of her hair. She looked up and felt an unfamiliar sensation at having his eyes focused on her. A worried pinch was in his brow as he looked her up and down in the light. “…How bad are you hurt?” He wasn’t going to ask _Are you okay?_ When it was very obvious she wasn’t okay.

“…Not sure. My leg hurts bad but can’t exactly get an x-ray. I might have a fracture from the car wreck,” she said honestly.

“Then you shouldn’t be walking! Can you make it up hill?” He pointed at the hill.

“…They veered through the tree line there,” she pointed. “When they brought me strapped to the chair. It’s more level and goes around this hill.”

Nick huffed, trying to think. “Okay…we’ll start that way and then I want you to rest. I’ll get the others and we can make a stretcher for you. Can you make it that far?”

“I think so—” They both paused, looking to the entrance when they heard another sound like something being busted through and her name echoed through. “Collin’s coming…”

Nick nodded and he took her arm over his shoulders to help support her as they started to the trees as quickly as possible.

“…The other Grimms?” she asked slowly.

“…Antonio didn’t make it,” he said softly.

Sloane shut her eyes a moment, cursing under her breath. “What about the others?” she finally asked.

“Jacob actually came to us to help. That Melinda woman tried to make us leave but we refused. I wasn’t too worried since we had her outnumbered, but I didn’t want to kill them if we didn’t have to. Jacob got hurt but Rosalee’s treating him and…they were there with Antonio when he passed. He held on for a bit.”

“…That’s good,” she said quietly, honestly.

Nick smiled and gave her a squeeze but stopped when she hissed. “Your ribs too?”

“Yeah…I’ve been blocking out the pain for a while but moving around makes it harder…” She looked back, scanning through the red glow of the forest as the sun set. She had a bad feeling and knew that Collin was probably hot on their trail. “You can move faster on your own you know.”

“Yeah, no,” he said, knowing what she was thinking. “I’m getting you as close to town as possible, preferably so I can stay with you while we get that stretcher.”

“Hey, I got out of there, I’ll be fine for a few minutes.”

“No.”

“God, all Grimms are stubborn,” she sighed, though she smiled a little. Nick smiled back.

They kept moving until they were around the hill and he could see the town—but the water tower was blocking their path that way as well he realized, a path from the town dug between the two steep hills by the old mining office. “Dammit…”

“Wow, Collin went all out like some kind of wild west villain, huh?” she said.

“No kidding. I guess good thing there aren’t any train tracks he could tie you to.”

She chuckled then grunted again since that hurt. He sighed and then walked over to a tree, easing her down. “The others can’t be far even if they had to go all the way around the hill. I’ll find them and we’ll come back for you, but you should rest for a bit.”

“Okay,” she nodded, easing back. She couldn’t deny she was in pain—her left side ached having to stand upright for this long. It felt good to lay her leg out. Nick held her hand a moment and squeezed it before jogging on ahead. Sloane closed her eyes but enhanced her hearing to be safe and make sure she wasn’t hit unexpectedly. But the quiet she heard was somehow a lot more concerning.

\----------

Rosalee and Melinda had gotten Jacob back to his RV so they could lay him down. Rosalee grabbed the medical back she’d brought along and used her scissors to cut Jacob’s shirt off. “Okay…good news, I don’t think it hit anything vital and it’s not as bad as a gunshot.”

“What’s the bad news?” he asked, trying to breath.

“I have a very mild anesthetic that I was able to sneak aboard, so this is still gonna hurt like a son of a bitch.”

“Great…” he sighed.

Melinda watched as she pulled out the herbs and tools. “…You really are like an herbalist. Old school.”

“Yeah. I’ve helped Sloane and the others put together a lot of cures for wesen caused illnesses and the like. And to get justice on sleazy Ziegvolk lawyer once.” She glanced back as she got a bottle ready. “You don’t need to stick around…or is it that you don’t trust me?”

“…Give me some slack. Sloane may be cool with this, and Jacob is…surprisingly—”

“Oh Mel, this is not the closest I’ve gotten to a wesen with a shirt off, I promise,” he said, smiling a little then grunting as Rosalee poured a liquid over his wounds to numb them.

“…We’ll come back to how innuendo-y that sounds later,” Melinda said, trying to keep her composure. “But while I don’t have Collin’s drive for mayhem, I was trained to take care of any wesen.”

“See, I would see it more as you were trained to protect innocent people or get justice for those that were wronged,” she said conversationally as she pulled on a pair of gloves and got some tweezers to start pulling out bits of the generator. “And I was trained in how to alleviate pain and suffering. I wasn’t always good at it and I’m a bit choosy at times, but here I am. So, what are you doing here?”

Melinda was quiet a moment before sighing and opening a closet to pull out a crossbow. “Borrowing this, Cubby. I dropped mine in the fire.”

“You’re welcome to it, just oil it. Haven’t used it in a while.”

Mel inspected it and did the maintenance before turning to head out. “…I can see why Sloane likes you,” she said. Rosalee glanced back but she was already out the door.

“She’s a softy at heart. She always got me a cake on my birthday when we traveled together,” Jacob smiled. “And Antonio…”

“…I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve done something for him.”

“It’s alright. We knew the moment we looked at him he wasn’t making it out of there…” he said, looking up at the ceiling. “I think Melinda blames herself since she was here in town when it happened and didn’t see it...And that we thought Amy wasn’t as bad as Collin. She was like a little sister to us…but I guess things change a lot in 8 years. Good and bad.”

Rosalee nodded, reflecting on how her life had changed in just about 3 years. “Well, on the Brightside, I think you’ll make a full recovery. Might have a little scarring though.”

“Hmmm, maybe it’ll make me look ruggedly handsome at last,” he chuckled. Rosalee smiled, continuing to work and try and distract herself from wondering how the others were doing.

\--------------

Nick had jogged maybe about ten minutes when he could just make out the others walking towards him. “Guys!” He gasped in relief.

“Nick! Did you find her?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, but she’s still hurt. I let her sit to rest up ahead. Collin and Amy are still on the move too. I think a stretcher would work better to get her out of here…”

“I could manage that if we had a big blanket…” Monroe said.

“Jacob probably has one in his RV,” Trubel said. She grabbed the walkie off her belt and held it to her mouth. “Melinda? Jacob? Anyone there?”

“I read you, what’s up?” Melinda asked.

“We found Nick and he found Sloane. But she could use a stretcher. You wouldn’t still be near Jacob’s RV?”

“I just headed out, but I can get back fast. I don’t know if he has a stretcher though.”

“A big sheet or blanket would work according to Monroe.”

“Alright, I can get it.”

“And duct tape!” Monroe called. “And some wooden rods if possible. Like long ones.”

“And duct tape, uh…long rods?”

“Do I need to make a grocery run while I’m at it?” she snapped.

“Hey, we’re all just trying to get Sloane out of here.”

“I know…” she huffed. “Be there as soon as I can, just let me know your position when I open the channel back up.”

“Okay.” She cut the feed and looked at them. “Should we go back to Sloane?”

“Yeah…I left her about where we saw the fallen water tower. I don’t think we should let Melinda come alone though.”

“Well, she’s not going to want to see me,” Monroe pointed out.

“I’ll go lead her back,” Hank said.

“Okay…Trubel, give me the walkie and go with him just to be safe,” Nick said.

“What? But I want to go! I want to help find Collin!”

“I know, but I don’t want to risk anyone else getting hurt and the sun’s starting to set. You’ll be able to see better in the dim light and make sure you’re not pulled into a trap.”

She frowned but sighed and pulled out Sloane’s knife wrapped in an old bit of cloth (which he was pretty sure was a pillowcase from that hotel). “Give this back to her then?”

“I will,” he nodded, taking it. He took the walkie as well when she held it out to him, and she and Hank started back. Nick opened the channel. “Melinda, I’m sending Hank and Trubel to meet you. I think it’s better to stay in groups. Monroe and I are heading back to where I left Sloane.”

“Sounds good. I’ve got the blanket and tape and I found some old posts I think we can use to make the rods.”

“Awesome,” He breathed. “We’ll let you know when we’re all together.”

“Sounds good. Over and out.”

Nick put the walkie on his belt and nodded to Monroe as they started back through the woods.

Just a few minutes into their trek back, he heard a sound up ahead and looked up in time to catch the glint in the setting sun. “Get down!”

He grabbed Monroe’s shirt collar to pull him down, just as several shots were fired at them. They looked up to see Amy holding a gun, Collin following her. “I thought I heard someone skulking here…” he said. He eyed them all and his frown deepened. “Where is she?”

“She who?” Monroe asked. He quickly rolled as Amy fired again, getting behind a tree while Nick did the same.

“We’re not playing any games right now,” she said. “Where is Sloane? Not that it matters, all of you are going to die.”

“No, we aren’t,” Nick said.

Collin’s head snapped to him and the anger twisting his face was a sight to behold—more monstrous than most wesen he’d ever met. “You…you’re Nick.”

“Good ear,” Nick said, smiling at him.

“Give me the gun, Amy.”

Amy looked at him, gripping the gun tighter. “Are you serious, right now? You want to shoot him yourself like some jealous husband? Still?”

“Amy…” he warned. Nick used that moment of friction between them to grab the gun from the library out of the holster under his jacket and brought it up. Amy yelped as a shot went between them.

“Oh, you came armed?!” Collin laughed. “Good, I didn’t want this to be boring!” He surprised Nick by running forward and he rolled to the side when he brought a blade down towards him. Everyone all quickly got up and scattered to hide behind trees as Amy shot again and reloaded. Hank got out his gun and fired back, making her run and dart away as well.

Monroe loaded the rifle and moved to try and shoot her, but it didn’t fire. “Oh hell…”

Collin meanwhile was still trying to strike at Nick, not giving him an inch to aim and fire as he swiped at him with the sword—which was apparently pretty damaged and would be like being cut by a jagged bit of metal instead of a sharp edge. That could be worse. He wished he’d grabbed a stun gun or a taser if just to stun him but had to settle for pistol whipping him when the opportunity arose. It of course didn’t send him down, but he touched his blood nose with a manic sort of fascination. “Not too bad…I never asked exactly what you were either.”

“Grimm. Like Sloane.”

Collin stared before giving a bark of laughter. “Oh! Oh, so you’re the one that got into her head then? Got her all messed up?”

“Maybe. Or maybe we finally let her feel like she could be herself.”

“Oh, don’t give me that preachy bullshite!” he shouted, rushing him again. “You think you know anything about her? I grew up with her! I’ve loved her since we were teenagers!”

“You got a funny way of showing it!” Nick shouted back, managing a shot that grazed his side.

Sloane meanwhile opened her eyes when she heard the echoing gunshots. “…Shit,” she breathed, using the tree to try and pull herself up and start limping that way as fast as she could. She could feel her heart in her throat and the pain in her side was an after thought as she tried to focus on the sounds.

Amy was firing at Monroe, since she didn’t want to risk hitting Collin as he and Nick fought. The moments when bits of bark would go flying made him wince. Monroe kept trying to get the rifle firing and finally just snarled and threw it on the ground. “Forget this, the ogre gun made more sense! I’m going the old-fashioned route!” he growled to himself. He watched Amy and when she had to reload her gun, he sprinted out from the tree and woged with a snarl. She gasped and loaded the gun faster. She aimed at him, but he was moving too swiftly for her to get a proper shot before he rammed into her, sending her flying into a tree and dropping the gun. She scrambled backwards on her hands and knees. “Collin!” Collin didn’t even say a word, still trying to hack away at Nick. Amy looked up at Monroe and managed to jump up when he moved to grab her and tried to strike him, but he grabbed her arm and squeezed hard, with his claws out, making her yelp.

Her eyes were black looking at him, but it was strange to see fear in a Grimm’s expression. He supposed that some Grimms were less highly trained and more fumbling killers. He couldn’t deny it was a bit of an ego trip to be holding one like this though no matter how ineffective. “Not so tough now? Why don’t you sit and be quiet?”

“Collin, help!” she screamed, struggling.

“Goddamit woman!” he bellowed. In a move that had Nick surprised, he slapped his gun away with the sword, then grabbed it, elbowed Nick hard enough between the eyes he saw stars and his grip weakened, then threw the gun away while Nick tried to get his bearings. “Won’t be a moment, boyo, then I’ll finish you off,” he said snidely and turned to run over, ready to cut Monroe down. Monroe instead threw Amy at him while backing away and he pushed her away rather than keep her steady while he kept advancing. “I’ll take your head, right in front of your friend!” Monroe dodged back and swiped his claws across his chest, making Collin scream but also making him that much angrier as he advanced on him.

Nick really hadn’t even thought through what he did next. It felt like instinct as his anger rushed up and he felt a similar feeling as when he would transform before into his zombie like state—except with his mind intact. He knew he had one weapon on him, and his hand grabbed Sloane’s knife from his belt at his side, pulling it from the basic wrap in the process. He pinched the blade in his fingertips and remembered Sloane teaching him how to throw this very knife just weeks ago in a refresher with Trubel. It left his grip with more power than a normal human would have, and like a shot it landed right between Collin’s shoulder blades a couple of inches deep, making him seize up. He looked puzzled a moment before his grip on the sword slackened and he staggered. “What the hell…?” he said, his voice whisper quiet. He turned, staring at Nick in confusion as to how he could’ve possibly managed to do this to _him._ While his back was turned, Monroe saw the opening and ran up and grabbed the handle, pulling it out with a vicious wrench of his hand and Collin screamed now, but it didn’t sound strong. He was fairly sure he’d gotten his lung. This seemed more evident when blood came up over his mouth and he dropped to his knees. There was no way he’d be stabilized out here, sharing a similar fate to Antonio that to Nick felt as justified as hunting down a dangerous wesen.

“No!” Amy screamed, grabbing him and trying to hold onto him. “No, Collin!” she sobbed. Collin coughed up more blood.

Monroe breathed out and unwoged, holding the knife and backing away while looking at Nick. Nick just nodded back, satisfied.

Amy was not.

“You bastard!” she screamed. She grabbed the sword and Nick wasn’t prepared for her to launch herself at him. Neither was Monroe, who yelled for him just as she raised the sword to bring it down through his chest before he would be able to get to them.

A shot rang out and Amy screamed when her side was immediately bleeding, dropping the sword which luckily fell to the side on Nick. He immediately got out from under her and looked at Monroe who looked surprised as well. Then he heard shuffling steps from the side and turned to see Sloane limping over to them. She had the rifle Monroe had given up on in her hands and Nick actually felt a chill from the coldness in her expression as she walked over. Amy looked up at her, eyes wide and shaking in pain and fear as Sloane had definitely hit her liver and she was bleeding out a lot.

“S-Sloane…please…I-I’m sorry…” she said, trying to sound contrite and maybe younger than she was, trying to tug on her heart. “Help me.”

She stared down at her and then leaned over her and with a voice that could turn hell into an ice field said. “I’m going to give you as much help as you did Antonio.” Amy stared wide-eyed and Sloane straightened and limped over to Collin. He was still alive, though definitely in rough shape as well. Likely a collapsed lung if not one filling with blood.

“…Why couldn’t you just…come back?” He said, glaring at her with a look of betrayal.

Sloane took a deep breath. “Goodbye, Collin.” She lifted the rifle and fired, right between the eyes at close range.

Nick and Monroe both looked at her in surprise but then she dropped the rifle and started to tip over. Monroe quickly got over to her and grabbed her while Nick got up to help her as well. “Sloane?!”

“Had to make sure he died…” she said, almost delirious.

“Well, did that for sure,” Monroe said, nodding. “Good job.”

“I’m…really tired,” she sighed. And she sounded it. As though her soul just wanted to leave her body because it was just too much.

Nick frowned and without a word picked her up with a hand behind her back and another under her legs. Sloane just leaned against him, drained and not protesting.

“I’ll get the weapons,” Monroe said, looking worriedly at Sloane.

Nick nodded and started back towards the town slowly. “…Thanks for saving me,” he said.

“I wasn’t going to lose anyone else,” she said quietly. “No one wasn’t prepared to lose anyway…Besides, you saved me first,” she said, trying to smile. It didn’t seem like her heart was quite in it, however.

Nick felt for her. Even after all they’d done, Amy at the very least she’d once considered a friend. Collin too. Seeing how far they fell and then basically killing them both was a deep hurt he was sure on a few levels, even if it was justified. Monroe caught up, holding all the guns, the rifle, and the knife in his arms. “I got everything…including your knife, Sloane. Trubel gave it back to us for you and it, uh, kind of took Collin out…”

“Nick!” He looked up to see Trubel and the others running towards him “What happened?!”

“Collin and Amy attacked,” he sighed. “We fought them, got some good hits. Then Sloane shot them.”

Melinda was surprised and looked at her. “You did?”

“Wasn’t going to let them kill a couple of my friends,” she said. “Amy might still be alive, but I left her to bleed out.”

Melinda was quiet but finally looked at Monroe. “How do we make the stretcher?”

Monroe set all the weapons down and showed her. The folded the sheet up around the two long wooden rods—a couple of old shelf braces she pulled off the walls that were still sturdy—and duck taping them. Nick laid Sloane down when he was done, and she sighed as laying down felt a bit better on her leg despite not minding being held by Nick. Hank and Monroe then opted to carry her while the others got the weapons and Melinda went to go check the bodies herself. It luckily wasn’t too long back to the edge of town where Jacob’s RV was, so they didn’t need to worry about switching out.

Rosalee came out of the RV when they got close and rushed over. “Sloane?”

She looked up and smiled at her tiredly. “Hey…got anything for a headache?”

Rosalee smiled and grabbed her hand to give it a squeeze. “Glad to know you’re sense of humor made it out.”

“I’m only half joking, my head is killing me. So’s my leg…my back…chest…neck…Might be shorter to list what doesn’t hurt at that point and I think that would be my right foot.”

Rosalee’s smile turned a little more worried. Jacob came out then, bandaged up and moving around though his arm was in a sling to keep him from stretching the wound on that side. “Where’s Mel?”

“We’ll explain but first, can we set Sloane down inside?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, sure, of course.” He stepped down and out of the way so they could get her up the steps. It took a little maneuvering with the stretcher and they heard something get bumped.

“Ow! Okay, everything hurts now!”

“Sorry…”

\-------------------

Melinda trekked through the woods in the red light of the setting sun. It was easy to track down where the fight had taken place by following Nick’s footsteps back. She found the sight and it was close to as they described—except the long red strip on the ground from where Amy had followed to where she came to rest by Collin. Melinda went over, looking at Collin’s glass eyes with the bullet hole between them without much sympathy. Amy hurt a little. They’d taken her in when she was just a teen and she’d seemed so sweet then. That she’d turn out this way was a disappointment. Mel wasn’t sure if it was innate or if it was Collin’s corruption or just gradual chipping away at her. And yet, despite all his bullshit, she still wanted to die next to him?

She leaned down and pressed her fingers to Amy’s neck and found there was no heartbeat. Shaking her head, Melinda straightened. “Dammit…I know I said I wanted to kill you, but…why did it have to come to this? For him?”

\-------------------

Rosalee spent a while making sure Sloane was safe for travel. She wanted to get her to a hospital as soon as they could to check on her leg and other possible internal injuries, but the minor outer injuries she was able to treat. Jacob had microwavable food in his minifridge, and they all had a meal together, Sloane obviously hungry but still eating slowly. She was fairly lost on thought. They explained what happened and Jacob sighed but had resigned himself that that was a likely conclusion—and the more favorable likely conclusion since the other was the rest of them dying.

Just as they were finishing eating, the walkie on Nick’s hip crackled. “Guys, Melinda here. You copy?”

Nick swallowed the bite of burrito quickly as he grabbed the walkie. “We copy, what’s up?”

“I found Amy and Collin, they’re both gone. I secured the area to make sure they didn’t leave anything behind. I’m going to contact the library about a clean-up crew and that three are dead.”

Nick frowned, glancing at Sloane. “Is that safe? I mean, if they know what happened?”

Melinda was quiet a moment before responding. “It would be hard to explain, I admit…”

Jacob held out his good hand to Nick who handed him the walkie. “Mel, it’s Jacob. I know we don’t exactly have an internal affairs department, but if they even suspect Sloane killed them it’s going to cause a lot of unwanted attention and friction. And I don’t want anyone digging into my life either, that’s part of why I was trying to just appease Collin. I’m already considering faking my death, but I’d really like to keep it fake in case any other Grimms out there don’t like us “fraternizing with the enemy”.”

She sounded frustrated on the other end, but like she knew he was right. “What would you recommend then?”

Jacob thought a moment before nodding to himself and responding. “We haven’t reported the Wendigo hunt yet, have we?”

“No…I was going to do it then Collin broke open the gates of hell, so to speak.”

“Then hear me out. Nick and the others visited the library in Boise before coming out here, and said they were hunting the Wendigos too. Now since we used the element of surprise, we were able to take care of them but by all rights it wouldn’t be surprising if a couple of us ended up dead if an entire swarm fought us.”

“…You want to take their bodies to the compound and blame the wendigos,” she asked, shocked.

“That’s a good idea,” Trubel said, nodding.

“I clawed Collin and Amy up a bit, might help to sell it,” Monroe added.

“But they died of gunshot wounds!” Melinda protested.

“Having a huge group of them together is already strange, we can say they used guns too. Antonio brought guns from his own stash; we can leave them there to make it seem more plausible. Again, we don’t have internal investigations. When they see all those Wendigos, they’ll thank us for our service, salute the fallen as heroes, give them a burial and we can try to…keep moving forward.”

Melinda was quiet again and Jacob looked worried. Sloane sat up with a groan, Rosalee and Nick trying to help her, and motioned for the walkie. He gave it to her. “Mel, it’s me…I know we’re asking a lot. But I think Jacob’s plan is the best option.”

“Even if it means Amy and Collin get a decent burial?” she said.

“Whatever I felt with them towards the end, there was a time they were important to me,” she said honestly. “The fact I had to kill them to save people important to me and avenge Antonio doesn’t just erase that.”

“Avenge him? I thought we weren’t your real friends?” she said, the bitterness coming out.

Sloane winced and sighed. “I know what I said, but…Antonio still tried to save me. And I realized even if it wasn’t like my friendship with everyone in Portland, you all were my friends and family.” She breathed deeply, blinking a little. “I couldn’t save him and that…that was why I kept you all at arm’s length before, because I didn’t want this feeling. That I failed. Then I had to kill Amy and Collin…I understand if you don’t want to talk to me after this, because it’s asking so much more of you, but please. Please help us this last time. If Dierdre finds out…if my _mother_ finds out…I don’t want to lose anything else. Anyone else.”

There was another pregnant pause before she answered. “You know, I used to think you were part robot. Like the Terminator. Because you just seemed unaffected. I wondered if you would care if we died even then. But I knew you tried really hard to keep us alive. And I know what Antonio would do…” She sighed. “I’ll work it out. I’ll get them to the compound and call it in.”

Everyone let out a breath they were holding. Nick gently took the walkie. “Do you need help?”

“You okay moving bodies?”

“It’ll be faster if we help.”

“…Alright. I appreciate it.”

“I’ll help too,” Hank said.

“I think we should get Sloane to a hospital,” Rosalee pointed out, unsure.

“Hey, I’ve made it this long,” she pointed out.

“We have a contact in Boise who can help,” Jacob said. “I’m not in great shape to drive so if one of you can do it, we can head there in the RV and you guys can drive your rental car back.”

Nick nodded and looked at Sloane. “I’m glad you’re safe now…”

She smiled a bit, though there was a tinge of something in there that looked painful. “Same to you, detective…”

He smiled and gave her a slight hug before standing. Hank gave her a hug as well and she smiled and relaxed back as they headed back out. Hank grabbed the makeshift stretcher to use on the way. Jacob walked Monroe through how to drive the RV and they soon dude a U-Turn through the big open area before the town and headed back for the main road. Rosalee smoothed back some of Sloane’s hair—which was dirty, covered in dust a bit of blood and tangled—and smiled gently. “It’s not a short ride, why don’t you rest?”

She sighed but nodded and laid back to close her eyes. Real rest was not going to come she was sure but at least she could try.

Melinda was waiting for them in the woods and though it was dark Hank had a flashlight and Nick had learned to expand his vision at night. Hank had nearly dropped the flashlight when he looked at him and it looked like his irises had turned black with a shine like an animal’s in the night. “Man, you gotta warn me when you figure out new shit you can do…”

“Sorry,” Nick said, a little amused. They got to where Melinda was, and her eyes had the same otherworldly quality.

“Huh, you really came…”

“I said we would. We brought the stretcher too.”

“Good idea,” she nodded. They loaded Amy first, Melinda closing the girl’s eyes when they saw they were still open with frown.

“…We’re sorry you lost so many friends today,” Hank said honestly.

She looked at him then back down as she crossed Amy’s arms and legs to make it easier. “Honestly…we lost Collin and Amy a long time ago, I think. Especially if she had no qualms shooting Antonio…”

“Yeah…but doesn’t make it easier. I had a cousin that was like a brother to me growing up. Then one day as a beat cop I had to arrest him for drug trafficking and assault. I know it’s not quite the same but it’s that feeling of “Where did I go wrong? Why did you turn out this way?”, right?”

Melinda gave him a searching look before smiling a bit. “Yeah. Pretty close. So, you’re a cop and you don’t mind…?” she gestured.

“Detective, actually. Hank Griffin,” he offered his hand and she shook it. “Nick’s my partner. At the precinct,” he added quickly.

“And Sloane is also our partner,” Nick said. “Our Captain is in the know and pulled some strings and made her a detective.”

“Oh, that’s what she meant,” Melinda said, grabbing one end of the stretcher. “I wondered about that. But seriously, you’re okay with this?”

“It’s some extenuating circumstances,” Hank said, lifting the other end. “But I’ve been in on the wesen thing for a bit now and helped out Nick and Sloane where I can.”

“…And Sloane’s happy in Portland?”

“I think so,” Nick said, following along with the flashlight this time. “When we first met, she tried to kill Monroe and Rosalee. But she needed help with a hunt, even if she didn’t want to admit it…” he started telling the story of meeting Sloane, then flowed into some of their other cases with Hank’s help. Melinda listened, curious at first then enjoying them. It helped distract her as they walked Amy’s body back and pit it in her truck bed. They went back for Collin and brought him back the same way. Then they had to dig Antonio’s body out of the now wrecked office building and carry him back. She lingered on him a moment before putting the tailgate back up and sighing.

“Thanks…You know, I have to admit, listening to the stories…you guys are probably good for Sloane. It sounds like she’s…I don’t know, healed from a lot of the stuff she kept

Nick smiled, but hesitated. “I think she’d still like to be friends with you, you know.”

“I’m not sure,” she sighed. “I just…It’s too much right now.”

He nodded, a little disappointed but not surprised. Hank then reached into his pocket for his card and a pen. He wrote down Sloane’s number and email on the back and handed it to her. “Here. You want to talk or if you need help, let us know.”

Melinda looked at it then at them and nodded as she put it in her own jacket pocket. “Thanks…Climb in the back, I’ll drop you off at your car.”

“You want help dropping them off?” Hank asked. “We can follow.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not that,” Nick said. “Just figured it’s not a fun thing to do on your own. Plus, we’re all in it deep enough already.”

“…Alright. It’s actually on the way, so follow me in your car.”

\-----------------------

After getting back to Boise, Jacob drove to a local hospital but parked way in the back. He dialed a number on his cell and rattled off a bunch of information Monroe and Rosalee weren’t sure meant anything. Yet in a matter of minutes two nurses and a doctor came out with a stretcher to meet them. Monroe and Rosalee hid in the bathroom just to be safe, though it was a tight fit. The nurses helped move Sloane to the stretcher and then back into the hospital.

“Trubel, you should go in too, make sure there’s no other issues from the crash.”

“I’m okay,” she argued.

“Humor us,” Sloane said. “Not like you gotta pay for it.”

Trubel made a “fair point” sort of expression and stood to follow them. “I’ll walk though.”

“You can come out now,” Jacob called. “They’re going admit her under a different name and start running tests. They’ll let us know we can come see her.”

“You guys have people everywhere, huh?” Monroe asked, opening the door so they could untangle themselves and get out.

“Most major cities. Usually if we have a library there, we’ll have contacts at least one hospital. The Grimm traits are down but there’s still Kehrseite and people without the sight who want to help all the same.”

“No one in politics?” he half-joked.

“No, that’s too much of a royal route,” he said, the distaste evident. “But we have some in the finance world to help move money where it’s needed. Gotta say I like having my own income though.”

“Sloane’s made that remark before too,” Rosalee said.

“Yeah, though she really doesn’t have to worry given her inheritance from her grandmother…But I guess she still doesn’t like touching that,” he sighed. He jumped when his phone went off and looked at it with a smile. “Oh, it’s Wes! Oh…oh dear, he wants to face time…”

“Is that bad?”

“It’s not going to be fun…” Sighing, he okayed the call. “Hey babe…”

“…Jacob, why are you covered in cuts?” a deep voice asked.

“Well, see…”

“You said you would be careful!”

“I was! Just…a lot has happened.”

“Did you get them looked at?”

“Yes!” He turned the phone and Rosalee straightened in surprise. The man on the phone was of Asian descent, built tall and with some muscle to him. “This is Rosalee. A friend of a friend who treated me. Rosalee, tell him I’m fine, he worries too much!”

“I worry because you are a trouble magnet!”

“Um, he’ll be okay,” Rosalee said, looking awkwardly at Monroe who shrugged, not having expected this.

“What happened?” Wes asked.

“A minor explosion—”

“How can that be minor?!”

“Babe, don’t yell!”

“Sorry, sorry…” he said, breathing deep.

“As I was saying, a minor explosion Jacob was trying to stop. He’s got a few minor burns and cuts from debris and one rough one on his side but as long as he keeps them moist and clean, they should heal fairly quickly with the ointment I used. He saved our friend from the brunt of it and we’re really grateful. He also helped save our other Grimm friend from a crazy Grimm. So, your boyfriend’s a hero in our books.”

Jacob smiled, touched, and Wes sighed but smiled tiredly. “That doesn’t surprise me…I just wanted to check in since you didn’t yesterday.”

“Right, I’m sorry, just…a lot happened. I’ll tell you the whole story later, okay? We’re still dealing with the fallout right now.”

“Okay…”

Jacob glanced at them and blushed a little as he turned a little more away. “Love you…”

“Love you too, nerd,” Wes laughed. “Get home soon as you can and keep me updated.”

Jacob smiled and they ended the call.

“You know, I thought you might’ve been lying to trick us at one point,” Monroe said. “But that was sweet.”

He blushed again and smiled. “Yeah, well…I think I’m going to officially retire from being a Grimm.”

“You can do that?” Rosalee asked.

“Not easily, unless you’ve been put out of commission. But I should be able to work at cutting ties. I have some favors to call in. I’m just not cut out for this; don’t think I ever was really but felt at least a little obligated even after my family disowned me…”

Monroe knew a bit about friction with a family and wasn’t about to advise to make amends after all that time—that would be up to his parents to attempt that. But he still patted Jacob’s shoulder in understanding and Rosalee smiled sympathetically as well.

\----------------------

Melinda dropped Hank and Nick at the car like she’d said. The Wendigo compound was just off a road on the way to Boise and though they followed the dirt road that was practically hidden by the trees up to it. When they got there, Nick looked around. “So…there were…”

“About fifty Wendigos,” Melinda said, knowing what he was thinking. “All adults, I’d guess between 20 and 40 years in age. Found victims half eaten most of the houses too, no way to identify them. Sloane saved the only two survivors…” She sighed and shook her head a bit. “We can lay them out here, it won’t seem that odd.” They nodded, getting them out and laying them down. Reflexively they laid Antonio down a little further away. Melinda grabbed some sheets from one of the houses and covered them all. “…You know, I was tempted to actually kill you all when I first saw you. It felt easier than confronting how much I was messing up not just thinking Collin would stop. That I’d failed Sloane 8 years ago in not seeing how bad he was and failed her again now because…”

“We sometimes see what we want to see,” Nick said, nodding.

“And hey, you didn’t kill us. That’s a plus in my book,” Hank said.

Mel smiled just slightly. “Oh damn…Antonio would’ve liked you sappy, sarcastic idiots…” she said, choking just a little bit. Hank patted her on the back, and it was just a few minutes of quiet before she nodded and headed back to her car.

\-------------------

By the time they got back it was almost midnight. Trubel and Sloane were both done being examined and Jacob gave Nick and Hank the run down:

Trubel—Bruises and cuts, as they’d known, but also a couple of cracked ribs and a pinched nerve in her neck she had been hiding from all of them to try and help. Some bruises ran down deep and would take a while to go away. She was relatively lucky considering the crash thanks to her seatbelt and the airbags.

Sloane—Of course, in worse shape. Similar cuts and bruises, but also her cracked and one broken rib, a sprained wrist, and a fractured tibia that the makeshift splint (Antonio’s idea, she learned, when he could tell it was pretty swollen) helped keep in place but had very nearly splintered with her trying to move on it. No surgery needed, luckily, but she’d have to stay in a cast for six weeks. This would also give time for her bruised spleen to recover. In short, she was going to be sore as hell for a while.

Rosalee had called Clint and asked him to wait till tomorrow to fly out, with Sloane and Trubel. He figured since they’d packed light, he should be able to handle that many people but asked not to add anymore. The rest of them found a nearby motel to rent rooms in and collapsed till morning. After getting a complimentary breakfast, that were surprised to find Jacob in the hall waiting for them.

“Hey. I’m going to be heading back today, Mel has the rest covered. She asked me to say bye for her since she just headed over to the library.”

“You don’t want to say bye to Sloane and Trubel?” Rosalee asked.

“Oh, I already did. Even traded numbers and email with them. And got a picture.” He got his phone and held it up. He was smiling and Sloane was rolling her eyes but smiling Trubel laughed. “I know it’s not perfect, but considering she never smiled for pictures before, this is pretty good…She had me send it to her.”

Nick smiled. “She’s still not big on having her picture taken, that hasn’t changed much. But she’s got some hanging up in her house. Visit sometime.”

He smiled back and nodded. Then looked a bit more serious. “Treat her good, okay?”

Nick blinked but nodded. “Yeah, of course, we all will.”

Jacob eyed him but still smiled. “Alright. See you guys around.” He waved as he headed for the back door of the motel. Nick felt like he missed something but shrugged. They quickly packed what little they brought and went to pick up the two patients at the back of the hospital. Sloane had a walking boot on over her cast and accepted Monroe’s help getting her into the car. She looked better but was still oddly quiet.

As they started driving towards the Airport, Trubel perked up. “Hey, what about the Library weapons? Don’t we need to return them?”

“Melinda is doing that for us,” Nick said. “Since she had to go to them today anyway to get things ready for the clean-up.”

“So now we can just go home and relax,” Monroe sighed. “I mean, at least relax a little…”

“We’ll get back on figuring out who’s threatening you once we do,” Nick said.

“I appreciate that, but let’s take a couple of days to breathe,” Rosalee said. “Besides, it’s almost Christmas and there’s a lot we need to do.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me, I still need to decorate!” he laughed. He glanced at Sloane, expecting a joke, but she was looking out the window. “…Hey, you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, fine, just…” she said, hesitating.

Nick put a hand on her shoulder, nodding. “We get it…just take your time.”

She looked at him, then at the others who all nodded. She sighed deeply in relief, because she just didn’t think she could stay out of her head very long at the moment. “Thanks…”

\-------------------

When Clint’s plane landed, Nick helped Sloane down the ramp. She realized he’d touched her more the last few days than she’d let anyone really do, yet her heart was still constantly beating harder. She’d almost let it just go on doing that. Just steal this moment, just for a bit…

“Guys!”

She looked up and felt that guilt drag her stomach down when Juliette waved to them from the side of the airport—it was a smaller private one Renard had gotten permission for them to use so it was easy for her to come meet them. The rest of their cars were nearby as well.

Nick smiled happily at seeing her and the guilt mixed with a painful jab in her heart. She looked away and swallowed it all down. “Juliette, hey!”

“Hey! Oh…oh Sloane…” she said, looking at her up and down. For a tense moment Sloane wondered if she knew what she was feeling. If they all did. If this was where it all blew up and she’d lose everything she had now on top of so much from before. But Juliette instead walked up and gently held her. “I’m so glad you’re alive…”

That was somehow worse. It was sweet, but there was a sour bitterness coating it from her knowing her crush on Nick was now more firmly rooted than ever. It felt like betrayal, not on Juliette’s part of course but on her part. But she patted Juliette’s back and smiled. “Thanks, Juliette…”

“I’m glad you’re all alive,” Renard said, walking up to them. He frowned when he looked over Sloane. “I was worried how hurt you’d be though…”

“It looks worse than it is,” Sloane said. “I’ll be back chasing bad guys—”

“In six weeks,” Rosalee said, eyeing her sternly.

“…What she said,” she sighed.

“That’s fine, you can do some other work and investigations. But take two of those weeks off to rest, alright? I’ll say that you had a car accident.”

“True on some level, but it wasn’t an accident,” she nodded.

“No. But I’m glad you’re all back safely now,” he said, and they believed him.

She smiled a little and Nick helped her over to the cars so they could drive home. Once there, Trubel helped her settle down with her foot elevated and her laptop nearby to watch some stuff. “…Trubel? Thank you.”

“For…?”

“Keeping your promise to come get me…Not gonna lie I…I was a little scared there for a second…” she confessed. “Don’t tell the others, but I wasn’t sure I would get out of there. It was pure luck I was finally able to get that chair apart when I did…I tried when she shot Antonio and it just held so I don’t know…”

Trubel looked at her a moment before walking over. “…It’s not your fault, you know,” she said slowly. “What they did, that’s on them. You…You’re a better Grimm than Collin or Amy or any of them really. I mean, Jacob’s cool and Melinda’s…still pretty cool, if I’m honest. But you’re like…the kind of Grimm I think I want to be. And I think Antonio liked you still too if he wanted to save you. And they chose to fight and…you did what you had to.”

Sloane nodded slowly, then pressed a hand to her eye as she felt a sting there. Trubel didn’t say anything more, but she leaned in and gave her a hug. She’d often thought of Sloane as superhuman. The other Grimms did too, it seemed. But since coming to Portland, she’d humanized herself. It came with a lot of good things, a feeling like she was allowed to finally smile and do things for herself and have a life. But the pain it came with made it hard. Trubel understood that better than anyone thought. She’d wrapped herself in barbed wire long ago, scared to let anyone close until she came here. Getting close to everyone here felt like the first time in years she was wanted and at home. And it was scary how close she was to losing all of it. It really made her think what she wanted for the future. But for tonight, she just wanted to be there for Sloane.

\------------------------

“It seems everything is in order,” Mr. Lumb said, checking off the last of the guns. “I will mark Mr. Burkhardt’s account as clear.”

“Thanks,” Melinda said.

“I’m sorry to hear three were lost in the fight,” he said. “We’ll pick up their bodies right away and clear the area of the wendigo remains as well. Were there any other issues?”

Melinda shook her head. “No, nothing major. I came out the least injured, but the others got treated and are going to be fine. Back on the road again already.”

“Always busy, then. Well, is there anything else I can do for you, Miss Romaneck?”

“No, thank you Mr. Lumb. I leave the rest to you.”

He nodded and waved as she headed back to the door to return to the surface. Mr. Lumb put the weapons in an area where they would be cleaned later. He then went to the computer and typed out a message regarding the clean-up at the specified coordinates and the recovering of three bodies. He then marked them as dead in the library system. He had their cards on file and each of their pictures turned red as he marked them deceased. When he marked Collin Donahue, a note popped up that he had a Dead Letter that he had emailed in recently. It struck Mr. Lumb as odd but he hit print. It was his policy not to read the Dead Letters. While often meant as means let others know about hunts that needed to be finished, some also used them to say things they didn’t get to say in life. It was much too personal. Once the letter was printed, he only looked at the assigned name at the time. It was a surprise, but he still read no further and folded the letter up. Taking an envelope, he set the letter inside before using a fountain pen to scrawl a name over it. He then melted a small bit of wax and sealed it with a scroll work G stamp. Old fashioned, but this was still how they delivered the Dead Letters to avoid any breach in security. But he did have the advantage of not having to call up every library to let them know to point the chosen Grimm in his direction. Instead he went to her profile and marked that she had a letter waiting and for her to give an address to send it to as soon as possible.

When that was done, he went to a mail shelf, found the correct slot for her last name and slid the letter in so that he could see the name clearly when needed.

_Dierdre G._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you for your patience. The holiday season was hectic as heck and then I got sick and some other stuff has gone on that ate up my energy and time. Plus I actually changed this chapter a lot from what I originally planned--originally, all new Grimm would be the bad guys here and die, but I go attached to Melinda, Jacob and Antonio. Killing Antonio was hard but...yeah.
> 
> Hopefully next chapter comes a little quicker now that I'm not sick (well, as sick, GET YOUR FLU SHOTS!) and things start turning out for the better on some other things. Wish me luck!


	21. Love and Death in Portland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 21 of the Casebook of Sloane Larson!  
> LONG CHAPTER, LOTS TO COVER!! Rewrites of The Grimm Who Stole Christmas, Chupacabra, Wesenrein, Tribunal and Till Death Do Us Part
> 
> Sloane is trying to recover after the events of Bad Company, and though things are quiet for a bit it never stays that way for long! Gremlins at Christmas and wesen viruses are par for the course. But then the Wesenrein group take Monroe--and Sloane is willing to put her new found morals aside to do what she can to help. But her mental health is starting to fray it feels. Can she keep it all together?

Sloane was in the woods. She didn’t remember how she got there. Something was very wrong.

She heard a yell and turned looked up to see Nick on the ground, a black monstrous shape above him. She tried to move and found she couldn’t take a step. Looking down, she saw her feet were turning to tree roots. She tried to pull them free, but her legs kept turning to wood. Nick screamed again and she looked up. The black shape was raising a hand, covered in long, knife-like claws.

“No!” she screamed. She sat up straight in bed then gasped and fell back down when her ribs protested.

“Sloane?” She heard Trubel padding over quickly, opening her door. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” she sighed, mind catching up. “Just had a bad dream…”

Trubel frowned and walked over, sitting next to her. “You sure I can’t do anything?”

She smiled a little. “It’s okay…Go back to sleep.”

Trubel nodded and left, closing the door behind her. Sloane sighed and tried to breath. It was only day three…

\---------

After the events in Idaho, Sloane had taken that two weeks off Renard pushed on her. It drove her a little crazy and she knew it would. The first week it felt like her options were eat, sleep, and watch TV or sleep some more. She had to use a crutch to go to her bathroom too and move very slowly. She asked Nick and Hank to send her some files to work on, but they’d refused, stating she needed to focus on recovery and not on any cases those first weeks. Trubel helped around the house and actually made some progress learning to cook—after finding some helpful videos on YouTube. But it also helped everyone was taking turns bringing over some food in the evenings to see how they were doing.

And at least once a night she had a nightmare. It was similar every time—someone was in danger and she couldn’t do anything. It seemed everyone had a turn at least once—Monroe, Rosalee, Trubel, Hank…Nick happened the most though. She’d see them in danger, but be unable to go to them, her feet either rooted to the ground or sinking into it. Once she was falling into a hole while seeing the black shape swallowing Rosalee whole.

Sleeping became a chore.

The second week she started going through everything in her room. She made a box of clothes that were old and could be donated—and another that they should burn. Then she ventured to the office to go through things there while Trubel went to take a run. It was something to do. Something to occupy her mind and her fingers since they were the only things that felt like thy could move. She organized her books, some of her lighter weapons and goods, etc. When she went to the desk and sat in the chair to work, she had to pause when she saw the scrap book there where she’d left it before they left for Boise.

It felt foreign once again. She used to carry it everywhere. A reminder of her accomplishments. When she felt unsure, she’d flip through and remember what she was fighting for. That she was strong enough to do all this, she could keep going. Hesitantly she reached out to pick it up again. She started from the front—high school, her first solo hunt. A ziegvolk. She’d identified him after a cheerleader talked about him assaulting her and within a week took him down on her own. Dierdre had been giving her low doses of their pheromones to build up an immunity and it worked. He’d tried to “charm” her—fifteen years old—and she’d lulled him in before trying to gut him. It’d been more of a fight than she’d anticipated but she won with only a few scratches. She kept the news article about them finding his body on school. Another couple of articles and she started putting them in the book. From there it was more news articles, descriptions, minor souvenirs like napkins and ticket stubs and the like. And obituaries. She couldn’t count them all. And she realized, she didn’t even remember them all. Some of course stuck with her, but others…she forgot their names, their faces, what they were. She’d killed so many…

_I nearly got the others killed coming to save me…_

When she got to the picture of her hunting party all together again, she stared at if for a long time. Amy looked so happy and bubbly—was that an act? Or did Collin just poison her slowly over the years? It hurt to see them, all of them, young and thinking they were tough shit and so naïve really to everything. Her fingers gripped the photo and ripped the page out roughly. Then another. Then she was shredding the pages with her fingers. What was there to be proud of? Killing strangers? Killing any wesen she could? Innocent people? Her friends?

Would she kill Nick and the others one day or get them killed trying to save her? Would their blood be on her hands?

“Sloane? Sloane!” Trubel shouted, coming over to her. She grabbed her hands as she was ripping the pages up and Sloane looked at her in confusion. “Hey…it’s okay…”

“…Is it?” she asked. It was an honest question. She looked at the pages. It didn’t erase anything, obviously. Just because the words were gone doesn’t mean the past was over. Didn’t mean she didn’t do those things. Didn’t mean she wouldn’t do them again.

“Sloane?”

“You all could’ve died…coming to get me…”

“…But we didn’t,” Trubel said. “I know Antonio died, and I’m honestly sorry he did, but we’re here. We lived. You saved Nick and Monroe!”

“What if I can’t one day?” She knew that’s what the nightmares were about. She didn’t need to be a psychologist to figure that out. But she couldn’t stop them.

“Sloane…you told me once our life is dangerous. And we can’t do it all. But we try. Nick is the same, and so is everyone else. We try. If it doesn’t work someday then…that’s how it ends. But we aren’t going to just avoid it. We can’t, right?”

“…No,” she agreed, pinching her nose. “I know you’re right…I just…”

“It will be alright. It will be,” she said a bit more sternly. “But you gotta rest…Even if you have those bad dreams.”

Sloane slowly let go of the pages and nodded, sighing. “Right…you’re right…”

Trubel helped clean up then walked her back to bed to get some sleep.

\-----------------------------

The third week, Sloane went back to the precinct using a crutch. She couldn’t go far because of her ribs, but she could make it to her desk. Everyone she met though expressed their relief she was okay and back at the station, helping her get back to her desk. A card signed by everyone in the precinct was there, as well as a get-well flowers and a gift card to a food delivery site. Though everyone fussed she was glad to sit down and start catching up on her reports and forms. She figured a case would help take her mind off things as well.

“Sloane! Glad to see you back,” Wu said, walking over to her. “Brought you a stool for your foot.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Wu, I appreciate that.”

He nodded, helping her set it up under her desk. “Nick and Hank told me what happened,” he said quietly. “Glad you and Trubel are okay.”

She smiled again and nodded. “As much as we can be…”

“Yeah, of course. You’re feeling better though, right?”

“Yeah. I was going stir crazy for a while so I’m happy to get back to work.”

“But you still need to take it easy,” Hank said, setting a coffee down on her desk.

“I’m sure I can still make plenty of headway with cases like this,” she said, relaxing back. They smiled, glad that she seemed back to herself.

During the next few weeks few cases cropped up, and shockingly, _none_ were wesen related. One was a continuation of the case Hank and Nick had been working—they’d finally gotten a hit on the other maid that worked at the Dobson residence, Sabrina Meyers. She’d fled the day after the robbery and sure enough, they’d found her and two men with long rap sheets after they tried to rob a liquor store. They’d gone through the stolen goods and money sadly quick. But she’d kept some of Mrs. Dobson’s jewelry their children identified as stolen. The crooks hadn’t known both Dobson’s were dead, but they learned quickly when they asked about the assault. They tried to deny involvement, but they were bad at being robbers and all three were found to have a connection with the scene and arrested.

After that was a man found dead in his home, no sign of break-in or robbery. Ended up he had a heart attack. Cut and dry.

A woman was killed by her husband, but they’d caught him pretty easily in a lie when she asked if his prints would be on the bat that hit her. Yes, turned to no, turned to maybe, turned to “I used to play, but not anymore”, to “That’s not me in that picture at my company’s baseball game”. None of them had asked about the photo till he pointed it out. He broke down after that.

A few others cropped up that were of course tragic in their own ways, but not wesen. Before Sloane knew it, it was time to remove her cast. She wondered which divine being decided she was finally owed a rest while her leg had healed.

“You’ll still need to take it easy. I know you said Grimms heal quick but better safe than sorry,” Nick said, driving her back home. He and Hank had been taking turns driving her till she could get a new car. Sloane had coordinated getting her old car picked up, but it was well and truly gone for good. There was no beating out a broken frame, crunched roof and the other damage done. But Nick had helped her go through and get a few things she’d hidden it in it before sending it to the junkyard. Some cash, false IDs and credit cards and the like hidden in the upholstery. He’d been dubious but she said she preferred to be prepared.

“I know, but I’m just glad I can walk on my own again…And go car shopping,” she sighed.

“…You know, I still have my aunt’s car. If you want it.”

Sloane looked at him in surprise. “Marie’s car?”

“It’s got a lot of miles, but it still runs great. I take it out ever few weeks to make sure.”

“…Thanks, that’s really sweet of you Nick. But…I think I want to get one that’s mine from start to finish. My old one was one Dierdre gave me and it did what I needed but I never got much of a say in it…Might be nice to actually go look and see what’s out now, see what I _want_.”

Nick smiled. “I get that. I was thinking before of giving it to Trubel to be honest…”

“Trubel?”

“…You don’t like that idea?” he asked delicately, noting her tone.

“No—I mean, yes, just…She talked about leaving a couple of months ago…” she admitted.

“Oh…do you think she’d be ready?” he asked hesitantly.

“…No. I think she’d do fine now. There’s always more to learn but I’m not worried she’d be unready,” she sighed.

“Just hard to say goodbye?” Nick guessed.

“…”

Nick smiled and when he came to a stop at a light, he put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, she’ll always have a place to come back to.”

Sloane blushed a bit and sighed. Her feelings for Nick were not subsiding and the littlest touch made her heart skip a beat. She’d hoped this would go away. Instead it was just a low hum in her mind, that turned into a scream at the worst times. But luckily, she was able to hide it. Maybe this was her punishment for not going through crush drama since elementary school, when cooties were the biggest problem. She smiled and nodded. “You’re right…Thanks.”

“Of course. So then, how about instead of heading home we hit some car dealerships?” he suggested.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she said.

“Well it’s up to you but I don’t mind. Easier to shop around when I can take you and we’re both off today.”

“…Okay. If you don’t mind, I’ve been looking online and there’s some I’d like to look at.” _I’d get to spend time with him…_

“That’s the spirit!” he grinned.

\-------------------

The first place they went was a used car lot. Sloane figured if she could find one with low mileage it wouldn’t be too bad. It would be cheaper and any issues that might come with a new model of a car would hopefully be worked out. That was the idea anyway. Unfortunately, the sales team continually addressed Nick, even when he pointed out she was the one that needed a car. They were too pushy for her taste too and they decided to leave.

The next one was better but then Sloane insisted on opening the hood to look. They probably thought she was just trying to put them on the hot seat. But she could see a few issues that should mean a drop in price and she didn’t hesitate to point them out. They fought her on it and their mechanic made a snide remark regarding woman and cars that nearly had her ready to fight him. Nick managed to get her out of there before she strained herself again.

Finally, they decided to try a new dealership. Her annoyed expression after the last stop might’ve scared off the dealers at first but she was fine with that. She looked at the cars, their specs, some other online reviews and found a model she liked. She then hunted down a dealer to get a test drive and Nick sat in the back to give a second opinion. It put her in a much better mood.

At the end of it she made her choice: A new Jeep Grand Cherokee in a cool dark grey. Good for off-roading as well as the city and still with the space she wanted. They started talking about credit checks. Sloane didn’t do that. She paid in full in one go after a visit to a bank branch to make sure it was all in order. Nick couldn’t help but laugh when he saw their faces as they obviously hadn’t expected that. She’d even paid extra for seat protectors.

“Well, that’s a nice early Christmas present for yourself, hm?” the dealer asked.

“Jewish. So more of an early Hanukkah present I guess,” she smiled, waiting for them to finish washing the car off. She’d honestly almost forgotten it was December now. Monroe and Rosalee had likely decorated by now and she hoped Rosalee had a nicer time with it than last year.

“Oh, well! Congrats! Excuse me,” he said, blushing a bit as he quickly walked off. Sloane shrugged it off. People always acted like they’d accidently insulted her by assuming she wasn’t Jewish, but she was used to it by now. Christmas was pervasive this time of year, getting into everything, so she couldn’t really fault them for assuming.

“Think you’ll celebrate this year?” Nick asked, drinking some of the complimentary coffee. “Hanukkah, I mean.”

She sighed. She’d been thinking on that as well. “Maybe. Ben’s been tutoring me in my Hebrew on and off so I could try…” she said thoughtfully. “But they’re all doing stuff together and…I’m not sure I’d want to intrude on that. So, it’d just be me.”

“Well, I don’t know anything about how to practice it, but if you need or want company you know we’ll always be there for you.”

She smiled again. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. And thanks for today. I know it wasn’t a walk in the park...”

“You kidding? Watching you list all that stuff wrong at the last dealership and seeing those used car guys go from confident to super worried was hilarious!”

She laughed. “It was pretty fun. I probably could’ve done a better job than their mechanic though.”

“Well, if being a Detective doesn’t work out you could open up an auto shop,” he teased.

“Ah, no,” she said. “I’m happy being a detective.”

“Well that’s good because I like having you with me.”

Sloane almost had to grab the wall next to her. _This man is trying to kill me with kindness…_ “Same…um, but being a Grimm still comes first for me.”

“I understand…” He smiled back the nodded when they brought her car up. “Speaking of which, we’re going to meet at the trailer tomorrow. Look through some books to see if we can help Monroe and Rosalee get some piece of mind. Those Order Second nature…uh…”

“Just call them The Order,” she smiled.

“Yeah, them. They’ve been quiet but I’d rather use that time to figure out what they’re doing. I don’t think they’ve given up…”

The smile faded and she nodded. “Sounds good. We’ll meet you tomorrow.” She climbed into the car, waving as she drove for home.

\---------------

**Grimm Who Stole Christmas**

**\---------------**

They met up the next day at the trailer to go through the books there for anything that might be of help—and do a little organizing. Sloane was making index cards, labels and overall organizing the trailer like a library while they flipped through the books. The others were helping, writing down wesen names as they flipped through the book and, if they could read the passages, a few highlights for the index cards to go in a rolodex. Later they’d make a digital database too, but this would at least give an easier way to sort through them.

Hank was the one that ended up finding a passage on the Secundum naturae Ordinem Wesen.

“Those are the pus-heads that burned a wolfsangel on their lawn?” Trubel asked.

“That’s what Rosalee thinks,” Nick said. “Whatcha got?”

Hank brought the book over for them all to look at over his shoulder while he read. “"1252, Lyon. I first encountered the secundum naturae ordinem wesen, also known as the Wesenrein, during a trial conducted by the catholic inquisition. Not only were they searching out heretics and burning them at the stake, but some of the inquisitors, I discovered, were wesen and using their positions to root out impurity within the wesen society. The wesen heretics, or as they were known, the Impuro, were tried outside the cities by secret tribunals. These brutal trials dragged on from one to three days, bereft of mercy."”

“Nice masks,” Trubel said snidely, looking at the skull half masks the tribunal were wearing with their robes as they passed judgment on two wesen, one a bird and the other a dog of some sort.

“I guess bedsheets and hoods came into fashion for these sort of groups later…” Sloane said. Hank nodded a bit, grimacing as he continued.

“"They too were burned, not necessarily so much at the stake as through the stake." Ah, an artistic rendering,” he grimaced as he turned the page, showing the two previous wesen now impaled on stakes and being burned while their others were looking on. “"Seeing that the tribunals were doing my work for me, I took a much-needed sabbatical on the isle of Crete."”

“I guess the inquisition made life easier for the Grimms,” Trubel sighed.

“Well, I for one didn’t expect the catholic inquisition,” Sloane said.

“You know Monty Python?” Hank asked in surprise.

“It’s been a while, but yeah,” she smiled. “Caught it while traveling. First time I laughed in a long while as a teen now that I remember...”

“I keep forgetting you had a rough time back then…” Trubel said, frowning.

She shook her head. “It’s fine, I’m doing better now.” She meant that doubly so that Trubel needed to stop worrying about her having bad dreams. They were getting better, honestly. “We have more pressing issues.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately, it seems like the Wesenrein didn't die out with the inquisition,” Nick pointed out. “How did they know Monroe and Rosalee were married? It's not like they took out an ad.”

“Well, it looks like somebody at the wedding told somebody who told somebody,” Trubel guessed. Sloane frowned, not liking the idea that someone from the wedding put them in danger but knew that must’ve been true. They’d have to start looking over the guests.

Nick’s phone went off then and he picked it up to answer. “Burkhardt…Okay, we’ll meet you there.” He hanged up and looked at them. “Got a new case, someone broke into a house and assaulted one of the residents.”

“I’ll hang out here and keep reading if it’s okay,” Trubel said.

“Alright, but if it gets too late just stay here and text us to pick you up tomorrow morning,” Sloane said. They then got into their cars to head to the scene.

Outside the house was chaotic with destroyed decorations—and while the police were stomping around quite a bit, she didn’t think it was all due to them. It looked like something or someone had gone to town on the house.

“Sorry if I interrupted any holiday festivities,” Wu said, leading them past the tape to the front door. “I wasn't sure if this was gang related or not, but it's definitely home invasion.”

“Question is, what invaded?” Nick asked, looking at the damage.

“And who got hurt?” Sloane inquired.

“Dennis Gladstone, owner of the house, got banged up pretty good. But alive,” Wu said. “Paramedics took him in. His wife stayed behind to talk to us, but she's anxious to get to the hospital.”

“Any witnesses?” Hank asked.

“Mr. Gladstone's the only eyewitness, but neighbors said they heard a lot of strange noises. Of course, strange is your specialty.”

“Which answers my next question of why we’re here when we’re usually homicide,” Sloane nodded.

“No visible signs of forced entry,” Nick said, looking at the door.

“Locks weren't tampered with. No windows broken. So much debris and wreckage, gonna be a challenge to dust for prints,” Wu sighed. He led them past the living room towards the dining room, where a woman with short curly hair was shakily drinking tea with an afghan over her shoulders. “Mrs. Gladstone, this is Detective Burkhardt, Detective Larson, and Detective Griffin.”

She looked up and nodded to them. “Thank you. I-I can't believe this happened. I really want to see my husband.”

“We understand. We just need to ask a few questions,” Hank said. “Did you witness the attack?”

“No, but I heard it. It was horrible…When I got downstairs, whoever did this was gone. I found Dennis on the floor,” she choked out.

“Did anything happen before the attack?” Nick asked.

“We had a party with a lot of our friends. Went to about 11:00, then everyone left. We locked up and went to bed.”

“And nothing unusual stood out to you? You knew everyone that arrived?” Sloane said.

“Yes, everything seemed normal…Well, we had a late-night delivery, but that's about it.”

“What delivery?” Nick asked.

“I'm not sure, really. There was a present left on the front doorstep. I didn't see it until a couple of the guests brought it in.”

“Do you know which one it was?”

“Um, that one,” she leaned over and pointed to a large box in the middle of the room. “How much longer? I really need to get to the hospital.”

“Do you have any idea who sent the present?”

“No, I wasn't paying attention,” she sighed.

“Check this out,” Hank said. Nick and Sloane turned to look at him while he examined the large box. “Looks like somebody ripped this open from the inside.”

“So…something came out of the box on its own?” Nick theorized. He noticed something on the ground and leaned down to have a look while Sloane looked at box more closely.

“Wait, so…they brought the package inside, put it under the tree. Party ends. They go to bed…something comes out and unlocks the door?” Sloane said.

“Later, they hear something. Mr. Gladstone comes downstairs, interrupts what's going on, tries to run, was attacked,” Hank finished.

“Looks like someone had time for a snack,” Nick added, pointing at the smudged crumbs on the ground.

“You can work up an appetite beating somebody up.”

“Don’t I know it,” Sloane muttered, and Nick smacked her lightly. She smacked him back.

“That looks like fruitcake,” Hank added.

Nick picked up a bit, frowning as he had to agree. The bits of fruit were almost radioactively bright among the cakey, brown crumbs. “Hmm, I didn't think anyone ate those.”

\------------------

Trubel texted her, opting to stay at the trailer that night. She had the bike if she wanted to head back early. Sloane sighed but figured she wasn’t there to set a curfew for her. Going to bed, she had another nightmare though. This time Collin was there, standing over the dead bodies of all her friends and saying she was the cause. Their blood made the ground like a swamp and she was sinking down into it. She woke up in a cold sweat and wondered if he was haunting her. The last time she’d had so many similar nightmares was after her Grandmother died. Eventually they’d decreased and now it was rare she had a dream about that night even if she thought about it a lot still. These nightmares would also peter off she told herself. But she still decided getting back to bed wasn’t worth it and got up to get ready for the day. It was close enough to sunrise anyway.

As she did her morning workout, she got a text from Trubel to meet at Nick’s house. She thought it was odd but shrugged, grabbed a package of pop tarts and headed out.

Juliette answered the door, smiling in confusion. “Hey, Sloane. What brings you by?”

“Uh, Trubel told me to meet her here?” she said, confused.

“Trubel? Um, she’s not here…” she said. “Come in.”

Nick was at the table near the kitchen, eating his breakfast. “Hey, you’re up early.”

“Not as early as Trubel, who seems to be up to something,” Sloane said.

Nick frowned and before he could ask, Trubel and Josh both rushed in, panting.

“Sloane! Good, you’re here,” Trubel gasped.

“Yeah, I am…what’s going on?”

“Did you go on a walk this morning?” Juliette asked.

“More like a run,” Josh panted.

“In Nick’s neighborhood?”

“Uh…not exactly. I came to hide the bike here and because the bus ran closer to where I wanted…and Josh saw me and wanted to come along.”

“Okay…Where were you going? Was there a problem?” Nick prompted. Trubel tossed the mask to him and Nick looked at it in further confusion. “What is this?”

“Looks familiar,” Sloane said, on alert now.

“You remember when Bud came by and asked me to help with that bully problem at school?” Trubel asked. Sloane nodded and Trubel looked a little anxious as she continued. “Well, it was really about this guy, Shaw, a Klaustreich who was gonna do something to Nick 'cause he heard he—you weren't a Grimm anymore,” she said, looking between them.

Nick’s jaw dropped and he looked at Sloane who was equally surprised. “And Bud thought you should help with this?” he asked.

“Well, he was going to ask Sloane, but she was sick.”

“Yeah, I remember that…” she nodded. “So, Bud told you and you went to go intimidate him?”

“Yeah. And it worked! I think…”

“Then why did you go back today?”

“Bud thought that Shaw found out from a guy who was at Monroe and Rosalee's wedding, which is what we were talking about in the trailer, right? This threat against them. So, I thought that Shaw must have heard about a Blutbad marrying a Fuchsbau, so I went over there to see what I could find out, and I sure didn't think it was gonna be that. The mask was in the coat of a Schakal Josh hit in the head with a rock.”

“You hit a Schakal with a rock?” Juliette asked, smiling in admiration.

“Well, he was coming up behind Trubel, and I just...” He made a motion of hitting someone. With a rock in his hand, they guessed. Old school but effective.

“You got away? Nobody saw you?” Juliette asked.

“No,” they both said.

Sloane picked up the mask and had to agree it looked just like the mask the Order wore in the book. “So, he’s part of the Order?”

“I think so. He had a bunch of other people over and were…um, talking about me, I think. They said it was about a female Grimm and I never told him about you.”

“Knowing about you isn’t good either,” Nick sighed. “We need to figure next steps now.”

“Well, Bud knows this guy, Shaw,” Trubel said. “He might know more about his friends too.”

Nick’s phone rang and he looked at the ID before sighing and answering. “Hank?...Yeah, we can meet you at the hospital. Sloane’s here too. …I’ll explain there.” He hanged up and looked at Trubel seriously. “See what you can find out from Bud, but just get the names.”

Trubel nodded, smiling at being of use as they got up to leave.

\---------------

According to Dennis Gladstone he was attacked by 3 or more kids in costumes that looked like hairy little men with yellow teeth and bright green eyes. And that they smelled “like a boys locker room”.

That night another attack occurred, and another the night after that. All with similar MO of vandalism and assault if anyone was unlucky enough to get in their way. The fourth night they were marking up a clear board map to track down what they were doing. The center, they noted, was a St. Demetrios Greek orthodox church. Hank took special note of that.

Wu walked over with a piece of paper in his hands that showed the sketch of a hairy creature with big ears and eyes and sharp teeth, it’s nose flatter like a reptilian snout. “So, sketch artist sent this over. I think you might see why I’m a bit concerned putting this up.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame you,” Hank said, grimacing at the sketch.

“I’m not sure what this is,” Sloane said. “But I guess it’s at least not Krampus again. Rosalee said the council picked him up to hold him till January.”

“That’s a relief,” Nick sighed.

“Krampus…that’s like Santa’s evil brother, right?” Wu asked.

“Not exactly but also exactly,” Hank said. “The kidnappings last year? Krampus getting his Christmas dinner together.”

“Wow…okay, um…well, whatever this is, it hasn’t eaten anyone. Yet.”

“Let’s just hope it stays that way,” Sloane sighed.

“Well, fourth time might be the charm,” Hank said, waving his phone. “911 in progress.”

They quickly got their coffees and headed for their car to go see what was happening. Hank had to slam on his breaks as they pulled up and a plastic sleigh came flying out in front of them.

“What the heck was that?” Sloane asked. They all climbed out and they froze a moment. Two little…creatures were completely wrecking the Christmas decorations in the yard of a house, smashing them up and tossing them about. Sloane wasn’t much of a Christmas person either, but she thought this was taking it a little far.

“What the hell are they?” Hank asked, moving closer to Nick and Sloane warily.

“No idea,” Nick said.

They watched as they turned their eyes to them and cackled before running off up the street. They were going to follow when they heard another noise. “There’s one on the roof…” Hank said. Looking up, they saw a third creature on the roof, tossing more decorations down. As they watched the creature lost its balance and with a screech that hurt their ears went sliding down the roof to crash on the brick porch below. All three of them quickly ran up to see if it was okay. Shockingly it started standing up, shaking its head. It turned to them and its lips curled in a feral snarl. Despite it’s strange looks, it was wearing what looked like jeans and a plaid thermal and jacket she’d expect any normal person to wear.

“It’s like its made from hair and teeth,” Sloane said. She couldn’t deny despite it being half the size of a wesen she usually squared up against, it was freaking her out a little more.

“Now, take it easy, pal,” Nick said, holding his hands out as he started advancing.

Before he could lunge at them, Hank had come up the other way with a garden gnome in hand and broke it over the creature’s head. It went down like light and Hank tossed the broken gnome away.

“You see this too?” Nick asked.

“Oh, yeah. There's no hiding that one.”

“So, it’s not a passive woge…” Sloane said.

“Is it wesen?” Hank asked, looking at her.

“Actually, I don’t know,” she admitted, leaning down to look closer.

“I don't know if it's woged or what,” Nick agreed.

“Well, if it's not wesen, what the hell is it?”

“Ghost of Christmas bullshit?” she asked.

“Too solid. And we sure as hell can't take it back to the precinct,” Nick sighed. They looked up when they heard a siren in the distance.

“Oh, we're not leaving it here,” Hank said, shaking his head.

“Well, we'd better take it somewhere before somebody sees it,” Sloane said.

“Okay, we'll take it to Monroe and Rosalee's. They can help us figure out what it is,” Nick said.

Sloane sighed but knew it was the best option they had and leaned down to try and pick it up. They all reeled back however when the smell hit them.

“Oh! That guy wasn't lying about the smell,” Hank said, covering his nose and mouth.

“Is that what a men’s locker room smells like?” Sloane asked in disgust. “What is wrong with men?”

“Okay, not even we are that bad,” Nick said defensively. “I'm gonna call Juliette; We're gonna need a big dog crate.”

“And animal sedatives,” Hank added.

They got it into the car breathing through their mouths, glad that it was a sedan so that the trunk closed all the way. Nick called Juliette while they headed over to Monroe and Rosalee’s. Everyone met them outside.

“Now, we don't know what this thing is, so be careful,” Nick said. “Ready?” They nodded and took a breath (to hold it) as he opened the trunk. A wall of smell immediately assaulted them, and they all gasped. They gasped again as it rose up with a snarl, little hands poised to attack them. Nick reacted without a second thought and punched it in the face, sending it down. Again.

“Jeez!” Monroe said.

“Oof, I think it's out,” Juliette said sympathetically. She held up the syringe she had. “Still want me to use this?”

“Yes!”

“Are you kidding?”

“Please.”

“That or use it on me so I don’t have to smell this…”

Juliette quickly administered the shot and Nick looked at Monroe and Rosalee. “So, have you ever seen one of these before?”

“That would be a definite uh-uh,” Monroe shook his head.

“Me neither,” Rosalee agreed.

“Ooh, it smells like a... Like a pungent, vinegarish, glandular, musky kind of, yeah, a chamber pot,” Monroe said, sampling the stench delicately like a fine wine.

“Let's get him inside the crate,” Hank said, moving to grab him with Nick. “You can't open it from the inside, can you?”

“No, and we've got an hour, hour and a half before it wakes up,” Juliette said, capping the syringe and boxing it up quickly. “Not much longer.”

“Why don't you get it into the garage, and then Juliette and I will monitor while you guys check out the trailer?” Rosalee suggested.

“Wait a minute. You gonna be all right?” Monroe asked. He didn’t like leaving her alone.

Rosalee smirked and woged. “I'll be alright.”

“Good luck,” Sloane said, heading into the car again to head to the trailer. They immediately started thumbing through books, spending several minutes just trying to figure out even where in the world to start.

“Something about 4 feet tall, hairy, smelly, and hates Christmas,” Nick mumbled to himself, pacing.

“That narrows it down, sort of,” Monroe nodded. “And I can tell you, from the odoriferous evidence, it is not lupine, canine, feline, vulpine, or bovine.”

“What about porcine?” Sloane said, smiling.

“That too!”

“Think I got something... In Greek?” Hank said.

“We're talking Mediterranean?”

“I think so.”

“Well, admittedly, the guys I traveled with could get pretty smelly after Greek food…” Sloane said. She had meant it as a joke, but it brought up memories of Antonio and she felt her mood drop a little.

“Take a look at this,” Hank said, turning the book towards them.

Nick looked over the picture and nodded. “Yeah, looks like them.”

“Huh, well, I hope it's been translated,” Monroe said.

“Yeah, a few times. French, Russian, German...” Hank said, flipping through some loose pages tucked with it.

“Ah, I got English,” Monroe said, waving a sheet and leaning over to read it by the desk lamp. “Ka... Kallikantzaroi...” he pronounced slowly.

“That's the English?” Hank asked dubiously.

“I... that's, I think, what they're called. "December 1730, I arrived in Dresden at the order of king Augustus the second, the strong, having been successful at tracking down and dispatching Kallikantzaroi"…Rye? Roy. I don't know. "In the Greek isles the year before, I suddenly found myself much in demand, but my discovery of what they were was not without its pitfalls. Before my time, it was assumed that Kallikantzaroi were goblins who descended upon cities to wreak havoc during the celebration of Christenmas, but after several bloody decapitations, I was horrified to learn that they were...Children of the Indole gentile."”

“They're kids?” Hank asked, horrified as well.

“That's what it says. I've known several Indole Gentile. Very nice people.”

“…Oh god…we have bludgeoned, kidnapped, and drugged a child that we’re keeping in a dog crate,” Sloane said, torn between horror and wanting to laugh in a manic way at how awful it was.

“Let’s…try not to think about it that way,” Nick said, though he was also feeling a bit guilty now. “So, where do the Kallikantzaroi come from?”

“Well, there's more right here,” Monroe said, clearing his throat. “"Kallikantzaroi are rare among the Indole gentile and appear to manifest during pubertas, lasting about 12 days and linked somehow to the bruma."”

“The what?” Hank asked.

“Oh, that's Latin for "winter solstice." Why do I know that? I don't know,” he said, shaking his head in confusion at his own array of knowledge.

“So, Kallikantzaroi are children of Indole gentile who somehow go through a puberty transformation during Christmas but only at night,” Nick clarified.

“Yeah, I mean, I wonder if it's triggered by the days getting shorter, you know, like Krampus…”

“Well, I don’t think the council can lock all these guys up,” Sloane said.

“Are you telling me it's all about raging hormones?” Nick clarified.

“I... you know, it's either this or acne with them, I guess,” Monroe said, throwing his hands up in a _“Might as well be this”_ gesture.

“Anything in there about how to stop them besides, you know, cutting off their heads? 'Cause I'm not down with that,” Hank said.

“Me neither,” Sloane said, and Nick nodded as well.

“I understand,” Monroe nodded, leaning back over. “Let's see…"Now, knowing I was dealing with children, I put away my sword and worked feverishly to discover something that would stop them. King Augustus, however, had found the answer for me. By chance, his mother discovered the Kallikantzaroi were insatiably drawn to sweet cakes. The king ordered the royal Baker to create the first stollen, a German sweet cake made with candied fruit. It stood 7 cubits high and weighed 6 stone." Wow, that's like an 84-pound cake! "As strange as it sounds, when they overindulge, it renders the Kallikantzaroi harmless, returning them for good to their natural state once the sun comes up."”

“German sweet cake with candied fruit?” Hank asked, smiling a bit at how amazing it was all coming together now. “Sound like fruitcake to anybody else?”

The Grimms looked at one another in surprise and Monroe leaned back. “Wow…So there's actually a reason for fruitcake. Huh.”

\-----------------------

They could hear the commotion inside when they pulled back up to Monroe and Rosalee’s house. Monroe went in first and woged, roaring and scaring off not one but three of the Kallikantzaroi. Sloane had hanged back to try and grab one and subsequently yelped when one launched itself at her, knocking her flat and then running off.

“Sloane! You okay?” Nick yelled, rushing back down and over to her.

“Nothing hurt by my dignity…” she sighed. “They’re faster and heavier than I thought they’d be. Also, two more than I expected…”

Nick chuckled and offered a hand down. Sloane blushed but reached up and grabbed it, letting him help pull her up. She tried not to hold on too tightly when he let go.

“How'd they get here?” Hank panted.

“It's got to be the smell. I mean, something that bad travels,” Monroe said.

“Well, can you follow them?” Nick asked.

“Not in three different directions at once! They’re moving too fast also…”

“No way we're gonna put out an APB,” Hank said. They sighed and headed back up into the house. As they’d expected, the inside was completely decked out for Christmas. A few things were minorly torn down, but it was still mostly intact. Including the antique trainset set up between the dining room and the kitchen.

“Monroe, I'm so sorry,” Juliette said, helping Rosalee set the coffee table back upright after one of them flipped it over.

“Yeah, by the time we got to the garage, they were already out,” Rosalee sighed. “Why didn't you guys tell us there were more?”

“We only had one,” Nick said, shrugging with an apologetic look.

“We didn't know they would find each other,” Hank added.

“Ah, but you saved the Marklin,” Monroe said, looking at the train in relief.

Rosalee nodded, still holding a frying pain. “Nobody was touching this train. Over my dead body.” Monroe looked smitten all over again as he went over to kiss her.

“Look, this is my fault, by the way,” Nick sighed. “I should never have brought him here.”

“Did you figure out what it was?” Juliette asked.

“Yeah, a "Kallikarkazoi,”” He pronounced slowly.

Monroe nodded. “Yeah, it's some sort of, like, rare, seasonal, hormonal disorder that apparently only affects certain children of the Indole gentile.”

“They're Italian?” Juliette asked, noting his pronunciation.

“Actually, Greek, but they're only supposed to wreak havoc for the 12 days of Christmas,” Hank said.

“12 days? We have 5 more days of this?” Rosalee asked, horrified.

“Maybe if we brought the Krampus back, they’d cancel each other out…or he’d eat them…” Sloane said thoughtfully.

“No,” Nick said. He knew she was kidding, really, but it was funny to see her pout at him.

“We got to figure out where they're gonna strike next,” Monroe said.

“Even if we do, how do we stop them?” Juliette asked.

“Fruitcake,” Nick said, disbelieving still. The others were just as confused but they quickly ran down the story before splitting back up again to go home and rest for the night.

In the morning Nick texted her that they had some information about the Order. She went to join them for breakfast while Trubel explained that she, Josh and Bud had staked out Shaw’s house and made notes on who Bud recognized and what they were. There were at least five men that showed up, which were already not great odds.

“Without evidence tying them to the Wolfsangel or the brick through the window, we can’t arrest them,” Nick sighed.

“I mean, isn’t this a wesen issue?” Trubel pointed out.

“Well, yes…but we try to use the first as often as we can.”

“If they threaten them again though, I’m swatting them,” Sloane said, sipping her coffee.

Nick looked at her in confusion. “Do you know how to SWAT someone?”

“Yeah. I throw a flashbang in there, then I go in and swat them. With a bat or a sword. Gets the message across.”

“I like that plan,” Trubel said, and Nick just shook his head.

“Good morning,” Josh said, coming into the kitchen in a robe.

“Hey, you want coffee?” Juliette asked.

“Oh, yeah. Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for letting me stay here,” he said honestly. “Hey, Nick, you said you thought the guys who were in my dad's house were "Hungjagers." Am I saying that right?”

“Hund. Not Hung,” Trubel said.

“Right. Those are the same kind of wesen that attacked me and my dad when we were out here.” They nodded, remembering the attacks. “Look, I think I'm gonna have to go back home and deal with this however I can, but is there any way that I can learn more about this stuff before I go?”

Nick looked considering, then looked at Sloane and nodded subtly to Trubel. Sloane arched her brow but then nodded as well. It made more sense this way considering they needed to track down a bunch of hormonal children. “Yeah, I think there is,” he said, looking at Trubel more squarely.

Trubel blinked then straightened, surprised. “You cool with that?”

“If you are,” Nick nodded.

“Yeah. I think you’re at a good place to help him,” Sloane nodded.

A slow smile spread across her face and she looked excited that they trusted her with that.

Nick’s phone rang then, and he picked it up to speak with Monroe. Apparently, he’d found a medical alert bracelet that must’ve fallen off one of the Kallikantzaroi. It was their first lead on their identities and they quickly headed out to visit the address. It looked like a very normal two-story brick colonial, with simple decorations and a wreath on the door. Nick knocked and they waited until a woman with olive skin and dark hair answered the door.

“Mrs. Katsaros?” Nick asked.

“Yes?”

“I’m Detective Burkhardt. This is Detective Griffin and Detective Larson. Do you have a son named John?”

“Yes. Is something wrong?” she asked, worried.

Nick held up the bracelet they’d swung by Monroe’s to get. “Is this his?”

“Oh, my God,” she gasped. They saw her woge then—her skin became iridescent and pale green-gold, her ears larger and pointed, and her eyes grew huge and doe-like, taking up half her face. “You’re the Grimm,” she gasped, backing up slightly.

Nick quickly held up a hand. “We’re also cops, and we’re concerned that your son might be hurting others or get hurt himself.”

She looked unsure a moment, but it obviously threw her that they were talking peacefully. She hesitated but stood to the side to let them in. “Let me get my husband…”

“Thank you,” Nick said. Sloane and Hank nodded as they headed in, going to the sitting room. Mrs. Katsaros quickly went to get her husband from upstairs and he looked immediately wary of them as well. HE woged, having a similar look to his wife, then changed back. “You really are Grimms…what are you doing here?”

“It’s a bit of a story,” Sloane said. “But we’re here to help you and your son.”

“My son? What does he have to do with this?” he asked, defensive.

“We don’t mean any harm,” Hank said. “But we need to talk with you all about a matter concerning…what you are.”

“Have you ever heard of Kallikantzaroi?” Sloane asked. The looked surprised but still wary. “We ask because we’ve had reports the last few nights and we’ve figured out that they are the ones causing trouble.”

“And we think your son may be one of them,” Nick added.

“Kallikantzaroi?” he asked, surprised. He slowly sat down, his wife sitting next to him. “I know it's possible, but it's rare. Like Tay-Sachs disease in the Jewish population or sickle cell anemia in African Americans,” he said, trying to explain why that couldn’t be right. Sloane and Hank glanced at one another but didn’t comment.

“Only a very small population of Indole Gentile of Greek heritage are even susceptible,” his wife added.

“John never showed any signs.”

“He's a very sweet boy.”

“He's home every night,” the father laughed.

“Are you sure?” Hank asked carefully.

“We found your son's medical bracelet in one of the homes that was attacked,” Nick added, holding it out again.

They looked at one another in surprise then frowned in thought. “He must have been sneaking out at night…That would explain why he's been so tired,” his father said. He’d obviously wondered but didn’t want to believe it was true.

“Where is John now?” Sloan asked.

“He's performing with the St. Demetrios youth choir tonight,” his mother said.

“Wait a minute. The St. Demetrios here?” Hank asked, holding up his phone after pulling up the picture he’d taken of their crime map.

“Yes, that's our church. It's how we all keep in touch with our Greek heritage,” she nodded. “People come from miles around.”

“Where's the choir performing tonight?” Nick asked.

“The Christmas concert and tree lighting at the church. We were just on our way there.”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Sloane said, looking at the clock on her phone. “The sun’s going to set soon.”

“Do you have a photo of John?” Nick asked.”

“Of course,” she said, getting up and going to a credenza with several photos.

“If I could talk to my son first, I...” the father started, obviously worried how they were going to handle this.

“Sir, he's not the only one,” Hank said. He frowned more but sighed.

Mrs. Katsaros handed Nick a framed school photo of a young boy of maybe about 13 who smiled at the camera innocently.

“Thank you. I promise, we have a method to stop them without hurting them.”

“We just need a way to administer it,” Sloane reminded him quietly.

Nick frowned but then nodded. “We’ll get that too and meet you at the church.”

“Alright…” she said slowly, unsure.

\---------------

“A truck full of Fruitcake” was going to look weird on their expense report, but she figured Renard would let it slide when they explained. Monroe and Rosalee were enlisted to help set up trail of fruit cake from the church doors down to the waiting truck. They were going to try and pull the choir to a side room to contain them when they transformed. But they were too late—they transformed while up on stage and started causing mayhem. They destroyed decorations, flipped tables, jumped and pulled the tree down—all in the span of minutes. The detectives worked to try and keep the innocent people there from being assaulted in the confusion. Then the little gremlins paused and followed the sweet scent of cake outside. They went out the door, down the steps and into the truck as planned, where Monroe and Rosalee locked them in and drove them to a more secluded area.

They and the Katsaros explained what happened to the other parents. They found a place to hole up and rest for a while until sunrise and in the morning, they opened the truck to see three creatures morph back into pre-teen boys, for good if the book could be believed. It was a huge relief. And Sloane had to admit, the fruitcake wasn’t terrible. She still preferred sugar cookies though.

Nick drove Sloane back to her house and they were surprised that Trubel was waiting out on the porch for them, with her old army-style backpack next to her.

“Trubel? You’re up early again,” Sloane said, getting out with Nick.

“I wanted to get an early start,” she said.

“You going somewhere?” Nick asked.

Trubel stood in front of them and it felt weirdly like they were parents with their child.

“Sloane…Nick…I can't thank either of you enough. You saved my life,” she said, looking up that them with sincere eyes. “But well…things are sort of back to normal, and you don't need me as much as you did…”

Sloane frowned and put a hand on her shoulder. “Trubel, that’s not—”

“No, it’s true. And it’s a good thing.”

“Is this about Chavez?” Nick asked. “Is she bothering you again to join her?”

“She did contact me again, yeah. I don't trust them, and I don't think it's right for me,” she said honestly.

“Then what are you—” Sloane started.

“Just let me finish, or I might not make it,” she said quickly. Sloane quieted, but still felt worried. She had a feeling what was coming but had thought it might wait till summer. “Josh came here, and I heard his story. He wants to go back home. I don't think we should let him do that by himself.”

“You want to help Josh?” Nick asked, a little surprised.

“Yeah, I think I should try,” she nodded. “But, um, I can't, you know, say good-bye to everybody. Not in person. Monroe and Rosalee and Hank...But especially Juliette. Saying goodbye to you two is hard enough…”

Nick frowned in sympathy and then smiled and put a hand on her other shoulder. “Yeah, look. We're not going anywhere, and I think you should do whatever you want to do.”

Trubel looked relieved, then looked at Sloane worried. She sighed again and then smiled. “I…am going to miss you. A lot. But he’s right. We’re going to be here if you need us and you’ll have a bed here when you need it.”

She smiled more, and sniffed, trying to keep from crying.

“How are you gonna get there?” Nick asked.

Trubel wiped at her eyes, trying to get back under control. “We'll figure it out.”

“I think I have something that might help…Is Josh at my place still?”

“Yeah?”

“Alright, let’s head over there.”

“Alright… I need to make a stop on the way, but I’ll be right behind you. Why don’t you go with Nick?” Sloane suggested.

She looked at Nick and he nodded with a smile. “Okay…I’ll see you there.” Sloane nodded, getting into her own car and driving off. Trubel got into Nick’s and he started for his place. “…Nick, there’s one thing I do want to ask for from you…”

“Name it,” he said. That was something Trubel liked about Nick. When it came to people needing him, he didn’t hesitate to try and help.

“Look after Sloane.”

He blinked and glanced at her before looking back at the road. “Sloane? She needs looking after?”

“Yeah…I mean, I’m just…She’s strong, I’m not saying she isn’t. And I think she’ll be okay. But ever since Idaho, she’s been…off. In private, when she’s not with the rest of us. But I’ve seen her. She’s been having a lot of nightmares. I hear her wake up sometimes. When I asked her about it, she says they’ll go away on their own. I think…I think she’s trying to not let it affect her. But it did. And I get that because I did that too, but I don’t know how to make it better! I’m worried about her. I thought about not going, but…”

“Hey, don’t worry. I’ll look out for her,” Nick nodded. He could tell she meant what she said, and he wondered how bad Sloane was getting when they weren’t looking to scare Trubel that much. “And so will Rosalee and Monroe—we’re all here for her.”

She sighed and nodded. “I know…But I know she’s trying to hide it too. I won’t be there anymore so that’s why I’m asking.”

“Got it…” He kept driving, thinking that over. Sloane always seemed so strong; it was hard imagining her breaking down like that.

Sloane meanwhile made her stop and then went immediately to Nick’s house. He was coming out of the house with Josh as she pulled up. “Hey, thought you got lost for a second,” he called.

“I stopped to grab something.”

He nodded and Trubel looked at her curiously but followed Nick as he went to the garage, opening it up to show a dusty, wood paneled Jeep Wagoneer inside. “This was my aunt Marie's. This is what she brought the trailer here with. I didn't want to sell it, but this seems like a good way for it to move on.”

Trubel was awed, looking at it like it was the best car ever even under all the dust. Josh looked amazed as well and smiled at him. “I promise I'll take good care of it,” he said.

Nick smiled and made to toss him the keys, only to have Trubel grab them out of the air. “Nah-uh. First shift.”

They all smiled, and Sloane sighed. “I grabbed a parting gift as well…at the bank.” She pulled a fat envelope out of her jacket and handed it to her.

Trubel opened it and looked inside, her eyes getting big. “Sloane, how much is in here?”

“Enough to get you to Philadelphia and get you started,” she said. She looked at Josh. “It’s to help you too because you might need to get a new job at this point.”

“I…thank you…”

“I-We can’t take all this,” she said, getting flustered. “I mean, you just bought a car, and who knows what will happen later—”

“Trubel, look at me,” Sloane said, putting her hands on her shoulders. “I paid cash for my car. I paid cash for my house. Neither of those put a dent in my finances.” Nick and Josh looked at one another, surprised. Sloane never talked much about money. “My grandmother made sure I’d be well taken care of on top of money I got…well, we won’t go into how. It’s a pain to draw it out because the money is in a lot of places, but it’s not scaring me to give you this. I just wish I had something better to give honestly…”

She looked at her in confusion. “Sloane…you gave me my life. Both of you but…living with you was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Sloane felt her heart twist a little and before she really thought about it she hugged her tightly. Trubel hugged her tightly back, tearing up a bit again and hiding her face against the other woman’s shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger,” Sloane said quietly. Part of her wanted to say, “don’t go”. Wanted her to stay where she could see her, where she could make sure nothing killed her. As a kid she’d once asked for a sister—an awkward conversation with her Grandmother ensued and she’d cried all night at how unfair it was she couldn’t have one. There was no way her mother would have another child. Now she wondered if this is what it felt like.

“I won’t.”

After a quick wash with the hose and a sudsy bucket, Trubel and Josh were off. They waved as they drove away, and Sloane sighed. “My house is going to seem empty…”

Nick looked at her, thinking on what Trubel said. “Why don’t you stay for dinner,” he suggested. Sloane felt a little lighter at the invitation. “I don’t think Juliette will mind.”

At the mention of Juliette, she felt a little twist in her gut this time. “…Sure, that’d be great.”

\-----------------------

When Sloane did get home, it did feel empty. And quiet. Trubel had gone out more frequently in the last few weeks—but she’d always come back. Now she was off on her own again. But she was prepared, she told herself. Trubel was not going to have the same problems she did before they met her. And she had to believe that she was ready for anything else.

The nightmare that night was Trubel disappearing into darkness. Sloane was starting to get very annoyed at her brain. She kept telling it everything was fine, but it didn’t want to listen.

Christmas came and went, and by extension Hanukkah. Sloane had hesitated practicing, but she had brought down her family’s Menorah from her Grandmother’s house. She had to look up a lot about how to do the lighting and the songs. It felt a bit silly at first to light them alone—and she’d very nearly used the wrong candle to do it. But the memories came back as she did. They weren’t the most devout family, but her Grandmother had tried her best to make sure she felt close to her Jewish roots. She remembered lighting the menorah as a child and it brought those memories back. Tinged by sadness, it was still nice, and she put a picture of her Grandmother next to the Menorah the first night. That helped her continue each night.

That year Hanukkah ended on Christmas Eve and it felt right to do the last night with her friends. She invited them for a combination Holiday party and all of them came—Nick, Juliette, Hank, Monroe, Rosalee, Bud and even his kids. Sloane had been fine with them coming and had even made sure to get some Gelt for them—in this case, chocolate coins. David, Ben and Sarah came as well for a quick visit and David taught Bud’s sons how to play with the Dreidel. His mother reminded him not to take all their coins.

It was a good night and after a week without Trubel it helped make her feel at home again even alone.

But the bad dreams still came.

\-------------------

**Chupacabra**

**\------------------**

A few more days passed, the Christmas rush calming and finally going. But their demand didn’t stop.

“Victims were found this morning around 5:00 A. M. by a neighbor,” Wu sighed, leading them past the crime tape. They were on what looked like a normal suburban street, out in the open. Not the usual place for a brutal murder.

“"Victims"? There's more than one?” Hank asked.

“Victim one, who has been identified as Justin Murray, was taking his dog, victim two, on what appears to be a late-night or early-morning walk when they were attacked,” he said, pointing at the two bodies covered by yellow tarps.

“They killed the dog too?” Sloane asked.

“Possibly first, which is more concerning in my book. No witnesses yet, but we do have a lot of neighbors who said they heard what they described as growling and screaming.” Nick frowned and pulled the tarp off the man. A huge chunk was missing from his neck and he hissed in sympathy. Wu wrinkled his nose and nodded. “Seems like their throats are ripped open and the blood drained, judging by the fact there's not a lot of blood on the ground…”

“Looks like something bit into his neck,” Nick agreed.

“And by "something" you mean?” he asked quietly.

“Not sure yet.” He looked at Sloane who shook her head.

“Not enough to narrow it down just yet. Not your average wesen though.”

“Uh, I'm not sure I understand what average is anymore in this city, not that I have any opinion that makes sense, 'cause, you know, I'm ready to go with vampire or wolfman. …Is that racist? Wesenist?”

“Neither.”

“Neither?”

“No, I mean, it’s not “wolfman”—that would be Monroe’s branch and they’re called “blutbad” for a reason. Any other lupine wesen too, blood would be _everywhere_.”

“…Terrifying, thank you for that clarification,” Wu said blandly.

“Wait, what about vampire?” Hank asked curiously.

She shrugged. “Couple that suck blood for one reason or another. Like the lebensauger we faced before. But none of them leave marks like that either. This is like…stabbing a beer can in order to drink it.”

“And again, thank you for that clarification,” Wu said, disgusted. “You guys can shoot more theories later, in private maybe?”

“Right, sorry,” Nick said, a little amused by Wu’s cringe face.

“Anyway, neighbor found them this morning,” he went on. “Recent immigrant from Ecuador, Manuel Fierros. Mr. Fierros!” He called. An older gentleman looked up at his name and nodded to the officer that had been taking his statement before walking over to them.

“Yes?” he asked.

“This is detective Burkhardt, detective Larson, and detective Griffin. They want to ask you a few questions.” He nodded, looking at them.

“You found the body?” Nick asked while Hank took notes.

“Yes. I find them _muy temprano_ , um, is early. I call 911. I see run... walk him every night with his dog,” he said in broken English.

“Do you live in the neighborhood?”

“I living with my cousin.”

“Did you see anything else unusual, any other people or cars driving by?”

“No, I think that's it, but I hear him scream. I was asleep, and I hear him. I come outside and find him... them _muertos_.” He sighed, looking at them sadly.

“All right, thank you, Mr. Fierros,” Hank said, grabbing a card out of his pocket to hand him. “If you can think of anything else, please...”

“But I know,” he said, confused as he took the card.

“What?” Nick asked, confused as well.

“I know what kill him.”

They looked at one another and then back at him. “I thought you said you didn't see what happened,” Sloane asked.

“I did not see. I know,” he said more firmly. He gestured at the bodies. “You see this? Blood of man and animal. _Es el Chupacabra._ ”

All eyebrows ticked up. “Uh, excuse me? Chupacabra?” Wu asked. “The urban legend Chupacabra, that Chupacabra?”

“Only Chupacabra kill like this,” he nodded.

Nick looked at Sloane, but she shook her head slightly. This was news to her…

When they returned to the station, they got to work researching. Sloane sighed however, rubbing over her eyes. She was still having some trouble sleeping and while Grimms could do fine on limited sleep and even a night or two without it, she was starting to feel the lag. Leaning back, she closed her eyes to try and rest them.

Hank frowned. “Everything okay there, Sloane?”

“Yeah, just…little eye strain.”

Nick looked at her and frowned as well. “You need a break?”

“No, I can keep going…”

“If you need to rest your eyes it’s fine. We’re still waiting on a lot of inquiries to come back.”

“Yeah. Why don’t you go take a walk for a bit?” Nick suggested.

She hummed but then sighed and nodded. “Alright, sure. I might run a quick errand while I’m at it.”

“Sure. We’ll update you when you get back or let you know if anything comes up,” Hank said.

“Thanks,” she nodded, heading to her car. She then drove over to the Spice Shop and headed inside. “Rosalee?”

“In here!”

She headed to the side room and paused in surprise when she saw Juliette. “Oh! Hey, I didn’t know you were here…”

“Yeah, I just, um…had something to talk to Rosalee about…I just got here too.”

“I was making some tea. C’mon, we can all chat…uh, right?”

Juliette looked at Sloane and smiled a little awkwardly. “Well…yeah, maybe you could help me figure this out too.”

“You have a problem?” Sloane asked, walking over while Rosalee set down some tea for all of them.

“Yeah. I came because I’ve just been having a lot of aches and pains. And they haven’t gone away. I couldn’t join anyone in Idaho because of them. Now I’m getting them more often and I’m getting nauseous and…”

“I suggested she might be pregnant,” Rosalee said, smiling.

Sloane gasped as she was sipping her tea and turned away as she coughed. Rosalee was surprised and went over to pound on her back. _Pregnant?! But then…no, yeah, i-it makes sense. Of course, she and Nick might be expecting a kid. Stop feeling so…betrayed! There is no reason too!_

“You okay?” Juliette asked.

“Y-yeah, sorry, just wasn’t expecting that,” she gasped, knocking on her chest softly. “Uh…congrats?”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you both, but I don’t think that’s what’s going on,” Juliette said.

“Did you have an ultrasound?” Rosalee asked, sitting back down between them. Sloane drank her tea to clear her throat and try to hide relief.

“No, but I took a pregnancy test three times. I'm not pregnant,” she said. Sloane thought she might’ve detected a bit of relief in her voice as well.

Rosalee sighed, disappointed but worried as well. “Well, maybe you should have an MRI, then…”

Juliette shook her head, sighing as well. “I've been under a lot of stress. I think I just need something for the nausea.”

“What about the headaches?”

“That too. …Sloane, this started happening after we got Nick’s powers back. Do you think maybe it’s still a problem with that?”

“Oh, I…don’t know,” she said honestly. “I mean, I had no idea a Hexenbiest could take a Grimm’s power that way to start with. I think probably Renard’s mother, or another Hexenbiest would be a better source for that.”

“It’s okay, I knew that might be the case,” she nodded. “Doesn’t hurt to ask though. I’m not all that worried, I don't think it's anything life-threatening if I’m still standing after two months.”

“Oh, it's serious, but it's not life threatening,” Rosalee said.

“I don't even think it's that serious.”

“You said it was getting worse though?” Sloane asked, worried now.

“Nick had headaches after what we went through. It could just be one of the side effects,” Juliette said, trying to make things sound better.

“Let's hope not,” Rosalee said. “I'm gonna put together a few things for you. I'll give you enough to hold you over while we're gone, but if it gets worse, you need to see a doctor.”

“Yes, mom,” Juliette said teasingly. Rosalee laughed and got up to get a few things together. “Still can't believe you guys are finally going on your...”

“Don't jinx it!” Rosalee said quickly, looking back at her from putting something into a bag. They all chuckled, and Juliette’s cellphone went off.

“Right, sorry,” she said, pulling out the phone. She smiled and accepted the call. “Hey, babe. …No, I'm at the spice shop with Rosalee and Sloane…Yeah, Sloane’s here,” she looked at Sloane and mouthed Nick. Sloane wondered what happened. “No, there's not a problem. They're still going.”

“Don't jinx it!” Rosalee called again.

She laughed but listened to Nick again before nodding. “Yeah. I'll tell her and we’ll meet you there. Okay. Bye.” She hanged up and looked at Sloane. “So, Nick wants to meet at the trailer. He thinks I can help find something for a case?”

“Oh yeah, you’re fluent in Spanish,” she said, remembering that now. “Someone and their dog were killed last night. Heavily Hispanic/Latino neighborhood. One of the residents thinks it was the Chupacabra.”

“That exists?” Juliette asked, eyes wide.

“Maybe?” she said, shrugging. “We’re not sure but there’s a chance if it does it might be in Spanish.”

She nodded. “Okay. I’m happy to help of course, whatever I can do.”

“This will hopefully help,” Rosalee said, handing her the bag. She looked at Sloane. “What about you? I mean, I’m happy to see you of course, but it’s rare you turn up all of a sudden. Was it about the case?”

“No, um…It’s nothing, really.”

She frowned more. “Sloane…”

“…I just…am having trouble sleeping, that’s all. Wanted to see if you had anything I could take,” she admitted.

“Of course, that’s pretty common,” she smiled. She walked over to a shelf and grabbed a box, going over to her to hand it over. “This is an old recipe my father used for years, a special tea blend. Should help.”

She smiled and took it, looking it over. “Thanks, I’ll give this a try then. And I don’t want to jinx you, but I do want you to have a safe trip.”

“Aw, Thanks,” she said, giving her and Juliette a hug.

“You put that sign up as soon as we leave and have a fantastic time,” Juliette said, gesturing at the _Closed: On Honeymoon!_ Sign she had printed out.

“Thanks, I will,” she nodded. Both ladies headed for the door. “I'll see you in a couple weeks! Very tan!”

They left and headed out and over towards where they parked. “…Um, Sloane…can I ask you a personal question?”

Sloane blinked and paused. “Um…depends on the question if I’ll answer but you can ask…”

“I just…have you ever thought about kids?”

Her eyebrows rose to her hairline. “Oh! Um…yes. But…” She sighed, pulling her hair back. “When I was younger, Collin always talked about them like it was inevitable. And I figured sure, someday. But then I went out on my own and…I don’t know. I mean before, when I was traveling all the time, I thought I decided it was something I shouldn’t do. And my mother and I don’t have a great relationship…”

“Yeah…the Grimm life seems rough to raise kids,” she said. It sounded like she’d thought about it before.

“…Not gonna lie, yeah, it is. And dangerous, even if you don’t travel around. Maybe more so. But…you know, if you and Nick ever did…have kids, you’d have one hell of a back up system with all of us. You know we’d protect all of you.”

Juliette smiled and hugged her, surprising Sloane. “I know…I just…I’m honestly glad I’m not. Because I just don’t think it’s a good time, you know?”

“Yeah…no, I understand,” Sloane said, patting her back. “And I think Nick would too if you did talk about it with him. He…doesn’t seem like Collin. He wouldn’t force the issue. Literally…”

“No, God, he’d never,” she agreed, pulling back. “I am so sorry you had to even know that guy, he sounds like a monster.”

She nodded and sighed. “Well, he’s the only real boyfriend I’ve had. Any wonder why it put me off them?” she joked.

“Well…if you’re ever interested, I might know some guys,” she said teasingly.

“Ah, maybe when we’re not currently hunting a killer creature,” she said.

“Seems like you’re always hunting though,” Juliette pointed out. “I’m not trying to pressure you—If you’re happy on your own that’s great! I just thought maybe, if you were avoiding it before, it could be something good to try again.”

“Maybe…” She could never tell her the one man that had caught her eye was Juliette’s own boyfriend. That was wrong on so many levels. Juliette was great and she didn’t want to break them up, honestly. She wanted them to be happy. “I’ll let you know if I think the time is right.”

She nodded, smiling as they headed to their cars.

\----------------

Nick and Hank had continued a bit of research while Sloane was gone. They got their background back on their victim: Justin Murray had transplanted from New York seven years ago. Nothing else about him stood out or seemed to point to a reason someone would come after him. Out of curiosity, Nick looked up Chupacabra. The first thing he found broke the word down to its meaning, which was essentially “Goat Sucker”. Apparently, it was something believed by many Spanish-speaking countries and colonies to prey on the blood of livestock. Since Juliette was fluent, they decided to ask for her help in research. That’s why they’d called when they did. They opted to go to the trailer because Sloane was sure—after organizing her collection again while her leg had been recovering—she had nothing about Chupacabra in her books. So, they started looking through the books as soon as they all arrived.

“My grandma used to blame the Chupacabra for everything...” Juliette said, looking through some of the pages of a book. “Dead relatives, missing pets, even lost keys.”

“Then according to your grandmother, a Chupacabra is a pet-eating, key-stealing, goat-sucking killer,” Hank said playfully.

“And I thought we wore a lot of hats,” Sloane smirked.

“It is especially dangerous if you are out alone at night or you get into a car with a boy or come home late. I learned that the last two weren't exactly true,” she said, smiling back.

“I might have something,” Nick said suddenly. “A Waeldreor. I mean, it's Puerto Rico 1975. It's in Spanish.”

Juliette walked over, leaning over him a little to look at the book. Sloane tried to ignore a twinge in her chest, focusing on Juliette’s translation.

“"I followed the rumors to a small town of moca in Puerto Rico where the locals had dubbed it _el vampiro de moca._ Initially I had suspected it was Wesen. I was only half right. Whatever it had once been, it was now horribly deformed and seen by all. Whatever the disease was... Mange, rabies, malaria, perhaps even leprosy... Completely transfigured the Wesen into what has been known since the middle ages as a Waeldreor. The Wesen was buried beneath the disease. "”

“Waeldreor are Wesen that contracted some kind of disease?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, seems like,” Nick nodded, turning a page.

“That's it! That's the Chupacabra,” Juliette said, pointing to a picture of a canine-like wesen with wild eyes and blood dropping from its nose and mouth. “That is exactly what it looks like, according to my grandma.”

“It’s like the grausen then maybe?” Sloane asked, remembering the parasite Daniel Keary had to deal with that turned him into a little monster.

“Maybe? But that was a parasite, who knows if that’s what this is. It might be a viral infection,” Juliette sighed.

Nick’s phone rang as they spoke, and he picked it up. “Yeah, Monroe…Slow down. What's up?...We're on our way.” He quickly stood and ended the call.

“What happened?” Sloane asked.

“The Secundum Naturae Ordinem Wesen are back, and Monroe is not happy.”

They all quickly followed him out and to their cars to head back to the shop as fast as they can. When they get there, Monroe lead them to the back where a dead, gutted fox was hanging by its tail over the shop’s back door.

“I didn't touch it,” Monroe said, agitated. “I didn't think you'd want me to.”

Nick nodded. “We're gonna need it as evidence…”

“When did you find it?” Hank asked.

“I didn't. Rosalee did. She, uh... she got a call here earlier today,” he said, anger flaring.

“I'm assuming the caller wasn’t stupid enough identify themselves,” Sloane said, angry as well.

“Nope. He just said if she didn't leave me, it would be her blood next.”

Sloane’s anger flared with his again. _I’m going to gut them when I find them!_

“Well, we can run the number, but my guess is he made the call from a burner,” Nick sighed.

“I find who did this, they're dead,” Monroe growled, pacing back into the shop.

“I’ll help,” Sloane agreed. Monroe nodded, glad they were aligned on this, though Nick sighed.

“We think it was somebody at your wedding who told somebody else,” he said.

“What?” Monroe gasped, betrayed.

“Before she left, Trubel was able to identify some people who we think might be members of this group. I've been monitoring two of them.”

“Give me their names,” Monroe said, eyes reddening slightly.

“Not yet,” Nick said firmly. “We don't know how many people are involved. And we can't take a chance on blowing it. We've got to get 'em all.”

“He won’t tell me either,” Sloane muttered, folding her arms.

“They threatened Rosalee directly. They could have killed her,” Monroe said, agitated still.

“You just need to make it through one more day,” Nick said soothingly. “Then you get to go on your trip, and we’ll take care of this.”

Hank’s phone rang and he pulled it up. “It's Wu. I'm gonna put him on speaker. Wu, what do you got?” he asked, putting the phone on the table near them.

“There was another attack. Happened in the parking garage of St. Joe's. Same M.O.”

“Any witnesses?” Nick sighed.

“Yeah, a couple for good or bad. Good news is the victim survived. They took him right into the hospital. He's stable.”

“What about the attacker?” Hank asked.

“Got away.”

“And a description?”

“That’s the bad news because oh, boy, did we get a description. Some kind of wild dog in clothes. So whatever Sloane says, I’m leaning towards wolfman.”

“We don’t appreciate that term,” Monroe muttered.

“Canvass the area. We're on our way,” Sloane said loud enough Wu would hear.

“See you soon,” he said, hanging up.

Nick sighed and looked at Monroe. “Look, we have to get to this case, but I promise you I will find whoever did this.”

“Maybe I should stick around,” Sloane suggested.

“While I’m sure you’d enjoy ripping them to shreds with Monroe, I don’t think they’ll be back tonight and we might need you with us,” Nick said. “Juliette, I think Monroe and Rosalee need to go to our house.”

“That's what I've been telling her,” Juliette said, patting Rosalee on the back. Sloane sighed but nodded since they’d at least be safer in a group.

“Call me when you get there,” Nick said, heading back out with them.”

Going to the hospital, they were able to speak with the victim, Dr. Gabe Reyes. He explained he was leaving for the day when he thought he saw his friend, Dr. Diego Hoyos, on the ground near his car. He thought he’d fallen and gone to check on him when a creature turned and attacked him. He said it was Diego’s clothes and car but that it couldn’t have been him. When another car came driving around for a space, the creature had run off and the woman driving had gotten help.

They decided to visit Dr. Hoyos to see if he was the wesen they were looking for. A sure sign was that he lived on the street their first victim and his dog were killed on.

Knocking on the door, a pretty young Hispanic woman answered. “Yes…can I help you?”

“We’re looking for Dr. Diego Hoyos?” Sloane said.

“I’m his wife…what’s this about?”

They flashed their badges. “Can we come in and ask a few questions?” Nick said. She frowned but nodded slowly and let them in. “Is your husband home?”

“I've been trying to call him, but he hasn't answered,” she said, wrapping her sweater closer around her as the cold air followed them in.

“When was the last time you spoke with him?” Hank asked.

“This morning before he went to work. Can you please tell me what this is about?”

“Your husband's partner, Dr. Reyes...He was attacked earlier this evening,” Nick said.

“Oh, my God. Is Gabe okay?” she asked, horrified.

“He's recovering in the hospital.”

“We believe your husband might have seen what happened,” Hank said.

“He was there?”

“We think your husband may have been involved,” Nick amended, trying to be delicate.

She looked shocked and slowly shook her head. “No. No, I don't believe it! He wouldn’t!” As she got more upset, she woged suddenly. Soft brown fur sprouted all over her and her face turned dog-like with pointed ears and big brown eyes. She gasped, backing away, looking between Nick and Sloane in fear.

“Hey. It's all right,” Nick said quickly. “We’re not gonna hurt you or your husband, but we need to know... Is your husband also Wesen?”

She eased back slightly, nodding. “Coyotl, like me…You're the Grimm. I've been told about you. But I didn’t know there were two…”

“We try to keep it on the down low,” Sloane said. “Is your husband…generally good with people?”

“Yes! Everyone loves him, he’s the kindest and most gentle man I know! Diego wouldn't hurt anybody!”

“He might not be in his right mind is the thing,” Sloane said, turning sympathetic.

“Have you noticed any change in his behavior?” Nick asked.

“He just came back from a long trip. He was very tired. He works hard,” she said, trying to explain.

“Was your husband home all last night?” Hank asked.

She hesitated. “I…I'm not sure. When I woke up, he was just coming in. He went for a walk. He... he couldn't sleep.”

“Do you know one of your neighbors was attacked early this morning?”

She looked down, saddened. “Yes. Justin Murray. It's awful.”

“Your husband could be very sick,” Hank said. “We need to talk to him as soon as possible.”

Nick pulled one of his cards out of his wallet and handed it to her. “Call me as soon as he gets home.”

She hesitated but took the card, nodding softly.

Heading out, they were surprised to see Wu waiting. “Hey…everything okay?”

“Yes and no,” he sighed. “I…saw whatever it is your looking for. Franco and I were canvassing the area and I saw it for a second before it ran off. I got out to go after it, but then I lost track of him. It was a creature with fur and long ears and…a lot of blood around its mouth.”

“Oh geeze, Wu,” Nick sighed. “I’m sorry, that must’ve been…”

“Actually, it wasn’t as bad as I thought,” he said. “I mean, ever since the Aswang incident I’ve known and I’ve kind of braced myself. You know, when I wasn’t running and telling myself that not looking for trouble meant it wasn’t out there. I’ve had all these close calls where I knew you guys were looking for _something_ but managed to avoid it because…because I was real scared I was going to lose it again. Go back down that road where I was seeing monsters everywhere and feeling like I can’t do anything. Because even knowing doesn’t prepare you for some things. But I saw it, and I went after it. I didn’t run from it. I wasn’t…terrified of it. I was more thinking “I can’t let that thing hurt someone else.” And that’s like why I became a cop.”

They all smiled in relief and nodded. “That’s good,” Nick said, setting a hand on his shoulder. “That’s what all of us thinking when this kind of thing happens.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Yep. Welcome to Team Grimm,” Sloane smiled.

“…Huh…Um, well, he still got away though.”

“It happens,” Hank sighed. “We’re going down some leads right now. Owner of this house, Dr. Hoyos, may be who we’re looking for.”

He looked at the house and swallowed but nodded. “What is he?”

“If it’s what we think, he’s a very sick Coyotl,” Sloane said. “He may not be aware of what he’s doing. We need to do more research and see if we can cure him and…where we go from there.”

“Cure?”

“We try to avoid killing when possible,” Nick reminded him. “We think this is like a virus that’s causing him to…go feral. Rabid, but not like rabies. And we think that that is the source of the Chupacabra, that it’s wesen with this virus.”

“So, Mr. Fierros was right,” she added.

“Wow…so there’s things like that? Wesen viruses?”

“More things in heaven and earth,” Hank said sagely.

“Unfortunately, not many of our ancestors leaned that way and sent them to heaven or hell,” Sloane said. “So, we need to catch him first and try to research what to do with him to stop it.”

“…Have you considered a big net?”

They all smiled a bit at the joke. Then a scream split the night air and they all turned to the house. “Oh shit!” Sloane said, running back for the door with them. They found a Coyotl that looked half mangled with mange attacking Mrs. Hoyos. Nick and Hank rushed him, grabbing him and hauling him away while she held onto the scratches at her neck.

“Wu, get her!” Sloane yelled, trying to maneuver her cuffs around him. Wu roused himself from shock and rushed to grab Belem, pulling her away. As they got the cuffs around Diego’s wrists and turned him over, he woged back. He looked sweaty, feverish and had blood around his mouth. He was shaking and his eyes were glassy, unfocused and unsure what was going on.

“He’s not in good shape…I’ll call Monroe and Rosalee, see if they can meet us at the shop,” Nick said.

“They can help with this?” Wu asked, looking at Diego with wide eyes.

“Rosalee is an herbalist and apothecary specializing in this,” Sloane said.

“They can help my husband?” Belem asked.

“We’re going to try. You can come with us, but we need to go now,” Sloane said, helping to get Diego to his feet and out to their car.

Getting to the shop wasn’t as hard as they worried about, but Rosalee and Monroe were immediately in action when they got through the door and they saw Diego. “Oh, we have to hurry,” Rosalee said. “If he's had the disease for more than 48 hours, he could permanently become a Waeldreor.”

“"Permanently"? As in forever?” Monroe asked, looking over the book with her again.

“Well, they don't live that long. Sorry,” she added, noting Belem’s worried look. She went over to a book and Sloane went over to see it while she read off the ingredients. The page showed a wesen turning into a Chupacabra but called it “Ka Dinga Pepo”—The Devil’s Disease, or so the translation under it said. Sloane was relieved she knew what this was. Looking up cures for wesen diseases was never something a Grimm did so none of her books or Nick’s likely had anything. “Okay, we need dried papaya leaf, ground tawa-tawa herb. The vial's in the top drawer right there,” she said to Monroe.

“I know. I know,” he nodded, grabbing the bottles.

“India pennywort, got that,” she said, going over to one shelf. “Oh, shoot, we're almost out.”

“How bad is "almost out"?” Hank asked, standing by Diego to watch him. He was leaning into his wife who was gently stroking his hair.

“I only have enough for one dose,” she sighed, shaking the jar a bit.

“Well, one is all we need,” Nick said.

She nodded, going back to the book. ““Grind the ingredients together with liquefied cow's knees.””

“"Cow's knees"?” Hank asked, unsure if he heard right.

“Radix cyathulae seu achyranthis...Chinese herb,” she clarified as Monroe climbed a nearby ladder to a higher shelf. “We need to inject the mixture into his spine. Hank, could you get a syringe out of that top drawer?”

He quickly went over to the drawer. “Got it. Where are the needles?

“Back of the drawer,” Monroe said.

“We're gonna have to heat this up,” Rosalee said, starting to get the ingredients together.

“Where's the burner?” Sloane asked.

“Right here behind the counter,” Monroe said, helping her grab it and get it quickly set up.

As they did, Belem suddenly reeled and then fell to the floor.

“Oh, no. She's fainted!” Rosalee said, moving towards her.

“No, stay back,” Nick said quickly. Wu moved away from her, unsure now. As Nick knelt, she started shaking and shuddering. “She's convulsing!”

“Oh crap…he must’ve gotten his blood in those wounds!” Sloane hissed. “Nick!”

As they watched she rose slightly, feverish and eyes bright. She woged and her form was no longer furry but covered in leathery, scabbed skin and she growled low.

“Don't anybody move,” Monroe said.

“That doesn't sound like a strategy,” Nick said between his teeth. Belem snarled and swiped as if to take his head off with her clawed hand. He ducked out of the way and grabbed her around the middle, slamming her down. Sloane felt suddenly ill, thinking about her dreams—about Amy preparing to stab Nick. But unlike the dreams, when she moved her legs took her flying across the room and she got to them, forcing Belem’s head down with an arm over her neck.

“Put your cuffs on her!” Nick yelled.

“Just a second!” Hank yelled back, trying to maneuver her around. Wu had his hand on his gun as he watched. Monroe grabbed the syringe where he left it and brought it to Rosalee to load. Once it was ready she quickly walked over to them as they turned her over, but Sloane held up a hand.

“Wait, there’s only have one dose,” Sloane pointed out.

“Which one do we give it to?” Rosalee asked. She was right next to Diego and gasped when he surged up suddenly.

“Rosalee!” Monroe yelped. Diego’s hands went up and grasped the syringe just as Wu and Hank pulled their guns.

“I got to take him!”

“No, don't shoot!” Nick said. Sloane had to quickly move back as Diego brought the syringe down into Belem’s back, injecting her. Everyone was frozen in shock and he pulled it out slowly. She convulsed again and he turned her over as she woged back.

“Shh, shh, shh, shh,” he said, reaching up with his cuffed hands to stroke her cheek even as she looked at him with growing tears. She knew what he’d done. “ _Belem, mi Amor..._ ” he said softly. His face was rippling as though to woge, but he was fighting it to keep looking at her. “I love you…”

Sloane was shocked. And further shocked how _painful_ it was to see this. She’d been terrified of Belem hurting Nick, but now she had to watch as that same woman was saved by the man she loved at the cost of his own life.

They all knew how this was about to play out. Hank took a breath and though he didn’t want to, he brought the gun up. “Back away…”

He looked up at him, and at Nick and Sloane. “Kill me…” he pleaded, his face rippling more.

Nick shook his head. “We can help you…”

“Just…a little time,” Sloane said.

He closed his eyes as if in pain, the ripples going faster. “No,” he choked out, in pain. “It's too late.” He slowly rose and woged once again, snarling at them. When he moved, Hank and Wu both fired twice into his chest. Belem screamed and he went down, gasping a searing breath through the wounds. He turned back again, slumping against one of the columns as he tried to breathe. Wu and Hank lowered their gun and Wu looked more horrified at what he’d just done. Belem quickly crawled to him and he looked at her. “ _Te amo…_ ” he whispered again, his last breath.

“Diego,” she choked, reaching up to cup his face. She watched his eyes dim and his body sagged as the life left him. She sobbed and leaned in, crying.

\----------------

“You okay?” Sloane asked, dropping Wu off back at his car. They’d figured out to take Diego’s body back home. Belem cried the whole way but said she’d call it in and say that it was a home invasion. Wu was going to be the first on scene. She was still in shock but knew they’d tried to save him. It was Diego’s choice that she’d be saved instead. Nick was already calling Renard to tell him what happened and make some arrangements.

“…I know that…that in that moment I had to do that or one of us was going to get hurt. But…Is it bad I didn’t really think about wesen being _people_. I mean, I know we know some and you say they don’t do anything bad, I just…thought they might be the exception, not the rule. I didn’t think about how some might get sick. Might sacrifice themselves for love…”

“…I didn’t think about that much most of my life,” Sloane said. “It’s only recently I really let myself get close to them.”

“…He was a good man.”

Sloane sighed and nodded. “Yeah. You are too, for the record. This doesn’t change that. It’s just…a lot of bad luck.” She frowned. It was an awful explanation. She hated thinking about “bad luck”—that things didn’t happen for a reason. But it was true. Chaos happened, death and accidents happen. Illness happened. _What can I save anyone from?_ It was a question she’d asked herself as a child after her grandmother died. The answer she wanted was _anything._ It was rarely the answer she got.

Wu smiled, not knowing about her inner turmoil, then sighed. “I’ll talk to you guys later. Gotta take care of everything here, then I should probably get some rest.”

She nodded, heading back to the car. They escorted Monroe and Rosalee home and called in to let them know they needed protection for the night. She hugged Rosalee. “It’s not your fault,” she said quietly.

Rosalee was surprised but smiled sadly and hugged her back. “Part of me knows that…the other part is cursing not ordering more pennywort last fall. Maybe not giving it to him fast enough and getting some for her…”

“Not. Your. Fault,” she said again, squeezing her. She pulled back and smiled. “I want you to go on your honeymoon tomorrow and remember that you still saved someone. He just chose who for you. Don’t let it mess up your happy time.”

“She’s right,” Nick said. He smiled, Monroe and Hank close behind him. They’d been making sure all the doors and windows were locked, and that the officer they’d asked Renard to send over was ready and in place outside in his car. “And while you’re gone, we’ll be hard at work. We're gonna try get a lead on who made the call to Rosalee.”

“We're gonna get this thing wrapped up before you get back,” Hank added.

“I hope to God it's nobody we know,” Rosalee sighed.

“Well, it's gonna be somebody who knows somebody we know,” Monroe said, putting an arm around her.

“Whatever happens, whatever we find out, we are not calling you while you're gone,” Nick said.

“The officer will stay outside until you leave in the morning,” Hank added. “Any calls that come in on any of your phones will be recorded.”

“And then once we find them, I will burn them alive,” Sloane said with the same comforting tone. This was how it should be. No one should be worried about her.

“Sloane,” Nick warned.

“Fiiiine…I’ll kill them first then burn them.”

They laughed, Nick shaking his head a little as they all hugged.

“Thank you all,” Rosalee said.

“Have a good time.”

“Have a Mai Tai for me,” Hank said, heading out the door.

“More than one, my friend,” he called back. Sloane sighed as they headed for their squad car, waving at Officer Acker in the car before they headed out.

\----------------

**Wesenrein & Tribunal**

**\-------------------**

When she got home, Sloane sighed and rubbed over her face. Diego’s death left a bad feeling in her. By all reports the man was a great doctor and cared about people. He loved his wife enough to sacrifice himself for her. The fact he was dead now was sad, but the fact that it wasn’t even a malicious force made it worse—there was no one to seek vengeance against or feel like they could stop. It was an illness. It could and would happen again. He’d pleaded for death in the end rather than hurt anyone else.

And the worst part was in a sick way she envied them. A love that strong wasn’t something you saw every day in real life and to see it in action was a bit humbling. He probably heard them say 48 hours, he could’ve taken the risk and cured himself to see if they could cure his wife. Instead he gave her the antidote right away rather than flip that coin and let himself fall. Sloane wondered if she could ever do something like that.

It also made her wonder about her crush on Nick. Yeah, she’d rushed to try and help him, but she would’ve done that regardless. Feeling more was pointless. He loved Juliette. Hell, his feeling for her broke spells! And she loved him. What was the point falling for him? _Maybe…maybe I just want that. Maybe I’m latching on to Nick because he’s pretty much the nicest guy I’ve ever known. Like really known, on a deeper level. He’s one of my best friends. Yeah, that’s it. I’m not in love with him! I’m just confused because he’s a decent guy._ She nodded to herself, thinking that was what made the most sense. She then went to get ready for bed. She didn’t want to, thinking about how she might have another nightmare. Maybe she should ask Rosalee when she got back if she had something to make them go away?

She set her electric kettle on to try some of that tea and went to go change for a shower when her phone rang. She’d picked up the habit from Nick of personalizing ring tones and she recognized “Every Rose has it’s Thorn” by Poison as Rosalee’s song quickly. She grabbed it off her bedside table and answered. “Hey, Rosalee—”

“Sloane, they took Monroe!” she practically shouted.

Sloane turned to stone a moment, wondering if she heard that right. “I-what?”

“They took Monroe! H-he went outside, and they must’ve grabbed him, he’s gone, and Officer Acker is on the ground!”

“Okay, where are you?” Sloane said, immediately going into crisis control.

“In the house.”

“Did you lock the doors and call 911?”

“Y-yes! Oh my God, Sloane,” she sobbed.

“Listen to me: Stay inside, away from the windows. Keep the doors locked and wait for 911, I’ll get Nick and Hank and we’ll be there soon.”

“O-okay.”

“I’m going to hang up now to call them but text me if 911 gets there first.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to get as calm as Sloane was. Having her give orders was strangely reassuring.

Sloane hanged up and quickly got dressed again before rushing to the car, trusting the kettle to shut itself off as it usually did. She called Nick from the car and found once again she was glad she paid for the deluxe model with blue tooth. “Sloane? What’s up?”

“Rosalee just called me, Monroe is missing,” she said, reversing quickly out of her driveway.

“What?” both men barked.

“What about Acker?” Hank asked.

“She said she found him on the ground. She’s called 911. I’m heading over there now, can you two get there?”

“Yeah, we were almost to Hank’s house, but I can get around,” Nick said.

“Good, I’ll meet you there.” She hanged up and focused on driving, getting to Rosalee’s in record time. So did Nick and Hank thanks to the lights and siren on their car and they pulled up together around the cop cars that had already arrived. They found Officer Acker standing nearby with an ice pack on his head. He was a thin, reedy man with sandy blonde hair. He looked up at them with a remorseful look, but another officer first met them.

“What happened?” Nick asked.

“Officer Acker saw someone on the street, he got out of his car to investigate, he got cracked on the head and dragged somewhere up there.”

“Any witnesses?” Sloane asked.

“Not sure, we're working on it.” The nodded, going over to Acker to get a direct update.

“How you doing?” Hank asked.

“I feel terrible, man,” he sighed. “It's all my fault…”

“Can you tell us what you saw?” Nick said.

“Not much. I thought I saw something, got outside to look, was hit from behind.” He turned to show them a nasty bump on his head.

“You see any vehicles?”

“No. It happened so fast.”

“Why were you out here alone?” Sloane said, a little angry.

“I figured it would be better if my partner rested up, we took things in shifts…” he said sheepishly.

Nick put a hand on Sloane’s shoulder, trying to silently tell her to calm down. She huffed but looked away from them. “Alright, take it easy,” Hank said, nodding to Acker as they turned to head inside.

Rosalee had obviously been crying but she stood up quickly when they came through the door. “Did you find out anything?”

“Officer Acker was hit from behind. He didn't see anything,” Nick said, his agitation making him talk quickly.

“We've got somebody talking to neighbors to see if anybody saw anything,” Hank added

Her face screwed up and she hugged herself. “We need to find him before they hurt him!”

Sloane walked over and Rosalee hugged her even before her arms were all the way open. “We will,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, we will. But right now, I need you to calm down and answer a few questions, okay?” Nick said, calming down and talking soothingly.

She gave a shuddering breath but nodded, pulling back enough she could talk. “Okay…Okay.”

“You said you went outside?”

“To look for Monroe. He brought officer Acker something to eat and he didn't come back,” she said, trying to not break down again.

“Did you hear anything?”

“No, I was on the phone with my mom,” she said, her voice cracking a bit. Sloane rubbed her back slightly.

“Any other calls? Threats?” Hank asked.

“Not since the spice shop. If they hurt Monroe, I'm gonna kill them. I will hunt them down and I will kill every one of them!” she snarled, venom in her voice. Sloane would normally be a bit concerned but she understood why all things considered Rosalee was ready to kill. She had been slightly joking when she threatened to kill these bastards earlier—figuring they were a bunch of cowards as most racists were—but now they showed they were serious. So, she would get serious as well.

“Right now, what I want you to do is grab what you need,” Nick was saying. “I'm gonna have someone take you to our house.”

“No. What if they call?” Rosalee asked in fear.

“We'll forward any calls to you on your cell,” Hank said. “We don't want you here.”

“They’re right,” Sloane said. Rosalee looked at her and she squeezed her slightly. “I’ll be on the case with them, so you’ll be safer with Juliette.”

“And I will call you as soon as we find out anything,” Nick said. Rosalee sighed, looking close to breaking, but she finally nodded and moved away from Sloane’s arm. “Hey, Rosalee. We will find him. Okay?” She sniffed but nodded to him and he nodded back. “Now grab your stuff. I'll call Juliette.”

Sloane followed Rosalee, part paranoid and part wanting to be there for her. She was stuffing some clothes into a bag and had to pause as she started crying. “Rosalee…” Sloane said, going over. She turned and hugged Sloane again, sobbing. Sloane held her close, unsure what to say.

“I’m scared…” she sobbed.

“…I know. We are too. But we’re going to get these bastards and we will get Monroe back. I promise you.”

“Sloane, don’t make promises you can’t—”

“I _promise_ you,” she said again, the conviction in her voice sounding like a spell, pulling back to look her in the eyes. “I’m getting him back and they will pay for hurting my friends.”

\----------------

“Why'd you get out of your car?” Hank asked. They were back at the station. Nick had two female officers take Rosalee to his house after calling Juliette. Now they were sitting to ask Officer Ackerman for some more details.

“Kid walked by the house wearing a hoodie. I didn't think anything about it, except a few minutes later I thought I saw the same guy cross the street, so I went to go check it out.”

“Was it the same guy?”

“Couldn't tell, it was dark. He was near the trees. I was about to call it in. That's when I got hit. Went for my weapon, got hit again. Don't remember anything after that. Just waking up in the woods and hearing the wife scream.” He pantomimed a bit as he spoke, wincing at the bump on his head. He was a younger officer, fresh faced and obviously new to the hot seat. “I know I screwed this up, you guys, I'm sorry.”

“It happens,” Nick sighed. “Go home, get some rest.”

“All right,” he nodded. He glanced at Sloane, knowing she was angry. But she nodded to him as well and he quickly got up to retreat while he could.

“Why'd he wait to call it in?” Nick asked, watching him go.

“Maybe he's trying to be a hero,” Hank suggested.

“He failed,” Sloane said.

“He’s young and new to the force. I know you bypassed that stage, but we all make mistakes while in the blues.”

“I made mistakes as a kid and got the scars to prove it,” Sloane said a bit more waspishly. She then sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sorry…just…”

“We know,” Nick said, patting her back. “We’re all on edge.” He noted the dark circles under her eyes. Trubel saying she was having nightmares came back to him and he frowned, wondering if he’d neglected trying to talk to her for too long.

“We should go talk to Renard,” Hank said, gesturing to the office.

Nick and Sloane nodded, and Nick grabbed the file of info they had gathered already to take in. Renard seemed on edge as well but nodded to them when they came in and immediately closed the door. “I heard something’s happened to Monroe and Rosalee?”

“Yeah. They were facing some scare tactics from a Wesen hate group,” Sloane said.

“Secundum naturae Ordinem Wesen. Also known as Wesenrein. Heard of it?” Nick asked.

“Unfortunately,” Renard sighed. “While I’m not blind to how many Wesen live, I’m rather disgusted by them. They’re actions are a choice.”

“Well, they’ve reached that level here. They kidnapped Monroe,” Hank said.

Renard sat up straighter. “Damn…Rosalee?”

“Not taking it well but safe,” Nick said. He pulled out a sheet of a paper from the file and held it out to him. “This is a list of the people we think are involved in taking Monroe.”

“Trubel did some work on this before she left,” Hank explained. “She found a Wesenrein mask on one of them.”

He looked over the paper but sighed. “Being part of a hate group is not a crime.”

“Well that’s bullshit,” Sloane said in disgust.

“Agreed but I can’t change the law at my level. You have any evidence tying them to the kidnapping?”

“Yeah, we have a brick through the window of the spice shop that had a symbol of the wolfsangel on it. And then they burned the wolfsangel in Monroe and Rosalee's front yard,” Nick said.

“And they gutted a fox and hung it on their backdoor,” Hank added.

“So, we know this group is involved, and the longer this goes on, the less likely we are to find Monroe alive.”

“And if we don’t, I promise all of the people on that list will be dead,” Sloane said. Her tone was not darkly playful as it sometimes was threatening violence. She was serious. And Nick and Hank didn’t dissuade her.

“We need to move quickly. Starting with the first name on that list, Shaw Steinkellner,” Hank said.

Renard looked at them and then nodded. “Bring him in. We’ll see what to do from there.”

They nodded, heading out quickly.

\----------------

Shaw was not a small man. For a klaustreich, he was built like a bear and just as hairy with his long beard and wavy hair down to his shoulder blades. They pulled up to his house just as he was leaving, and their breaks screamed as they pulled to a stop and jumped out.

Shaw stopped still and held up his hands. “I already told your Grimm friend I got no beef with you!”

“Monroe... where is he?” Nick said. “You know the Wesenrein have him.”

“Don't know what you're talking about,” he denied.

“Well, we think you do,” Hank said.

Shaw eyed them then darted, trying to run. Sloane had been ready though, moving just out of his immediate vision. And in the direction she figured he’d go. In two strides got in front of him and clothes lined him hard with her arm to his neck, sending him down. He gasped, looking up at her in confusion. “Do NOT make us chase you,” she warned. Nick and Hank came over and handcuffed him quickly.

Hank patted him down for any weapons and pulled out a mask like the one Trubel had found on the schakal before. “Well, what do you know?” Shaw huffed, rolling his eyes as they hauled him up and to the car to take him in. They got him to an interrogation room quickly without others seeing and immediately started in questioning after alerting Renard to get into the observation room.

“You wanna tell us about that?” Hank asked, throwing the mask down on the table.

“Cool, huh?” Shaw smirked. “Gonna wear it for Halloween.”

“So why is it in your pocket? Halloween's a long way away,” he pointed out.

“Maybe you were gonna scare some people tonight?” Nick asked.

“Yeah. Cops.”

Nick rolled his eyes and Hank continued. “You know, you could spend a lot of time in prison for kidnapping.”

“Kidnapping? What kidnapping?” he said, doing a decent enough job and seeming confused. This wasn’t his first interrogation. “You got nothing on me.”

“Tell us about the Wesenrein,” Nick said.

“What's that, some kind of beer?” The playing dumb was now getting obnoxious.

Nick sighed and looked at his partners. “Give us a minute, will ya?”

“Sure,” Hank said, going out the door. Sloane stayed behind, staring daggers into Shaw’s skull. Nick put a hand on her shoulder and leaned in to whisper. “Let me try first. Then you. No sense ruining the surprise yet.”

Sloane switched her gaze to him, unsure. But Nick’s jaw was set, and his eyes were hard. He wasn’t playing good cop bad cop—or even bad Grimm, Worse Grimm. He was itching to make Shaw talk as much as she was. But Shaw thought Nick was the only Grimm in Portland and Nick was right that it was their current and possibly only ace up their sleeve. Sighing, she headed out the door as well. She followed Hank into the observation room where Renard was already watching.

“Oh, now you're gonna get tough with me?” Shaw laughed. “What, you gonna throw me around?”

“Well, this should be interesting,” Renard said.

“If I get to be alone with him next, I’ll show you plenty of interesting,” Sloane said, folding her arms.

“You know where Monroe is, and you know who has him,” Nick said, pacing slowly by Shaw.

“Monroe? Is that his first name or last?” he quipped lightly.

“I'm not gonna ask again,” he warned.

“Good. 'Cause I'm getting kinda bored.”

“So am I.” Nick’s hand shot out like lightening, cupping the back of the man’s head and smashing it to the table with a loud bang. Sloane was a little surprised Nick did it, but she eased back slightly. Seemed he was ready to be bad cop/bad Grimm.

Shaw shouted in pain then growled and stood. “You're dead!” He woged and Nick didn’t even flinch. The fight drained out of the bigger man quick. “I-I thought you weren't a Grimm no more...” he said, voice quivering.

“Well, you thought wrong,” Nick snarled. He grabbed Shaw around his thick neck and with his innate strength, pinned him to the wall. Sloane could see it, how his skin turned pale like it did whenever he would turn into a zombie. But his eyes were clear and so was his voice with the sharp edge of anger cutting his words. “Where'd they take him? Where'd the Wesenrein take him?”

Shaw gasped and choked, unable to break the grasp as he woged back. “I…would rather be killed by a Grimm than cross the grand master,” he sputtered.

“Let's see if that's true,” Nick growled, tightening his grasp.

“He's going to kill him,” Hank gasped.

“Get him out,” Renard ordered. Hank was already moving but Sloane stayed still.

“You don't know what they'll do to me,” Shaw said.

“Where is he?!” Nick shouted.

Hank burst through the door and quickly went over to break them up. “Nick! Nick! You need to get out of here.” Nick growled in frustration but finally let go. Renard headed out of the room as well to go in as Shaw gasped, falling to his knees. Hank eyed Nick, who’s color returned quickly.

He brushed past him in agitation as Renard entered. “You all right?” Renard asked Shaw, bored.

“No! He tried to kill me! Gonna sue him. Sue all of you!” He shouted after Nick. Nick went into the observation room. Sloane nodded to him, not commenting one way or the other. He was fine with that.

“I understand you're upset,” Renard started.

“I want a lawyer!”

“See, here's the thing,” he went on patiently. “There's a more primal law at work here. Now, you're a Klaustreich, Nick's a Grimm. I wouldn't push it.” Shaw looked up at him in surprise but had the sense to settle down at the warning while Renard closed the door and went back to them.

“He knows. The son of a bitch knows,” Nick said. “I'm trying one more time.”

“No, no, no,” Renard said, holding up a hand.

“Then let Sloane do it!”

“Uh, if you think I’m going to be nicer, you’re wrong,” she said. “If I go in there, I will break the chair on his head.”

“No,” Renard said, harder. “Our best chance right now is to put Shaw back out there and see what he does.”

“We can't let him go,” Nick argued.

“Right now, we've got nothing on Shaw or any of the other guys,” Renard pointed out calmly. “Let's put someone on Shaw's house.” Nick nodded, moving to go past him but he set a hand on his chest. “Not you. You stay.” Nick looked at him indignantly, but the Captain remained firm. “Listen, we can't just put anyone on Shaw. Has Wu been informed what’s going on?”

“No,” Hank said.

“Then get him. He’s already brought himself into the Chupacabra case, now we need him here. Then Shaw can lead us to the others, and hopefully Monroe.”

Nick sighed but finally nodded, calming just slightly. Renard let him go and they all filed out to go make the next steps in preparations.

\---------------------

Nick was the one to track down Wu right as he came into the precinct. Wu was surprised but smiled. “Hey, man, what’s up?”

“Hey…Have you heard about Monroe?”

“Uh, no, I’ve been asleep for a while…why?” Nick looked around and motioned him to follow him into Renard’s office where the others were. Nick closed the door and Wu looked at them a bit worried. “What’s going on?”

“Monroe’s been kidnapped. By a wesen hate-group called Wesenrein,” Nick said.

“What?!” He said. “Wait, why was he kidnapped? Is he Grimm?”

“No, he’s wesen. And so’s Rosalee,” Sloane said, realizing they hadn’t told him. “This has been a problem since they got married but it’s escalated.”

“Why?”

“Monroe is a Blutbad and Rosalee is a Fuchsbau,” Nick said. “Two different wesen. Apparently some don’t like them being together. They’ve Threats, vandalism…to the point we had Officer Ackerman watching their house last night. But someone apparently got the drop on him and kidnapped Monroe.”

“Got the drop on him? Is he okay?”

“Got a bruise on his head but otherwise fine. It’s Monroe we’re really worried about. And we need your help,” Renard said.

“My help?”

“Yes. We know one man who must’ve been related, but we can’t prove he was in on the kidnapping. We have to release him. But he knows I’m a Grimm and what we all look like, so we need another cop to help keep tabs on him till we have the information we need. See if he’ll lead us to him.”

Wu nodded slowly. “A steak out.”

“Yeah. Look, I know it’ might be a lot to ask so soon, but…” Hank said, worried that Wu might get scared off again.

“No, yeah, I’m in,” he said, nodding and looking determined. “Monroe and Rosalee are good people. I’ll tell you the moment something happens.”

They smiled in relief and nodded. “Thanks. Now, this and what we do next might fall out of normal police procedures...”

“We hope you’re okay with that,” Renard added.

“Because we are,” Sloane added.

Wu looked a bit worried but finally nodded. “After last night, I figured some things might fall in that category. But if it’s for the greater good I’ll follow your leads here. Just…keep me in the loop.”

“We will, don’t worry,” Sloane said, smiling now.

He nodded. “I’ll go start now if he’s already been released.”

“Right. Call one of us directly if anything happens,” Nick said.

Wu nodded and headed out of the office again. As he was heading to the door, he was stopped by someone behind him. “Hey, sarge. Sarge, listen!” He turned, surprised to see Ackerman jogging up. “Um, you heard I messed up?” he asked, sheepish.

Wu smiled sympathetically. “I heard someone hit you. And on that note, what the hell are you doing here? You should be home, getting some sleep.”

“No, I feel like I should be doing something to make up for this,” he said, looking worried.

“Listen, you're a good cop. Sometimes it doesn't go your way,” he said.

“How can I help?” he persisted.

“Go home and get some sleep.”

“I can't do that, sergeant!”

“You can if I order you to. Go home.” He turned and headed out then, not noticing Acker’s angry glare as he left.

\--------------

Despite Wu staying in front of Shaw’s house practically all night, he was woken from a light doze by a woman screaming to find him dead at the back of his house early in the morning. He called Nick and the others immediately and they rushed over from trying to find any connection with the people of Wesenrein to where they could be keeping Monroe.

“Nobody came in or out of the front, so whoever got to him got to him back here,” Wu said, agitated. Nick knelt and pulled back the tarp. Shaw’s throat was torn open, but he was already cold and grey.

“Somebody didn't like that he talked to us,” Hank observed.

“Why would you go out the back unless you thought you were being watched?” Nick sighed.

“Somebody tipped him off,” Hank sighed.

Wu wrinkled his nose. “So, another wesen did this?”

“More than likely,” Sloane sighed.

“Great…Can you tell by the way he died what kind of wesen?”

“No.”

“No.”

“It’s a common method, so no,” Sloane sighed.

“Let's check inside,” Nick said.

“This way.” Wu led them into the house, where they started turning it upside down for anything that could point them in the right direction.

“Found something!” Hank called from the front. They walked over to see him pull out a black robe from the hall closet. A familiar symbol was stitched in front in silver and they felt their blood boil seeing it. “What do you think he wore this for?”

“That's a wolfsangel,” Nick said.

Wu however saw something else that got his attention and he marched over to a wall of photos. Pulling one off, he stared in open-mouthed disgust at the photo before turning it to them. It showed four men including Shaw on a fishing trip and one was very familiar. “Isn't this officer Acker?”

“Son of a bitch,” Sloane growled.

They got back to the precinct to update Renard, who was just as angry at the thought one of his men might be a part of this. But the evidence was stacking up considering he was on duty when Monroe was kidnapped and had distracted Wu before he left. He ordered them to get more evidence before pulling him just to be safe and keep from alerting anyone else. Wu went to pull phone records and in an hour they were pouring over them.

“I got a 1:45 A.M. call to Shaw's house from Acker,” Sloane said, highlighting the call. They were in one of the back rooms so that the others wouldn’t hear them.

“That's right after we let Shaw walk,” Nick sighed.

“And before that, he made a call to Harold Johnson who's on our Wesenrein list,” Hank added.

“Okay, this is weird. Although based on the last 24 hours, what isn't?” Wu said dryly. “Acker made 13 calls to Oregon state penitentiary. Last call was made five weeks ago. First call six months before that.”

Nick took the page when he held it up, looking it over. “Let's call the warden and see who Acker's been talking to…”

Another hour and they were following Renard back to his office and updating him.

“All Acker's calls were made to an inmate named Walker Williams,” Nick said.

“We know who he is?”

“No connection with Acker except for the phone calls that we found so far,” Sloane said. “But Acker visited him eight times in prison. So, either he’s his boyfriend or…”

“What's he in for?” Renard asked.

“Four years, for armed robbery,” Hank said, holding up a file.

“So why is Acker calling and visiting a guy in prison he doesn't seem to know? And I’m going to go ahead and say no to the boyfriend theory.”

“Sorry, must be the romantic in me,” she said snidely.

“Well, it could be Williams is making the calls for the Wesenrein,” Nick said.

“Then he'd know where Monroe is,” Hank said.

“Alright, get to Williams, fast,” Renard ordered. They nodded and rushed off again. Wu would keep looking at the information he could find while Nick, Hank and Sloane went to the prison. They had the Warden pull Walker Williams out and bring him to room for questioning. And whatever they expected, it wasn’t a small, wiry young man with wide eyes and wheat colored hair.

“Um…hello?” he said, nervous.

“Mr. Walker…” Nick said, eyeing him.

“Yes, that’s me…um, how can I help you?” He sat down in the chair opposite Nick. Hank stood against the wall by his left and Sloane paced a bit, standing behind him.

“We’re here to ask you some questions about the Wesenrein.”

“Wesenrein? Am I supposed to know what that is?” he said. He was trying too hard to sound casual though.

“Well, you know Jesse Acker,” Hank said. “He called you 13 times and visited you 8. He knows about Wesenrein, so we're pretty sure you do too.” Walker looked a bit sick but tried very hard to stay calm.

“How'd you meet him?” Nick asked.

“I forget…”

“He called you 13 times, visited you 8 more. You don't remember how you met him?”

“I meet a lot of people,” he said evasively.

“Really? You meet a lot of cops in here?” Hank asked.

He looked up, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn't know Acker was a police officer?”

“He's a cop?” he asked, shocked.

“Yeah. And we’ve figured a lot out. He’s as good as turned you over to us,” Sloane said, making him shrink down a little.

“I got nothing to do with them!”

“With who?”

“The Wesenrein! I mean, I've heard of 'em, but...”

Nick leaned in, his gaze turning flinty. “The Wesenrein kidnapped a friend of ours. We know Acker was involved, which means now you are involved. And if anything happens to him...You're never stepping foot outside this prison.”

“Provided you want to keep all your pieces where they are,” Sloane added lowly.

Walker squeaked and then woged—into a maushertz. His eyes widened when he looked at Nick. “A Grimm? No! Help! Help!” He tried to stand but Sloane grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back down into the metal chair. Hank held up a hand when the guard looked in and Sloane took her hands off of him.

“Sit down and tell us what you know. Now,” she warned.

“I mean, I had nothing to do with any of it! I was only taking calls for Charlie 'cause he made me. And the visits? Those too.”

“Charlie who?” Nick asked.

“Charlie Riken. He was my cellmate. They call him the grand master. He's crazy, man! He believes in all that Wesenrein voodoo. He would've killed me if I didn't do what he asked.”

They looked at each other, annoyed that they came to another leg in their journey, but they had a name at the end of the line now. “Why'd he have you talk to Acker?” Hank asked.

“Riken didn't want anything traced back to him! I passed the names on to Charlie. It was Charlie who told Acker who to punish.”

“Riken still your cellmate?” Nick asked.

“What are you talking about? Charlie was released a month ago!” he said, looking at them desperately.

“I'll get the last known,” Hank said, heading for the door with Nick and Sloane closed behind.

“Just don't tell Charlie I told you, okay? Don't tell Charlie it was me that told you though, all right? Hold up! Hey, man!” Walker tried to follow them, but the guard stopped him in his tracks. Even so he yelled desperately, fearfully after them. “You can't tell him it was me!”

Hank had Riken’s last address within the next hour and they rushed over. The house was empty, however. They cleared it room by room, but no one was home and there was no sign of anyone coming back any time soon. Hank however did find a phone which they took back with them and Wu started a history on it.

“Were you able to make a connection between Officer Acker and Charlie Riken?” Renard asked.

“Indirectly,” Nick sighed.

“Acker got calls on a prison phone from Walker Williams, Charlie Riken's cell mate,” Hank summed up.

“But Williams is only the message boy for Riken,” Sloane said.

“Are we sure that Williams isn't just throwing the blame onto Riken?”

“Yeah. Riken's the shot caller. Got off five weeks ago. That's when Acker stopped calling and visiting,” Hank said confidently.

“We think he's the Grandmaster,” Nick said.

“Anyone contacting Rosalee? Any ransom demands for Monroe?

“This isn’t about money,” Sloane said, getting impatient. “They want to make an example out of Monroe.”

“Officer Acker's the only connection we have left,” Nick agreed.

“We have photos that tie him to Shaw, plus the calls and visits to prison. Not to mention he was the officer watching Monroe and Rosalee's house,” Hank said.

“Well, that's pretty convenient,” Renard sighed, but couldn’t argue with the stacking evidence.

“If Acker's working with the Wesenrein, he has to be Wesen,” Nick went on.

“We have to bring him in. We have to find out. We don't have much time left,” Hank said, getting more worked up.

Renard sighed but nodded. “Let's give Sergeant Wu a shot with this. He knows Acker. He's trained him. He might be able to get him to trip up before he knows we're on to him. But do you think he can handle a Woge? Because if he's not ready...I mean really ready...”

“I think he is,” Sloane said. “He handled the Chupacabra incident as well as any of us, all things considered.”

“But he did draw his weapon and shoot.”

“So, did I,” Hank said.

“You knew more what to expect. I just want to be sure that he’s not going to scream or go nuts if Acker woges on him.”

They looked at one another, unsure. Speak of the devil, Wu knocked on the door then. “Yeah?” Renard called.

He opened the door, stepping in. “The phone we found in Riken's house was used to call Monroe's house and the spice shop and _Officer Acker_ ,” he said. There was a hint of disappointment in his voice, but also anger. Finding out one of your fellow officers were involved in a hate group…well, they knew it happened more often than they wanted to admit, but it made them angry.

“That's good enough for me. Bring him in. Make him sweat,” Renard ordered.

“Got it,” Wu said.

“Wu...There’s one more thing we have to ask of you.”

Wu paused, looking at them all and frowning. “What?”

\-------------------

“You'll be in there with me, right?” Bud asked nervously. “I mean, you never know what can happen. Not everybody can handle a full woge.”

“I'll be there. So will Hank and Sloane,” Nick said patiently. Renard wanted to test Wu and Bud was forcefully elected as the introduction. Sloane couldn’t deny it was a good idea to let Wu see a non-combative woge. Hopefully this would help him be a bit more ready if Acker did. They didn’t know what he was yet after all.

“Oh, good, and he knows I'm a...”

“We told him not all Wesen are bad,” Sloane said. “He knows, this is mostly a formality. Being as calm as he can in this situation is to our benefit, so we want him to meet a friendly wesen face for once. You’re like…a wesen ambassador.”

“Oh…okay, good, good. Just leave it up to me,” he said, smiling. Nick gave Sloane a smile over Bud’s head and she shrugged, just glad that it seemed to calm him down. “Why me?”

“Because there's nothing scary about you,” Nick said.

“Right, yeah…Really? Nothing at all?” he asked, a little disappointed. They went into a meeting room and he smiled again once inside. “Hey, Hank.”

Hank nodded. He’d been in there giving Wu another talk about wesen and figuring all this out. Wu for his part looked wary but calm. “Bud, this is Sergeant Wu.”

“Oh, sure, yeah. Sergeant Wu. Nice to meet you formally. I mean professionally. Not in a criminal way,” he chuckled, then cleared his throat. “So how do you want to do this?”

“Why don't you sit down?” Nick suggested.

“Sit, right, good. Good idea.” He went over and sat in one chair at the table. Wu sat at the other. There were a few seconds of silence as bud had no idea where to begin.

“Just tell him the way it happens,” Hank said,

“Right, well, the...The way it happens. Well, it happens in a lot of ways. Not always the same, but usually... usually in the usual way,” he said, twitching nervously.

Wu was searching his face then shook his head slowly. “I don't see anything…”

“What? No, no, you wouldn't. I haven't done anything yet,” he said, laughing a little.

“He hasn't woged yet,” Hank said.

“You'll know it when he does,” Nick added.

“Okay…”

“I'm just getting ready to. I mean, it's not something you jump into right off the bat, you know? You have to be emotionally ready. That is to say... it doesn't just happen.” He laughed again, nervous. He then sighed and looked up at Nick. “This isn't going well. I can feel that I'm not...Look, you just have to know that when it happens, it's not something that I can be...Uh...I can't do it. I can't woge. I'm not feeling it.” He looked at them, desperate but guilty. “I don't know why. It's... This has never happened to me before. Hank, Nick, I can't, I won't, I just, especially in a situation like this, when you know you have to-” As he was talking, brown fur sprouted from his face and hands and his front teeth elongated. Wu gasped and stood up—this was the closest he’d been to a woged wesen since the Aswang incident. Even the Chupacabra had been across a room, not a table.

“Wu, take it easy,” Nick said quickly.

Bud blinked and then lifted his more paw-like hands to his face to feel over it. He groaned in embarrassment. “Oh, no. I prematured again.”

“You all right?” Sloane asked, looking at Wu.

He nodded slowly. “I…yeah, just…I was expecting it, but it was still a surprise…”

“It’s like that sometimes,” Nick agreed. “Bud is an Eisbiber.”

“Uh-huh…An Eisbiber,” he said, testing the word. He moved in slowly. The fear he might’ve felt once was replaced with a sense of curiosity and fascination as he looked Bud over. But turned back and he watched as all the fur disappeared and he looked like a normal man again. “This…this is a woge?”

“Yeah. Now there's two kinds. One only Sloane and I can see, because we’re Grimm. The other, anybody can see.”

“And that's what Bud just showed you,” Sloane said.

“Do it again,” Wu said, smiling a little. Bud smiled wanly.

Sloane sighed in relief then set a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “I need to go grab something. In case Wu questioning Acker doesn’t work, I’ll want to work him over myself.”

Nick stared at her a moment but sighed and nodded. “Go get what you need then. But be quick.”

She nodded, turning to head quickly to her car and back home. Going to her office closet, she moved a few bags around before grabbing a black bag similar to an antique doctor’s bag. She hefted and sighed at the weight. She hadn’t wanted to use this again, but it might be necessary. She also pulled down a cross bow and sword to have ready in her car.

She got back to the precinct just as Wu got Acker into the interrogation room. Sloane went in, standing next to Nick, Hank and Renard.

“What kind of cop are you?” Wu asked, closing the door.

Acker frowned in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Didn't I train you better than this?” he asked coolly.

“What're you talking about?”

“I'm talking about you can't even guard a _house._ What are you doing walking off and checking something out without calling it in?” he accused. “Now we got a kidnapping! You don't think that comes back on me?”

“I thought I saw something,” Acker said, looking down.

“What? What did you see that turned you into such an idiot?”

“Okay, wait a second, Sarge,” he said, getting a touch defensive.

“No. You tell me what you saw.”

He sighed, cowing at the tone. “I already told them I saw a guy in a hoodie.”

“Oh? And why didn't you call it in?”

“Because I wasn't sure there was anything...”

“So, what was it about this guy in a hoodie that made you want to check him out?”

“Just the way he acted.”

“Which was?” he prompted, keeping up the impatient act. Sloane had to admit, Wu was much more confident than she’d seen in months.

“He looked like he was watching the place.”

“So, you got out of your car, and you walked straight up to this guy, and you asked him what he was doing?”

“No, I got out of my car, and I got hit.”

“You didn't look around?”

“I was looking at the guy in the hoodie.”

“So not only did you go after a guy you weren't sure was involved, you let someone come up behind you.”

“Sir, it happened really fast,” he said, trying to explain.

“How'd you end up in the bushes?”

“They dragged me there!”

“"They"?” Wu said, turning back to him from the mirror. “How many was "they"?”

“Just the guy who hit me and the guy in the hoodie,” he said, trying to keep things straight now.

“So, if it was two guys, you must've seen 'em.”

“Sergeant, what the hell's going on here?” he asked, knowing that this wasn’t a normal dressing down.

“I know you're lying, Jessie,” Wu said, watching him steadily.

“I'm not lying.”

“You're Wesenrein, you're involved, and you know Shaw,” Wu said, still dead set and preparing himself.

Acker was surprised a moment before he woged, his nose turning to a porcine snout and his face and ears becoming jowly and floppy. Wu’s eyes widened—Bud had been almost cute compared to this! —and the piggy cop tried to lunge at him. But the movement was all he needed to activate his fight or flight and Wu dodged back and brought his fist up, right into the snout. With a squeal Acker reeled back and tripped over the chair onto the floor.

Nick was moving in that same instance, rushing around to the door. “Bauerschwein!”

“The cop’s a pig…of course,” Sloane said, shaking her head at the irony.

Wu looked down at Jessie and felt his anger rising, knowing he was indeed a traitor to his badge. “You make me sick.”

Nick and Hank got in the room and grabbed him, hauling him up. Acker looked at Nick, squealing again before woging back. “Oh, you're a Grimm again?” he said, surprised but conversational. He looked at Wu who just stared back, glaring. Sloane was hanging back to see if they could get him to talk. Hank was quickly undoing Acker’s utility belt.

“I don't know what you are, but you’re no Aswang,” Wu said. He turned to leave them, grabbing Ackerman’s belt as he did.

“Where's Monroe?” Nick asked.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he said.

“Yeah, you do,” Hank snapped, opening a folder to show a copy of the picture from Shaw’s house. “That's you, and that's Shaw.”

“You made calls to Charlie Riken in prison,” Nick said.

“I don't know who that is.”

“You talked to his cellmate Williams, and you visited him eight times.”

“You remember Williams,” Hank said.

“No.”

“You don't know who anybody is,” Hank sneered.

Nick lost his patience and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, lifting and slamming him into the wall. “I'm done asking questions.”

Hank set a hand on his arm. “Nick, not here. Take a walk.”

Nick huffed, not liking being stopped again, but knew he was right. He let go and stormed back out the door.

Acker huffed, smoothing his shirt, and looked at Hank with an unimpressed smirk. “Guess that makes you the good cop, huh?”

“Don't count on it,” he growled back.

Nick came back into the observation room, angry. “Acker knows the game too well…”

“He doesn't know my game,” Sloane said. She lifted the bag a bit. “I brought my tools. I can get information from him, but I need some place we won’t be disturbed. And that can be cleaned easily.”

Nick looked at the bag, then at her. “…Torture?”

“Dierdre preferred to call it “information extraction”. But yeah. It’s not something I like to do. It’s not something I’m proud to do. But if it gets us their location and Monroe, I’ll do it.”

Nick and Renard looked at one another and Renard sighed, nodding. “I know a place…” He moved to go back around, while Hank was still talking.

“You'd do yourself a big favor by cooperating.”

“You don't know what you're talking about,” Acker said, sneering.

“We've got you tied to the kidnapping. If Monroe dies, don't expect to face a trial,” he warned.

Acker looked back, puffing out his chest. “Some of us are willing to die for what we believe in.”

“There are things worse than death,” Renard said, stepping in with Nick.

“Oh, good, sir, thank God you're here! This is harassment!” Acker said, putting on his widest, most innocent eyes.

Renard was not moved. “Officer, this is your one chance to come clean. I suggest you take it.”

His face fell, confused. “What the hell? Are you gonna let him treat me like this?”

Renard blinked then smiled. “Oh, I see what the problem is. You still think we're playing by the rules.”

He frowned more, defenses rising. “I'm not talking to anybody. You get me a lawyer, or you cut me loose.”

“Neither, I’m afraid,” he said, undoing his tie. “Cuff him.”

Nick didn’t ask for clarification, restraining Acker and cuffing him.

“What the hell—let me go! You can’t do this-”

Renard grabbed his face, making him gasp at how hard his grip was. He then stuffed his folded tie into Acker’s mouth to gag him. Acker’s yells were muffled and barely audible now. “Bring him this way. Sloane, follow us.”

Renard led them out and then to a door at the end of the hall. No one was down this way, but they still moved quickly. Beyond the door was a stair well and Renard led them down the stairs. “There’s an old record’s room down here. Most of the records were moved after a minor flood so there’s a big room down here with just some old furniture. But no one should hear you down here.”

“Sounds perfect,” Sloane said. Acker craned his neck to look at her, confusion and now a little fear creeping on his face. They got to the bottom and Renard used a key on his ring to open the door. It was dark and even when he flipped the light switch, the dim light made it creepier. The room was indeed musty and ill-used. There were a few old chairs and desks, broken or moldy by now. Sloane set the black bag on a desk and grabbed the least broken looking chair to put in the center of the room. “Put him there.”

Hank and Nick wrestled Acker over, forcing him to sit even as he struggled. Hank looked at him as he re did the handcuffs through the back of the chair. “Last chance to tell us peacefully.”

Acker glared up at him and if he could spit, he probably would.

Sloane sighed and looked at the men. “Leave us.”

They frowned. “Sloane, I don’t think—” Renard started. Sloane pulled her badge from her belt and walked over, holding it out.

“This isn’t Sloane the cop doing this. This is Sloane the Grimm.” Acker’s eyes widened and he was confused an on edge immediately. Renard closed his mouth then sighed and took it. “I’ll leave it up to you if I get that back later.”

“Sloane, are you sure you want to be alone with him?” Nick asked.

“Trust me, that’s his problem,” she said.

“I’m serious—”

“I do not want you to see what I’m about to do…please…” she said honestly, looking at them. “There are things I might do that…you might not look at me the same. But I have to do it if it means getting Monroe back.”

Nick took a deep breath. Hank put a hand on his shoulder and nodded to him and the three of them turned to head back out the door. She sighed when they were gone and looked at Acker. Grabbing the end of the tie, she pulled it from his mouth. “If you want to test me, woge.”

He stared at her and woged again. “…You really are a Grimm…b-but Shaw said the female Grimm was younger, with black hair!”

“She wanted him to know she was here. I didn’t. But out of the three of us, you should’ve cooperated with Nick. He’s the nice one,” she sighed, walking over to the bag and opening it.

“Oh, is that supposed to make me want to cooperate?” he asked, laughing. He was trying to sound confident, but she could hear the warble of anxiety in it. “What can you do to me, huh?”

Sloane didn’t turn back to him. But she did start removing items and setting them down where he could see. _A hand drill_ … “You know, history seems to think Grimms just kill things. And that’s true for the most part.” _Pliers, a roll of wire…_ “But see, we’re also curators of information.” _A roll of knives, an electric line, a BBQ lighter…_ “Information is what stands between us and death many a time. So, we became very good at getting the information we need.” _A set of steel skewers, various sizes…_ “But what I’m about to put you through?” _A caddy of bottles, various fillings_ … “This is something only a few learn nowadays. Mostly because it’s pretty stomach turning.” The last thing she grabbed was a pair of rubber gloves from her pocket. She removed her jacket, and she’d changed into a tank top that showed off her muscles and her scars. “And honestly, I never liked this. I prefer clean deaths. And I’ve been working to be a better person, a good detective…But you and your friends decided to ruin that. And now I’m angry.” Acker had been watching her and though it was dramatic, the matter of fact way she spoke put a cold sweat down his back. She wasn’t trying to intimidate him. She was honestly venting and preparing as though she was preparing to cook a dinner or show someone how to fix a sink. Setting the jacket aside, she turned around and pulled the gloves on. She picked up the plug for the electric wire and plugged it in. She tapped the wired ends together, watching it spark. “So…let’s get started.”

\-----------------------

“Should we be worried what she’s doing down there?” Hank asked. They were in Renard’s office to talk privately, all of them a bit agitated.

“At this point, I just want her to get the information,” Nick sighed. He looked at Sloane’s badge on the desk and frowned. He had been thinking the law-abiding method was taking too long as well and considered going outside the law. As much as he wanted to lay into Acker though, torture was not something he’d been trained in.

“I don’t like resorting to these measures, but it may be necessary,” Renard said.

“What about after though? Will she end up in trouble? Will we, if Acker talks? I’m not saying we don’t need to get that info by any means necessary, I’m just worried what’s going to happen afterwards and if I need to get a new identity…”

“Acker is in trouble himself. I’ll make sure he gets what’s coming to him,” Renard said.

Nick sighed, agitated and wanting to go do something, but they needed that location first. He looked at his watch. It had been half an hour, not long but how long does torture take? Nick was pacing a little, unable to stay calm. They were sure how much longer they could hold Acker down there without arousing suspicion, considering he was seen earlier. He jumped when his phone went off and pulled it out. The tune was _My Girl._ Sighing, he answered it. “Juliette, is everything okay?”

“Yes! Nick, we found out one of the women at the wedding has a brother who is a cop,” she said quickly.

“A cop?” he asked, surprised.

“Nick, his name is Jessie Acker. Isn't that the cop who was outside our house?” Rosalee said. Nick’s eyes widened and he stood as his energy shot up. “Suzanne told him about our wedding.”

“And she said he knows one of the guys on Trubel's list, Shaw,” Juliette added.

“Okay, okay, where is Acker's sister?” Hank and Renard looked up, paying attention quickly.

“With us. We're at her office in The Pearl.”

“McCoy and Alice Real Estate,” Rosalee clarified.

“Okay, Sergeant Wu is coming to pick her up. We got to talk.”

“Wu?” Juliette asked in surprised. “He’s on this with you?”

“Yeah, he is.”

“Okay…We’ll wait for him. We tried calling Sloane and couldn’t get through though.”

“Yeah, she’s…dealing with something related to the case. I’ll make sure she’s ready though, this might be what we need to blow it open. Don't leave her side.”

“Don’t worry, she's not going anywhere,” Rosalee said, sounding determined. Nick nodded and hanged up.

“Acker has a sister?” Hank asked.

“Yeah. I’m having Wu bring her in. We might be able to use her.”

Hank frowned but didn’t object. Renard was nodding. “Good plan.”

“Should we stop Sloane then?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, I’ll go,” Nick said, heading out the door. He stopped Wu in looking at some of the information and gave him the info to go pick up Suzanne Acker. He then headed to the back stairs.

Acker meanwhile screamed again when the electrodes were applied. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but it stung badly and there were small burns where they hit. She pulled them away, looking down at him. “Well?”

“S…screw you,” he spat.

Sloane sighed and unplugged the wires. “Well, I give you credit. So many sustained shocks like that isn’t easy to keep your cool through. But it’s arguably the nicest method I had.”

“You’re not going to intimidate me!”

“I’m not trying to intimidate you. I’m trying to break you,” she said simply, no emotion in her voice. It did give him shivers. She reached into the bag and pulled out a smaller device. “Let’s try something else. I call this the finger trap.”

“Oh, is it a cracker jack prize?”

“Not one you want. See, I put this over one of your fingers.” She walked over and showed him the device. “Then, I turn this knob. Slowly. And as I do, this needle will go under your fingernail. The more I turn, the deeper it will go. It’s long enough it will go to your cuticle easily. I might pop a nail off if I’m not careful.”

He swallowed a little but stared her down. Sloane stared back, dead serious. “If you prefer, I could start with Ling Chi. And please don’t make a Chinese food joke, I’m already hungry,” she said, sounding like she was just complaining instead of threatening him. She picked up one of the knives. “It’s also known as “Death by a thousand cuts.””

“I’m not going to break, you crazy bitch!”

Sloane’s hand was faster than he could catch sight of, and he hissed when he felt a slice on his cheek. “That’s one…”

The tension was broken by a knock at the door and it opened before she could say to go away. She tensed for a moment before sighing as Nick walked in. Sloane felt suddenly like hiding the knife behind her back, even though there was no reason. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know what she was doing, but she hadn’t wanted him to see. “Nick, I told you to leave me alone.”

“I know, but I need to talk to you. We have a development,” he said.

She frowned but sighed. She reached up and dug her fingers into the cut, making Acker yell and give her a chance to shove the tie back in his mouth. “Think on which you’d prefer next and I’ll be right back.” She took off the gloves, walking towards Nick and out the door with an impatient look. He motioned fo her to come a bit up the stairs just to be safe.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt... Did he give you anything?”

“…No,” she sighed, shaking her head. “He’s stubborn. I’ve tried electroshock but he took it surprisingly well. If he didn’t have a fetish before…” she sighed. “I’m weighing the next options, but it may be cutting him up. I’m not sure that will work either and it’s going to leave marks. Which means I’d have to kill him afterwards or we think of a way to explain why a police officer turned up like that…” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Nick frowned, feeling his panic over Monroe ease slightly into worry over her. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she said honestly. “I’m angry! At him, at the wesenrein, at me! If I let it out in there, I might kill him, and we’d be screwed! I can’t even concentrate enough to torture him it seems. Dierdre would call me a failure and I’m inclined to agree at this point!”

He frowned more and walked down the step to be right in front of her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Sloane, you are absolutely not a failure.”

“I promised Rosalee we’d get Monroe back…And after you all came to rescue me, I can’t do anything!”

“You’re trying,” Nick said. He frowned and turned her face up to him with gentle hands on her face. “Sloane…have you been sleeping okay?”

She’d felt her heart flutter when he touched her, but she frowned. “What?”

“Trubel said you were having nightmares…”

She winced a bit and reached up to take his hands away. “It’s nothing. We should be worrying about Monroe—”

“I can worry about both of you,” Nick said firmly. “What’s going on? Because you’re getting wound up and I don’t want you making a mistake.”

“Excuse me?” she growled.

“Not till you tell me. You said it yourself, you’re angry, but you’ve been holding something in a lot longer than that.”

She glared but he glared back. She finally sighed, hanging her head a bit. “…I keep thinking that you all could’ve died coming after me. And you almost did. You would’ve died and it would been my fault.”

“What?” he asked, surprised. “Sloane, it absolutely wouldn’t have been your fault!”

“Yes, it would! You came to rescue me because Collin managed to capture me…”

“Yeah, being underhanded and crazy. And we’re doing whatever we have to, to get Monroe back right?”

“Yeah, of course…”

“The same way we did to get you back. The way you risked a lot for me during the Zombie incident…or with cure to the aftereffects…The Muse…Getting my powers back…”

She had to smile a little. “Are you saying you’re more trouble than I am?”

“I mean…you have had to rescue me a lot. And we’ve had to rescue Hank before, like from the Gelumcaedus. Even before you came to Portland, we were in danger a lot. It’s one of the rough parts of this life. But we do everything we can to make it out, and to pull our friends out of the fire as we do. That we had to come rescue you is nothing to be ashamed about, Sloane. The way you feel right now is the way I feel, scared for Monroe and angry and helpless. And we felt that way for you too. We understood the risks coming to save you and you don’t have to feel like it would be your fault.”

Sloane stared at him a long while before sighing and bumping her head into his chest. “I…get it…But right now, I want to focus on Monroe and get him back.”

“And we will! We’re going to get him back. We might have to do some things I normally wouldn’t do, but we’re going to save him.”

She looked up. “Things you normally wouldn’t do?”

“Yeah…Juliette and Rosalee called. They found out Acker has a sister—she’s the one that told him about the wedding, she was a guest.”

She straightened. “A sister? Really?”

“Yeah. I’m having Wu bring her in. Acker might not care about what happens to him because of his beliefs, but we’ll see if he cares about her.”

Sloane’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “You…want to threaten his sister?”

“Yeah…Just threats though. He thinks we’re the big bad Grimms, so I figure use that. We gotta make him think we’re serious.”

“Underhanded…Is it weird I’m both proud and disappointed it came to this?” she asked, trying to smile.

Nick smiled back a little sadly. “I’m not as much of a boy scout as you thought, huh?”

“Nah…you’re still a good man,” she said honestly.

“…And you’re a good woman.”

“What?”

“Just…whatever we do, it’s to save Monroe and probably a lot of other innocent people. And some not so innocent, if Shaw’s anything to go by. I know torture is a gray area and I don’t condone it…usually. But we’re desperate and at least we know this is a real and present threat. So, I’m not going to hold whatever you do against you. And neither are the others.”

Sloane felt her nerves slowly release and she sighed. “Man…I have a conscience now because of you, you bastard, and you can read me like a book. I hate you.”

He smiled and hugged her shoulders, squeezing her a bit. “Well, I’m putting mine on the backburner so someone should have one...”

“Mmm, then we really do need to get Monroe back quick because these aren’t our roles. Should I keep working him over?”

Nick’s phone buzzed and he looked at it. “Actually, looks like Wu and the others have arrived.”

“How do you want to do this then?” Sloane asked, sobering.

Nick thought a moment before nodding to the door. “Give me about 10 minutes to set it all up. Then bring him up to observation room 2.”

She nodded. “Alright.”

Nick gave her shoulder another squeeze before turning to head back up. Sloane meanwhile leaned against the wall as she counted down in her head.

She finally opened the door ten minutes later. Acker looked up when he opened the door, rolling his eyes. “We brought someone in for questioning. I thought you might want to see them,” Sloane said. She walked over and got him out of the chair, though she kept him cuffed. She marched him upstairs and into the observation room. Nick was already there, and Renard and Hank had made sure the hallway was clear. Acker’s eyes widened when he saw his sister in the interrogation room and Rosalee was grilling her.

“How well does your brother know Shaw?” She asked.

Suzanne shrugged. “I don't know. I think they just go fishing together sometimes…”

“Have you ever heard of the Wesenrein?”

She huffed a laugh. “Yes, but Jessie would never be involved in something like that.” Sloane saw him flinch.

She reached up and pulled the tie from his mouth. “Go on. Call out to her. I’d love for you to explain to her how we came about bringing you in. Though Rosalee’s already doing that.”

“Shaw is involved, and so is your brother,” Rosalee said.

“No. No, he's not. Why are you saying this?”

“Because they have my husband!” Rosalee snapped.

“No. Jessie's not involved. I want to get out of here.” She moved to stand and get her purse.

Rosalee shoved her roughly back down. “You sit down!”

“Why is she here? She's got nothing to do with this!” Acker said, looking at Sloane and Nick with an odd look of betrayal. “Let her go!”

“No. I just wanted you to know, whatever happens to Monroe is going to happen to her,” Nick said, low and dark.

“Furthermore, everything I did to you and was planning to do to you, I will also do to her,” Sloane said. “She’s going to suffer, _a lot_ , because of you.”

Acker woged and lunged for her, but Nick grabbed him quickly and shoved him against the wall. “You tell me where he is, and you don’t have to watch her die!” Renard quickly made his way in, wanting to make sure no one died in the room.

“He talk?”

“No,” Sloane said.

Renard sighed and nodded to them. “Let's get this over with.” Nick let go of Acker and nodded to Sloane, heading for the door. She followed suite, but not before flashing the finger screw and putting it just as quickly back in her pocket.

“You know what Grimms do, right?” Renard asked, watching Acker move to the glass and grabbing his shirt to make sure he didn’t hit it.

Suzanne looked up when Nick opened the door, all smiles. She was confused. “What is going on?”

“We're done here,” Nick said. “We’re gonna take you home.”

“Sorry for the inconvenience, seems there was some confusion,” Sloane added, smiling as well.

“You can't do this,” Acker said, shaking his head as his sister stood and got her purse.

“I'm not doing anything,” Renard said.

“They'll kill her!”

“Yes, they will. Unless you stop it.”

Nick and Sloane meanwhile took Suzanne to a waiting area instead. “Sorry again…that was actually a little deceptive,” Nick said. “Please, take a seat.”

“What? Why?”

“We did this to get to your brother. Let him know he can’t mess with people important to us when he has people important to him,” Sloane said.

“You still think he’s part of this Wesenrein?” she asked, looking disgusted. “Now your what, trying to trap him?”

“He is part of it,” Rosalee said. “I’m sorry, I know it must be hard, but he is. And he’s the only lead we have.”

“Has he been acting strange? Been going off on his own or acting out? Maybe making offhand comments you that just…toe the line of being politically incorrect? Then get angry if you call him out? Or say he’s just joking and make you feel bad?” Hank asked.

She looked unsure, probably thinking of all those things, but shook her head. “He wouldn't do this,” she sobbed, sitting in the chair. “He couldn't. I was just telling him about the wedding and what happened when that girl came in and surprised all of us! Especially when you grabbed her. I can't believe this is happening.”

“Tell me about it,” Rosalee huffed. They all looked up when Renard came out from the room. “What happened?”

“When your brother found out you'd been brought down for questioning, he admitted his involvement,” Renard said, only a little sympathy in his voice.

Suzanne’s face fell and she looked down in disappointment and disbelief. “Oh, my gosh…”

“He's been placed under arrest. An officer will now take you home.”

“Did he say where they are?” Rosalee asked.

“Oxbow Park.”

They were all on their feet in a second, heading out to the armory to load up with Renard running interference so they wouldn’t get caught. Once they were armed and ready, they headed out to the cars to speed to Oxbow Park. Sloane drove Rosalee and Hank while Renard, Nick, Juliette and Wu rode together. They got there just as the sun had set and they only had the light of the moon to navigate. It was enough though.

“They will attack you, even unprovoked,” Renard said, passing out the guns.

“Stay close to me, Rosalee,” Hank said, pumping his shotgun.

Nick looked at Sloane as she picked up a gun. “…You okay with that?”

“I think so…but I’d use my bare hands at this point.”

He nodded and they started through the woods. Acker had given them an approximate location, but it was easy to track them from the fire light of several torches and a burning wolfsangel they set up, and the yelling.

“This is crazy!” a familiar voice yelled, and they glanced at one another.

“Was that…Bud?” Hank asked.

“Wasn’t he with you two?” Sloane asked, looking at Rosalee and Juliette.

“He said he was going to go talk with one of the guests!” Juliette hissed back, looking worried.

“Remove his chains,” a cold, sardonic voice said. They got to the edge and were able to see at least two dozen people gathered, wearing black and silver robes with hoods and the wolfsangel embroidered on them. And those skull masks under the hood as well, though some were unmasked now for some reason. Two of them were pulling Monroe over to the stakes near the pyre they were building but he was fighting them. Bud was being held by another robed man; a knife pressed against his throat. Monroe froze when the Riken—in a robe—pulled out a gun and pointed it at him. Rain began to fall, steady but not hard enough to put out fire. “Any efforts to avoid your fate, I put a bullet in you, and it won't kill you. You'll still taste the fire.”

Monroe glared defiantly but didn’t move. Rosalee almost ran out there but she grabbed her quickly, shaking her head. She then got the others attention and made a motion with her hand going in a circle. _Surround them._ They nodded and started moving off through the brush to get on the other side.

“The sentence is justified. Blood will remain pure. Put him on the stake,” Riken said.

“No! Don't do this!” Bud yelled. “Don't do this! Please listen to me! Listen to me. You're gonna regret this!”

“Cut his throat,” Riken sighed, impatient.

“Oh, oh, my God!” Bud squeezed, bracing himself as the knife came up to his throat.

Wu managed to get behind the man before he could though, holding his shotgun up to his head. “Don't move.”

The wesen turned in shock, then further shock as the rest of them came out pointing guns at them.

“Riken!” Nick yelled. The man turned to him, eyes wide in shock and confusion.

“Monroe!” Rosalee cried, rushing for him. No one dared try and touch her with Sloane’s eyes trained on them.

“Rosalee,” Monroe sighed, shocked and relieved as she hugged him and kissed him desperately. She pulled back to start untying him, fretting over every little cut and bruise. The last three days must’ve been rough for him.

“The Tribunal is over,” Nick said.

“Nick, Sloane, thank God you...Oh, I don't know them either,” Bud said, shaking his head.

“So, you're Burkhardt?” Riken said, the shock fading into contempt. He woged into a blutbad, ready to attack. But he had to pause when he saw his eyes. “You got it back…”

“That is the rumor,” Nick agreed.

“And he’s not the only one you need to worry about,” Sloane said, turning her attention to Riken when Hank was able to make sure no one went for Monroe and Rosalee.

He stared at her in surprise as well before snarling. “You may be a Grimm again, and have a Grimm _bitch_ with you, but you're not gonna be able to arrest all of us.”

Sloane wasn’t fazed by the slur, but Nick’s jaw ticked slightly. “You're right. Some of you will be stupid.”

“Well, stupider,” Sloane amended.

“Take them!” Riken yelled.

The scene devolved into chaos then, with the wesen woging and trying to rush them and gunshots firing. Several robed figures went down as the shots rang out from all of them, and others fled into the undergrowth.

“Anyone who doesn’t want to die tonight better get on the ground and keep your hands where we can see them!” Sloane shouted. Several complied quickly and Renard nodded in approval. Others ran for the woods, including Riken. She wasn’t too worried about finding him in that red robe, however. Wu, Renard and Hank all gave chase, but Sloane was working quickly to try and handcuff those that had been smart enough to stay up before rushing out with Nick. Grimms had a better chance of keeping them in line till they were secure. She was glad they’d brought a whole back of cuff and that there were some thick sticks she could use as stakes to keep them where she wanted.

Wu had also followed one man into the woods, one of the larger of them with long dark hair and a beard.

“Stop or die!” He shouted, taking aim. The man stopped, hands going up immediately. Wu saw the pistol in one hand even in the dim moonlight through the trees. “Drop it.”

“Please, please don't shoot me,” he said, turning around. He tossed the gun, so it landed close to Wu. “Look, I give up.”

Wu eyed him, keeping the gun trained on him as he knelt to retrieve the weapon. He took his eyes off him for just a second, but it was long enough for him to woge into something with a lot of teeth and claws and rush for him. Wu gasped and in a split second was able to stabilize and fire his gun. The blast hit the man square in the chest and sent him flying. Wu breathed deep and rose, walking over to look at him. His features slowly morphed back to a human now that he no longer lived. He took a deep breath and then let it out, shaking his head. “Should’ve just given up…”

Hank was not nearly so phased when a man in a black robe turned into a Hasslich. Seeing that he wasn’t going to be intimidated, the Hasslich tried to run, but Renard was the one to catch him. Woging himself, the man was lifted off his feet with one hand and Hank had to admire his boss had a way with his hands…

Now, up to this point, Juliette had not been having a great few days either. Over six weeks had passed since that night she’d slept with Nick in Adalind’s form. And as headaches and nausea and other cramps got worse, she’d worried she’d gotten pregnant. Luckily all tests were negative. And she took several. So it wasn’t that and that had been a huge relief because there was a lot she needed to work out before even thinking about children.

Then the night Monroe had been taken, it happened. While fighting a headache, she’d felt her face twitching, moving, almost _melting_. Looking into the mirror in the bathroom she’d seen her form twist and distort. Her skin becoming leathery, her eyes becoming like two holes in her head and her jaw cracking as if broken. It was a picture she knew well: a hexenbiest. She’d screamed, and that scream broke the mirror in the bathroom, one on her vanity in the bedroom, and several picture frames. In a way she’d been thankful Nick hadn’t come home right away so she could clean up. She’d been able to hide the mirrors and get replacements delivered the next day before he noticed. But then her time was filled with worrying about Monroe, worrying about Rosalee, and worrying about herself. Rosalee had confirmed it was possible to _become_ a hexenbiest, not just be born as one, and that sometimes they were even more powerful. None of that made her feel good at the time.

What did make her feel good, in a sick way, was when she was tackled by a blutbad boy. He was young, but he was eager to kill. She could see it in his eyes as he woged and pinned her down, ready to get his teeth wet with blood. Her gun had toppled out of her hands as she tried to shoot, and he grinned down at her and taunted how she missed. It was a split-second decision—she focused on her desire to stop him, her desire to be more powerful than him. And she felt her face shift and change. He was confused a moment, then it turned to pain as she looked up at him and thought _I wish I’d blown your brains out._ And so, she did. But without a bullet. His head split open in the back and with a gasp he de-woged and collapsed. She pushed him off her and she stood quickly, confused and terrified, and exhilarated all at once. No one had seen her. Her secret was still safe, she thought, and there was a rush knowing she did that on her own. And then more sickening guilt.

While the others were dealing with the runners, Nick and Sloane were dealing with the large group left in the clearing and helping Bud.

“You okay?” Nick asked, going to untie him.

“Oh, Nick. I've never been so happy to see anybody since the last time you saved...” Bud started.

“Quiet,” he ordered, pausing. Sloane was just finishing tying all the cuffs together into a chain-gain and staking it to the ground when she heard the rustling too. Two men in black robes rushed out, one going for Nick and the other to stop Sloane.

Nick jumped out the way as the one coming for him, dodging a clawed swipe. The masks made it hard to tell what they were exactly, but the claws were pretty universal. Nick dodged another strike, then blocked one with his arm and punched him across the face with his other. Another uppercut and then a round house kick sent the man sprawling. He looked up to see if Sloane needed help.

Sloane had rolled out of the way when the man came for her and backed away. She brought the gun up, but the man rushed her again so she side stepped him and brought her elbow around into his temple. He staggered, shaking his head and then roared at her and bull-rushed her. She lost the gun but planted her feet and managed to keep from being thrown, bringing her hands fist in fist down onto his back to break his stride. Backing up, she noted she was near the large steaks they’d been planning to put Monroe on. A flash of anger went through her and she reached out and grabbed one. With her own roar, she used her strength to pull it from deep in the ground where she buried it. No one had expected that, including her opponent who froze. Just long enough that leapt forward and forced him down with a drop kick before bringing the steak up as thick as both her arms together overhand and down. He screamed as it came down just inches from his pointed ears. “If you don’t let me cuff you with your friends, I will put this through your face.”

“I-I give!” he yelped.

She nodded, taking out another pair of cuffs. Nick was smiling in admiration and relief, then kneeled to take the mask off his own unconscious opponent.

“Oh, my God,” Bud breathed. “It's my chiropractor!”

Nick was mildly sympathetic but helped Sloane get the two of them over to the rest of the group, then finish untying him. As he did the others trickled back into the clearing. He saw Juliette, looking a bit shell shocked. He rushed over. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Sort of…” She sighed. “I…killed one of them. He attacked me.”

Nick felt a jolt of fear and hugged her close. “I…I’m just thankful you’re safe,” he said honestly.

She nodded then looked around. “Where are Monroe and Rosalee?”

“I don't know,” Wu shook his head, going over to help guard their prisoners.

“I haven't seen them,” Hank agreed, shaking his head.

“The last I saw, he was chasing after Riken,” Renard said.

“Shit!” Sloane hissed, rushing up into the woods before they could stop her.

Monroe had picked up Riken’s scent as they were going and the burning anger he felt came up. He took off, Rosalee close behind. Riken was fleeing but trying to get his gun ready for a fight. He paused when he also caught a scent on the air, woging and growling. The gun went flying when Monroe tackled him just before he turned towards him and so began a duel between Blutbader. Monroe proved that despite his vegan lifestyle, he still had a lot of power behind him as he punched and blocked a good number of Riken’s blows. Riken tried to grab his shirt and bite his neck, but he forced him away and sent him sprawling with a right hook to the jaw. He backed away and Monroe snarled, “You should have killed me when you had the chance!”

He growled and pulled a slender knife from his boot. He made several swipes at him, grazing Monroe and forcing him to back away. A kick to the sternum had Monroe on his back and he growled low in satisfaction. ““I'm gonna kill you now.”

“Like hell you are!” Rosalee yelled. She woged and without hesitation rushed and leapt on his back, sinking her teeth into his neck. He screamed as he fell from the sudden blow and pain and Monroe rolled and then joined her, fangs deep in his neck. He screamed again, trying to fight and beg but they tore at his throat until he stopped moving. Getting up they both panted and sighed. Monroe stood, a bit shaky and sore, and Rosalee went to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…Yeah, I will be…” They both tensed and turned when they heard rustling, only to see Sloane staring at them in shock. “Sloane…hey…”

“Hey…um…Riken is dead?”

“Yeah,” Rosalee nodded. She nodded slowly, looking at the blood around their mouths. Rosalee blushed and wiped at it with her hand. “I, um…”

“…You both did what you had to do,” she sighed, sounding non-judgmental. “Just…never saw you do that before.” Rosalee knew though the sight must’ve disturbed her for at least a second. She walked over, looking at the body. “I also wish you left him alive for this.” She then raised the stake in her hands and brought it down. Monroe and Rosalee looked away, not sure they wanted to see that. “I’d set him on fire, but that might be a hazard out here…”

Monroe gave a giddy laugh and nodded. “Well…it’s overkill anyway at this point.”

“He deserved worse,” Sloane said. She walked over and took Monroe’s other arm over her shoulders to help Rosalee. “C’mon, everyone is worried.”

They nodded, heading back through the woods.

The others had remained in the clearing to try and strategize, but all looked up in relief when they crested the hill.

“There you are!” Nick sighed.

“Did anybody get away? Because Riken sure didn't,” Rosalee said.

Renard shook his head, looking over their group of prisoners. “No. I counted when we arrived and anyone who isn’t here is dead. We got them all.”

“Thanks to all of you,” Monroe said.

“Uh, what do we have in store for these idiots?” Wu asked, quirking a brow at the surviving members. The rain had soaked them through, and the rest of them, and was finally picking up enough that the wolfsangel slowly fizzled out.

\--------------

Nine of the couple dozen members survived the night. They were taken into custody and Renard prepared a speech by the morning light that stated they were a murder-suicide cult and their leader was Jamie Acker. They’d decided on this route to try to forget Riken—he’d be cut from the story as much as possible. It was a shame that it was a police officer in charge, Renard stated, but they were dedicated to ensuring hate did not win. It was all very rousing.

Monroe was checked out at the hospital and though he had a few deep bruises and several cuts and scrapes he’s overall fine physically. Mentally he might need a little time. He told them all about what happened while he was held captive. The main sticking point was to find the wife of a man named Terry they had taken before him who had not been so lucky. Monroe had almost escaped but was captured when he found Terry’s body on a stake, burned beyond recognition. He only had a wedding ring that Terry asked to be returned to his wife. They promised to work and track her down to find out what happened, taking the wedding ring as evidence.

That afternoon they coordinated to meet up at Monroe and Rosalee’s to celebrate not being dead. But the three detectives also grouped up to discuss next steps.

“We're not taking any chances this time,” Nick said.

“How many units you think we'll need?” Hank asked.

“At least two. One in the back, one in the front.”

“I wouldn’t mind one in the other lane if possible,” Sloane said.

“And we'll be inside?” Hank said.

“And we're going all the way with this one.”

“And don't let 'em out of our sight until...”

“Hey, come on, you guys, you're part of this toast too,” Monroe said, finding them where they were talking by the front door. He was trying to open a champagne bottle and grimaced when it popped the cork at his wall. “Oof. That's gonna leave a mark…”

They all laughed and walked over to join the rest of the group. Rosalee was sticking close to Monroe and had her arm around him as if to anchor him there even as he went around filling glasses. “Monroe and I just wanted to thank all of you for what you did. We wouldn't be here without you.”

“I certainly wouldn't,” Monroe sighed.

Bud nodded enthusiastically. He had a puffy cheek from a blow but was otherwise alright. “Well, let me just say that I wouldn't be here either, so there's a lot of thanks from me too.”

“Yeah, you should've seen Bud out there. He was awesome. You really stood up to those sons-of...”

“Monroe,” Rosalee said gently, trying to keep him calm.

“Right. I know, I know. Look, I just wanted to say from the bottom of my heart how much I appreciate, you know, the...” he started. His words started to get a little choked up though.

“Aww, honey, it's okay,” she said. She looked at them all, smiling with misty eyes. “We just...We're overwhelmed you all were willing to risk your own lives for ours, and we couldn't ask for better friends. And we can't possibly thank you enough. Truly.”

Monroe nodded, a tear slipping out as he tried to get under control. “What she said.”

“Hey, you did the same for me,” Sloane said, smiling at them warmly.

“And we would again. Just…give us some time to rest before anyone else gets kidnapped.”

“Don’t Jinx us,” Nick said wryly.

“You both deserve a long rest and every happiness,” Juliette said.

“Well, I suggest we drink to your honeymoon,” Renard added.

“At last!” Wu agreed, lifting his glass which all of them clinked together.

“We'll miss you guys,” Rosalee said.

“Yes, we will, but I think I'm also ready for some alone time with my wife,” Monroe said, smiling at her lovingly.

“Well, we’ve made sure you’ll start your honeymoon in style,” Sloane said, smiling.

And it was just after sunset when a limo pulled up, flanked by two cop cars. Monroe and Rosalee were shocked but smiled as Nick and Hank loaded their luggage and Sloane helped them get settled. They started for the airport with a car in front and back, both with lights and siren going to warn everyone to back off.

“You guys really didn't have to do this,” Rosalee said, checking her carry-on and Monroe’s to make sure they had their passports and tickets.

“There's no way you two are gonna try to make it to the airport without us,” Hank said.

“Not a chance,” Nick agreed.

“Plus, the siren lets us cut through traffic,” Sloane pointed out.

Monroe chuckled. “That is really great, you guys. Thank you. As long as you're not coming on the actual honeymoon with us, we're good.” Rosalee laughed with him but they looked at their friends when they didn’t laugh, instead giving straight faces.

“You won't even know we're there,” Nick said.

“We'll blend right in,” Hank said.

“Total privacy. Just with three hot bodyguards,” Sloane said. Hank fist bumped her.

Needless to say, they declined.

Sloane sighed as they rode back in the limo, which was rather nice. “I’m tired as hell…”

“Same,” Hank agreed, stretching out a bit in the limo. “I wonder if we’ll get a break at all from wesen cases while they’re gone…”

“Probably not,” Nick said drolly. “I think we were lucky for a while and now it’s all going to flood in again.”

“Don’t jinx us,” Hank chuckled.

Nick chuckled back and then jumped when he felt Sloane lean against him. Looking over, he was surprised to see her with her eyes closed, asleep.

“Whoa, she’s more tired than I thought…” Hank said, frowning worriedly. “I thought she was running on fumes but didn’t think she’d fall asleep on you.”

“Yeah…She hasn’t been sleeping well,” Nick said. He smiled a little at how vulnerable she looked.

“Doesn’t seem to be having trouble now…” he observed.

“She trusts us…That’s a good thing.”

Hank hummed, smiling as well as they sat back to relax. When Sloane snorted and shifted in her sleep they looked at one another and had to cover their mouths to avoid bursting out laughing. They’d have to figure out how to wake her up gently when they got to her house but for now, they’d let her rest up.

\--------------

**Till Death Do Us Part**

\-----------------

After a several of days of rest another case did indeed drop into their laps while Monroe and Rosalee were still on their honeymoon. Well, more like got thrown at them like a wet dish towel. Renard seemed very distracted that morning, antsy about something. But he was intent they take the case.

They pulled up to an old, white Neoclassical style house with a wraparound porch that had seen better days. Sloane froze slightly as she got out of the car and looked up at it though.

“Sloane?” Nick asked. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just…reminds me of where I grew up a little,” she said, eyeing the house with trepidation.

Nick looked at the house and then back at her. “Your grandmother’s house?”

“Yeah…it’s not quite the same but…a similar feel.” _Right down to needing some work done…_ Though her grandmother’s house didn’t need the windows boarded up, it was just a large and white with a wraparound porch. Nostalgia and bad memories warred with one another like they did when she visited Wildred.

“No, yeah, I see it,” he agreed, remembering the house from his visit a year ago. “You going to be okay?”

She took a deep breath and then nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

“Remember the old Donovan house? Well, you wouldn’t Sloane, but what about you two?” Wu asked, walking up.

“Yeah, supposed to be haunted,” Hank said, zipping his jacket against the January chill. “Double homicide, if I remember right.”

“You do, and in the land of the weird, we've gone over the edge,” Wu said dryly. “The G Team is on the case.”

“G Team?” they all said in unison.

“Yeah. Like the A-Team, but freakier. I’m working on the logo, just wait.” They all snorted a bit and smiled, easing the tension as they followed him inside. The wallpaper was very classic with red stripes and flowers, eaten away by time, dirt and mold. The staircase to the upstairs had an elegant twist to it that stopped a several steps from the front door. But at the bottom was a body or what was left it. The remains were burned beyond recognition—to the point his eyes and nose were all but gone and his skin was coming off in black flakes. Freshly burned bodies often had a bit of moisture to them but he was almost dry, as though all the fluids had been burned too. “Victim is Raymond Miller, a ghost hunter.”

The detectives were all disgusted, but Nick stepped closer. “So... this is what you meant by "over the edge” …This is the ghost hunter?”

“Oh, yeah. "Ghost Seekers." They have business cards,” Wu said, pulling a card he must’ve been given from his inner jacket pocket and holding it out to them. Nick took it to look at dubiously with his gloved hand, showing it to the others. It was black and white, showing three white silhouettes of people chasing a ghost at the top through a black bar, their name and info written in black on white in a modern gothic font. The O in ghost was a circle with a cross through it—a symbol Sloane had seen before in old mystical diagrams, but she didn’t remember what it was off the top of her head. “Based in Seattle.”

“God. Looks like he was struck by lightning,” Nick said, handing the card back and going to look at him with a flashlight.

“More than once,” Hank agreed. “What could've done this?”

“Besides lightning? Beats me,” Wu sighed.

Sloane flipped a switch, noting that none of the lights on. “No power to the house?”

“Not for five years,” Wu said. “That’s when we had a double murder in the house. Patty and Stetson Donovan were killed upstairs…supposedly by a massive jolt of electricity, if the rumors are believed. No sign of how or who.”

“Well, I don’t think it’d have enough power for this anyway. Not without tripping like…all the breakers,” she said, frowning.

“Who called it in?” Hank asked.

“The other two Ghost Seekers,” Wu said. “Both swear he was killed by the ghost they were after. They said his body came flying down the stairs.”

“Well, let's see what's upstairs,” Nick said. They followed him up and the house was in a similar state of disrepair. Upstairs they found the master bedroom close to the landing and saw two singed foot marks in the rug. A camera with a curved lighting apparatus was on the ground, also badly burnt. “The camera…”

“It used to be a camera,” Hank said

“You don't suppose he could've recorded his own death?” They looked at Wu, who was nodding and pulling out his gloves.

“Maybe, if I can salvage the memory card.”

“This looks older,” Sloane said, looking at the bare mattress in front of the camera. It had a huge burn mark on it, about the size of two people.

“That’s where the Donovons were found. They looked over the mattress and took samples but nothing on it explained how they died,” Wu said, kneeling by the camera while he fitted the gloves and pulled out a large evidence bag. She looked at him curiously and he shrugged. “I knew some of the stories and I looked up the information on the way. Still unsolved and they don’t know how the killer managed it. Kind of like now.”

Nick sighed and nodded. He didn’t see anything else besides cobwebs and dust and looked at Hank and Sloane. “Let's talk to the other two.”

They came down and outside, where a young black man and white woman were sitting. They had blankets draped over their shoulders and had obviously been crying and shaken. They looked up as they walked over, and they tried to smile reassuringly. “Hi. We’re detectives Burkhardt, Larson and Griffin,” Nick said, gesturing at them all. “We’re working your friend’s case…What’s your names?”

The girl sniffled. “Um, I’m Carol Webber.”

“Paul Danielson,” the man said.

“Okay. Now I know this is a rough time, but we need to ask some questions. I understand you three came here for a show about ghost hunting?”

They nodded. “We've been doing the Ghost Seekers web series about a year now. We came across the Donovans' house a few months ago and came down to see it.”

“We felt like we'd really found something. Raymond was so excited,” Carol said.

“This whole thing, our ghost hunting, it was his passion,” Paul said, choking up a bit.

“But to see what it did to Raymond, the way that he, you know... it was just like the legend.”

“You mean the double homicide,” Hank said, half questioning half correcting.

“Yeah, the Donovans. They died in bed together. They were electrified to death. Just like Raymond!” Paul said.

“They say the dead husband's ghost still haunts this place, killing people the same way he and his soul mate were killed five years ago,” Paul added.

“I know we say we're ghost hunters, but you don't think you'll actually run into this stuff…God, the way he screamed,” she sobbed.

Paul put an arm around her comfortingly but looked up at them. “I'm telling you, Raymond was killed by a ghost, and we're gonna find it. We're not letting our friend die in vain!”

“He won’t have, but you’re not going back in there,” Sloane said firmly.

“But-”

We're sorry for your loss, but this is an open investigation,” Hank said.

“Let us figure out what killed Raymond,” Nick said. “We’ll let you know if we need more information.”

They didn’t look happy—how could they? —but nodded.

\-------------

“Unis have been called to the Donovan house a hell of a lot of times,” Hank said, reading over reports.

“Neighbors reported strange lights, sounds coming from inside the house at night. But every time cops arrived, the place was empty.”

“No wonder they stopped responding,” he sighed. “With no living heirs, the bank seized control of the house five years ago. It's still up for sale.”

“Still?” Sloane asked, surprised. “I’d think those home renovation nuts would’ve snapped it up long ago. Seems like a handyman, flip or flopper gold mine.”

“Well, an unsolved double murder does tend to scare people away,” Nick said. “And the ghost.”

“Please, there’s no such thing,” Sloane snorted.

“I’m not so sure…I told you about La Llorona.”

“That was probably a crazy wesen of some kind. There are several that can control people, children included. This is also probably a wesen.”

“You know what kind?” he challenged.

“I know there’s an electric kind. I saw it in your trailer when we were organizing the books. I…just don’t remember the name,” she admitted. “But I made a reference for it.”

“We’ll look it up later but maybe you shouldn’t argue so loudly? In the station?” Hank said.

“We’re not arguing,” Nick said. “But I just find it strange you don’t believe in ghosts considering what we have to fight day in and day out.”

“I’ve seen wesen the majority of my life, but I’ve never seen a ghost,” she said simply. “Besides, I’ve never heard of ghosts electrocuting people either.”

“On that note, I got to the old case file,” Hank said. He pulled out a photo and held it up. “Patty and Stetson Donovan. Young, attractive, successful.”

Nick took the photo, looking at it with a sympathetic glance. “They looked happy.” He showed Sloane, and she nodded a bit at the couple toasting with wine glasses and smiling at the camera over a candlelit dinner. She was smiling brightly, with long wavy brown hair. He looked a bit more uncomfortable but happy—like he didn’t like his picture taken.

“Not so much here,” Hank said, grimacing as he turned another photo over. This one showed two dead bodies, charred, lying side by side facing each other and reaching towards one another. Nick and Sloane grimaced as well.

“That looks a whole lot like what happened to Raymond,” Nick said.

“Shattered skull, no teeth, eyes blown out... same MO,” Hank said, looking over the autopsy report. “Same killer?”

“Unless there's more than one,” Nick said, taking some of the other documents to look over.

“Who worked the case?”

Nick searched the documents for a name. “Detective Mark Wilson had the lead on it,” he read.

“Is he still in Portland?”

“I think so?”

“Let's see if we invite him down here for coffee,” Hank said, picking up the phone to dial the directory.

Mark Wilson was still in Portland, though he’d retired two years ago. Part age, part the hard life of a police detective. He was galled someone else had been killed the way the Donovans were, but he was happy to come down and look things over and tell them what he knew. Despite his silver hair and slow gait, he still had the sharp eyes of an investigator. He spent a little time looking the case over, refamiliarizing himself his notes.

“How did you ID the bodies?” Hank asked, frowning at the picture again. “The report says they were unrecognizable.”

“The picture says that too,” Sloane said, frowning at the charred remains again.

Wilson sighed. “The techs had very little to work with. Couldn't even get dental records because of the way the skulls and teeth were shattered. But the victims were in their home, and their wedding rings were melted to their fingers.” He shook his head sadly. “The way those bodies were scorched, forensics said it had to have been caused by over 200,000 amperes of electricity.”

“That's quite a jolt,” Hank said.

“A car battery is 6000 at the most,” Sloane said, a bit awed.

“Yeah, but that's not the weirdest part. The rest of the room was untouched. Only their bodies and the mattress they were found on were damaged. Like the killer had one hell of a monster Taser!” he said, obviously still weirded out. “Look, I worked a long time, I never heard of that kind of weapon.”

“Any chance it was a robbery gone bad?” Nick asked.

“Eh, nothing was taken. There was still cash in Stetson's wallet, found on the floor in his pants pocket. No signs of forced entry.”

“So, you went with a love triangle gone south?” Hank asked, looking at the file.

He sighed and nodded. “During the investigation, we learned Patty Donovan was having an affair with her husband's coworker Theo Hinkley. Theo probably thought Patty was going to leave Stetson for him, but Patty decided not to. So, Theo figured if he couldn't have her, no one could. Shakespearean, ain't it?” he said, laughing humorlessly.

“A tragedy, yeah…” Sloane said, frowning at the picture again. Now she wondered if Stetson had trouble smiling for another reason. She guessed maybe they weren’t in love as they first thought. But then, what if you did fall in love with someone else? What if you fell for someone who was already taken? She’d never really thought about these things before, but she nearly glanced at Nick. _No way. Even if I am legitimately in love, he wouldn’t feel the same. He loves Juliette. And even if by some chance he did want me, it…it wouldn’t be what I want, to make him choose or hurt Juliette. And he wouldn’t be the kind of man I think he is if he did._

“You speak with any of the suspect's friends or family?” Hank asked. Sloane quickly focused back into the conversation.

“Spoke to Theo's wife a few times. Lily, I think was her name. But she was just angry. Couldn't blame her.”

“You know where Theo's wife is now?” Nick asked, looking at the

“No clue. Her last known is in the file.” He sighed and rose, looking at them seriously. “You guys ever figure out how this happened, be sure and let me know.”

They nodded, watching him go.

“I don’t think we’ll figure it out today,” Nick sighed.

“Yeah, ‘bout that time. Better to start fresh tomorrow,” Hank agreed.

They agreed and stood to head out.

Once she got home, Sloane sat to do a little research on her laptop. Mainly looking up any kind of weapon that used electricity. She was still sure there was a wesen behind this, but they might need a more mundane explanation. She put pre-made lasagna in the oven to cook while she did.

As she was surfing her computer beeped with a video chat request from Rosalee. Smiling, she accepted the invite and smiled more when Monroe and Rosalee came up. They were dressed for their tropical holiday in light linens and shorts, calling from what looked like a cabana on the water. “Hey!”

“Greetings, from paradise!” Monroe said grandly.

“Having a good time, I take it?” Sloane said.

“It’s _amazing_ ,” Rosalee sighed. “It’s so warm, and beautiful—the water is pure blue! And there’s so many beautiful flowers and green trees…”

“Now you’re just rubbing it in I’m stuck with winter here,” Sloane said.

“It’s hard not to,” Monroe chuckled. “I mean, I get up to watch the sunrise, do yoga—they have fantastic yoga classes here—and then it’s just doing whatever strikes our fancy.” He kissed Rosalee’s cheek, smiling broadly. “Whatever it is.”

Sloane felt a little pang but smiled. “Hey, keep it PG for me, please.”

Rosalee blushed but giggled, smacking Monroe softly. “But we just wanted to let you know we’re doing alright and see how you all are doing.”

“Uh, great,” Sloane nodded. “I mean, for being stuck here in the cold and at work, we’re doing good. Busy.”

“What, why are you busy?” Monroe said, more alert. “Did something happen?”

“No. I mean, yes, but it’s just a new case, that’s all.”

“A wesen case?” Rosalee asked, concerned.

“We don’t know, but _we_ are working on it. So, you both need to relax and remember where you are. No work on the honeymoon.”

“Right, you’re right,” Monroe said, holding up his hands. “Just…instinct by now.”

“And I appreciate that your instinct is to help, but again: _relax_.” She said, smiling.

“Speaking of which, how are you sleeping?” Rosalee asked.

“Ah…better, yeah. The tea is helping.” _So, did talking with Nick. Weirdly falling asleep next to him worked well…aaaah, do not think like that!_

“I’m glad,” she sighed, sounding relieved. She looked at the clock on her phone and gasped. “Oh, we need to head out though, we have a reservation we need to get ready for. We just wanted to check in really quick.”

“We’ll probably call Nick in the morning,” Monroe said.

“I’ll let him know to expect your call. But again, you better be relaxing the hell out there.”

They laughed. “Yes Ma’am,” Monroe saluted.

“Love you, sweety,” Rosalee said.

She smiled a lot more honestly. They’d rarely said anything like that out loud but given everything they’d been through it was the depth of those feelings in words. “Love you too.” They smiled and waved before cutting the call off. Sighing again, she leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. Why now, of all times, did she want what sappy, lovey-dovey couples had? She’d relaxed her guard too much and now her mind and her heart were thinking about these sorts of things. How nice it would be to have someone who wanted to be embarrassingly sweet with you. How lonely it was to realize how long since she’d felt that kind of passion for…anyone. Even when she had it didn’t feel like what Monroe and Rosalee seemed to feel…

Her oven beeped and she got up to get her food. Serving for one. God, why was she depressed now?! She was stronger than this. She didn’t need a romantic relationship. She had so much she never thought she’d have: Good friends, a career she enjoyed and was good at, a future…She’d spent years telling herself to be satisfied with what she had. That Grimms don’t get happy endings. She was happy now and she had to cherish it while she could because the other shoe would drop eventually. Close calls wouldn’t last forever. One day, something was going to land a hit and she might lose it all…maybe it was best not to wish for more.

\----------------------

The next day they were working again at tracking down leads. Hank was trying to find Theo Hinkley’s wife, calling around to her friends and then to her last known address.

“How long?...Yeah, okay. Got it. Thanks.” He hanged up, looking at them. “Lily Hinkley moved three years ago, left no forwarding. But the landlord knows where she works: The Overlook Restaurant.”

“I guess we need to find her work schedule, then,” Nick asked.

Wu walked up then, smiling proudly with his laptop in his arms. “You know how sometimes you guys forget what an invaluable member of the force I am?”

“Who is this guy?” Nick asked

“I have no idea,” Hank replied. Sloane rolled her eyes.

Wu just smiled. “So maybe then you don't want to know what I was able to salvage from the victim's somewhat-melted camera.”

“You got something?” Hank asked in surprise.

“I believe I do.” He held up a flash drive then set his laptop on their desks and plugging it in. Pulling up the video player.

The video was a bit pixelated and corrupted, but they could still make out what was happening. Raymond, who was operating the camera, was standing in the master bedroom and talking in a hushed stage whisper. “I'm in the room where it all went down. The Donovans were found right here. The scorch marks are still there.”

“That mattress really should be tossed out,” Sloane muttered. Nick and Hank shushed her, and she rolled her eyes again. The camera panned up as the lights above began fluctuating and she frowned, knowing the power should be non-existent in that house.

“Oh, I definitely feel a presence…” Raymond said, panning the camera around. He showed some kind of meter and how it went to the red. Then there was the sound of a footstep. “What the hell is that?” he gasped. Something flashed and rushed the camera then, the last thing they heard being a scream.

“The camera melted down here,” Wu said. He began scanning back frame by frame till he paused the frame on what looked like a glowing lizard-man with his mouth open wide. Sharp teeth were bared.

“Whoa,” Nick said, eyebrows rising.

“Wesen, right? I mean, we're not looking at a ghost,” Wu said.

“Definitely not,” Sloane said. She looked Nick a bit smugly and it was his turn to roll his eyes.

“Do you know what it is?”

“I saw it in one of your books actually.”

“Do you remember what it was now?”

“…Yes. …Sort of. Ah, he was a... Meta... Muto... Mata…” she sounded out.

“Keep going, maybe you’ll summon it,” Hank said with a smirk.

“Matanca Zumbido,” she finally said, snapping her fingers.

“Bless you,” Wu said.

“Ha Ha. But seriously, I’m pretty sure that’s what it was. I made a card for it under the M’s. I remember because Monroe was there, and I showed him, and he said “Hakuna Matanca” for some reason…”

“Well I think it definitely means worries for the rest of my days.” She gave Wu a blank look and Wu stared back. “Lion King?”

“…It’s not a lion?” she said, confused now.

“Okay, got a movie for next movie night,” Nick said, nodding to Hank who made a note on his phone.

“Wait, you haven’t seen the Lion King?” Wu asked in disbelief.

Sloane blushed, and was about to get defensive, but Nick set a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not her fault. She was training to be a Grimm since she was a kid.”

“Oh…right,” he nodded. “Well, you’re in for a treat. Or a lot of tears. Um, are you sure it’s that whatever you said?”

She sighed and looked again. “Pretty sure, but it is blurry…Could you get a screen grab printed for us?”

“Yes, I can,” he said, hitting the control keys to print and go get it.

Nick looked at them. “You think this is our killer?”

“Given that the shot was taken just before Raymond was murdered, yes. But the question is, is this Theo Hinkley, the Hakuna Matanca?”

“That is not what it’s called,” Sloane said impatiently.

“But it’s so much more fun to say,” Hank grinned.

“Theo was married to Lily,” Nick went on, trying to keep them on track though he wanted to laugh at Sloane’s indignant expression. “If this is Theo, she knows what he is.”

“So, when we talk to her, we should be polite,” Hank agreed.

“How's that?” Wu asked, bringing a printout of the blurry monster face to them.

“It’ll do,” Sloane said, looking it over again.

“Why don't you come with us on this one?” Nick said, smiling at Wu.

He looked at them all and the three detectives were all nodding. He smiled a bit. “I'm in.”

\--------------

“It was assumed that your husband, Theo, killed Patty and Stetson Donovan,” Nick said. They’d gone to the Overlook restaurant and were in luck that Lily Hinkley was on the clock. They convinced her and her manager to let them talk to her, sitting at a large table in the middle of the diner.

“Look, I went over this a lot,” Lily sighed. She was a sharp woman—her eyes were sharp as were the rest of her features. But she looked tired talking about her husband. “It was years ago. Why do you care now?”

“Murder is murder. There is no statute of limitations,” Hank said.

“And unfortunately, there’s been another murder at the Donovan house.” Lily looked up at Sloane, paling and looking shocked. “Two nights ago.”

“The Donovan house?” she gasped.

“Yeah. Ever hear anything about it being haunted?” Nick asked.

She scoffed, recovering. “Yeah, sure. I believe in ghosts, don't you?”

Hank leaned in to speak quietly. “We think Theo may be back in town.”

She frowned. “My husband? I don't think so.”

“Show her,” Nick said, nodding to Wu.

Wu brought up the folder he’d been carrying and handed it over to her. “This was taken by the victim just before he became a victim.”

She frowned and opened it, seeing the bright yellow monster-face. “What is this supposed to prove?”

“Your husband's Wesen. Why don't you tell us what we're dealing with?” Nick said.

Lily lost her patience, staring him back. “I don't know what you're talking about. Look, I gotta get back to work.” She stood, heading to go back to the kitchen to get some orders.

Nick glanced at Sloane who nodded and stood, following him over to her.

“Lily. We need your help,” Nick said. She turned, looking fed up with them. “We need to know what we're dealing with. Detective Larson and I are Grimms—” The moment he said that she changed—both in demeanor and form. Her eyes widened and the cool nature dropped into panic. Then feathers sprouted over her body and her eyes widened and turned gold. Her nose and mouth turned hard into beaks as well.

“Calm down, we’re not here to hurt you,” Sloane said quietly. “We’re cops and Grimms and we’re here mostly as cops right now. We’re honestly trying to find out the truth, that’s all. Especially before anyone else might die.”

“But we need to know what happened five years ago to do that,” Nick said. Wu and Hank came to join them, though Sloane was pretty sure this was an unseen woge as no one in the diner was freaking out about a huge bird woman appearing.

She woged back and her defenses dropped just slightly, looking down sadly but also with a hint of anger still in her voice. “I'll tell you what happened. Theo was having an affair with Patty. I told Stetson so that he would get her to break it off with Theo, and instead, he killed them both. His own wife, my husband. He destroyed my family.”

“Why didn't you tell the detectives five years ago?” Nick asked, thinking over that information.

Sloane was as well, realizing what that changed. _It was Theo that was killed? Theo and Patty were killed by Stetson? So then…oh shit…_

“Do they know what we're talking about?” Lily asked, eyeing Hank and Wu.

“We do,” Hank nodded.

“But they’re the exception, not the rule,” Sloane said.

“Then how was I supposed to explain any of this without getting thrown into a psych ward?” she hissed, voice rising. “That my husband couldn't have done it because, unlike Stetson, he couldn't electrocute people?” She took the folder from Wu’s hand, emotions rising as she opened it again. “This is Stetson. Theo was a Scharfblicke…Like me. That's how I know he didn't kill them. He couldn't have. Not like this.” She closed again, looking sad. Some wounds hadn’t healed obviously.

“What kind of Wesen are we dealing with?” Nick asked.

“A Matanca Zumbido.”

“I told you!” Sloane said, hitting the back of her hand against Nick’s chest. Nick frowned at her and she blushed. “I mean…I thought so.”

Lily nodded, sniffing. “If I had known what he was before I told him, I never would have told him about Theo and Patty.”

“…He might’ve found out anyway,” Sloane said gently. “There’s no way of knowing now.”

She sighed and nodded softly. “The pain dulls, but it doesn’t go away…especially just…how it all happened so fast…Sorry, I think I need a moment.”

“No, yeah, go on,” Nick nodded. “Thank you, really. We’ll take it from here.”

She nodded and walked to the back.

“Okay, so we know a lot more than we did before,” Wu said. “What’s next?”

“Next is research,” Sloane said. “And considering I was right…”

Nick sighed and took the folder, then gently tapped her on the head with it, surprising her. “Yes, you were right. Now we go to the trailer.”

“The what?”

“Oh, right, you haven’t been yet,” Hank said. “You saw Sloane’s collection, but you haven’t seen Nick’s.”

“Sounds ominous…Think we can eat first?”

They looked at one another before nodding, realizing it was now sunset. After eating—burgers and fries mainly—they went to the SUV they’d taken today and driving to the woods. The sun was now below the horizon. Pulling up to the trailer, there was a silver SUV parked there already.

“Whose car is that?” Wu asked.

“Juliette's…” Nick said, confused.

“You expecting her?” Hank said.

“No,” he sighed, opening the door.

“Hope there's not a problem…”

Nick opened the door and Juliette gasped and jumped, having been reading something at the desk. “You scared me…”

“Everything okay?” Nick asked, his brow pinched in worry.

Juliette closed the notebook she was writing in and Sloane couldn’t help but notice how twitchy she was as she fiddled with it. “Yeah, you know, now that you're back and Trubel's gone, I just thought I would do a little more...So I can help out.”

Nick blinked but then nodded. “Uh, yeah. Okay.”

“Whoa,” Wu said, coming up into the trailer. “It’s…a lot bigger inside…And just…wow…”

“It's quite a trailer, huh?” Juliette said, smiling.

“No kidding.”

“What are you guys doing here?”

“We're looking for a Matanca Zumbido,” Hank said.

“Looks something like this,” Wu opened the folder and showed it. “But that’s a lot of books to look through…”

“Which is why we’ve been organizing it,” Sloane said, going over to a rolodex. “Haven’t had time for quick reference cards, but I know I wrote that name down under the M’s and what book it’s in…”

“Well, you guys know what you're doing. You don't need me for this. I don't want to crowd up the place,” she said, gathering her things and standing. She did go up and peck Nick on the lips and he smiled and watched her go. Sloane again pushed that uncomfortable feeling down as far as she could, but it didn’t feel like far enough. She tried to smile as they all said bye and she left.

Nick walked over and picked up the book Juliette had been reading curious. “Hexenbiests…”

“What?” Wu asked. He’d grabbed a book to start looking through, curious.

“They’re like witches,” Sloane said, scanning the shelves. “Spells, curses, magic, powers one should avoid messing with…”

“Oh, so those are…huh…”

“Makes sense, after everything Adalind's done to the both of you,” Hank said.

“Yeah. To all of us,” Nick sighed, putting it down.

“Not to me,” Wu said.

“Hmm, you ate her cookie,” Hank said with a wry smile.

Wu blinked and looked up at him. “I did?”

“Yeah. That's why you ate your carpet,” Nick said.

Wu’s eyes widened, remembering his time eating everything he shouldn’t a couple of years ago now. “Oh…”

“So, I guess Sloane is actually the one who hasn’t been cursed,” Hank said.

“Well, not by Adalind,” Sloane said, frowning as she looked at the books.

Nick looked up. “Wait, you’ve been cursed before?”

“Yeah. When I was 16. But it was by a Zauberbiest.”

“Is that a worse version?” Wu asked worriedly.

“It’s the male version so…take that as you will. Ah!” She pulled a book off the shelf. “Here we are.”

“Hold on, what were you cursed with?” Nick asked.

“Oh, he was a teacher at this school. He was being inappropriate with another student and when I called him out after class he tried to manipulate me. When it didn’t work he cursed me to have bad luck. Annoying more than anything, up until I almost got hit by a truck, then almost had a billboard fall over on me. I saw what he really intended then, I die, and it looks like an accident. I told Dierdre and she had me stay put while she went to kill him. Asshole didn’t even know I was a Grimm…” she finished with a mutter as she flipped through the pages.

“Holy shit…” Wu said. “So, it worked?”

“Yeah. I had to do a gross ritual thing with his blood, but I’m not cursed with bad luck. It’s just a perk of the job. Oh, but I did get a scar.” She paused and lifted the back of her shirt, showing a scar at her side than ran over her hip for a couple of inches. “The curse latched onto me when he cut me with one of his ritual knives before I got away.”

“Sloane—you were sixteen when this happened?” Nick asked, horrified. Wu and Hank looked horrified as well.

“Yep. Wait…No, fourteen.”

“Fourteen!?”

“Yeah, it was before I was supposed to be solo-hunting. My defense I didn’t know, he was good at hiding it. Dierdre was still upset, said I should be more careful. But I lived, so you know, it’s fine.”

“It’s not!”

“Yeah, it’s pretty terrifying,” Hank said, looking sick.

“…Well I really shouldn’t tell you some of the shit that happened when I was 11 then. Anyway, I found the passage,” she said, gesturing at the book. “I’m fine now so let’s get back to that?”

The men frowned but sighed, deciding to do as she asked. Wu stood and looked over her shoulder. “Matanca Zumbido…”

Sloane looked back at him and held out the book. “You want to do the honors?”

He hesitated but took the book carefully in hand and over to the desk, so it had better light. “"Brazil, Village of Borba, 1921. After weeks of scouring the jungle, I finally encountered the creature deep in the Amazon. I've been traveling with the Batisse, an indigenous tribe. Rumors haven't done justice to this horrifying creature, which the tribe members refer to as 'Matanca Zumbido.' The power of this Wesen rivals the wrath of Zeus himself. Unfortunately, my fellow Grimm and compatriot Jonas faced that wrath head-on. One touch from this woged beast burned that mighty warrior to death, scorching his skin and shattering his skull."” He finished with a grimace, looking at them.

“Sounds like our guy,” Hank said

“Does it say how to deal with it?” Nick asked.

“Uh, let me see…"Dysentery took the lives of... six days without food... Torrential downpours, flooding."” Wu said, scanning. “Ah, here we go. "I survived my encounter with Matanca Zumbido thanks only to an ancient tribal ritual they use to hunt and eat the deadly Temblón... their term for electric eels... By using a paste made from the skin of the poison dart frog. Anura Dendrobatidae."”

“Think you got any of that?” Hank asked.

“I have no idea,” Nick said, a bit wide eyed as he stood to the cabinet with many bottles and jars. “But I'm gonna find out.”

“Yeah, haven’t started on that so good luck,” Sloane said. Nick gave her slight pout and she sighed standing. “I’ll help…” He smiled, and they both started looking at the bottles.

“So, if Stetson is the Matanca Zumbido, Raymond thought he was filming a ghost, not realizing he was Wesen,” Nick said, thinking on what they knew.

“And Stetson toasted him,” Hank said.

“To ask the obvious, if Stetson killed his wife in that house, why keep going back? Especially if he found her cheating on him?” Wu said.

“Doesn't mean he stopped loving her, albeit a little on the sick side,” Hank said, a touch sympathetically.

“Could be he didn’t want to kill them really. Maybe after it was done and he realized what he did it just…couldn’t be rationalized in his head,” Sloane said. “Maybe he goes back thinking how things could’ve been different…”

“…So maybe he is a ghost,” Wu said quietly.

“Found it,” Nick said, pulling out a bottle. “Now what?”

Wu turned back to the book, reading quickly. “Oh, this kind of interesting. Apparently, you mix the poison frog skin powder with water, stir it into a paste, then you have to pierce an ear, and rub the paste into the...”

Nick’s eyes widened and he moved over to look at him. “Whoa. Go back to the "pierce an ear" part.”

“Okay, you have to pierce an ear and rub the paste into the piercing,” Wu said, slightly amused.

Nick was shocked enough Hank could take the bottle from him. Twisting it, a large silvery needle that was tied to it glinted in the lamplight. “Explains the needle,” he said breezily.

“I'm not piercing my ear,” Nick said.

“Works for Hank,” Wu pointed out. Hank gave him a withering look. It’d been the 90s and he liked Will Smith and LL Cool J, alright?

“I don’t think the mall is open either,” Sloane said, trying not to laugh. Her own ears were already pierced—done when she was a baby, so she had no real memory of it.

Nick’s cell phone rang, and he was thankful to have a moment to not talk about piercing things as he answered. “Yeah?” He paused and then quickly turned on speaker, putting the phone on the table and surprising them. “What's wrong?”

Carol, the girl from the Ghost Seekers, began talking quickly, in panic. “I'm at the Donovan house. Paul's inside. There's a woman with a gun. Paul wouldn't leave until he found out what killed Raymond. I tried to talk him out of it, but then there was this woman, and she pointed a gun at me!”

“Carol, stay where you are. Do not go in the house. We are on our way,” Nick ordered, picking the phone up.

“Please hurry!”

Nick hanged up and looked at them, all of them worried and standing to go. “The woman with the gun has to be Lily Hinkley,” Wu said.

“She must have gone there to kill Stetson. To end it,” Sloane nodded.

“If Stetson's there...” Hank said, unsure how well a gun was going to work.

“Guess I'm piercing my ear,” Nick sighed, grabbing his jacket.

“We'll mix it in the car,” Hank said.

“Wait…does anyone remember which side the gay side is?” Sloane said, mock seriously. Nick glared and pushed her towards the door as she cackled.

“You don’t know Lion King, but you know that,” he said, exasperated.

“We had to save Jacob from a Jagerbar in a gay club once when we were teens, I learned some things,” she said, smiling still.

\--------------------

“Oh, my God, you have to help Paul!” Carol yelled, running up to meet them when they pulled up. “He's inside!”

“Wu, stay with Carol,” Nick ordered.

“Got it.”

“Hey, look,” Hank said, pointing up. The second story was lighting up, flickering like one of the house shaped candle holders Oma had had once. But there was the hum of electricity in the air, not candles. “We better do this before we head in.”

Nick sighed but nodded. “Get it over with.” Sloane nodded, reaching up with the needle.

“What are you doing?” Carol asked, confused.

“Uh, piercing his ear,” Wu said honestly.

“What?” she snapped.

“It’s a ritual!” Sloane yelled, just as she put it through. She’d hoped to distract him.

Nick grunted and hissed, jerking away. “That hurt!”

“I’m sorry,” Sloane said honestly. Nick paused, confused, as he put pressure on the lobe.

“Wait, I gotta put the paste in,” Hank said, getting the mixture on his hands and going to rub it in for him. “What about you?”

“Mine are as old as me, I don’t know if it works if they aren’t new…” Sloane said honestly. “Plus, I’m told sharing needles is a no no…”

“What kind of police are you?” Carol said, looking a bit disgusted.

“The kind who know how to deal with that!” Sloane said, pointing at the lights. Carol closed her mouth with a click and hunkered down while they quickly moved through the front door. They all drew their guns and Nick looked at her curiously. “…Not a fan still, but I’m not dumb enough to stick a piece of metal through an electric conductor,” she whispered.

He nodded, glad for that, and the moved through with their guns and flashlights raised. The lights in the whole house were going insane, flashing on and off, flickering, dancing. Like a party. As they headed quietly upstairs they heard a yell. “What are you doing in my house?”

“I don't know!” a voice answered. Paul, they were fairly sure. He sounded terrified.

“I know what you want…You want my wife!”

“Stetson! No!” And that was Lily.

“Stop!” Nick was at the room and rushed in, grabbing Stetson—who was woged, showing his bright iridescent yellow skin sparking and arching all over him—and pulled him off of Paul. Lily was on the floor, wearing a pink dress that didn’t quite fit her and hanged off her. Stetson was wearing a suit jacket. They had a feeling they’d interrupted something a little forcefully intimate. Stetson was well and truly stuck in a fantasy, thinking Lily was Patty and trying to make things “perfect” again.

“Let's go!” Hank yelled, going to grab Paul.

“My camera!” He said, trying to reach for it. He got it and Hank hauled him to the door of the room. “It was a real ghost! I saw it! You saw it too! You and Raymond saw it! I know you did!” Hank just pushed him, trying to get him away.

Nick meanwhile was fighting Stetson. Sloane hanged back, looking for an opening but she had to admire Nick’s fighting. He was blocking and dodging all attempts and then striking at the openings hard and fast. Stetson was not a hand to hand fighter, that was obvious, but she hadn’t gotten to just watch Nick work for a while. When he headbutted him and then tossed him into the side room she had to resist pumping her fist.

Stetson stood, staring at him, then woged back to a human form. “You're a... Why aren't you dead?” he asked, frustration clear in his voice.

Nick smirked a bit and shrugged. “Frog paste.” Stetson looked at him in pure confusion and Sloane smiled. She didn’t notice Lily moving next to her, grabbing a gun that had fallen to the floor. “You're under arrest for the murder of...”

Sloane finally saw Lily as she stood and took aim. “Wait!” she yelled, trying to grab her. Lily fired before she could stop her and struck Stetson right in the back. He gasped, jerking a moment in pain and shock. Then as he was falling…it was as though all the power he held flooded out in a moment. A wave of energy struck Lily and Sloane, sending them flying back, while Nick remained unaffected. It broke the windows, then kept traveling and broke the streetlights, surprising the others outside.

“Sloane!” Nick yelled, rushing over. She was twitching slightly, and he could feel a slight crackle as he turned her over. “Sloane, are you okay?”

She groaned, turning and looking up at him. “Next time…I’m using the frog paste,” she sighed, but smiled up at him.

He smiled in relief. “Yeah, I think that would be best,” he said, helping her sit up.

They heard Lily groan and he went to help her up as well.

“Are you okay?”

She sighed, moving a little tenderly, but walked to go see Stetson’s body, watching the electricity under his skin slowly fade. “I am now…” she sighed. Sloane looked at her. She seemed as if she finally dropped the weight she’d been carrying for five years and though still mournful, it seemed like she was finally ready to move on.

\---------

“Warrant just came through,” Wu said. It had been a day and they were at the precinct, wrapping everything up. “We're clear to disinter the body in Stetson Donovan's grave.”

“Gotta be Theo Hinkley,” Hank nodded.

“What are we charging Lily Hinkley with?” he asked.

They looked at one another then back at him chagrinned smiles. “Nothing.”

Wu stared back as if they were crazy. “She shot him.”

“In self-defense. Sort of.”

“She did us a favor,” Nick said.

“Yeah, did you want to try putting Matanca Zumbido behind bars?”

Wu opened his mouth but then closed it, really thinking about that, and nodded slowly. “Okay…I see your point.” He straightened when Renard walked over, holding his laptop notebook.

“Got something you might want to see,” he said, setting it down and opening it up. He hit play on the online video had had queued up and they watched footage of Stetson pulling Paul out of the closet from Paul’s camera point of view. Electricity crackled over him, then the camera moved down as he struggled and when it was back up he was woged. Big head, scaly skin, dark eyes and pulsing light—the whole wesen shebang. “This just got posted two hours ago.”

“We have anything to worry about?” Hank asked, worried.

“Don't think so. No one believes in ghosts.”

“That’s a little unfair,” Hank said. “My mom definitely believes. Used to say my grandmother was watching over me and I believe her.” Sloane flinched a little but kept her mouth shut.

“Well, I should say, no one on the internet who likes to comment on these videos does. Most of the comments are about how fake it looks, how it’s not a ghost, that it’s obviously make-up…” He scrolled down, showing them.

“Internet trolls helping us…never considered that,” Wu said, smiling.

“Indeed. Well, when you guys are done with this, why don’t you go ahead and go home? You had a late night.”

“Thanks, Boss,” Wu said, grinning as he went to finish his paperwork. The others nodded and they finished up what was left of their reports, waiting for them all to be done before standing to go together out to their cars. Hank was parked the closest and waved as the others goodbye as he headed to his car.

“Hey, Sloane?” Nick asked, pausing. She stopped and turned back, curious. “Do you really not believe in ghosts?”

She frowned. “Why ask that again?”

“Just…with everything you’ve seen and done and had done to you, I’m surprised you rule anything out,” he said honestly. “You’ve been at this longer than me, did you never see anything?”

Sloane sighed, looking around, then motioning him to follow her. They went up to the top of the carpark, where they’re voices wouldn’t echo quite so much. The stars were overhead, and it was chilly, but they turned up their collars. “…I wanted to believe in ghosts when I was younger.”

“Wanted to?”

“Yeah. When Oma died.” Nick winced, feeling he’d found a sore area. Sloane went over to the ledge nearby and leaned on the concrete wall to look out at the city lights. “I spent two days next to her body before I was found and brought in. Nothing. I asked Dierdre but she told me to stop clinging to the past. I snuck out when I was 10 to see a bunch of psychics when we were in Cassadaga, Florida. Psychic capital of the world! And none of them got anything right. I tried talking to her, tried to find out how to message her, looked for signs everywhere…and nothing. Not through the first years of my training when I was having to learn how to take hits and cuts and keep going and…Dierdre wasn’t exactly comforting. That was before I did try to let go. It’s not that I don’t believe in spirits or souls, just that once they die they move on and can’t come back. I just…tell myself ghosts don’t exist and that’s why she never came back, even if it was just to make sure I was okay…Because I wanted to believe she would if she could.”

“…I’m sorry,” Nick said honestly. “I didn’t think…”

“It’s okay,” she sighed. “Truthfully, I’ve seen things that I couldn’t explain. I just tried to deny it. But it was never good things. Vengeful spirits I think do exist, living and dead.”

“…I think there are good ones in the world too,” Nick said honestly. “Maybe they don’t all get to come back. Maybe…Grimms don’t get to come back. It might be a curse on us,” he said, smiling a little bitterly. Sloane thought about that, something she’d never considered. It sounded possible. “But I like to believe people who love us still think about us when they’ve passed on. And maybe they come back in small ways. After my parents…or I guess my dad passed, I thought I felt him a couple times. Birthdays, graduation… When I got into the police Academy, for just a second I thought I felt him with me…then I found an old picture of us in one of his books that same day. Little things.”

She smiled. “That’s a nice thought…was he a cop?”

“No. Antiques dealer and History professor,” he laughed. Then he looked a bit nostalgic and sad as he thought back. “I used to give him a hard time that I wasn’t interested in old stuff…That history books were boring. Now look at me. Kind of wish I’d listened more now.”

Sloane hesitated but reached up and put an arm over his shoulders. “I think he’d be proud either way…But we are.”

Nick looked at her and smiled, putting his arm around her back. “Same to you…Your Oma would be really proud.”

Sloane sighed and let herself enjoy this. Just for a little bit, with only the stars to know.

\----------------------------------

Mr. Lumb was catching up on some archiving when the landline he had at the desk rang. It was the line for interlibrary communications. Quickly walking over, he picked up the receiver with a deep breath. “Boise Library, Branch 079. Eric Lumb speaking. …Yes, I do have a letter for her. …Very well, I will forward it at once to Paris. Thank you.” He hanged up and walked over to The Dead Letter box and pulled out the letter to Deirdre G. He placed it in a first-class mailer from a basket he kept on hand, writing the appropriate address on the front. He then walked out of the library, up to the surface and immediately to a mailbox and dropped it in. Deciding that was enough for that evening he then opted to head home and the letter was promptly forgotten as it was now on its way to the intended recipient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo, this was a long one. Originally I was going to split it up more, but it felt like I was stretching it out too much. Like Christmas and Chupacabra were going to be one, then Wesenrein and Tribunal (which changed ALOT from my original plan but it feels better staying a bit closer to the show on this one :\ Sloane was going to do something very stupid originally but it just didn't feel right...) and so forth. But then it felt like it was taking too long to get to parts I'm looking forward to the most. A lot of stuff happens just ON TOP of one another at this point in the show (like, no one gets a chance to breathe it feels), so I'm playing with timing a little but trying not to just skip out on things too...
> 
> For some wondering, Deirdre will be here in 23, so one more set up chapter because again, all this is happening in a short period of time and I can't find breathing room for them! Something I've learned trying to plot this though is I HAVE GIVEN MORE THOUGHT TO A TIMELINE IN GRIMM THAN THE WRITERS. I have a spreadsheet :| If I can get ahead enough, might update early. Wish me luck!
> 
> OH! On a side note, I was going to mention how tickled I was at the casting in Wesenrein and Tribunal! Riken was played by Brandon Quinn, who played Tommy Dawkins in one of my youthful obsessions Big Wolf on Campus (for real, if someone can point me to where I can get a good quality box set of this, I will trade for that info. You want smut, I write smut! Just...nothing too squicky) as the titular werewolf! Seeing him as a villain kinda sucked but it still made me laugh. Monroe's mom is also played by Dee Wallace Stone, start of my favorite werewolf movie the Howling! Grimm's casting guys were on point!


	22. The Truth Will Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 22 of The Casebook of Sloane Larson
> 
> Rewrites of Maréchaussée, Trial by Fire and Bad Luck
> 
> First, a wesen bounty hunter comes to Portland and leaves a trail of bodies in his path at the behest of the council, crossing the line for the Grimms. Then a firebug ends up killing two in an insurance fraud gone wrong, and they need help from one of Nick's old perps. Finally, someone's stealing feet? For what?! All through this though, Nick finds out the secret Juliette has been hiding and things start taking a turn...

\----------------

**Maréchaussée**

\---------------- 

“I think I've been here before,” Wu said. It was only a few days after the events at the Donovan house when they got another call. A double homicide in a Psychic shop. The place had a neon sign that said “Fortune Teller” in blue and purple with yellow stars and moons on either side of a hand in the window. Other palmistry, tarot and other fortune ability posters were on the other windows. The door itself had the picture for a persons’ head like a phrenologist’s diagram painted on.

“You've had your fortune told?” Hank asked in surprise.

“Actually, I did, about 20 years ago at the Cleveland County Fair. I was supposed to be a rock star and rich. But that was in Ohio,” he said with a wry smile. “However, now I happen to be talking about this MO here. It's the same as we had with that security firm, rather large stab wounds to the chest, the ones with scorpion venom.” He eyed them and Sloane sighed in exasperation.

“Oh hell, another manticore?”

“I knew it!” He said. “I need to study more of those books…I don’t’ remember enough from when I was at Sloane’s…”

“I’ll get you a way into the trailer,” Nick said. “Who reported?”

“Landlord came by this morning to collect the rent. Instead...” Wu said, opening the door and leading them inside. The front room seemed like a normal check-in/waiting room like you would see in an office. But then through the door at the back they entered a room that screamed “mystic arts” with maybe a teenager’s understanding of them from fantasy novels. There was a seal with sigils painted on the ceiling in red around the light. Brocade curtains hung over the windows to block out all light, and on the walls as decoration over the blue painted wainscoting. Candle sconces on the walls, half melted. A Mucha-style painting with a wispy, magical looking woman. And an old table with two woven back chairs were in the center on top of an old Persian style rug. Nothing out of the ordinary, until you saw the two dead people on the floor. One was a man with long gray hair and trimmed beard, slumped against the wall. The other a woman in a flowing dress and brocade duster with a scarf tied around her head. Both had wounds in their chests. “He found the bodies.”

Sloane pulled her gloves on and walked over, crouching to look over the wound on the man. “Yeah, looks like a Manticore all right…”

“Guess we can rule out robbery,” Hank said, shining his light on the cash that was strewn between them like confetti. A lot of twenties, fifties and even some hundreds from the look of it. “Anything on the vics?”

“Mabel and Laszlo Kurlon from the Czech Republic, been in Portland just over a year and renting the shop for nine months,” Wu said, reading from his notebook.

“How many ways in?” Nick asked, shining his light around. It seemed like the light above had low watt bulbs to keep the ambience in check.

“Two. Back door was unlocked. Front door was unlocked. Lights were still on. So, whoever came in didn't have to work for it.”

“They just came in for the kill,” Hank said.

“Maybe they got a bad fortune,” Wu said dryly.

“I don’t go on a homicidal rampage after Chinese food if I don’t like the fortune,” Sloane said.

“If the fortune-tellers were any good, they would have seen this coming,” Nick said. He glanced at Sloane, but she didn’t look back. She didn’t quite want to revisit their conversation a few nights ago yet.

“Got an appointment book. Last appointment: last night, 7:30,” Hank said, picking

“Got a name?” Nick asked, coming over to look over his shoulder.

“Well, if I could read it…Starts with a P.”

“Let me work on it,” Wu said, gently taking it from him.

“Do we have the landlord?” Sloane asked.

“I got him outside,” Wu said.

She nodded to Nick and Hank. “Why don’t you guys go chat with him. I’ll look around, see if I find anything that might explain why a Manticore came after them.”

“Alright, sounds good,” Hank nodded, turning to head out. Nick nodded too, following him a little more slowly as he glanced back. Sloane didn’t notice though, looking over the table in the center. So, he quickly caught up to Hank.

Sloane, meanwhile, ran her hand over the table lightly. It was mostly bare, so she didn’t worry too much about disturbing it. She didn’t find any gears or mechanisms she might expect—common with fake psychics who want to shake or “levitate” a table. When she looked under, she noted something near the edge of the table on the psychic’s side. She pressed down on it and hummed when the table did rise a couple of inches, like the press for cymbal in a drum set. Impressive way to do it and not have a tablecloth that would make people suspicious. When she touched the chair she was fairly sure the psychic sat it, nothing stood out. But then she touched the customer’s chair and paused. There was a very slight vibration going through it, just at the back. Nothing noticeable if you weren’t looking for it, but she could imagine some might find it giving the feeling their spine tingling.

“I knew it…” she muttered, shaking her head. She knew there were likely other tricks they could find, but this pointed to the two victims trying to defraud people. But there was usually more to it. Either one or both were very good at cold reading, or they had other tricks up their sleeves. There were normal things she expected: The dim lights, the curtains, the candles, etc. But that was a lot of money on the floor. They must’ve offered something that had their customers willing to pay. _Why would a manticore kill a couple of fake psychics? They don’t fear death, so why would they bother?_

She sighed and decided to go out to get back with Nick and Hank. They just finished up with the landlord when she walked up. “Hey. Find anything?” Nick asked.

“Well, confirmed they were likely charlatans,” Sloane said, taking off her gloves. “Several tricks in the furniture, and probably others they broke out as the need called for it.”

“You think that’s a motive?”

She shrugged. “I guess people grieving could do something in anger…but then, why not take the money? In for a penny. What about you guys?”

“Nothing too weird. Landlord said they usually paid in cash—their choice, not his. Never checked their references. Thought they might’ve been in Reno before now, but he’s going to hunt down all that info for us,” Hank said.

“How nice of him,” Sloane smirked.

“Well I got you something,” Wu said, walking over with his computer from the car. “Looks like I got a match on Anne Peyton. Got an address in the southeast and a phone number to go with it. Could she be the Manticore?” he added quietly.

“She was the last one scheduled to see them…” Hank said.

“If she is, she's not gonna make a move on four cops,” Nick said.

“You forgot about that whole “no fear of death thing”, huh?” Sloane asked wryly.

“Don’t know about the fear of death, but you put the fear of Sloane into the last one we met,” Nick smirked back.

“Yes, I did,” she said, looking proud with her hands on her hips. Nick just chuckled and pushed her towards the car.

They drove to Anne Peyton’s house, a normal two story in a non-descript neighborhood. Sloane thought she might nearly have a breakdown when they explained why they were there. If she’d killed them she was fantastic at acting distraught to the point of tears. She also didn’t exactly fit the type. She was a short, round woman with a very motherly sort of tone and way about her. And a nervousness. She was more like a maushertz in Sloane’s opinion but she never woged. They finally got her to calm down and she sighed.

“I’m sorry…really, I’m…I’ve just been a mess lately, since Louis died…” she said. “It’s been six months and I…I don’t know what to do with myself, honestly. I thought maybe I’d found a way to at least talk again, for a little while. Till I was ready…”

“We understand that might’ve put a strain on you…” Hank said sympathetically.

She sighed, pacing a bit as she collected herself. Then paused by a picture and picked it up. “This my favorite picture of Louis and me,” she said, smiling sadly. “We were on vacation in Vermont. We were so happy. It was right before he was diagnosed,” she finished somberly, walking over to the couch to sit with the picture.

“Tell us what happened last night in the session,” Nick said, sitting next to her.

“Oh, it was amazing,” she sighed. “I wasn't sure if I was just making a fool of myself or what, but a friend of mine went to them, and she said it was incredible. And that's why I went. And it was!”

“Did you see any physical changes?”

“Oh, yes, yes. Laszlo channeled this spirit called Fadó.” They all glanced at one another, dubious. “I know how it sounds, but I swear it was real. I saw him change, his whole face. He was something completely different. It's... it's kind of hard to describe,” she sighed. Her hands moved as she talked trying to figure out her words. “He had fur, and he was sort of animal-like…You must think I'm crazy.”

“Who was in the room with you when it happened?” Hank asked, dodging that statement.

“Just me and Laszlo and Mabel.”

“Now, you said Laszlo changed. Did Mabel change in any way?” Nick asked.

She shook her head, a slight touch of defensiveness in her tone now. “No. They didn't do anything wrong! I communicated with my husband last night. I'm sure of it. I mean, they were worth every penny. I just... I can't believe that somebody would kill them. I wanted so badly to speak to my husband again.” She chocked up, sniffing. “I'm sorry. It's just... It's been so lonely.”

Nick nodded sympathetically and set a hand on her knee, patting it kindly. They asked a few more cursory questions that was expected of them before rising to leave. She walked them to the door and looked almost sad they were leaving. Maybe it had been a while since she had company?

“…Mrs. Peyton. Can I give some advice?” Sloane asked. She nodded to her partners who went to wait outside.

She sighed, looking down. “You’re going to tell me not to trust psychics? That there’s no such thing?”

“Well, honestly, yes.”

“Look, I don’t expect you to understand—” she started.

“I understand perfectly. I did something similar when I was just a kid and lost someone I loved.” She quieted, surprised a little. “I learned early on a lot that set up like the Kurlons, to make it seem amazing. But did they tell you anything only your husband would know? Anything they couldn’t find googling your name and where you grew up? Or out right, not asking “oh, does this mean something to you? This vague reference to something?””

“…No…” She admitted, deflating a little. “But they said the connection was lost. That I would have to come back. Except I can’t now—”

“Leave them wanting more is a staple of all acts,” Sloane said bluntly, a little harshly. Anne wasn’t expecting that and closed her mouth. “And as for how they figure things out, it’s called cold reading people. It’s actually a pretty hard skill to learn. They pick up on subtle signals, get a little information where they can like online or in papers, and just ask leading questions. We do it too, honestly,” she gestured at herself and out at Nick and Hank. “It’s super useful in investigations. For example, your necklace. It’s important to you?”

“Well…yes.”

“Your husband gave it to you.”

“I…yes, how did you know?”

“You touched it a couple of times talking about him. It’s an unconscious sign. The infinity symbol on the necklace was to mean something like infinite love? Something he gave you before he passed?”

She nodded again, looking down again in disappointment and grief. “Yes…I see what you mean now…”

Sloane frowned and sighed. “I’m not telling you this to say it’s all bunk. I’ve seen some things that I can’t rule out being “paranormal”. But I got good at spotting fakes, and unfortunately they outnumber any real people with gifts out there and are a lot louder than them. But I wouldn’t keep searching. Would your husband want you spending so much money doing this? When you could be out doing stuff you like again?”

Anne shook her head, tearing up a bit. “D…did you really go through this?”

“Yeah. I lost someone very suddenly and violently. I wanted to talk to them again too. I had a lot of questions. Funnily enough I was just talking to someone else about this not too long ago…” She glanced at the door, where Nick and Hank were waiting by the car.

“…Did you get over it?”

Sloane sighed. “Sort of. It still hurts. It’s always going to in some way. But the pain gets…smaller. Less feeling it all the time to only when I let myself think about it too long. Though, I just started to let myself actually heal though. I held on to it for a long time and didn’t have a good…support before. Now I do. You got other people I see, from your photos. Are you really alone?”

“…No,” she nodded. “I know I’m not…except here.” She gestured at the house.

“Then get out of here. I don’t mean sell, unless that’s what you want, but…go out with your friends! Have a movie night! Join a club! A support group! Go be with people and talk about stuff. That’s the only way I stopped feeling it. Something other than chasing the pain and the memories. You’ll just keep making excuses to find someone else or go back and no matter what, at the end of the time there you just lose him again...Your just in a loop of hurting yourself. Again…talking from experience,” she sighed.

Anne looked at her a moment before nodding. “I…you make a good point. I’ll think about that.”

Sloane nodded. “Okay…sorry if I overstepped or anything, I just sort of…wanted to help?”

“No…no, honestly, I did need to hear some of that, I know. I just…need to think.”

Sloane nodded and headed back out.

“What was that?” Hank asked.

“Just telling her to pull her life together,” Sloane said, climbing into the car.

“I hope you used nicer words than that,” Nick said. He knew she did, he could see her expressions from the car. Two years ago, she wouldn’t have tried to comfort a witness, but it made him smile a bit. Sloane’s heart grew at least two sizes the last two years.

“Well either way, I don’t think she’s the Manticore,” she sighed.

“But we agree Lazlo probably was a wesen?” Wu asked.

“Oh yeah,” Hank said. “But I don’t know if that’s a motive. Wesen on Wesen still usually has a reason.”

“So, we gotta keep hunting that reason out,” Nick nodded.

\------------------

“So, the widow is not your Manticore,” Renard said, looking over the file after they summed up what they found so far.

“Oh, she's not even Wesen, according to Nick and Sloane,” Wu said.

“But Laszlo had to be, and he wasn't hiding it; he was using it,” Hank said.

“That's why she was so convinced he was talking to the dead. He woged into a… “animal spirit guide”,” Nick said.

“I give them credit, it’s one way to really wow their clients enough to keep coming back and take them seriously,” Sloane sighed.

“Yeah, you see something like that, you'll believe anything,” Wu said dryly.

“The Manticore had to have shown up just after she left. The shop was still open, lights were still on, doors unlocked,” Hank said.

“So, if we have a Manticore that was going to a Wesen for a fortune, the woge is not gonna work. He'd know he was being scammed,” Renard said.

“Sounds like motive. He was pissed,” Wu said.

“No. They must’ve had a screening process for Kehrseite and other wesen,” Sloane said. “Otherwise it would be too risky to just woge to try and fool them. I don’t think this killer was a customer. Maybe he was trying to get revenge for someone?”

“Unless it's a Wesen Council thing,” Nick sighed.

Wu looked up, confused. “A what?”

At the same time both Nick’s phone rang— _Hungry like the Wolf_ on Cello. “Remember how I said there are some powers out there who prefer wesen stay “hidden”?” Sloane said.

“Not everything's in the books,” Hank said, Renard nodding sagely.

Nick smiled and answered his phone. “Monroe, you back?...Great. Um, I know you just got in, but can we come by? Hank, Sloane and me? We need your help. …If you're not too busy. …Great. We're on our way.” He hanged up, smiling a bit. “Well, Monroe and Rosalee are home.”

“I was hoping we wouldn’t need them right away when they got back…” Sloane sighed, disappointed.

“Rosalee has a lot more knowledge of the council though. If this is something to do with them, it could help.”

“I know,” She nodded, standing.

“Let me know what you find out if possible,” Renard asked.

“Me too,” Wu said. “I mean…I’m still learning all this.”

“Come along,” Sloane said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’re part of the team,” Nick said.

He smiled and they waved to Renard before turning to head out.

Renard watched them go then sighed. He looked at his phone, but he had no text from Henrietta. He’d asked to her to keep in touch with him on Juliette. When she had come to his house the night after dealing with the Wesenrein, without Nick, he didn’t know what to think. It was hard not to remember the passion they felt for one another during the time she was cursed—it was a destructive force that nearly consumed them. He knew that couldn’t be why she was there though. Even if it was, he wasn’t going to put everything at risk for her. His truce with Nick was still not on firm ground and he couldn’t blame him.

When she’d changed into a Hexenbiest though he’d nearly fallen over in shock. Her hair stayed that russet brown, but her skin turned thin and leathery, almost torn in some places and dry. Her teeth decrepit. Her eyes were dark but burned like coal fires. She was still…beautiful. In a way that Hexenbiest and Zauberbiests found one another beautiful no matter the form. But he knew this wasn’t right. She’d begged for his help and he agreed. It took a few days to get in contact with Henrietta since he hadn’t talked to her in years. But she was part of the reason he and his mother had moved to Portland in his youth, so he was grateful she had stayed. Getting her to agree wasn’t as hard as he’d feared. Not telling Nick was much harder.

The day he met up with Juliette to tell her, he watched her wreck the car of some self-absorbed asshole who nearly ran her over just by woging. He realized just how powerful she could become then, and it was more than terrifying. But he got her inside and gave her the number. Well, had her memorize the number, before Henrietta’s magic sent them turning and scattering over the page. From there it was up to her and Henrietta when to meet. He just hoped she could help Juliette, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it from Nick, or Sloane for that matter.

The worse news came that morning though and he clicked his email again on his computer. Some of his people at the airport had sent him notice that Viktor Chlodwig zu Schellendorf von Konigsburg had come to Portland. And with him was Marcus Rispoli, leader of the Verrat. And worse yet, Adalind Schade’s passport had also been scanned.

Another email came through then and he opened it to see confirmation of where Viktor was staying. The penthouse of one of the most luxurious hotels in Portland, of course. Perhaps he owed him a visit…

\-------------------

Monroe opened the door when there was a knock and smiled as he opened it. “It's like we never left.”

“Welcome back,” Nick said, hugging Monroe.

“We missed you,” Sloane said, hugging Rosalee when she came over. Monroe and Rosalee switched then who to hug, and then ushered them in.

“Good to have you two back,” Hank said, opting for pats on the back as he walked it.

“Portland wasn't the same without you,” Wu said, doing the same.

“Ha, thanks. How are you with all this?” Monroe asked.

“I'm…getting used to it,” he said honestly. “It’s better stepping through the door than ignoring it.” Monroe nodded a bit, though he was a bit confused by the metaphor.

“So, what do you got?” Rosalee sighed with a smile as she sat down.

“Manticore,” Nick said.

“Another one?” Monroe gaped.

“That's what I said,” Sloane chuckled.

“Well, I mean, they're just about impossible to kill,” he complained.

“This one killed two people last night,” Nick said

“We also think the vics were Wesen,” Hank said.

“But you don't know for sure?” Monroe asked.

“Well, they were dead,” Wu said, lips thinning out into a line. Monroe gave an _oh, right_ sort of look.

“They were fortune-tellers,” Nick went on, going to sit down in front of them. “We interviewed their last client, and she described what sounded like a woge.”

“During the fortune-telling?” Rosalee asked, shocked but concerned.

“Yeah.”

She sighed. “Then my guess is, they were breaking Council law.”

“Oh, boy,” Monroe said, rolling his eyes upward.

“So, wait, the council would’ve sent someone to take care of them?” Sloane asked. “I mean, I knew they did that for some things like with the grausen, but this? You said the carnival towed the line but wasn’t something they’d get into.”

“Yes, but that’s in a crowd posing it as a magic trick or…sideshow act. One on one, in a small room, with a Kehrseite who thinks it’s real even if they don’t know what a woge is?”

“Yeah, that would be a big problem. I know there’s a lot of psychic shows out, but the customers don’t see it as entertainment,” Monroe said. Sloane nodded, agreeing with that.

“If they’d done this before they’d be on a list. If they were on a list they’d send someone,” Rosalee nodded.

“List? There's a list?” Wu asked, jaw open.

“The Council keeps records of Wesen who violate Council Law,” she explained. “Sometimes they send out their own people, like Alexander. Sometimes they use Maréchaussée.”

“Bless you,” Sloane said. Rosalee rolled her eyes but smiled.

“The Maréchaussée are only in it for the money,” Monroe said. “I mean, strictly mercenary. They're basically bounty hunters.”

“Wesen bounty hunters?” Hank asked, surprised.

“Yeah, big money. Not much of a health plan, but...”

“…How much money we talkin’?” Sloane asked curiously. Nick and Hank looked at her disapprovingly and she shrugged. “What, I can’t have a side job?”

“You have a side job. It’s either being a Grimm or a detective, depending on the day. And you get healthcare with one of them,” Nick said.

“Huh, good point…And both technically, if you know who to call and don’t mind back alley doctors.”

“Guys, this is serious. If this is Wesen Council, I'd just stay out of it,” Rosalee said soberly.

They looked at one another again and looked back. “As a Grimm, maybe, but not as a cop,” Nick said.

“Yeah. I don’t know if we can sweep this under the rug,” Sloane agreed. “I may not like what they were doing fooling people as “psychics”, but they didn’t kill or physically hurt anyone we can find out. If all they did was defraud people, even if they did risk being found out, I’m not sure I agree the punishment fits the crime…”

Rosalee sighed but nodded a little. She didn’t disagree. The council’s choices were feeling more and more old-fashioned and heartless. “Well, at least let me see what I can find out from the Council.

“Okay…We’re sorry again to dump this on you just as you got home,” Nick said. “After you settle in again, we should all get together. Movie night, with some pizza and beer.”

“I like the sound of that,” Monroe smiled.

“Yeah. Sloane’s never seen the Lion King,” Hank said.

“What?!” they both gasped. Sloane just groaned a bit flopped back in her chair.

\--------------

They returned to the precinct to try and track down any leads through their victims’ history to see how a Maréchaussée may have tracked them down. “Looks like our vics were living pretty much off the grid: no bank accounts, no tax returns…” Hank said.

“Can't find a vehicle registration or driver's license for either one,” Nick sighed.

“Sounds like people who don't want to be found to me,” Sloane said. She’d employed similar measures before.

“Well, except the bounty hunter did,” Nick pointed out.

Sloane nodded and then looked up when she saw Renard marching towards them, looking on edge. “I need to see you three.” He didn’t stop, moving past them towards his office. They looked at one another but rose and followed him.

“We got a problem?” Hank asked.

“We do,” Renard said, closing the door behind them. “My cousin Viktor is back in town with Adalind. And the head of the Verrat.”

All of them froze a moment, dread filling them.

“You've seen them?” Nick asked.

“I have. They know about your mother and that we gave my child to her.”

“So, they think we know where she is,” Hank surmised.

“I don't think they care whether we do or not. But they made it very clear they're not leaving without Diana, so I suggest you tell Juliette and watch your backs. I don't know when or where, but they will make a move.”

“Then let me make a move first,” Sloane said darkly.

“…Tempting, but they are still on alert after my brother’s death. And if they know about Nick’s mother, they might know about you. I’m hoping not, but it’s possible if Weston was able to tell them before he died there was another female Grimm.”

“Like I care, after what she did to Nick—” Sloane started.

“What she did is unforgivable. But I unfortunately understand it. Taking Diana…I wish I had had more time to do it better, but I can’t blame her for it putting her into the Royal’s hands. She’d do anything for Diana, the same as I would…And I’ve done worse things to Adalind to be honest.”

“Really?” she asked snidely.

“I slept with her mother. Then told her she was useless when her powers were gone thanks to Nick. Threatened her a couple of times. That was before we conceived Diana.”

They all gaped and looked at him. “…Okay, how the hell did you two stand each other long enough to—” she started.

“We have a complicated relationship,” Renard sighed loudly. “But my point is, I know I have been awful to her. It took me going through…breaking Juliette’s curse, helping Nick, and nearly dying to realize how awful I really was.” Nick frowned but he went on. “And even when I said I would do better, when I thought we might…work something out, I still ended up hurting her. What she did to Nick is unforgivable, but I…can’t fault the reason why. Even if I still believe what we did was for the greater good…I don’t want to kill her.”

Sloane was quiet but then looked at Nick. Nick sighed. “What we do to her will depend on what she does to us now that she’s here. She’s already proved she’ll do anything to get Diana back. That could mean whatever move they make could hurt or kill us or someone close to us. If she attacks, I’m fighting her.”

“Same,” Hank said. Sloane nodded.

Renard sighed but nodded as well. “I accept that. Thank you for at least not hunting her down, I know on some level she deserves it…”

“We need to warn the others,” Nick said. He looked at Sloane. “You can contact my mother, right?”

She nodded, heading out of the office while Nick and Hank made the others calls. Renard watched her go, and there was an obvious temptation to follow. But he stayed where he was, not wanting to overstep and risk her not trusting him. He’d already contacted a detective who would be arriving the next day to discuss finding Kelly. None of them needed to know that though.

She went to one of the back rooms where she could still get reception and dialed Kelly’s number. She hanged up after the third ring and dialed again a minute later.

“Sloane?” Kelly asked, picking up. “What’s up? I usually call you and I just did last week.”

“Some developments,” Sloane sighed, leaning against the wall. “Adalind is back in Portland. And she knows you have Diana.”

“…Oh. That could be inconvenient.”

Sloane wanted to smile. Even now Kelly sounded completely calm, but she had a feeling she was angry. “A bit, yeah. Worse yet, she came with a royal Viktor something-something von…something. And the head of the verrat too.”

“It’s a regular party…” Kelly sighed.

“I just wanted to call and warn you. Are you anywhere near us?”

“Not right now. We stayed in Colorado for a bit and decided to head to Florida when it got too cold. She’s not a fan of the cold, kept turning the heat up wherever we went using her powers.”

“How is she?”

“Hitting all her milestones,” Kelly said, voice softening a bit. “And then some.”

“…Would it be possible to get a picture of her?”

“Why? Given we’re trying to hide her…”

“It could come in handy to sway Adalind. And maybe Renard. Plus…Y’know, I think he’d like to have one. You kept your locket with Nick, but he doesn’t have that. I don’t know how much I trust him so keeping him on our side might help.”

“…I got one I can email you. But if he wants it on his desk he might need to tweak it a bit.”

“Thanks.”

“You know, two years ago you wouldn’t give a flying…fork what he wanted,” Kelly pointed out. She almost laughed, knowing she was censoring herself for Diana.

“Two years ago, I was still as angry and mature as I was when I was a teenager,” Sloane said, sighing. “A lot’s happened since then…”

Kelly hummed. “I heard about Collin…but I don’t think it was wendigos that got him.”

“…He brought whatever happened on himself. And dragged Amy and Antonio down with him,” she said quietly.

“I unfortunately believe that. He’s a lot like his father, Cormac.”

“I don’t remember him well. Was he…stubborn?”

“A cantankerous bastard,” she said bluntly. “Shoot, trying not to cuss in front of her…but that describes him best. He had a temper, always thought he was right, sexist…I butted heads with him more than once growing up. Literally, sometimes. Though apparently Cormac’s now in a home to help deal with dementia and his wife and children are…living their lives as normally as possible. Since Collin was the only other Grimm in the family. They’d had a falling out I heard, but they still buried Collin at home in County Cork.”

“Good for them, honestly,” she sighed.

“How’s Nick doing?”

Sloane suddenly blushed just thinking about him and cursed herself. “Uh, good. Good. No big issues besides Adalind showing up. No further issues that we haven’t had before.”

“…And what about you? You sound a little…off.”

“Me? No, I’m fine,” she said. “Just, uh…Y’know, taking it one day at a time.”

“…Okay, that’s good. I’ll send that picture, but I think we’re about at the limit I’d recommend.”

“Right. Call when you can, we’ll catch up more later.”

“Later.” She hanged up and Sloane sighed. She had no doubt Kelly could cold read, even over the phone, which made her nervous. Nick’s mom liked Juliette as well after all; so Sloane couldn’t let on that she had feelings for him. It would be too awkward all around.

Heading back, Nick was getting ready to leave. “Hey. I called Juliette, let her know. I’m going to take off early, I don’t want her coming home alone.”

Sloane tried to smile. “Such a caring boyfriend…” She meant for it to sound sarcastic. Not wistful. _Dammit!_ “Uh, called your mother. She and Diana are fine, they’re on the other side of the country.”

“That’s good,” Nick nodded. He didn’t even notice her strange tone it seems, getting his jacket on. Sloane felt somewhat disappointed in that. She didn’t _want_ him to know, but was it really not obvious? It felt sometimes like she was waving neon color flags that said _I want you, Nick Burkhardt!_ Then again, this was the strongest she’d felt for anyone since Collin. Maybe even before then. Maybe Alan Wheeler in 2nd grade when he asked to hold her hand at the school assembly.

_That’s a random memory…_

“You okay going home alone?” Nick asked.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, standing back at attention. “Wu and Hank already leave?”

“Getting ready to.”

“Okay…” She felt her phone buzz and looked at it to see Kelly had already sent the photo. She pulled it up and had to smile a little. Diana was about a year old now, sitting up on her own in a heather-gray onesie with wisps of duck-fluff blonde hair. What stood out was her deep purple eyes that almost seemed to glow, and the brightly colored blocks floating around her. “Oh wow…”

“What?”

She hesitated but turned her phone around. “I asked your mom to send me a picture of Diana.”

Nick was surprised then gently took the phone and smiled slightly. “She’s gotten so big…”

“Yeah…” She quickly saved the picture before Kelly’s auto-delete took it away.

“Why’d you want a picture?”

“Leverage. Possibly for Adalind, little bit for Renard. And…to be nice,” she sighed. “We owe him a bit for a lot of what he’s done. Helping get you guys to me, helping with the Wesenrein…”

Nick frowned but then sighed and nodded. “I still can’t trust him completely but…yeah. He’s come through on some stuff.”

She nodded. “I’m going to go show him this and I’ll head home after.”

“Okay. Be safe,” he said, waving as he headed out the door. Sloane watched him go and sighed but headed for Renard’s office. Knocking on the door, he looked up.

“Larson…” She closed the door. “…Sloane then. Was there something else?”

“Yeah. Kelly sent something for me to share with you.” She turned her phone around.

Renard’s eyes widened and he stood, walking over. He reached up and paused, looking at her, but Sloane held up the phone for him to take. He did and looked it over, smiling in a way she never really saw before. “She’s gotten so big…”

“We said that too,” she chuckled.

“Is she alright?”

“Kelly says she’s hitting all her milestones. They’re about as far from Portland as they can get without boarding a plane or boat, so they should be fine.” He nodded, just looking at the picture as if trying to commit it to memory. “…You want to be a dad?”

Renard scoffed. “Honestly, I didn’t. I thought I’d never have children and was honestly hopeful I wouldn’t. My own father wasn’t a great role model,” he said, sobering a little.

Sloane was surprised a bit, mostly that they felt the same way. “…Forgive me, but you don’t look like a man who’s hopes have gone up in flames.”

“Heh, because I’m not. I was shocked hearing about the baby, more so when I saw her. But I did and…I’d honestly never felt like I did before. Not all Hexen or Zauberbiests are the sort who should be parents. Catharine, Adalind’s mother, was…preoccupied with her own looks and desires, though I think she did love Adalind in her own way. Mine was more the exception than the rule—she risked a lot keeping me and more so keeping me safe. Tried to give me a normal life where I felt wanted. But she was still ambitious in her ways, often gone as I got older. I figured it best I don’t have children because my father…the few times I met him, he smiled and seemed happy. But it was a fake happiness. I could tell he didn’t really love me. And I worried that would be my feelings if I had a child. A fake love, or at best, the kind of love you give to a collection. Eric wasn’t raised much better and I think that was another sticking point between us. That a bastard with hexenbiest blood was his equal in his father’s eyes.”

Sloane stared at him and then at the picture as he zoomed in here and there. “But that didn’t happen? You feeling a fake love, I mean?”

“No. I looked at Diana and I just felt…happy. For the first time in long time, I just felt pure joy, just holding her and realizing this little girl was as much a part of me as I was of her, in seconds of seeing her. A strange kind of magic maybe, but I don’t mind. And that’s part of why I did what I did. Because I knew the Royals would use her—as a toy, a weapon, a slave, whatever. She would never be Diana, she would only be an asset…It hurt to know I wouldn’t be able to protect her, so I did what I had to and left her with someone who could.”

She nodded slowly and then held out her hand. Renard sighed but gave her the phone back. “I’ll have to figure out photoshop. Get rid of the blocks and stuff. Make sure it can’t be traced. But then I can probably send it to you.”

He was surprised but then smiled that smile again. “I would appreciate that. Thank you.” She smiled back.

They jumped when Wu opened the door, panting. “Oh good, you’re both still here,” he said. “We got another murder, same MO!”

\---------------------

The street was wet with rain, but without it currently raining the smell of the garbage in the alley was a lot worse. Wu got a hold of Hank and Nick and got them to come back before leading them to the scene. In a side alley in one of the sketchier parts of town. The ladies of the night had vanished though when all the flashing lights came through. Now the only regular left was a dead man—Shorn head, leather jacket, ugly shirt that now had a large bloody hole in it.

“Got a pretty significant record, if you're interested, but it's mostly vice stuff, started pimping about six years ago, based on his first pandering charge. Not sure who that belongs to yet,” he said, pointing at a dropped burner phone.

“Run the numbers, check for prints,” Nick sighed.

“I guess our bounty hunter hasn't left town,” Hank said.

“I didn’t realize being a pimp was an offense to the council. It’s the world’s second oldest profession,” Sloane said.

“Second?”

“The first is being the actual sex-worker,” Sloane reminded him. He nodded, not arguing.

“One of his girls was working the corner,” Wu said. “She witnessed the attack. Found her hiding behind a dumpster pretty freaked out. Not sure she's gonna be much help. She is positive she just saw the devil in the flesh.”

“Not that far from the truth,” Hank said, as Nick’s phone rang with a verse from Elton John’s _The Fox_.

“Rosalee,” he greeted as he answered.

“We just heard back from the Council,” she said.

“It's not good, dude,” Monroe chimed in. “Is Sloane there?”

He sighed but motioned Sloane over. She joined him and he put them on speaker. “What did the council say?”

“They basically told us to stay out of their business,” Rosalee said, obviously annoyed.

“Like, totally out of it, including not helping you two! And they said there would be penalties if we didn't comply.”

“So, the Council sanctioned the kills,” Nick said.

“Whatever. Suffice it to say they know what's going on,” Monroe agreed.

“That complicates things,” Sloane said, annoyed.

“A bit more because we've got another body,” Nick informed them.

“Oh, God, Nick,” Rosalee groaned.

“If this is a Wesen bounty hunter, he's still working. Look, you two stay out of this. Let us deal with it. And I'm sorry; I know this isn't a nice way to come back from a honeymoon.”

“Nick, Sloane, seriously, you don't want to piss off the Wesen Council, not any more than you already have,” Monroe said. “Can't you find somebody else to handle this one?”

“Like who? I don’t dislike the other detectives enough to do that to them,” Sloane said.

“Yeah, you know that's not gonna happen.”

He sighed. “I do. I do know that. Be on your guard, okay?”

“If they're using a Maréchaussée, killing is their business. He's not gonna let you arrest him. So just be careful,” Rosalee agreed.

“We will,” Nick said.

“We’ll let you know if anything does happen, but not till then. We don’t want you guys getting in trouble on our account,” Sloane said.

“I’ll be honest, I’m not a fan how the council is handling this,” Monroe said.

“Me neither. But we’ll talk to you later.”

“Later,” Nick and Sloane said, ending the call.

They looked around the scene a bit more but with the rain and general filth there wasn’t much to more to find. So, heading back, they went through what information they could on the computers at the precinct. Including the new tox report on their first two victims.

“"Toxicity report concludes the victims died from an excessive dose of neurotoxins and enzyme inhibitors associated with the family Buthidae, the closest match being"...” Hank read.

“Scorpion venom,” Nick finished, looking up from the photos from their latest scene.

“So, definitely a manticore. If only catching him was as easy to figure out,” Sloane sighed.

“Gentlemen—and Lady—we have hit a little pay dirt: not one but two clear prints, one not belonging to the owner of the cell phone,” he said, setting the phone in its bag on Nick’s desk. He then held up a folder. “And we were able to get a match: Mr. Jonathon Wilde from Archer City, Texas. Two arrests, one for murder, identified by witnesses, but charges were dropped due to lack of evidence and no known association with his victims.” Sloane took the file and looked at it. The picture was of a Caucasian man in his late 40s, early 50s, with a crew cut of salt and pepper hair and brown eyes. He didn’t stand out really, which Sloane knew made him much more effective in slipping in and out to kill someone.

“How did the victim die?” Hank asked.

“Neurotoxins and enzyme inhibitors associated with...”

“Scorpions,” They all said together.

“Okay, we've got our guy,” Nick said, looking over the file and the picture. “What do we know?”

“Well, I did a little looking into this type of hit and pulled up half a dozen scattered from Bangor, Maine, to San Diego, California, all unsolved, but I did manage to find motor vehicles registered to Wilde: one for a motorcycle, one for a truck, APBs on both,” Wu said.

“…Okay, why aren’t you a detective?” Sloane asked.

“I…have test anxiety, it’s an ongoing thing,” he sighed.

“We might need to work on that,” Nick said. “But for now, make sure it goes wide in case he's on his way back to Texas.”

“Already done,” He said.

“At least this time we've got prints tying him to the scene,” Hank said.

\------------

Rosalee sighed as she ate dinner, eating slowly. Monroe frowned back worriedly. “You okay, babe?”

She tried to smile but then gave up and sighed again. “No…I’m pissed off!”

“At the council?”

“Yes! I mean, I understand on some level where they’re coming from. We have certain rules to protect us. Like don’t woge in public, or for personal gain. But what’s so different from what the circus did to what those fortune tellers did? The humans had no idea they were Wesen, they thought it was mysticism! But now they’re dead. And now someone else is. And just asking questions can get us “penalties” now?”

“Well, I agree it’s BS, but I think helping Nick and Sloane is what they’re more concerned with in our case…”

“Well that’s worse!” she said, throwing up her hands. “We help them because they work hard to keep the peace! And when you were kidnapped, the council was no help! They turn a blind eye to these organizations when they could be cracking down on them. It was Nick and Sloane and the rest of our friends working to get you back.”

“Yeah, I admit, I’m a little salty about that too…But I don’t know what to do, honestly. It’s not like an HOA or anything, we didn’t opt in or pay dues. They’re just…there. They’ve always been there. Heck, you and your dad had direct lines with them.”

“And I regret it now,” she huffed. “I put a lot of faith in them before, to the point I told them about the Graussen and put that boy at risk. But I have more faith in Nick and Sloane now…”

“I do too,” he said, putting his hand on hers. “But I know too they don’t want us putting ourselves in danger for them…”

She sighed and nodded, knowing he was right. It just angered her more though that the council was threatening them about helping their friends keep other people safe and find justice! She took a few more bites before her phone rang. They looked at one another but she stood and went over to answer it. “Rosalee Calvert speaking…”

“Ms. Calvert. It’s Alexander.”

She froze and then turned and mouthed his name at Monroe who stood up as well. She put him on speaker. “If this is about my call to the council, we haven’t done anything wrong—”

“I know. Please, calm down, I’m not calling to make any threats. Mr. De Groot and I don’t agree with council’s assessment of your situation.”

“You don’t?” Monroe asked.

“No. While I normally share their estimation of Grimms, the two you’ve allied yourself with are exceptions. We aren’t blind to the good you all have done in your city, and for the council itself.”

“That’s…nice, thank you,” Rosalee said honestly.

“I’m afraid I’ve done nothing worthy of thanks. You see, there’s a bigger problem. As I’ve said, the council doesn’t share our opinion. To them, Mr. Burkhardt and Ms. Larson have been hindrances in council business. Because of that, they have put bounties on them.”

“What?!” they both gasped.

“Can’t you do something?” Rosalee asked.

“Unfortunately, no. We’re middlemen and the council doesn’t hold our opinion very highly either,” he said, his cool exterior dropping slightly with a tone of bitterness. “The best I could do at the moment was to call you and warn you, so you may warn them. This alone could mean my own head if they find out…”

“I’m getting a little sick of the council’s penalties,” Monroe said.

“We appreciate the warning, Alexander. We’ll let them know.”

“Thank you. I have a feeling they will be alright, but all of you watch out.”

“We will.” He hanged up and Rosalee was immediately dialing Sloane’s number.

\-----------

And having that information they were able to find was the break they needed. Nick got a call about an hour after putting the APB out that Wilde’s motorcycle was found in the parking lot of the Beacon Motel, and they found him registered there in room 12. It was a bit more awkward that, when they went to pull him in, he’d been in his boxers clipping his toenails. Not exactly the most intimidating way to find a killer, but Wu had a shotgun trained on him as they ordered him to get down on the ground so they could cuff him. He seemed to be actually freaking out.

“What are you doing? I didn't do anything!” he yelled. Hank finished cuffing him and pulled up onto his feet.

Nick glared; his gun trained on him. “You're a Manticore!”

“What? What are you talking about? Oh!” He gasped as Nick pulled him from Hank and rammed him into the wall. Sloane jumped a little, not expecting it from Nick.

“Did he woge?” Hank asked.

“Not yet,” Nick said. He pulled him back and smacked him into the wall again, making him grunt.

“Nick!” Wu yelled, also shocked.

“Why are you doing this?” Wilde yelled, sounding convincingly on the verge of tears.

“I know what you are,” Nick growled. He pulled him back again, but Hank quickly got between them and pushed them apart.

“Hey, Nick, that's enough!” he said, keeping them apart. “He's under arrest. We're taking him in.”

Nick huffed but backed off. They did let Wilde get dressed under supervision, and then took him to the station and into an interrogation room. Not once did he woge, and he was believably antsy about the whole situation.

“What if he's the wrong guy?” Wu asked, looking at him through the glass. “What if he's not the Manticore?”

“He is the Manticore,” Nick said.

“Then why didn't he woge? He doesn't know you're a Grimm. Or Sloane.” He glanced at her and she opened her mouth, but Nick cut in.

“He's a professional. He's smart. I'll get him to woge,” he said, heading out the door.

Wu watched him go then looked at them again. “Has this ever happened before?”

“Someone not woging in front of us or Nick apparently channeling a hardass cop from TV?” Sloane asked, eyeing him as he left.

“Uh…both? I mean, all we've really got is one fingerprint. That doesn't prove he's the Manticore.”

She sighed. “The first one can happen, if the wesen is poised enough to really control their woging. The second one…”

Hank sighed as well. “I better go in there,” he said, heading out to catch up to Nick after he entered the room.

Sloane thought about going in as well, but her phone rang with Rosalee’s ring tone. She took it out and stepped back so she could watch but still talk. “Hey, Rosalee. We’re a little busy right now—”

“We just got a call from Alexander,” she said quickly.

She blinked then frowned deeply. “What? Why?”

“He wanted to warn us—warn you, really. The council has put bounties on _your_ heads! You and Nick.”

Sloane glared. “Oh, they did, huh?”

“Yes. And I’m sure they’ve sent it to the Maréchaussée in town.”

“Well, maybe we’ll ask. He’s in the interrogation room right now.”

“You got him?” Monroe asked in surprise.

“We’re pretty sure. I say pretty sure because the asshole won’t woge…”

“Be careful,” Rosalee said. “If they want him to go after you two they might think he can take you down.”

“Or he was convenient. I’m hoping that’s the reason,” Monroe said.

“Either way, he’s going to get more than he bargained for.” She looked up when she heard a loud bang and saw Nick had tried to lunge for Wilde over the table. “…I need to get back to this though. Thanks for letting us know, I’ll make sure we’re on our guard.”

“Okay. Keep us updated.”

“We will.” She hanged up.

Turning back time slightly, Nick had entered the room and gone to loom over their suspect with a deep glare. “We have your fingerprint, puts you at the scene of the crime,” Nick said.

“What scene of the crime?” Wilde asked. Sloane didn’t disagree that he must be there man(ticore) but he was very good at acting.

Nick leaned in, his eyes and voice becoming intense. “How much was he worth, huh? How much did you get paid?”

“I didn't get paid anything!” They both looked up when Hank entered the room and he sighed. “All right, look, I paid for a hooker tonight if that's what this is about, but I didn't kill anybody.”

“You kill people for a living,” Nick said. “You're a bounty hunter, a Maréchaussée, and you work for the Wesen Council.”

“What are you talking about, man?! You're crazy!”

He moved as if to lunge for him, and Hank quickly put a hand on his chest to stop him. “Nick! Let's just lock him up.”

“I didn't do anything wrong!”

Wu sighed and looked at Sloane when she was off the phone while they went to get a bailiff. “You don’t want to go in there?”

“Had to take that phone call. And I…wanted to watch Nick,” she admitted.

“…How he’s acting worries you too?”

“A little,” she sighed. “After the Wesenrein incident and now this…I don’t blame him for being a little on edge. I feel it too, when you know a murderer is right there and he’s acting all innocent! But…he’s usually more collected than this.”

“Yeah…What was that call about?”

She sighed again. “Rosalee got a call from someone we know that contacts the council more directly. He’s…I don’t know if I’d say friend, but we’ve worked with him in the past and I think we have an understanding now. But the point is, the council doesn’t like me and Nick apparently. They’ve put a price on our heads.”

“What?” Wu asked, eyes widening.

“Yep. Must’ve just happened, so I don’t know if this guy would know is the problem…”

Wu nodded, frowning. “I’m going to go look at his tablet again, see if I can crack it. You might take a crack at Nick if you’re worried.”

She smiled a bit and nodded. Nick and Hank were following the bailiff out, so she followed them.

“This isn't right. I'm innocent!” Wilde yelled as he was put in a cell, the door locked. “You're making a mistake!”

“Do not go near this guy under any circumstances,” Nick told the Bailiff. “You understand?”

He looked confused but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Nick nodded back and walked out of the holding area with Hank, obviously agitated still. “Nick, can we talk?” Sloane said.

“Bit busy right now, Sloane,” he snapped.

Sloane arched an eyebrow and reached out, grabbing him by his jacket collar and with her strength he nearly tripped as he tried to keep walking. “Let me rephrase: Burkhardt, we are having a chat. Now,” she ordered. Nick was wise enough not to resist and followed her back to one of the rooms. “Okay, what is up with you?”

“Up with me? Nothing! I’m trying to do my job!”

“So am I and I’m not throwing people into walls!”

“He’s the manticore and you know it!”

“I do! I’m not disagreeing with you! But you…you are acting like me!”

Nick blinked. “What?”

“You are acting like me, the me when I first got here. You’re yelling and threatening and throwing people around and that is not the Nick Burkhardt that got me to be friends with wesen and think about them like people. If this happened then, you would be approaching this like a-a puzzle in there instead of trying to force it and outright fight him.”

“…If he doesn’t woge, I can’t confirm it and stop this.”

“ _We_ can’t confirm it and stop it,” she reminded him. He looked down and she sighed. “Nick…talk to me, what is wrong?”

“…” he sighed and sat down against the table. “Just…a lot.”

“With this case?”

“Yes…and other stuff.”

“…Okay, I opened up to you _a lot_ in the last two years. You can do the same,” she said, getting impatient.

“…Something’s up with Juliette,” he finally admitted. “She’s been acting strange for weeks. Ever since what happened with the Wesenrein. She’s been distant and distracted and…hasn’t wanted to…” He cleared his throat and made a vague waving motion with his hand.

She blushed, feeling that stab of jealousy again but nodded. “Gotcha. So…your frustrated?”

“What? I mean, yes, but not like—” He blushed as well. “I’m worried. She had to kill a man that night and she said she’s doing okay, but…Ever since I first became a Grimm, I worried about it catching up with _her_ , not me. And we’ve been through so much together, and I thought after what happened with Adalind we could survive anything else…I just wonder if it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. If she’s pulling away and it’s just a matter of time before she…leaves.”

Sloane looked at him and felt her heart constrict. It wasn’t that he was talking about Juliette though. It was how…sad and defeated he looked. How his own heart was breaking. If Sloane wanted, maybe she could nudge him that he should leave her first. Safety reasons. Hell, she’d thought about it when they first met just because it really was dangerous for Juliette. But now she couldn’t’ say it was for unselfish reasons she’d push them apart. And furthermore, she didn’t want Nick to hurt. She didn’t want his heart to break. Nick was the annoyingly good one, the heart of gold but do what it takes sort of Grimm. She didn’t want that to change. And if Juliette could keep that Nick alive…

She sighed and sat next to him. “I…don’t know what to say. This isn’t my strong suit. But Juliette isn’t some shrinking violet. If she hasn’t left you yet, I think she also wants to figure it out. Maybe she just…has a lot on her plate too, with everything that’s happened. Or maybe she is rethinking things. But I’d just say then, you at least gotta try and talk with her and see what she is thinking instead of assuming the worst. I mean isn’t that what all those relationship guys say? Communicate? I think that’s what they say but honestly, that sounds awful.”

Nick huffed, trying to smile. “Yeah, it’s easier said than done.”

“You’re telling _me_ that? Me, who had been emotionally constipated for 20 years before I came here and would rather fight things with claws and teeth the size of my fingers than talk about my feelings? Till you butted in? Take some responsibility, Burkhardt, for making me feel things,” she said sardonically. It was so, so close to what she really wanted to say.

Nick smiled more genuinely now and laughed. “Fair…Maybe we really did switch personalities.”

“Then we’re switching back. I like badass Nick, but mean Nick is a jerk.”

“Was I that bad?” he asked, frowning worriedly.

“You slammed a man in his underwear against a wall till he nearly cried, calling him a murderous manticore. While I think he is a manticore and lying through his teeth, it is not a good look and you’re lucky no other officers were in the room to call you out on being crazy,” she said bluntly.

“Ah, yeah…” Nick said, also cringing when she put it that way. “The other thing though is this whole council situation. I mean, they said they might punish Monroe and Rosalee for helping us.”

“Yeah, well, they try anything and I’m going to find them and send them an article on us busting up the “cult” and say the last group of asshole wesen that tried to hurt our friends ended up dead or in jail…With one of those masks I might of kept and put a bullet in for fun.”

Nick grinned a bit. “Yeah, you are still better being the scary Grimm.”

“I got more practice,” she said, bumping their shoulders together. “But I prefer you not being the more level-headed one, so talk if you need to vent.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he sighed.

“I understand being upset with all this by the way. I want to put my fist through his face too. But we’ll get through this. No one is going to break _us_ up. So just…breathe, okay. We’ll get this guy, but we can’t be yelling at him and trying to force him to woge with people in earshot.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right… Thanks, Sloane. I appreciate the talk.”

She smiled and stood. “Good. C’mon then, back to work.” He nodded and stood, following her out.

Hank was waiting by the desk and looked up at them. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Yeah, just…needed to vent,” Nick said.

Hank nodded, noting he seemed calmer. Wu came rushing up then, a tablet in hand. “I just cracked Wilde's iPad. You got to see this,” he said. They gathered around him and watched as he brought up a picture viewer. The first was a wanted poster for Mable and Laszlo Kurlon with some candid photos of them and a price of €20,000. Then the next picture was of them dead in their shop. Then poster of Casey Darwell, also €20,000. Then a picture of him dead in the alley. Each poster had seals up at the top that noted it was from the Wesen Council.

“That puts him at the crime scenes,” Hank said.

“That may be all we need,” Hank nodded.

“Hold on. You got to see this,” Wu said, brow creased in worry. The next poster was one with a picture of Nick. It had his name and _Grimm_ below that, and then a bounty of €100,000. Nick’s eyes widened. Then Wu flipped it again and a poster of Sloane came up, similar to his but set at €200,000. “That's why he didn't woge. He knows who you are. Both of you. It’s like you said, Sloane, except they must’ve been sent out earlier.”

“Like she said?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, I almost forgot when we talked,” she sighed. “Monroe and Rosalee called while you were in the interrogation room. Alexander gave them a heads up that the Council put a bounty on us. They didn’t mention how much though…I guess we’re worth a lot more.”

Nick looked very troubled, as did Hank and Wu, though Hank looked at Sloane curiously. “Why’s your bounty higher?”

“You forget I have a richly woven history of killing a shit ton of wesen,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m sure they’ve figured that out. Maybe I was on there before, who knows…”

“Should we tell the captain?”

“Probably,” Nick sighed.

“You guys go on ahead, I need to hit the restroom,” Sloane sighed. They nodded and she headed to the restroom. Once there, she checked to make sure she was alone and then quickly pulled out her phone and pulled up her directory under J. She waited as it rang.

“Sloane?”

“Hey, Jacob,” Sloane said, smiling.

“Hey! What’s up? If you responded to our last email, I’m sorry, I’ve been swamped with work…”

“I did but I figured.” She’d given Jacob and Melinda her new personal email after Idaho. But only Jacob reached out a few weeks after. Melinda was still quiet. Even so, after catching up some more on what they were honestly up to these days, they’d taken to regularly keeping each other up to date and chatting. “This is actually more of a favor request…”

“Uh oh, what happened?” he asked worriedly.

“You’ve heard of the Wesen Council, I’m sure?”

“Ugh, yeah…Wes has had to deal with them a couple of times. Fussy old jerks…why?”

“They’ve put a bounty on me and Nick.”

“What?! Oh God, that’s not good…how much?”

“Does it matter?” she asked, arching her brow.

“No, I guess not, but I mean…bragging rights?”

“…I’m higher than Nick, that’s all I’ll say.”

“That a girl! So, what can I do from here? Unless you want me to come there…”

“No, that’s not necessary.”

“Oh, thank God,” he breathed.

“I was hoping if I gave you an email address you might be able to trace it.”

“Oh, hacking help. Okay, that I’m happy to do. What’s the address?”

“Wesencouncil@mymail.com”

“…You’re joking.”

“No?”

“That’s so basic! Just Wesen Council? And MyMail? That’s even more basic, that’s like barely above a 90s AOL account!”

“Well, you said they were fussy old jerks,” she said, a little amused.

“I didn’t think they were _that_ kind of fussy and old. Yeesh, the Libraries have some stupid old timey spy drama stuff, but at least they try to keep up with the tech trends…”

“Well regardless, can you track it?”

“Ah…well, now I’m realizing why they might choose it. MyMail is basic but it does use a lot of tricks to keep it private. I should still be able to get in though. What do you want from it?”

“Any names you can give me for who uses it, or other valuable information. I’d like to make a direct statement on why they need to leave us, _and_ Monroe and Rosalee alone.”

“Oh, they threatened your wesen?”

“They said there would be “penalties” if they keep helping us. After all they’ve been through, I’m not letting someone get away with even vaguely threatening them,” she said seriously.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can find. On a side note, if I wasn’t gay as hell, that voice would be a little bit of a turn on.”

Sloane rolled her eyes but smiled. “Thanks, I guess. What can I do in return?”

“You still don’t just accept favors, huh?”

“More like I’d prefer you knowing I appreciate it,” she said sweetly.

“Aw. I’ll send you my Amazon wish list.”

She snorted. “Alright. Thanks, Jacob.”

“Sure thing. Talk to you when I have something.”

“Talk to you then.” She hanged up and sighed, putting her phone back in her jacket. Rolling up her sleeves, she walked over to splash a little water on her face, trying to calm down. She didn’t blame Nick for his anger. She’d been feeling it all evening. But she’d kept it under control. She hoped Nick would too.

Blindly she reached and grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser right next to the sink. When she stood to wipe the water from her face, she looked up and saw Wilde in the mirror behind her. Her eyes widened as he woged and she just barely threw herself to the side as his tail hit the mirror where her back had been just a moment before, cracking it. He tried to swipe at her again and she moved inward instead, punching him across the face. He shook his head, huffing and baring his teeth.

“Not used to someone fighting back?” She said. He roared and moved for her again and she opened the stall door next to her before he could try and strike her again. Sloane then broke the door from its hinges and swung it around to try and flatten him. He jumped back, obviously shocked, and woged back. “C’mon, jackass, let’s go!” He glared but then grabbed a trashcan by the door and threw it at her. Sloane used the door as a shield again, but it forced her back and her head hit the wall and made her shout. She was dazed but still standing, holding the door in front of her as she tried to get her bearings. But another blow didn’t come even as she waited almost a minute. She put it down to see he was gone. “Shit!” Rushing out, she looked around, but he had somehow slipped away. She paused when she saw a paper on the ground of the bathroom and picked it up. Her blood ran cold when she saw it was part of Nick’s employee file—and she knew another part would have his address on it. She looked up to see Wu was rushing towards Renard’s office and she quickly headed over as well.

He opened the door to the office, and she could see Renard, Nick and Hank inside. “Suspect got out!”

“Hell yeah he did!” Sloane said, making him jump. The others quickly came to the door. “He just attacked me in the women’s room!”

“What?” Renard said, marching forward. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I fought back. There was some property damage, but he ended up getting way,” she growled in frustration.

“Well, you were lucky,” Wu said, motioning for them to follow. They headed back to the holding area and Hank hissed when he saw the dead guard on the ground.

“Dammit,” Renard said, glaring. “I should’ve known, should’ve put someone else in here…”

“Bigger problem,” Sloane said, holding up the paper. “He got into the employee files and I’m betting he has our addresses.”

“What?” Nick gasped.

Renard then turned and looked at Nick. “He'll be coming after you next, Nick…He likely targeted Sloane first to try and hurt you or show off, after what happened in the interrogation room and hotel.”

Nick’s eyes widened then he turned to run out, grabbing his phone. “I'm going home! Juliette's there!”

“Nick!” Sloane said, but he was on the phone, stopping only to grab his jacket before running out the door like a fire was at his heels, faster than most humans. A lot of other officers watched him go in confusion.

“Wu, help me damage control here,” Renard ordered. “You two, go after him—we don’t know what Wilde might do.” They nodded and rushed for the door. By the time they got outside his car was already speeding away. Sloane and Hank both quickly got to her car and she sped out just as fast.

Nick’s car was parked outside his house when they skidded up and rushed out. Hank had his weapon drawn as the front door was open and Sloane had her knife. “Nick?! Juliette?!” Sloane called.

“In here,” Nick called. They quickly came through and then their defenses dropped when they saw Wilde on the floor.

“What the…” Hank asked. “You got him?”

“No, no…Juliette did,” Nick said, looking a bit shell shocked still. He had his arms around Juliette.

“What?” Sloane asked, looking at her in surprise.

“He missed. I was lucky,” she said again, apparently tried of saying it.

“Yeah, real lucky,” Hank said, holstering his gun. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah. He slapped me but I think I’ll just have a bruise.”

Nick still reflexively held her a little tighter, but she looked a bit uncomfortable. Sloane put her knife back in her sheathe and walked forward. Kneeling, she frowned when she saw the wound. It was just like the wounds on Wilde’s victims. Conical in shape, a bit of discoloration at the deepest part. But it looked disturbed too, like something had been shoved in after the first wound was made. _He…was stabbed with his own tail?_ _Then something else?_ “What did you kill him with?”

“The fireplace poker,” Juliette said, nodding to the poker on the floor. There was indeed blood on it, but there was no way it made this wound. She looked at Juliette, trying to put the pieces together. “…What?”

“…Nothing. Just…impressed,” Sloane said, standing. “Good job and I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks,” she said, though she looked tired.

“What should we do with him?” Hank asked.

“I don’t want to drag Juliette more into this,” Nick said, looking worried.

Sloane sighed and took out her phone. “I’ll take care of it…but we can use this too.”

“Use it?...You want to send it to the council?”

“They seem to like pictures of dead people,” she said snidely, taking the photo. “I asked Jacob to run a search on the email Wilde was sending these to. Once I have that information, I’m going to make it really clear what the council and any other Maréchaussée can expect if they want to come here after us. Or if they take it out on Monroe and Rosalee.”

Nick nodded, not looking perturbed by the idea in the slightest. “Put my name on it too.”

“I will. I’ll also take care of this, if you can help me get him to the car.”

Nick hesitated, looking at Juliette who patted his arm. “Go on…I’d rather he be gone as soon as possible.”

He nodded and he and Hank helped Sloane pick him up and take him around the side. Sloane backed her car up then and they quickly put him in the back and covered him up. It was late enough that no one was out so hopefully they weren’t seen. “You sure you got this?” Hank asked.

“I haven’t done it in a while, but I can manage. The library is down but I did find out there are some…disposal depots still open. They specialize in making Grimm kills disappear, for a price.”

“What price?”

“I’ve got it,” Sloane said again. “Just…focus on Juliette right now.”

“I’ll call the captain, let him know what happened,” Hank said, pulling out his phone.

“Thanks. Both of you,” Nick sighed. Sloane nodded and climbed into the car to drive off. Something didn’t sit right with her about what happened—Grimm reflexes were a match for Wilde, but how could Juliette not get hurt? Luck was one thing, but to not get the stinger, then stab him was something a Grimm would do. Stabbing him with his own tail would be hard considering the strength in that appendage. What was Juliette hiding?

She sighed and shook her head. Maybe she wasn’t hiding anything. Maybe she was lucky and maybe she did make that wound with a poker somehow. Maybe Sloane was letting her feelings cloud her judgement. Prejudice used to do that, now maybe jealousy was her new vice. But she was resolved not to force Nick and Juliette apart for selfish reasons. Even if she’d wished that Nick had been just as concerned about her when Wilde attacked. Maybe held her… _God I’m pathetic._

She drove to the funeral home Gallin had once worked at for a day job. Driving around the side, she got out and knocked on the door. “Anyone here? I have a drop off.”

There was a pause before a light turned on in a window upstairs and a head pocked out. It was hard to see in the night, so she expanded her sight. It was an old man with a jowly face and gray hair, wearing glasses. “Name?”

“Sloane Larson. I have a manticore to get rid of.”

“Ah, Cynthia mentioned you once…Manticore? Good job then, nasty bastards. Be right down.” He closed the window. A few moments later the door opened. Sloane went and opened the trunk, pulling Wilde’s body out and over her shoulder. The man waited for her and she walked through. “Oh good, he’s not dripping blood. Had someone bring a dripper once and I had to wash spots of blood out of the carpet for days.”

“No, pretty clean wound,” Sloane said. She followed him to an elevator, then down to the morgue below.

“Good. I’m Stanley, by the way. Just Stanley, if you don’t mind.” He flipped on the lights and she saw the prep room, complete with a walk-in freezer on one side and a few prep tables. “Set him on the table and we’ll get around to him later tonight. We’ll get him in with the cremations tomorrow.”

She walked over and set him down on the steel drain table. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Of course. Do you hear from Cynthia often?”

“On occasion. She’s doing well in Texas, and at school,” Sloane said conversationally, going through Wilde’s pockets on habit. She found his wallet, keys to his motorcycle, and a few other odds and ends that he must’ve taken from evidence when he was snooping through their employee files. She took his credit cards and cash and kept the keys but put the wallet back with him. His clothes would be burned as well and then scattered in the woods. She wished she’d known about it when she was disposing of the Muse so long ago, it would’ve saved her a lot of sweat and time.

“Well, I envy her a bit. Wish I’d broken from tradition when I was younger, did what I wanted. But too deep now…”

“Well, we do appreciate it,” Sloane said.

He smiled. “You’re surprisingly polite for what I was told.”

“I have my moments. I need to keep going though. Oh, how do I pay you with the Library closed?”

“I’ll give you my price and transfer information.” He walked over to a desk to write it down.

“Okay… real quick, you deal with Manticores a lot?”

“Oh, I’ve seen a few. There’s not a lot of disposals in Oregon so we get a lot of traffic.”

She nodded and pointed to the wound. “Does this look like a manticore wound to you?”

He looked and then frowned, adjusting his glasses. “Huh…yeah, it does actually…Wait, didn’t you kill him?”

“He tried to kill a friend, but they ended up killing him. Said she did it with a fireplace poker.”

“Huh…well, not sure what kind of poker she claims she used, but that is definitely a manticore wound.”

“That’s what I thought…Thank you, Stanley, I’ll handle it from here.”

“Of course. Say hi to Cynthia for me—I don’t used a lot of those electric doohickeys so it’s mostly postcards.”

Sloane nodded and headed out again, sighing. On the way home, she got a text and when she parked in her driveway she read it.

Jacob: _Sent what Info I could get, they’re not as stupid as I thought. But we got a few names and addresses of where it was accessed. Think that’s enough for now? I can keep working on it._

Sloane smiled and looked over the information he emailed her.

Sloane _: This is good for now, I’ll let you know if we need more. Bounty hunter ended up being the hunted and is dead. I’ll let them know._

Jacob _: Oh, I want to see whatever message you send, this should be good!_

\--------------------

Alexander knocked on De Groot’s office door politely. “Come in,” he said. He stepped through and De Groot looked him over, noting the file in his hands. He sighed and sat back, remembering their conversation just the other day regarding the Council’s decision to put bounties on Nick Burkhardt and Sloane Larson. His assertions that they were not like other Grimms fell on deaf ears. Alexander had agreed they were making a mistake, but no one listened. “You've heard from our bounty hunter?”

“Yes,” Alexander nodded.

“The Grimm is dead?” He sighed.

Alexander got a strange sort of smile on his face. “Not exactly.” He opened the folder and held it out to show a picture of Wilde dead on the floor.

De Groot was surprised, taking it to look over. Well, he wasn’t that surprised to be honest—between the two of them, those Grimms were a powerful force. “Well, I hope the Council doesn't take this personally…”

“The bigger concern is the Grimms, I’m afraid,” Alexander sighed, though he was still smiling. He brought out his iPad then. “This was sent with that photo. A message, from Sloane Larson. Both were sent to the Wesen Council’s email.”

He held the iPad out and De Groot took it. The still showed Larson sitting in front of her phone recording, looking very displeased. He pressed play and she smiled pleasantly as she started speaking.

“Dear Wesen Council,

“Hi. We haven’t been formally introduced, but I’m Sloane Larson. And I’m here to address some resent events you’ve put into motion.

“Now, I get it. I’m a Grimm. Grimm and wesen fight. But I find your choices particularly galling considering what me, and my fellow Grimm, Nick Burkhardt have done for _you._ We discovered the graussen is a parasite, give you a way to treat it so no one else—especially children—have to die. We ID that Krampus is a wesen who doesn’t know he’s a wesen and help identify one but don’t kill him, so that you can keep looking into this and keep the public safe with no further deaths. We help with a carnival pushing its performers into umkippen. We help you rescue the remains of a mummified wesen and give it a funeral. And oh yeah, we break up a wesen hate group _you_ didn’t do anything about despite killing other wesen. I find your inaction on that particularly concerning for many reasons, not the least of which it seems one of its members is a relation to one of yours. More on that later.

“We didn’t do any of that to get your praise or be compensated. We did all those things because we felt they were right and were for a greater good. And sometimes, because our friends Monroe and Rosalee asked us to. Then you send a bounty hunter to Portland. Well, maybe you didn’t send him, maybe he was tracking his targets and wound up here. But he wasn’t subtle. Now our day job is as Police Detectives, which you should know if you are keeping tabs on us. We can’t just sweep a couple of murders under the rug, especially ones so…inelegant. On a side note, while not great people I’m not sure I agree a death sentence is just. But back to my real concerns, you threatened Monroe and Rosalee for inquiring about there being a Maréchaussée in Portland. Then, you think the next best course of action is to put a bounty on _our_ heads?” She laughed then, but it wasn’t amused. It was sharp and brittle and promised pain. “Oh…that was a mistake. Because now I’m angry. No, I’m _pissed_.

“As shown by the attached photo, your man is dead. And if the bounty on my head and Nick’s head isn’t removed pronto, I’m putting a bounty on _your_ heads. Heck, I’ll find and dispose of you myself. Starting with…” She pulled up a piece of paper. “Oliver Haringold, Vanessa Geller, Gillam Brodeur, and Jason Swann. Jason, we already have a cousin of yours in custody for trying to kill Monroe as a masked hate monger. If you want to know what I’m capable of, ask him how his knee is doing.” De Groot’s eyes widened, and he looked up at Alexander who shrugged, honestly unsure how she knew those names. He’d never told anyone. “I’ll work my way out from there if it’s not taken care of, and I’ll let Grimms around the world know those names and search you out if I don’t feel like going through the effort myself.

“Oh, and two more demands, if you don’t want to be hunted down. 1) You do not lay a finger on Rosalee and Monroe. Y’know, I’m going to throw in Bud Wurstner too. If anything happens to them and I found out it’s because of the Wesen Council, all bets are off. You will all die screaming for mercy.” De Groot felt a shiver go up his spine at how she said it. Dramatic, but she meant every word. “2) You got a problem in Portland? Just ask us. We’ve proven time and again we are willing to _help_ wesen, not just hunt indiscriminately. See my first points about all the times we helped you ungrateful bastards. This includes us bringing some to justice and ensuring there is no breach in your precious protocols—so long as the punishment fits the crime and someone innocent doesn’t end up dead. You don’t like these terms? Hit rewind and listen to what I said about how you will die. Do it anyway, just to be sure we understand each other.

“Oh, and Nick isn’t here because he’s comforting his Kehrseite girlfriend who was almost killed by Mr. Wilde. Rest assured, for that, he was already willing to hunt you down. I’m being kind enough to give you this _one_ warning.

“Have a nice day.” She waved and then the video cut out.

“…Well. Perhaps that will get through to them,” De Groot said, smiling a little.

“Seems it has. The bounties were taken down a few minutes ago with notes that amount to “do not engage”.” Alexander smiled as well, taking the iPad back.

“Ah, the bravery of those who hide in the shadows when just a little light leaks in,” De Groot said blithely.

“Perhaps. I’m starting to like these Grimms, to be honest.”

De Groot couldn’t say he disagreed.

\-----------------------

**Trial by Fire**

\----------------------

Fire wasn’t Sloane’s strong suit. Not meaning she was afraid of it, more that it made things more difficult. Heat, smoke, scorched earth—all pains to work through. Even if the fire was out it tried to consume everything and left little behind with ashes and soot. This was no different.

“Hey,” Wu waved as they pulled up. They were at a large store that was now a burned-out husk, still smoldering in some places but soaked in others after the fire department was wrapped up fighting the blaze late last night. The sign said through the patches of soot _Harrison and Sons_ and from the other signs must’ve been a sporting goods store that had been around for decades. In the process of clearing it for investigations, they’d found bodies. Which is why they were there, to see if it fell under homicide.

“We got an ID on the bodies?” Hank asked.

“Mason Heady and Joan Tapford, employees, supposed to be closing up, according to the owner who is right over there...” He pointed to two men, an older gentleman with nice ash blonde hair still on his head and a suit, and a younger man with a similar if more youthful color of hair was also in a suit. Both were side by side and talking to the officers. “John Harrison and his son Andy. Guy with the clipboard is the insurance investigator. Arson's inside.”

The nodded and followed. A young black woman was overlooking some of the debris from the fire but looked up when they walked over. “These the detectives?”

“They are. Lt. Willis, this Detective Burkhardt, Larson and Griffin,” Wu said. “This is Lt. Willis, our lead Arson investigator on this case.

“Nice to meet you,” She said, shaking each of their hands. “Though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Always seems to be the case with us, not sure why,” Sloane said dryly.

Lt. Willis smiled and then sighed. “Follow me.” She led them to what once was the main office. On the ground were two bodies, a teenage boy and girl, badly burned but still recognizable. Sloane frowned a bit sadly. It was worse when the victims had barely lived their lives at all. “They must have got trapped in here. Tried to get out by breaking the window, which caused a backdraft.”

“I’ve heard that term, but what is it exactly?” Sloane asked curiously.

“It happens when a fire burns all the oxygen in the environment, and then an opening like a window or door is broke on or open. The influx of air and heating of the gases causes rapid increase in heat or, like in this case, even an explosion. It’s one of the biggest threats in fighting fires.”

“Yikes…” Hank said, looking down at the two teens sadly.

“If it’s a consolation, they didn't survive very long after that window broke, so I don’t think they suffered…” she said quietly.

“Did they start the fire?” Nick asked, pulling the boy’s wallet out. It was mostly melted and charred.

“Too early to tell.”

“Where'd it start?” Hank asked.

“Breaker box.” She motioned and they followed the storage/delivery area at the back of the building where the electric panel was open. It was pretty singed. “Could have been electrical. There's no sign of accelerants or any kind of incendiary device. But see that vent up there?” she went on, pointing up at a relatively clean looking vent. Sooty but not burned. “Fires are fairly predictable. Once it got going, it should have followed the ventilation system.”

“"Should have" implies that it didn't?” Sloane asked, arching her brow.

Lt. Willis smirked and Sloane realized she reminded her a bit of a Vulcan. Knowledgeable, reserved, bit low key but with an underlying emotional streak. “Let me show you how the fire moved.” She started back through the store and they followed, heading for the shelves, gesturing with her hands. “Fire turns right here, moves down this aisle, then comes all the way around here, then goes down this aisle, and down the stairs. Fires just don't turn for no reason,” she finished, holding her hands up in defeat.

“So, this fire had a mind of its own,” Nick surmised.

“For the most part. The office is the only place the fire makes sense. When they broke the window, the fire went right for the oxygen like it's supposed to.”

“Well, let's talk to the owner. Thank you,” Hank said, nodding to Lt. Willis with them as they headed back out of the store. The two men were still hanging around per the officers’ request and were easy to find and introduce themselves to.

“This is just unbelievable,” the father, John, said. “This property's been in my family for 60 years…”

“Nothing like this has ever happened,” his son added.

“How'd you hear about the fire?” Nick asked.

“The fire department called me about 10:30 last night,” John said.

“Where were you when you got the call?” Hank said.

“At Mulligans, the restaurant, with Andy,” he nodded to his son. “We were celebrating his promotion to manager.”

“And what time did you get to Mulligans?” Nick said.

He looked at him, his expression growing outraged. “Y-you think I had something to do with this? This business was started by my grandfather! I've worked here since I was a kid, so did my son.”

“Take it easy, dad. J-just take it easy,” Andy said.

Sloane put on a sweet, reassuring smile, mostly false but convincing. Men often calmed down when she did. “We have to look at all possible explanations and know where everyone is. It’s part of the job, sir, we mean no offence. If anything, if you can vouch for your whereabouts it helps cross you off the list and points us in a better direction.” That seemed to ease him down and Andy smiled gratefully before continuing.

“We got there about 8:00. As soon as we got the call, we came over here. We've been here all night.”

“Why were Mason and Joan inside?” Hank asked.

“I don't know,” John sighed, his face screwed up. “They should have been out by 6:30, 7:00 at the latest. Oh, those poor kids…What am I gonna tell their families?”

“We'll need your contact information, a list of all your employees, anybody who had access to the building.”

“I can do that,” Andy said.

“We're sorry for your loss,” Nick said, nodding to them before they headed off to their car to await what the fire investigators found.

“How do you explain a fire with a mind of its own?” Hank asked.

“You can't…”

“Not with a normal explanation anyway,” Sloane sighed.

Nick looked out at the father and son. “You think they were involved?”

“Well, they sure had an alibi ready…” Hank pointed out.

“Okay, let's assume dad hired someone to torch the business…”

“Someone who knew what he was doing, except he killed two innocent people.”

“Let's start with insurance. See if it was worth burning down to begin with.”

“If it wasn’t someone’s got hell to pay,” Sloane said.

They headed back to the station and split up duties: Hank called the insurance company to deal with their red tape, Nick did background checks on the Harrisons, and Sloane started searching anything on their victims on the off chance one of them was the target.

“When was the policy renewed?...What's the cash value? Uh-huh…And has Mr. Harrison filed any previous claims?...That's all we need for now. Thank you.” Hank hanged up and looked at them with a smile as the first one done. “$5 million policy. Upgraded last year.”

“$5 million?” Sloane gaped. “You can get a $5 million dollar policy on a sports store?”

“Businesses are worth more than people. …That’s a depressing sentence,” Hank muttered.

“Well, looks like the Harrisons might’ve gone through a depressing time. Take a look at this,” Nick said, calling them over. They both walked over and leaned in. “Harrison and Sons filed for chapter 7 bankruptcy three months ago.”

“I think we have a motive.”

“More so than with the vics,” Sloane agreed. “I have one underage drinking citation for Mason—he got caught with a fake ID at a bar near Lewis and Clark. But that’s all, they otherwise seem pretty clean.”

Wu walked up then, nodding to them. “So, alibi checks out. The Harrisons were at the restaurant when they said they were.”

They sighed but Nick nodded to him. “All right, check with the arson guys downstairs, see if they have any similar cases.”

“Yep. On it,” he saluted, walking off.

“Let's talk with the lawyer who filed the bankruptcy, Charles Laney,” Hank suggested. They nodded, heading out again.

Charles Laney was a large man but with a strong, commanding voice and presence. He talked as he walked but answered the questions readily. “There's no way John would burn down his own building,” he said, waving his hand as he headed for his office. “He inherited it from his father who inherited it from his father, and John's gonna give it to his son.”

“What about the bankruptcy?” Hank asked.

He sighed and sat down in a cushy leather rolling chair behind his large wood desk. “It's true there were some money issues, but bankruptcy filing is just a reorganization of debt.”

“Which means somebody he owes money to is not happy,” Nick guessed.

“I'm sure there's a few.”

“Could we get a list of those debtors?” Sloane asked.

“I can put that together for you. That all?”

“Unfortunately, no. This is a homicide investigation. There were two deaths,” Hank said.

Laney’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “What?”

Two employees were working late last night. They got trapped inside,” Nick said.

“Oh, my God! That's terrible!”

“We're gonna need access to the company's financial records.” Laney closed his mouth and looked hesitant at that and Nick sighed. “If you can't provide them, we'll subpoena them.”

“But that’s extra work we could be using on more important avenues of investigation, and that makes us a bit testy,” Sloane said, smiling.

“…I’ll try to get that together as well and let you know.”

They smiled and left, heading back to the precinct to see if there was any news.

“Still doesn't make any sense,” Hank sighed. “Why would you file for bankruptcy then burn down your building? Aren't you asking to be investigated?”

“Well, either he's really stupid or it was an accident,” Nick said, laughing a little.

“I don’t think option two is right…something led that fire around,” Sloane said. “But the lawyer seemed a lot more shocked that someone died than the building burned down.”

“Let's find out more about this lawyer,” Hank said.

Nick nodded and called out as they approached Wu’s desk. “Hey, Wu, could you run a background check for us?”

“Yeah. Who?” he asked, grabbing up a pen.

“Charles Laney handled the Harrison bankruptcy. See what you can find out.”

“Will do, and I have something kind of interesting,” he said, turning to them after writing the name down on a post it. “Talked to Lieutenant Bradey in arson, says the weird fire pattern sounds a lot like a case an old partner of his was following. Same M.O. He was never able to crack it. Says his partner was a little obsessed with nailing this firebug. You know, the one that always got away.”

“Great, let’s talk to this guy, he’d know more,” Sloane said.

“If he'll talk to you. Well, more specifically, you two,” he said, pointing between Nick and Hank.

“Why wouldn't he?” Nick asked in confusion.

Wu looked at him dryly. “You arrested him. For murder.”

Hank whipped his head up to look at Nick in surprise. Nick though thought for only a few seconds before groaning. “Oh shit…”

\----------------

“I didn't really know what was going on back then,” Nick sighed, pacing a little bit. They were now almost an hour from Portland, in Salem, waiting in the Oregon State Correctional institution for a meeting with Peter Orson. He was a former arson investigator at their department who was also a Bauershwein. He’d arrested Orson for murder after he killed a couple of Monroe’s Blutbader friends, the brothers of his ex-girlfriend Angelina, and nearly killed Monroe. Nick was running down the case from the start for Sloane, and in a way Hank too since this was before he’d been brought into the fold so to speak. “You know, it was just all starting to happen…

“You arrested him; you didn't convict him. He did the killings,” Hank said.

“Yeah, but I didn't know Bauerschwein and Blutbader had this ancient feud…”

“Doesn't justify what he did.”

“Well, I mean, Angelina did kill his brothers…”

“Angelina?” Sloane asked.

“Yeah, Monroe's ex-girlfriend.”

“That Angelina? She killed Orson's brothers?” Hank asked in surprise.

“Is it shocking she would kill someone?” Sloane asked curiously.

“Ah…no, actually, not really. She was…intense. And vindictive. But she did die trying to save Monroe, so…”

“Ah…” Sloane said, nodding slightly. She honestly still had little clue what they were talking about.

“Orson was one of my first cases as a Grimm,” Nick sighed. “What the hell was I supposed to know?”

“Well, more than I did,” Hank pointed out.

“Even I didn’t know about the feud before I came here. We never really asked that sort of thing. You know, between the catching them and…” she motioned across her neck.

They quieted when the door towards the prison proper unlatched. A larger man in a blue jumpsuit with dirty blonde hair and circle beard came out. He looked at them with a fake bright smile that thinly masked anger in his voice. “Well, well, well, well. It's been a long time. You boys look swell.”

Nick sighed sitting down. “I wouldn't be here unless I had to.”

“That hurts,” he said snidely. He then paused and looked at Sloane in confusion. “I don’t recognize you…”

“I arrived after you were already here,” Sloane said. “Detective Sloane Larson. I’m Nick and Hank’s other partner, at the station and in our…other adventures.”

He eyed her but Nick drew his attention again. “We've got a fire we can't figure out.”

He snorted, similar to a pig. “I'm not on the payroll anymore. I'm wearing a different uniform. Maybe you didn't notice,” he bit out, pointing at the _INMATE_ stamp on his coveralls.

“Yeah, this fire's different,” Hank said.

“You want me to do your job?” he asked snidely.

“You told me once, whatever else we are, we're both cops. Now this is a chance for you to be a cop again,” Nick said, taking out a folder and putting it on the table, open to a picture of their victims’ burnt bodies. Orson stilled, then frowned in sympathy, dropping the tough guy act. He pulled the folder closer, scanning it for any clues. “Mason Heady and Joan Tapford were both caught inside.”

“This fire had no accelerant,” Hank went on. “It didn't move the way fires are supposed to, almost like it had a mind of its own.” His eyes widened.

“An old partner of yours, Lieutenant Bradey, suggested you might know who we're after.” Orson looked at Nick intently, then back down at the picture. **“** He said you got really close to figuring out who he was.”

Orson chewed his lip a moment before speaking quietly. “You have no idea how many years I spent tracking this guy. I saw him. Once. I came so close. I would have caught him, it was only a matter of time, but then you arrested me,” he finished bitterly.

Nick leaned in, interested. “Are you telling us you can ID him?”

“I-I never did put a face to the name, but if I saw him again, yeah,” he nodded. “You have a photograph to show me?”

“No…”

He shook his head, looking at a loss. “Then I don't know how I can help you.”

Hank sighed but then tapped Nick and Sloane to turn with him. “If he saw this guy's face, Orson may be our best shot.”

“Yeah, but not from in here.”

“…Wait, are we going break him out? I’ve been lost since we got here,” Sloane said.

In the end it wasn’t breaking him out—though Sloane had been willing it seems—but calling the captain and then filling out forms to get Orson fitted with an ankle monitor. They drove him back to Portland and he followed them into the precinct. A few people who remembered him gave him looks of disbelief or distrust and he hunkered down a little. “Good to be back…” They headed into Renard’s office when he opened the door, then immediately closed it behind them. “Hey, captain. Been a long time. 3 years, 27 days, to be exact…” he added under his breath.

“Sit,” Renard ordered. Orson did so quickly, still used to taking his orders. Renard leaned against his desk with his arms folded, staring down at him. “Now, you're here for one reason only, to assist these detectives. You got two days. You make one false move, you'll be right back inside, and I guarantee no parole board will ever let you out.”

“So much for the warm welcome…” he muttered.

“Tell us what you know.”

“Well... I'm gonna need more time.”

“You don't have it.”

He huffed, trying not to get flustered. “This... this guy, he moves around a lot. I mean, he's... he's not what you'd expect. It's kind of hard to explain.” He glanced around, eyeing Sloane and Hank but also the captain.

“Is he wesen?” Nick asked.

Orson looked at him in disbelief, then around again before at him. “Wesen what?”

“You're bauerschwein,” Sloane said, making him start and look at her.

“Nick and Sloane are both Grimm,” Hank said. “Yeah, we know.”

Orson looked at Sloane with wide eyes and woged. She smiled and waved a bit, batting her eyes at him. He turned back, then looked at Renard who just nodded to him. “Wow…I've been away too long. Does everybody in the precinct...”

“No,” they said together.

“Only other one is Sergeant Wu,” Sloane said. “No one else, that we know of.”

“And we're gonna keep it that way,” Renard added.

“Where'd you see the suspect?” Nick pressed.

“Oh, at another fire. I recognized him from a previous arson. By the way, he's one of those guys that likes to light 'em and stick around and watch.”

“I know the type you mean and please tell me all he does is watch,” Sloane said, cringing.

“That’s all he does in public, I’ll put it that way. I-I chased him into the basement of the building next door. I figured I had him, and then I found his clothes, he had taken them off.”

“You just said-” Sloane started.

“Then I saw him woge,” he said, emphasizing the words.

“Into what?” Nick asked.

“I don't know. I mean, he was literally on fire! I made a lot of notes. They'd be in my old case files. I encrypted them on a drive so that I wouldn’t be seen as crazy.”

“They're open cases. They'll be downstairs,” Renard said. They rose to head down there but Nick

“You guys work the files. I think I'll do a little reading. Care to join me, Miss Larson?” he said, mock formally.

Sloane snorted and headed out when he held the door open for her. “I think I shall, thank you.”

“…Are those two kidding?”

“No. Well, yes, but not about the reading. Let's go,” Hank said, heading to go to records.

They headed to the trailer and started skimming books. Sloane knew she hadn’t come across a flaming wesen yet in trying to organize her own collection and hadn’t seen one in Nicks as she was organizing. There really weren’t enough hours in the day to do everything she needed or wanted to do. And she didn’t know this one off the top of her head. There were ones with affinities for fire like damonfeur, but literally being on fire and surviving was a completely different story. And whatever the Volcanalis was, it was more a radiant heat than anything. Like an oven compared to an open campfire—that then turned into a wildfire that destroyed everything in its path.

Sloane glanced at Nick, who was looking through files as well. It’d been a couple of days since that night with the Manticore. “So…how’s it going with Juliette?” she asked as subtly as she could. “She doing okay? You guys doing okay?”

Nick sighed, rubbing his temple. “Yeah, she…seems pretty good actually. More than I thought she would be…”

She glanced up and frowned. “You don’t sound as relieved as I thought you’d be saying that.”

“Something just feels off still…I don’t know what it is though. And I tried talking but she sort of shut down on me and said she wanted to rest. And I don’t know how to bring it up again…She’s worried about Adalind too.”

“She is?”

“She asked about her. What I planned to do if she found out I got my powers back. Told her honestly that I didn’t think the world would be sad if I got rid of a hexenbiest.”

“Can’t blame you after all she’s done,” Sloane agreed.

“I’m worried about protecting her…I can’t be everywhere,” he sighed again.

“…No, but we’re all here too, remember? We’re going to watch each other’s backs.”

He smiled a bit and nodded, remembering what they’d talked about before. “Yeah, I know. But can’t blame me for wanting to be her hero, right?” he chuckled.

“No, I don’t…” She sighed and turned a few more pages before pausing. “Oh, this could be what we're looking for.”

Nick both looked up and set his aside to make room on the desk. “What do you got?”

“Excandesco,” she said. “Latin, I think…”

“It's Latin,” Nick said, taking it and looking at the drawing that looked like a living man on fire. “I think it translates to "burns with rage," or "raging burning thing," you know, a flaming person.”

She arched her brow. “You speak Latin now?”

“Not really. But I've picked up a little bit ever since I got all this,” he gestured at the trailer. “Starting to think I should take some classes though.”

She smiled and nodded. “It does come in handy, but don’t ask me to conjugate anything,” Sloane said, looking at it over his shoulder.

“Hopefully there's an English translation…Here we go. “Rome, July 18, AD 64,” he started, already pausing in shock.

“Wow That explains why it’s put in here like this, it’s not the same as other pages in here,” Sloane said, picking gently at an edge. It had a few holes in it already. “This is parchment. Real parchment, made from leather.”

“Man…I mean, even with the translations, the date must stay the same,” Nick said. He cleared his throat to continue. “"At the request of Peter and Paul, fearful for their Christian brothers, I'd spent weeks following the excandesco, thought to be the basis for the phoenix. His patron was the emperor, Nero, himself, and Peter knew he was being sent to destroy Christians in the city. That night was a windy one as I followed him through the streets. He entered one of the small stores. I tried to catch up to him, but the madness had already begun. The flames spread rapidly through the narrow, twisting streets, rising and spreading to the palatine and Caelian slopes. With nothing to stop it, the fire raged through Rome. I blame myself for not being able to stop him, for as I closed in to kill him he emitted terrible heat. I could not continue and had to fall back, my skin and scalp badly burned. There's nothing I know that can stop these devils."”

“Damn…” Sloane said. “But these things must be rare, or they would be high on our hit list for being so dangerous. And there’d be more information on them. I’ve only heard of a phoenix as a bird, not a man.”

“You’re welcome to copy the page,” Nick said, putting a mark in it and handing it to her. She smiled and took it. When her hand hit his though she nearly dropped it. “Whoa! You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” she said quickly. “Just didn’t have a good grip on it.” She quickly stood. “Um, so, what should we do?”

“We need to check back with Orson, confirm this is what he saw, maybe he has some ideas.”

She nodded and they headed back to the precinct. Wu went to continue some of his own searches while they headed to the back. Orson and Hank were going through casefiles in an interrogation room and they could hear him talking.

“Every arsonist has a signature; gasoline; kerosene; diesel; schnapps. There was a guy who used schnapps... what he didn't drink, he would use to start the fire. But this guy, he has no point of ignition. He didn't leave a trace of anything!” Orson was saying, moving files around in frustration.

Nick opened the door and they both looked up at them as they entered. “Have you ever heard of an excandesco?”

“No. What is that?” Orson asked in confusion. Nick brought the picture of the sketch up on his phone and held it out to him. Orson’s eyes widened and he leaned in more to look at it. “My God... That's what it looked like when he was woged! Where'd you get that?”

“A not-so-public library,” Nick said, putting it away.

“You think he's the accelerant himself?” Hank asked.

“It makes sense,” Sloane said. “If he’s able to catch on fire without harm and walk around…it’s a fire with a mind of its own.”

“What if he's producing it, like, in his skin or glands?” Nick nodded, thinking along the same lines.

Orson had been listening and then looked like he was struck with a sudden bolt of realization. “Phosphorus.”

“Phosphorus?” Sloane asked, arching her brow.

He nodded, smiling and talking animatedly. “White phosphorus makes up 1% of the human body. It's in every cell, and it only needs 86 degrees before it ignites and burns like hell once it's exposed to oxygen, like... like a match.”

“You're talking a human match?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, basically.”

Hank shook his head, sighing but laughing a little. “Just when you think the world can't get any weirder…”

“This guy's producing more than 1%,” Nick said.

“Oh, yeah. Way more. Way, way more. When I got close to him, I almost fried,” Orson said.

“That’s going to make arresting him kind of hard when he can melt the cuffs and our faces,” Sloane pointed out. “His skin must transform to deal with the heat…”

“We can't stop him from producing phosphorus, so we need to stop him from igniting,” Nick said.

“Well, phosphorus needs oxygen to burn. We've got to block that,” Orson said.

“We're gonna need some pretty heavy-duty sunscreen to do that,” Hank said with a smirk.

“Yeah, like, 10,000 SPF?” Nick said.

“Considering I can’t choke a man on fire, that might be the best course of action actually,” Sloane said. “He must like…open his pores like vents to let the phosphorus get oxygen, so covering him in something that clogs those pores might do it.”

“I can make it. I can make it if I get the right stuff, but I'm gonna need some special ingredients,” Orson said confidently.

Hank glanced at Nick hesitantly. “Spice shop might have just what he needs…”

Nick looked like a deer in headlights a moment and his mouth flatted out in concern. “Um...I should probably call first.” He quickly headed out, taking his phone out. Orson looked at them in confusion but neither of them thought explaining who Rosalee was married to would help the situation.

Nick came back and they all headed to the car to get to the shop. “Rosalee?” Nick called as they entered.

“Hey guys,” she greeted, smiling as she brought a box over to the counter. She looked at the fourth member of their party curiously.

“Rosalee, this is Peter Orson. He used to be an arson investigator,” Hank said.

She frowned. “Used to be?”

Orson sighed and held up his hands. “All right, this doesn't really need to be awkward. I am in jail, but they got me out to help on a case.”

She arched her brow and looked at Sloane who nodded with an exasperated look. “No. Not awkward at all…What can I do for you?”

“Well, we need an ointment thick enough to handle some very intense heat,” Orson said, getting down to business.

“How much heat?”

“Blowtorch heat.

Her eyebrows rose. “Wow. Okay.”

“You ever heard of an excandesco?” Nick asked.

“No. So this is wesen related,” she guessed.

“Yeah. One with no known weakness, so we’re playing it by ear a little,” Sloane admitted.

The bell to the shop rang and they all froze when Monroe’s voice echoed through the shop. He was supposed to be out repairing a large clock somewhere. “So, they sent the wrong parts, of course. So now it's gonna be, like, two weeks...” He stopped when he was in the center, directly facing Orson. His eyes widened in recognition and his face contorted into rage. “You.”

“You,” Orson said back, equally rage-filled.

Monroe woged and roared at him, red eyes honed in on the man and lunging for him. Hank quickly put an arm over his chest, yelling for him to stop. Orson woged as well, squealing and moving to meet him in a fight if Nick wasn’t holding him back. Rosalee was shocked, standing behind the counter and watching it with wide eyes and unsure what to do.

“Monroe! Monroe, take it easy. He's with us! Back off!” Nick yelled.

Monroe’s blutbad face was shocked a moment before he changed back. “What the hell is he doing here? Why isn't he in jail where he belongs?”

Orson changed back as well, glaring. “If I belong there, so do you!”

“I didn’t kill someone in cold blood!”

“He's working with us on a case,” Sloane sighed, standing between both of them.

“What?” Monroe barked.

“We've got two dead kids burned up in a fire. Orson was an investigator who knows the guy we're after,” Nick explained.

“You mean you got him out?” he accused.

Nick sighed, wincing at the tone. “Look, he can ID the arsonist! I'm sorry I brought...”

“Dude! He killed Hap!”

“Yeah, and your girlfriend killed my brothers,” Orson spat. “If I'm in jail, why isn't she?”

“Because she's dead,” Rosalee said bluntly.

He looked at her and huffed a laugh. “Oh. Well, that's the first piece of good news I got since I went to prison.”

Monroe lunged again and only paused when Sloane held up a hand. He huffed and moved back. “Look, I don't care what kind of help you need, you are not getting it here! Not this time.” He glared at Nick who winced again.

“You Blutbader, you never give up on it, do you?” Orson said.

“No, not when it comes to bauerschwein with blood on their hands!”

“Guys...” Nick sighed.

“As if the Blutbader don't have any blood on their hands! Your kind started this!”

“That's right, and my kind can finish it!”

“Be quiet, both of you!” Sloane shouted suddenly—and it felt like a jolt went through all wesen present. Her voice was like a crack of thunder and the lightning afterwards had them frozen and quiet even if it was only for a second woged and then changed back again. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, looking woozy. “Hate using that voice on anything bigger than a dog…”

Nick sighed and looked at Monroe. “We’ll leave, alright? I’m sorry.”

“Nick,” Rosalee said, coming out from the counter after the effects wore off. Monroe growled and went to the back room closing the doors hard behind him. But she made the rest of them wait before leaving. “Don't go.” She sighed and went through the doors Monroe did.

“…Why does it feel like my parents are fighting,” Hank muttered.

“Gonna have to take your word for that,” Sloane sighed, leaning against a shelf.

“You okay?” Nick asked, worried.

“Yeah. Remember how I said this trick is best used on animals when I was trying to teach you and Trubel? Using it on wesen doesn’t always work and if it does it’s like I get interference in my brain. So now I have a migraine…” He frowned and brought her over to a chair to sit down. She smiled a bit and leaned her head back to take some deep breaths. She hesitated but risked a further headache to open her hearing to see what Monroe and Rosalee were talking about.

“I cannot believe Nick brought that bauerschwein here,” Monroe raged. “And Sloane! They know better than to trust a pig!”

“He's trying to find out who killed two kids in a fire,” Rosalee said, pleading. “That's why they got him out of prison. They’re not worried about some blutbad/bauerschwein feud. He came here for help.”

“No, Rosalee, that guy stuck a shotgun in my face. In my house!” he said. Sloane arched a brow and resisted glancing at Orson.

Rosalee though sounded more fed up than scared though. “I am so sick of this... this hatred among wesen. Didn't I almost lose you to that kind of old-world stupidity?”

Monroe sounded scandalized. “Oh, my God! That was totally different!”

“It's not different. Nick is trying to do what's right, and if you can't handle it, then... maybe you should be the one to leave.”

There was a pause as the words hanged heavy in the air. “Are you serious?”

“It's not about you, Monroe. It's not about me, and it's not about Orson. It's about two dead kids, and I think we should help them,” she said, almost desperate.

“Fine. You help them!” She heard a door slam and Rosalee sigh heavily before heading back. Sloane reigned in her hearing and rubbed her temples as she opened the doors.

“Monroe left…” she stated.

“Rosalee, I'm sorry,” Nick said, looking sincerely torn up about what just happened.

“We hoped to be in and out before he got in,” Sloane added.

She shook her head sadly. “This feud goes way too far back for you to take any responsibility.”

“Well, I know, but I shouldn’t have...”

“We shouldn’t have,” Sloane corrected him.

“No. You need help. You should be able to get help, feud or no feud,” Rosalee said resolutely. Orson looked down; a bit shamefaced that she was the noble one in the room. “Let's get started.”

“Do you have anything for a headache first?” Nick said. He gestured to Sloane who was already waving her hand, trying to say it wasn’t necessary.

“Of course, that’s simple,” Rosalee said, quickly grabbing her some medicine and water.

She sighed but smiled and took it. “Thanks. I’ll be fine in just a bit, but I appreciate it.” She swallowed the pills and sipped the water before standing to follow them into the back room while Orson explained what they’d figured out about him secreting phosphorous from his skin.

Rosalee went to grab a reference book as he spoke, flipping through it. “So, what this guy does isn’t something that can be put out easily, not at these temperatures. It's like an oil fire. We can't use water. It won't stop it,” Orson sighed.

She nodded, thinking quickly as she flipped pages. “If he can produce phosphorus from his skin, you'll have to suppress it topically. Something that can be applied to his skin that won't evaporate in the heat.”

“And we have to figure out a way to get it onto him,” Nick pointed out.

“Got to be some kind of fire extinguisher,” Hank said.

“Yeah, good, and it's got to be sticky enough that he can't wipe it off, and it can't be flammable,” Orson said, looking to Rosalee.

“Like a skin conditioner that won't burn,” she said, understanding what he was asking right away.

“Yes!”

She nodded, setting the book down. “Let's start with licorice root. We boil it down, it gets very sticky when heated. It's the third shelf at the top.” Hank nodded, going to the shelves.

“What else?” Nick asked.

“Beeswax. It retains moisture when it's applied. Middle shelf, all the way to the left... no, to the right,” she corrected quickly as he walked over.

“Only thing I know for burns is Aloe of the top of my head,” Sloane sighed.

Rosalee shook her head. “No, it evaporates too quickly. It’s good for treating burns on skin but not keeping something from burning”

“Good to know,” She nodded.

“If you could get me the witch hazel though, left side all the way at the bottom.” Sloane nodded and went to the shelf. “Oh, and jojoba. Around the corner and then at the bottom,” she directed Orson.

“I got it.”

They heard the back door open but were still gathering ingredients at her order

“Okay. Good. Here's what we have to do, we've got to crush up the licorice root and then mix everything together and then heat it up till it liquefies,” Orson said.

Rosalee nodded then paused, looking behind him in surprise. They all turned to see Monroe and it was tense for a moment. Monroe looked awkward but took a deep breath. “I'll get the bowls.” He moved around them respectfully but paused and looked at Orson. “How many?”

Orson eyed him but then took a breath as well. “Two should do it.” Monroe nodded and headed to the other side of the shop.

They all breathed out in relief, glad that another fight didn’t almost break out. Nick’s phone went off—no ringtone, business—and he pulled it out to answer. “Wu. …What? Where?” He paused and looked at them in angry disbelief. “The attorney, Charles Laney, was found burned to death in his car.” Hank and Sloane looked at one another in shock, and then disappointment. Another man dead, even if it shrank the suspect pool was never a good thing. “We'll meet you there.” He hanged up and sighed. “We got to go check this out. Orson, you're coming with us. Can you...” He looked at Rosalee, apologetic but hopeful.

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, we got the gist.”

They nodded and all headed out, nodding to Monroe on the way who gave a tightlipped smile. 

The scene was what remained of a sedan parked down by the train yard. The inside was completely black from the fire and beyond repair. But worse was the body in the driver’s seat. Unlike the teens at the shop who could still be identified facially, the body was burnt beyond recognition. It reminded Sloane of the electrocuted victims in the Donovan house—charred flesh, missing noses, eyes melted away…

“We sure he's the one?” Hank asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Car registration matches,” Wu sighed, walking to Nick, Sloane and Orson while Hank circled the car. He held up a folder. “Got the background on him you asked for. Laney went into private practice years ago. Before that, he was a public defender. Didn't think anything of it till I got a hit on one of his clients who was a suspect in an arson fire. Name is Damien Barso, 18-year-old high school student charged with burning down his school gym. Laney got him off 'cause they were never able to prove how the fire was set. Kid disappeared right after that and has been in the wind for over a decade. This is a police file photo on him at the time.” Wu pulled a photo out and held it out to him of what should’ve been a good, clean cut kid with high cheek bones and a lanky build.

“Oh, that's him,” Orson said, taking the photo. “He's older now, obviously, but that's him. That's... that's the guy from the other fire.”

“So, Laney put Harrison in touch with Barso, who hired him to burn down his building and collect the insurance money,” Nick said.

“Only problem is, two people died,” Hank said.

“Now three,” Wu said.

Sloane nodded, then blinked as Orson moved past her walking quickly towards a fence at the top of an embankment where a small crowd had gathered. “Whoa there, stay with the group please,” she said.

“I saw him,” Orson said, scanning the crowd.

They all quickly moved to stand with him. “Really?” Hank asked unsure.

“Yeah, I'm not trying to get away,” he said defensively, looking at them and then back to the fence. “I saw him. I saw Barso up there. I swear to...” He looked again, frowning.

“Are you sure it was Barso?” Nick asked.

Orson’s eyes flicked back and forth again before he sighed. “I don't know. I'm... I don't know. Maybe I'm just seeing what I want to see because I've been inside too long…”

“Possible…but then, you did say he liked to watch the aftermath,” Sloane pointed out, glancing at the others. “He might like watching us investigating.

“Well, if Barso was here, he's gone now,” Hank said.

“He's eliminating every connection to him,” Nick realized.

Orson’s eyes widened. “Which would mean Harrison is next on the list.”

They ran for the car, jumping in and heading for the Harrison’s address. The sun set by the time they got there but they pulled up, lights flashing. They saw the son, Andy, heading for his car but he paused and looked at them in confusion. “Hey!” Hank called. “Where's your dad?”

“Why?” he asked, eyeing them all.

“Because the man he hired to burn down your building is gonna kill him,” Orson said.

Andy shook his head, looking pained. “No, you're wrong...”

“We don't have time to argue. Where is he?” Hank said, not letting him argue.

“He's at the building. I-I was just on my way to meet him. He's with one of your arson investigators.”

“Who?” Nick asked, confused.

“Yeah, we’re on this case, no one should be calling him over without us,” Sloane said.

Andy frowned. “He said his name was Lieutenant Johnson.”

Hank frowned as well, shaking his head as he ran through a list of names. “We don't have a Lieutenant Johnson in arson.”

“Willis was our main investigator and she hasn’t updated us,” Sloane said.

“It's got to be Barso,” Orson said, getting worked up. “And he's got his dad, and I'm telling you, guys, he's gonna kill him.”

Andy turned white enough they could see him in the dim streetlights much more clearly and he looked sick. “Oh, my God…Look, Barso's not after my dad. He wants me. My dad didn't hire anybody.” The detectives glanced at one another then back to him and he sighed. “Our lawyer introduced me to Barso. Nobody was supposed to get hurt.”

“You hired Barso?” Nick asked, angry and a hint disgusted.

“Yes…” He couldn’t meet their gaze.

“Well, that didn't turn out so good. He just killed your lawyer.” He looked at him in shock and fear.

Nick’s phone was going off and he pulled it out. “Get him out of here. Get him in the car,” He sighed. He answered the call and Sloane hanged around, recognizing it was Rosalee’s ringtone. Nick answered it on speaker. “Rosalee?”

“We got what you need!” she said triumphantly.

“And we think we figured out how to apply it,” Monroe said, equally triumphantly. “You want to come by and get it?”

“No, we need you to bring it,” Nick said.

“Before another man ends up dead,” Sloane added.

“Where?” Monroe asked.

“I’ll text you the address, you’re actually closer but we’ll get there as soon as we can.”

“Okay, we’ll be there!” Rosalee said. Nick hanged up and they got back into the car to head to the store.

When they pulled up, Monroe and Rosalee were waiting at the back of their car. They parked and quickly got out to meet them. “Hey. You get the stuff fixed up?” Orson asked.

“Yeah, it's ready,” Rosalee said.

“We can't use it till he woges.”

“Well, how are we gonna get it onto him?” Nick asked.

Monroe opened the back, revealing five large super-soaker style water guns laying in the trunk. “It's not very high-tech, but we think it'll work.”

“Water guns? Are you serious?” Hank asked.

“They shoot a long way,” Rosalee said, handing them out.

“Plus, he won't be expecting it. Uh, we hope,” Monroe said.

“Not a lot of options,” Nick said, taking one and looking it over.

“Haven’t had one of these since I was a kid,” Sloane said.

Andy was coming over after trying to see anything through the windows and stopped in his tracks. Nick looked at him, not seeming self-conscious about the water gun in his hands. “We need to get your dad out of there first.”

“You're gonna use toys against this guy?” Andy snapped. “He's a killer. Are you crazy? I'm gonna go get my dad.”

Nick quickly caught up to him when he tried to move past into the store and grabbed his arm. “Hey, you're not going anywhere. I'll read you your rights later.” He handcuffed him and took him back to their car, putting him in the back.

The others started towards the shop. “All right, we're gonna have to distract Barso so we can get Harrison out,” Nick said, trying to think of a plan.

Orson nodded then looked at him as they walked. “Give me your badge.”

Nick frowned in confusion. “Why?”

“Just give me your badge. He knows me. I'm gonna be the last person he expects to see in there. Give me the badge. I'll take the heat, so to speak.” Nick paused but unclipped his badge and handed it to him. “Just don't take too long…” He moved on ahead while they grouped up.

“Y’know, if he hadn’t killed your friends, Monroe, I might respect that guy…He takes this seriously,” Sloane said.

“Yeah…” Monroe agreed, frowning a bit. They went around the back and gesturing, decided that Nick, Hank and Sloane would go in through the back delivery-entrance and Monroe and Rosalee would go around and wait. They’d then try to ambush him by leading him that way.

Sloane and Nick both trained their ears the whole time, trying to keep track of Barso and Orson.

“Been a long time, Barso. Remember me? I almost caught you when you burned down the Comstock building. Burning down buildings, that's one thing. Killing people, that's just plain sloppy!” He waited, and they slowed entering the back. “You know, I used to think that you were good at what you did.”

“I'm really not concerned with what you think,” Barso finally answered. He was moving to the store area where Orson was, and they continued forward.

“You should be, because I know what you are.”

“You don't know what you're talking about.”

They heard a squealing growl and Orson must’ve woged. “I guess being an excandesco means you don't have to worry about being cold.”

He woged back just as they passed by an opening. Barso’s back was to them though so they quickly kept moving as he stepped towards Orson. “Not really.”

“All right, you just stay where you are! You're under arrest.”

“You almost caught me once, but remember what happened then? Come on over. Arrest me, bauerschwein.”

They got to the office and found Mr. Harrison duct taped to a chair. Nick and Sloane flanked the door while Hank got out his pocketknife to cut him free. They got him up out of the chair and started leading him quickly back around to the back

“What's the matter?” Barso was saying, condescendingly sweet. “I'm not gonna put up a fight.”

“If you're waiting for Andy, he's not coming.”

“What'd that idiot do, confess?” He didn’t sound like he cared. He also sounded like he was ready to burn Orson to cinders, just as they managed to get out the back.

“Orson, we got him!” Nick yelled, cutting his amplified hearing. Sloane kept hers long enough to make sure that Barso didn’t BBQ the man and was heading their way before lining up with the others to make a half ring near the door with their water guns raised. Well, the four of them did, Sloane actually jumped and climbed up to the small pitched roof over door, hanging on.

Barso came barreling out, angry, but paused when he saw them. “What the hell is this?”

“It's over, Barso,” Orson said, coming out behind them and then over to their side. “I told you, you're under arrest.”

“I don't think so.” He glared and then closed his eyes as he breathed in deeply, concentrating.

“It's happening!” Orson warned. They watched as his skin and hair turned into what looked almost like molten rock or charcoal—safe from the intense heat in some form—with cracking vents glowing as they charged with heat. His eyes too looked like molten lead glaring at them. Sloane leapt down without hardly a sound and raised her soaker to get his back.

“Now!” Rosalee yelled. They started firing the bright green mixture at him, keeping five constant streams going and coating him at all angles. No flames started coming out, the mixture clinging to his skin like a watery ooze. He looked at it in shock, trying to ignite. It wasn’t happening, but more cracks were appearing, and a glow seemed to be building up below his skin.

“What's happening? What'd you do to me? What did you do to me?!” He screamed, the glow becoming brighter and brighter and he seemed to be in pain.

“I think we better move back,” Nick said, watching him. Then he saw Sloane behind him, also watching in morbid fascination. “Sloane!” He moved around, grabbing her arm and pulling her quickly over to them before he could swipe at them.

“Aah! Aah...” he yelled, more cracks appearing.

“He's burning up from the inside,” Orson said.

“Aah!” The glow turned white hot in his sternum.

“I think he's gonna blow!” Monroe yelled.

Barso let out a scream like a man on fire should scream as the glow went through out his body, through the cracks, and he was torn apart by the force from the inside in a ball of flame. They all blocked their faces with the water guns or otherwise took cover as he was scattered to pieces around the alley. Disgustingly, the rock chunks turned back to flesh, though now it was burned through and Sloane was fairly sure that the blood evaporated.

“Is that what's supposed to happen?” Hank asked, looking horrified at the mass of burnt meat.

“Well, it's not an exact, you know, science,” Monroe said, also horrified and covering his nose from the smell.

“We gotta call this in, you all should clear out,” Sloane said to Monroe and Rosalee.

“Yeah, and thank you. As usual, couldn’t do it without you. Or you,” Nick added, nodding to Orson.

Orson was surprised but nodded back slowly.

Everyone who shouldn’t be there was cleared out. Andy and his father saw nothing from the car aside from the explosion, and they explained the super soakers he saw were filled with a special fire retardant to keep him from starting another fire. Which was mostly true.

When they were talking to Wu though, he gave them a dubious look after they finished. “So, he exploded?” he summed up.

“From the inside out. Like that burrito Darrow put in the microwave last month that near got a swat team in the break room,” Sloane confirmed.

“Spontaneously combusted might be a better term,” Nick said, though he was nodding at how similar it was to the burrito.

Wu pursed his lips. “Is it possible the victim had some sort of homemade bomb strapped to him?” he said, leading them a bit.

Hank nodded slowly back. “Yeah, sure. Anything's possible.”

“It'll look better on the report than...”

“Yeah. We like bomb,” Nick nodded. Sloane gave a thumbs up and Wu nodded and went to go start the reporting process with Hank.

“Hey, Orson!” Monroe called. Nick and Sloane both tensed, worried it was back to war. Nick wasn’t sure his voice trick was strong enough to stop them like Sloane’s—he’d been practicing on the neighbor’s dog and hadn’t made much progress beyond making him sit. Orson looked wary as well. “You know I still don't forgive you for Hap,” Monroe said.

Orson frowned but kept his voice civil if still upset. “And I will never forgive Angelina for what she did to my brothers.”

Monroe eyed him for a moment before nodding and sticking out his hand. “Deal.” Orson blinked but slowly took his hand, shaking it. He glanced back at Nick and Sloane and they smiled.

“Yeah. Monroe’s one Blutbad even I like. He’s annoyingly good,” Sloane said.

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” Monroe said, taking his hand back but smiling.

Orson nodded, not sure what to say, but then was called over by the other police. Monroe sighed and looked at Rosalee, who smiled proudly at him and put her arm around him.

It was a couple of hours later that they escorted Orson back to his cell, now in his jumpsuit again. He sighed as the door was closed behind him, looking resigned to facing the same four walls again for the foreseeable future. He turned, maybe surprised they were still there.

“Thanks for your help,” Nick said sincerely.

“It was good to get out,” he nodded.

“You did good,” Hank said.

“Thanks. Hey, tell that to my next parole hearing,” he laughed.

“We might just. I think helping us catch another killer probably looks good to the board,” Sloane said.

“…I meant what I said. I don’t forgive Angelina. And I’m not sorry she’s gone. But…working this case, I remembered why I really became and Arson investigator. I wanted to help people find answers and not have to grieve anymore. And stop guys like Barso. And I wish…I wish I’d gone about it differently. Getting revenge, I mean. An eye for an eye didn’t make me feel better, it just…”

“You needed to do something or go insane with grief,” Sloane said knowingly.

“Y-yeah…”

“I felt the same. My grandmother was killed by a group of wesen and I got my revenge on most of them. It didn’t fill the hole in me though.”

“It’s not quite the same…”

“Why? Because I’m a Grimm? I mean, I was raised to hate wesen the same way you were raised to hate Blutbader. In fact, three of the wesen that killed her were Blutbader. I got all but one…But these two,” she jerked her thumb and Nick and Hank who just smiled and waved, “and Monroe and Rosalee are my friends now. Things can change.”

Orson nodded slowly. “…Well. I guess we’ll see if I have a future someday.”

They nodded and turned to leave. “Stay out of trouble,” Nick said, waving to Orson as they left. He felt for the guy, really. He did murder two people, but in revenge for his own brothers’ murders. But Sloane had gone down that road too. And he did seem the type to think and feel remorse, and still want to do good. Maybe someday he would have a future out in the world. And if he did mess up again, they’d just have to be there to stop him.

When they got to the station it was time to clock out and Hank sighed as they headed to their cars.

“Well, glad we’ll be able to sleep tonight, knowing that that fire bug isn’t going to get anyone else,” Hank sighed.

“Was he a bug?” Sloane asked, thinking. “The book said “phoenix”, but those are usually birds and he didn’t look like a bird to me either…”

“Either way, we can now add how to defeat it to the books. Rosalee said she’d email us both the recipe to put down,” Nick said.

“Oh, sweet! I’ve still got your book, so I’ll add it in to yours after copying it down.”

“I appreciate that, thanks. I think I will stop back by the trailer though.”

“Why?” Hank asked, worried there was something else that needed to be hunted.

Nick smiled. “I’m going to put the super soaker in the weapons cabinet.”

They stared and then started all laughing together. “Oh wow, that…that is quite the addition,” Sloane laughed.

“Hey, it caused a man to explode, I think that deserves a place of honor in my armory,” he said. “Maybe I’ll name it. “Excendesco Eradicator”!”

“Needs work,” Hank laughed. “I’ll talk to y’all later.”

“Later,” they said, waving as he headed to his car.

“I’ll bring the book over when I’m done with it,” Sloane went on, hiking up to hers. “By the way…thanks for pulling me away from him.”

“Of course,” Nick said. “It was a good idea to get behind him though. I was surprise when you climbed up there like Spiderman though.”

“Gotta keep you on your toes or you’ll get bored of me,” she smiled.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of you,” he said sincerely.

Sloane felt her face get red and for a moment she wondered if she was going to burn up from the inside. “Ah…um…thank you. I should get home though.”

Nick nodded, surprised a bit by her reaction. “Right, yeah. I want to drop this off and get home too.”

She nodded, climbing into her car. She waited for Nick to walk to his before groaning and hiding her head on the steering wheel. “You charming asshole, stop doing that to me…”

\---------------

**Bad Luck**

\--------------

After putting up the super-soaker, Nick headed home. As he opened the door though he was immediately met with a mess—broken decorations, furniture in pieces, overturned bookcase, _an entire set of knives in the wall_ —that had his heart ratcheting back up immediately. “Juliette? Juliette?!” He rushed through, looking around, and breathed out when he saw her sitting on the couch. She looked thoughtful and had another bruise on her cheek besides the one the manticore left and a bloody lip. “What happened?” he gasped, rushing over to make sure.

“Adalind paid me a visit…” she said, stating a fact with no fear in her voice.

Nick’s heart twisted and he looked around. “She did this? Did she hurt you?” He moved to touch her cheek, but she turned away.

“She tried to.”

Nick’s hands balled into fists and he felt the rage build inside him. Not only did Adalind still, _still_ do this sort of back handed revenge, now she was targeting Juliette. Because of him. “I'm gonna kill her,” he growled.

“Nick,” Juliette said, voice gentle but sharp enough it got him to look at her. “I almost did.”

That had his anger easing slightly into surprise in confusion. “You almost killed Adalind? What, you shoot her?”

“I didn't need my gun,” she sighed, standing to pace. Nick watched her, unsure what she was talking about. She was troubled and hesitant, but she turned to him. “There's something I have to show you.”

“What?” he asked.

She hesitated still, worry pinching her face. “You know how much I love you…”

That made him more anxious and he sighed. “Juliette, just tell me.”

She looked at them and then, with no other warning, woged into a hexenbiest.

Nick felt his world stop for a moment in shock and horror before he drew his gun and pointed it right at her. Anger made his words sharp and bitter. “You're not Juliette. You're Adalind. What did you do with her?”

The hexenbiest backed up, and then woged back into Juliette, panicking. “Nick, it's me!”

“I don't believe you!” he shouted, gun shaking slightly.

“Listen, you... you proposed to me on this couch,” she said frantically, pointing at the couch she’d been sitting on when he came in. “You had a ring. I said no. You hid it upstairs in the dresser drawer. I found it. Adalind would never know that.”

Nick was panting, feeling his chest tighten at the memory and the realization he was pointing a gun at the woman he loved. He dropped it quickly, staring at her in desperation and confusion. “How did this happen?”

She calmed slightly, though she looked on the verge of tears as well. But also tired. “I don't know…I didn't know what was happening at first. I was really nauseous. I thought I was pregnant. I had headaches—the ones I mentioned before when Sloane was in trouble. They didn’t go away till recently and that’s…when it just happened. And it's been happening more and more. It's how I killed the guy from the Tribunal. And the Manticore. And how I almost just killed Adalind.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked.

She hesitated, because she knew this would hurt him in a way. “Because I was scared.”

Nick did flinch and he quickly holstered his gun, still shaking. Slowly stepping close, he put his hands on her shoulders. “Look...We're gonna figure this out and get rid of it.”

“We can't,” she choked out, tearing up.

“Why not?” he asked, confused. There was always a cure.

“It's permanent.”

“You don't know that,” he said, shaking his head.

She stepped back. “I do. Henrietta told me.”

Nick frowned. “Who's Henrietta?”

“The Hexenbiest who's been helping me figure this out…” she admitted, looking away.

He stared, feeling this was one blow after another. “You've been seeing a Hexenbiest?”

“I had to! I didn't want to hurt you!” she sobbed.

“Well, how did you find Henrietta?” He asked, ever the detective.

She sighed, bracing herself again. “Sean Renard…”

Nick felt his ire rise—memories of Juliette and Renard being drawn to each other making bile rise in his throat. “You told him before you told me?”

“I needed help, Nick! His mom's a Hexenbiest. He's half Zauberbiest…” She looked at him, begging him to understand.

Even if he understood on some level, the pain was still rolling around inside him. “You should have told me.”

Juliette’s face screwed up at the words and she huffed and brushed past him. But she breathed deeply, sniffling. She turned to face him, crying now because she couldn’t deny the real reason she didn’t tell him. “I was afraid you were gonna kill me…”

Nick’s eyes widened. “Juliette, I would never hurt you! Never…” She didn’t look so sure, and him pointing his gun at her earlier likely made it hard to believe the _never_. Nick went over everything in his head again and beyond—all the times she was in danger. All the times she was used against him. All the times she tried so hard to help and could’ve ended up dead. And now her life was changed forever—she was wesen after being a human her whole life. Maybe even one of the worst types of wesen. “This is all because of me. This is... because I became a Grimm again,” he said, feeling close to tears himself.

She sniffed, looking down but trying to talk comfortingly despite feeling like the world was falling out under their feet. “Well, we took a chance, you know? We knew that there might be side effects. It's what we wanted.”

Nick took a shuddering breath. _No…not this, I never wanted this…not for you…_ “Juliette, I am so sorry…” He moved past her, to the door.

She didn’t turn around but called to him. “Nick, where are you going?”

“I don't know…” he said, closing the door behind him. He needed out of there. All the memories were too much, all the guilt, it was like hands tearing into him and pulling him apart. He just had to not be there, to think about anything else.

\---------------

Sloane was just winding down, resting on her couch, when her phone rang. Hank’s number and she accepted the call right away. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hope you didn’t get too comfortable,” Hank sighed. “We got another case.”

Sloane groaned slightly but sighed. “Can’t get too comfortable on this job, I have learned that,” she said. “Where am I heading?”

“House off of McGregor Rd.”

“Got a house number?”

“It’s the only house there. Near the woods. Report of a teen male assaulted. Bled to death before paramedics could arrive.”

“Damn,” she sighed. “Okay, I’ll be there soon. Did you call Nick?”

“Yeah, he’s on his way too.”

“Good, see you there.” She hanged up and got her boots back on before running out with her badge and knife back on.

The house was an old farmhouse on a hill surrounded by forest. Police and ambulances were lighting up the otherwise dark area and if it weren’t for that it would seem very peaceful if a little isolated. Sloane pulled up about the same time as Nick and they both got out to walk over to Hank.

“Hope you had time to grab some dinner,” Hank joked.

“Nope,” Nick said.

Sloane reached into her pocket and pulled out two protein bars, holding them out. Hank chuckled and took one for his own pocket to eat after they looked at the scene. “Always prepared.”

“Of course.” She paused and looked at Nick who hadn’t taken the bar. “Nick?”

“I’m not hungry,” he said, starting down the hill towards the fence.

“And I thought I was disappointed we got called out again,” She said, though she was looking at him worriedly.

“Well, I'm DVR-ing the fourth quarter of the game, so if you hear a score, I don't want to know,” Hank said. Nick didn’t answer and he frowned as well. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, though he didn’t look at either of them. Wu looked up as they walked over, nodding. “Hey, where's the body?”

“Right this way,” Wu said. “17-year-old kid, Peter Bennett, snuck out to meet his girlfriend, ended up getting his foot cut off.”

“What?” Hank asked, unsure he heard that right. They came around the trees and saw the kid lying on the ground. He was in jeans and a letterman jacket and had one foot missing near the middle of his shin. The ground beneath the limb was soaked in blood.

“Yeah. Mother heard the screams, ran out, found him unconscious, tried to save him. Kid was dead by the time paramedics finally got here. I think he bled out. No other sign of trauma. Blood's contained to the area around the body.”

“Whose shotgun?” Nick asked, shining his light on the old shotgun next to him.

“Mom's. Had it with her when she ran out to find her son.”

“Well I thought he’d accidently hit a bear trap or something, but it wouldn’t do this much damage. Also, where's his foot?” Sloane asked, looking around.

“Still looking,” Wu said humorlessly.

“The killer took the foot with him?” Nick asked, confused and horrified.

“Hell of a foot fetish,” he said, a bit more humorously.

“Who called 911?” Hank asked.

“His mom.”

“Let's talk to her,” Nick said.

They went back up the hill after making sure there was nothing else to find in the immediate area and found a woman with short blonde hair that matched their victim’s color crying at the back of the ambulance. She had a blanket around her shoulder.

“Mrs. Bennet?” Sloane asked. She looked and sniffed but nodded. “We’re Detectives Larson, Burkhardt and Griffin. Do you think you can answer a few questions for us?”

She nodded again, taking a shuddering breath. “Y-yes…I can try…”

“Alright…we were told you heard your son scream and came out with the shotgun?”

“Y-yes…There was so much blood. I couldn't stop it. I... I tried,” she sobbed, trying to not break down again even as she shook.

“Has anyone ever threatened Peter?” Nick asked.

“No,” she shook her head vehemently.

“How long have you lived here?”

“Just a few months.”

“You like your neighbors?”

“They're good people,” she nodded, face screwing up again. “They would never hurt Peter.”

“Any other family?” Hank tried. “Peter's father?”

She swallowed, looking down and sniffling. “My husband was... he was killed in a car accident about a year ago, and that's why we moved from Seattle. I wanted to give my children a new start. He told me he was going up to bed,” she choked out, covering her mouth.

“We're gonna do everything we can to find whoever did this,” Hank said gently.

She nodded but then closed her eyes as a wave of despair went through her. Nick and Sloane then watched as she woged into a wesen with long ears, a button nose and fur over her face. A slight keening sound was in her throat, one they could only really hear as well. Her eyes were closed, and she didn’t see them before she change back and tried to breathe deeply. “I'm sorry. Um...Is there anything else? My daughter's back at the house, and she just lost her brother, so I'd really like to be with her.”

Sloane nodded. “That’s what we need to start with. We’ll contact you if we need more but go on.”

“Thank you,” she said, standing and leaving the blanket on the end of the ambulance as she headed for the house.

Nick sighed a bit and looked at hank “She's Wesen…”

Hank somehow managed a look that was both surprised and not. “Know what kind?”

“Langen Ohren,” Nick said, remembering Riker Dowling a few months back.

“No, Willahara,” Sloane said. “They’re sometimes confused, but there’s some differences in the face and ears.”

“Well, either way, we need to know why they want his foot…” Nick said. He was a little testy and she arched her brow at him.

“It’s too late to talk to Monroe and Rosalee and we all need some sleep,” Hank sighed. “I think we’ve done what we can tonight, and we’ll look everything over again tomorrow.”

The others agreed and headed home.

\--------------

Nick jolted awake on the couch when he heard a heavy step on the stair landing. He breathed heavily, then looked at an unamused Juliette at the end of the stairs. He’d come home and opted to sleep on the couch last night rather than go up and join her. “Hm. Not gonna kill you,” she said.

Nick sighed and rubbed over his face. “I got home late. I didn't want to wake you.”

“Yeah, I'm sure it had nothing to do with me being a...” she gestured vaguely with a sardonic expression.

Nick sighed and stood up. “I want to talk to Henrietta.”

She was a little surprised but then nodded. “I'll call her.”

He shook his head, determined. “I want to talk to her face-to-face.”

“I should go with you,” she said, uncertain.

“I think it'd be best if I went alone.”

She narrowed her eyes a little but sighed and walked over to the desk near the stairs with heir desktop to grab a pad of paper and a pen. “Okay. I'll let her know you're coming. This is the address. You should really memorize it. It can be a little bit…tricky.” She held up the page and Nick read it. _118 Old Mill Rd._ Just as he finished reading it five times in his head, the letters scattered like billiard balls broken on a pool table. He looked at Juliette, who shrugged innocently.

“It's not me, I didn't do that.”

He sighed. “Juliette, I want to make this right.” He leaned in and kissed her temple. “I love you. I'll see you later.”

Juliette watched him go and couldn’t help the twist in her heart at the fact he hadn’t looked her in the face while he said _I love you_ , or really in her eyes at all. He didn’t know how to look at her anymore. What happened with Renard and the curse he could forgive—the kissing, the forgetting, all that. But being something other than human was too much. And it made her angry as well as hurt to think about it.

Nick meanwhile drove to a lovely old Victorian house painted in lemon yellow and teal details. It was nothing like the Schade’s or Renard’s modern aesthetic and seemed homey and welcoming. That threw him a little. He was further thrown when he walked up and before he could knock on the door it was opened by a young, beautiful black woman with straight black hair. Despite the bright, cheery nature of her home she was dressed all in black, with a black brocade duster, shirt and slacks. But she did smile when she saw him. “So, you're Nicholas Burkhardt. I've heard a lot about you. Come in.” She stepped back and Nick entered the home. Juliette must’ve called like she said he thought. It wasn’t that she saw him coming.

“You told Juliette what happened to her is permanent?” he said, getting down to business. He was maybe a little accusatory, but he was upset.

“And you've come to prove me wrong,” she said knowingly.

“It's not what she wants!”

“I can't help that.” She spread her hands, sounding regretful but resigned. “I thought I could at first, but not now.”

Nick stepped forward, smiling confidently. “The blood of a Grimm can destroy a Hexenbiest. I've done it before with Adalind, and I can do the same for Juliette.”

Henrietta shook her head, calm and collected. “You can't. Your blood is in Adalind, and because of what she did to Juliette, the blood of a Grimm can't save her now. And that includes any other Grimm, it nullifies the effect entirely for both, so Adalind is also safe from that effect now too.”

Nick felt panic try to set in again, but he huffed. “Then I'll find someone else to help her!”

“There's only one way to stop your Hexenbiest. Kill her.” Nicks head whipped back at her, horror plain on his face. She smiled. “Or accept her for who she is, just like she accepted you being a Grimm.” Nick winced a bit, looking down. “And while she's discovering what she's capable of, I would suggest you keep a safe distance,” she went on, raising a hand to hover over his chest.

He frowned, backing away. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Henrietta smiled coyly and walked forward slowly. Nick eyed her warily, but she was looking into his eyes. A low, dim roar was in his ears when their eyes met, and he felt like his body was warm water poured into a cup. Rippling and soft inside but held up by his outside structure. And Henrietta looked thirsty as she reached up to cup his cheek. He didn’t move back or flinch away, staring at her. “You walked in here doubting me, and now look at you…” Her fingers skimmed his jaw, then over his lips and she leaned up. Nick didn’t stop her, couldn’t stop her, as her lips gently brushed over his. His eyes slipped close, the contact sending chills down his spine. Then she pulled back and smiled up at him sadly. The roar cut off and Nick gasped, paling and blushing at the same time it felt like. He quickly backed away, putting the back of his hand to his lips. “See how easy that was? And I'm not nearly as skilled as Juliette will become. Beware, Mr. Grimm.”

Nick looked at her, unsure and embarrassed, before rushing for the door.

\---------------

“So, this guy just moved to Portland. Before that, he was living in Lincoln, Nebraska,” Wu was saying, going over another case he found with Hank and Sloane. When Nick walked in though he smiled. “Somebody forget to set their alarm?”

“Not in the mood, Wu,” Nick said a little waspishly, throwing his jacket over his chair.

Wu held up his hands a little. “Sorry.”

“We got anything?” Nick asked.

“Similar case. The body was found in the woods, foot chopped off, three years ago in Lane County. Victim was a 23-year-old male. Only lead was a young boy on his bike who saw a big guy in a long coat walking through the woods with, and I quote, "A really big-ass axe."”

“Ah, the vocabulary of middle schoolers,” Sloane sighed, fake nostalgic.

“There was an all-out man hunt, but the case went cold,” Hank continued. “I'm thinking serial killer.”

“I'm thinking serial foot collector,” Wu said.

“I’m just hoping it bleeds too and doesn’t set us on fire…” Sloane sighed.

“Agreed. But why the foot? I mean, if it's a Wesen…”

Wu looked at him in surprise. “Is it?”

“Yeah, the mother is. Willahara,” Sloane said.

“And what are they?” he asked, a little anxious.

“She looked a little rabbit-like,” Nick said, Sloane nodding.

“So, Peter must be a rabbit-like Wesen too…” Hank said thoughtfully.

“Okay, wait, Peter is a rabbit-like Wesen, and somebody cut off his foot? Anybody else thinking lucky rabbit's foot?” Wu asked, looking at them all.

“…You know…I do remember someone mentioning a ritual with a rabbit’s foot. Not using it for like a keychain like now, but something else…” Sloane said.

“Do you remember what?” Nick asked.

“No, but I feel like it was gross. Then again, that’s honestly a lot of wesen rituals to me...I think one of your books might have it though, I remember seeing a Willahara portrait. One of mine does too.”

“Let's go to the trailer first,” Nick said.

They nodded and headed out quickly.

“I don't think this will ever get old,” Wu said, looking through the pages while Nick went through the rolodex. “I could spend days in here…”

“We have,” Hank said dryly.

“Found it! Book 7,” Nick said.

Sloane went down, counting the numbers she’d painting on the spines with harmless vegetable dye that wouldn’t hurt the leather until she grabbed 7. “Page?”

“Uh, fifty-eight.”

She flipped through to about that far in, turning a few pages before nodding and setting the book down. “Willahara. See, my organizational skills are pretty good.”

“Yeah, if we could just do that to the other …fifty books left.”

“Not my fault your family was so good at holding onto their books. You have any hoarders in your family?” she said.

He smiled just a little and looked back at the page. He tilted his head a bit when he saw the script and illuminated pages, including a rather tapestry like painting of a rabbit-man in important clothes. “It's written in some kind of Old English. Dates back to... 1217.”

“That's Middle Ages,” Wu said in disbelief.

“Hey, the page for the Excandesco was from the burning of Rome in 40-something AD,” Sloane said.

“You’re joking!”

“Nope. Honestly, I am impressed, Nick. You’re collection is as good as Oma’s and she had to hunt some of those books down across the world.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but we should get to this,” He tapped the page and then turned to read through, mumbling as he scanned the page. “Willahara were considered sacred…here we go. "Due to the fecund nature of this Wesen—””

“Fecund?” Wu asked

“They can have a lot of kids,” Sloane said, and he nodded in realization.

“As I was saying… “Due to the fecund nature of this wesen, it is believed that good fortune and fertility is bestowed upon newlywed couples who participate in a practice known as Spedigberendess."

“What is that?” Wu asked, worried.

“Uh…loosely translated, it’d be something like “Lucky…fruit bearing”?” she said uncertainly.

“It says here, "Before relations are to begin, the severed Willahara foot must be placed beneath the couple wishing to procreate,”” Nick went on, cringing.

Wu stared at him for a few moments. “You're joking.” Nick turned the book to him, showing the picture of a severed hairy foot and another on the next page showing a man and woman kissing in bed with the foot detailed in the shadow under the bed, all looking like an old 12th century painting. “Okay, not joking.”

“There's more,” Hank said, noting the writing under the foot. ““The fresher the foot, the more fertile the female will be. Within three days, conception will occur…””

“They leave a severed foot under the bed for three days?” Wu asked, disgusted.

“That's what it says.”

“Uh, does anybody else think this is messed up?”

“Yep,” Sloane raised her hand, lips thinned into a disapproving line. “I mean, regardless of why, mood killer at the very least.”

“Well, here's something about the Wesen that hunt them,” Nick said, turning the page. They saw a black, foxlike wesen with a tied up Willahara, his foot on the stump like a chopping block and an axe raised in the fox’s hands. “They're called Leporem Venators.”

“There's something to be proud of,” Hank said blandly.

“If these Willahara are still being hunted by the Leporem Venators, then maybe the car accident that Peter's father died in wasn't an accident…” Nick said thoughtfully. He looked at Wu. “See what you can find out.”

“I'll hop right on it,” he said. All of them looked at him in disapproval and he sighed with pinched look on his face. “I tried to stop myself before I said it, sorry.”

“This is happening in Portland?” Hank asked in disbelief, looking down at the pages again.

“Well, if this has anything to do with Wesen fertility, I'll bet you Monroe and Rosalee know something about it,” Nick said. They nodded and rose to get out while he flipped a few pages. He paused at the page that showed a hexenbiest on it, feeling the weight he’d been trying to put at the back of his mind double on his back.

“Nick?” Sloane asked, pausing in the doorway. “You okay?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m coming,” he said, closing the book and standing to follow.

\---------------------

Renard was getting a morning coffee before heading into work, heading back to his car. As he climbed in, his passenger side opened, and he was momentarily stunned to see Adalind climb in. She was wearing a white fur coat and large sunglasses over some other expensive, designer looking clothes.

“We need to talk,” she said.

He sighed, easing back a little. “Do we?”

She looked at him and though he couldn’t see her eyes he knew she was glaring. “Victor's obsessed with finding our child. He knows you're looking too.”

Ah, so he knew about the detective Renard had hired to find Kelly. He wondered if Sam was maybe double dealing. After all, just knowing he was looking wouldn’t be worth much without knowing what he found. But he just eyed her up and down. “That's an expensive coat. Victor buy that for you?”

She growled in frustration. “Listen to me, Victor's gonna have you killed as soon as he finds her!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Our little girl's been through so much in her short life, and all without the two people who love her most. She needs us now more than ever,” Adalind went on, sugary sweet but sad.

Renard just narrowed his eyes. “Are we the two people who love her the most?”

“Don't mock me!” she snapped. “I'm taking a huge risk coming to you!”

“I’m not mocking you. Just asking if bartering her for your powers doesn’t mean anything.”

Adalind’s fist tightened and she huffed. “I was desperate. But I knew once I…felt her, I couldn’t do it. By then I was in too deep. I risked a lot to keep her, and you took her from me.”

“And I’m sorry it came to that. But you and I both know that even if you still had her, they royals would not stop coming after you or me or anyone else till they had her.”

“I could’ve protected her—”

“My mother did that as best she could and most of them wanted me dead rather than in their control. Need I remind you some of the highlights of how I grew up? Fleeing in the night, poison, assassins…I had to give up any claim to that side of my family to get them to stop actively trying to kill me. And that hasn’t stopped some.”

She quieted slightly. “If you wanted to protect her, why couldn’t you have let me go with her?”

“Because you make awful decisions. The least of which being joining Viktor.”

“I do not—”

“You’ve made enemies out of several Grimms because of what you did to Nick. Rather than let us figure out how to stop them and wait, you went to the very people we’re trying to protect Diana from. I’m supposed to trust you? Why would you want my help now?” he snapped.

She pouted but then sighed and sounded more sincere. “When Victor finds Diana, and he will find her, he's not gonna need me anymore either. It's gonna get ugly. I mean, Victor, the resistance, Nick and his _Hexenbiest_ …”

Renard frowned. “You know about Juliette?”

She pulled her glasses off and Renard winced in sympathy at the black eye and cut to her cheek. “Caught me a little off guard. When did you find out?”

“She had nowhere else to turn,” he said simply.

“Well, isn't that sweet?” Adalind said snidely. “What'd you tell her?”

“Nothing much I could tell her. I don’t have the power of a full Zauberbiest, remember?”

Adalind frowned and then her eyes widened. “Oh, you sent her to Henrietta, didn't you?” Renard looked at her, not answering with words but she huffed. “Well, that explains a lot. If this happened to Juliette, that means someone helped Nick become a Grimm again.” Again, he didn’t answer with words, but Adalind knew how to read him. “So, it's true.”

“Why don't you ask him?” Renard challenged.

“I don't think so,” she laughed. She sobered and looked at him more pleadingly. She took his hand, squeezing it. “Sean, you and I need to be on the same side. It's us against them, and I'll do whatever it takes to save our daughter. I want you with me.”

He eyed her and then huffed out a laugh at the attempt at wiggling into his mind. It almost worked. “Damn, you're good…But even if I’m not a full Zauberbiest, I’m not falling for that.”

She glared again, taking her hand back. “I’m not giving up. I haven’t seen her for months, Sean. You can’t understand…”

He looked at her then sighed again as he pulled out his wallet. “I don’t know where Kelly Burkhardt is. She’s too good at evading people searching for her. But I did manage to get this speaking to someone who gives me updates.”

“What? Who?” She asked, latching on to anything he said.

“I can’t tell you. If I do, Kelly will really be gone in the wind for good. This person is the only one she contacts about Diana—it’s not Nick before you think. You haven’t met this person.” Adalind glared then looked at what he was offering her from his wallet. She stared and shakily took the photo showing a baby with violet eyes. “It’s a little edited so I don’t have to explain floating toys, but…that’s Diana. She’s doing well. I’m working to gain this person’s trust enough to get more updates and photos, but if I mess this up we’re both going to be screwed. And so will Diana if we’re not careful.”

Adalind was listening but wouldn’t take her eyes off the photo. She had tears at the corners just looking at it. Sean took a breath and pushed the photo more towards her. “Take it. I can make another. The file was sent to me edited and encrypted, no way to trace it.”

She looked at him then slowly took the photo. “…Thank you…” she said honestly, holding it to her chest.

“…Adalind. What I wanted to tell you before you went to Viktor and…what you did to Nick is that if we can stop the royals, we can get her back. Kelly said so herself, she didn’t want to keep Diana from you forever.” Adalind looked up hopefully but he frowned. “What you did after though…I don’t know if I can convince them to trust you. You constantly hurt everyone around you…use them…”

“Oh, like you don’t?” she snarled.

“…I do. And I’m sorry for what I did to you when your powers were gone.” She looked at him in shock and confusion at the sincerity. “And I’m sorry for taking Diana. I did what I thought would protect her because I do really love her, Adalind. I felt it when I held her, and you know I thought that might never happen. My regret is hurting you to do it but…”

“…I really do want to believe you,” she said.

“Nearly dying puts a lot in perspective,” he said, smiling sadly. “And I want to believe you that you want us all make it out of this together.”

“…For once, you should.” She put her glasses on and opened the door, quickly walking away. Renard watched her go and sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

\-------------------------

“Willahara?” Monroe asked. “Yeah, I've heard of them. Never seen one, though. My grandfather swears he found one hiding in the Bavarian forest.”

“He didn't cut off...” Hank started.

“Oh, no, no. He already had kids. He did eat him, though. But that's…beside the point,” he finished awkwardly at Nick, Hank and Sloane’s looks, going to finish getting ingredients for what Rosalee was currently grinding with a mortar and pestle.

“From what I've heard, Willahara don't stay in one place too long,” Rosalee said.

“It's the same reason they don't want to woge in front of other Wesen, you know? Fear of being exposed,” Monroe explained.

Rosalee nodded but looked upset. “The thought that they're still being hunted, don't get me started.”

“If the killer is selling their feet...” Hank started.

“That is, I am sorry, outrageous!” Rosalee snapped. “God, you're getting me started!”

Hank blinked in surprise but held up his hand placatingly. “Sorry, but... who are they selling to?”

“Couples trying to get pregnant. I mean, why else would you want a Willahara foot under your bed? It's not exactly romantic,” Monroe said, looking at Rosalee for confirmation.

“That’s what I said,” Sloane said. “But I mean, also…who is that desperate for kids?”

“It’s important to some people,” Rosalee said.

“Yeah, human and wesen. I knew a couple who divorced over it, and another who nearly went bankrupt trying to have them,” Hank agreed. “And you hear a lot of horror stories about people kidnapping babies, sometimes out of the womb…”

“Yeah, people can get crazy with baby fever,” Monroe nodded.

“Then adopt!” Sloane said. “I don’t even want kids, and this seems obvious! Take the kids that don’t have a family!”

“I guess for some it’s more important they’re blood related,” Rosalee sighed. She agreed though.

“Okay, back to this: How does the Leporem Venator find these couples? There's got to be a middleman,” Nick said.

“Fertility clinics,” Rosalee said after a moment’s thought.

“Wesen fertility clinics? There is such a thing?” Sloane asked dubiously.

“There's Wesen fertility doctors in every big city, although what we're talking about is illegal,” Monroe said. “They're not gonna be, like, advertising, “Come on in for the Spedigberendess severed foot option."”

“Well, glad to know the council did something right,” she sighed. “How do we find one though? Or talk to them about it?”

“Well, you can’t…but a Wesen couple could speak with these doctors without raising any suspicion,” Rosalee said.

Nick smiled. “Are you guys volunteering?”

Monroe was about to say something but Rosalee was quicker. “Hell, yes! If we can help put a stop to this savagery, we're in.”

“See, that's what happens when you get her started,” Monroe smiled.

Nick’s phone had rung meanwhile, and he answered it. “Wu, what did you find out?...I'm putting you on speaker.” He hit the button and Wu’s voice echoed into the shop.

“Peter's father was killed in a hit-and-run accident, driver never apprehended, left foot severed off, not found at the scene,” he said.

“Left foot? Does that matter?”

“It's supposed to be the lucky one,” he said as if it was obvious. “I just went out there to follow up on the accident report with the Bennets. They're gone. Nothing left in the house.”

“They're running scared,” Nick said.

Hank nodded, looking worried. “We need to find them.”

“We're coming in,” Nick said, hanging up and already moving for the door.

“We'll speak with the Wesen fertility doctors,” Rosalee called after them.

\------------

Back at the station, Hank called the funeral coroner regarding Peter Bennet, figuring if they left they must’ve made arrangements for his body. The arrangements were that after paying in cash, Peter was to be cremated. Likely she wasn’t going to come get him.

Monroe called then with a list of fertility doctors in the city. Rosalee vetoed one because she worked closely with them, creating morning sickness medicine for their customers, and felt the nice old man in charge wouldn’t be involved. Another, the head doctor had retired a month ago. That left only a Dr. Redfield, and they managed to get an appointment with him that day. Though Nick wanted to come too, but they convinced him it would be better not to bring a Grimm in, and he reluctantly agreed.

It ended up being the right choice because an hour later they got a call that Chloe Bennet, Peter’s little sister, had been kidnapped. They rushed down to the motel they had been staying at and their mother, Beatrice, frantically rushed over to them when they pulled up.

“You have to find her! Please, please! She... sh-sh-she's all I have left,” she sobbed, grabbing on to Nick as she begged him.

He glanced around and they crowded in to try and keep this as quiet as they could. “We know what's going on. We know you're a Willahara,” Nick said.

Her eyes widened and she stepped back. “No, no, no…I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Mrs. Bennet, this isn’t the time! He and I are Grimms, so let’s drop the act so we can help you,” Sloane said.

“We need to find the Leporem Venator who's hunting you,” Nick agreed.

She woged then, all long ears and wide eyes, but the face still a little more human than the Langen Ohren’s even with her twitching nose. Just as quickly she changed back, staring at them in shock. “Oh, my God…You do know.”

“Yes, but we’re not interested in hurting _you._ We want the guy who’s been hunting your family, so we can hurt him.” Nick glanced at her, but she stood by what she said. “What’s his name?”

“I don't know who he is,” she whimpered. “I don't know anything about him, except he's hunting us down.”

“Have you ever seen him?” Nick asked.

“No.”

“How do you know it's the same man that killed your husband?” Hank said.

“He's the Leporem Venator. All Willahara know,” she said bitterly.

“How did he find you?”

“My job, the kids' school, who knows...We stayed here too long,” she sobbed.

Sloane frowned, remembering moving often with Dierdre growing up. For them it was because they were hunters. For the Bennets, because they were the hunted. Nick was thinking similarly about growing up with Marie, even if he didn’t know that was the reason. It was a sad spectrum to be at opposite ends of.

“You'll stay under police protection until we find this guy,” Nick said. His phone rang and he pulled it out quickly, walking a little way away.

“But how are you gonna do that? You... you can't find him,” she sobbed.

“We’ve done harder things than find a crazed killer,” Sloane said.

“What about Chloe?”

“We’re going to do everything possible to get her back in one piece,” Hank said, then winced at his phrasing. “I mean…”

“We’ve done rescue missions before too,” Sloane said.

“…What kind of Grimms are you?”

“I…don’t know if we have a name,” she said honestly.

“Don't let the nurse leave. The victim's sister was just taken. We're on our way to you,” Nick was saying louder, rushing back over. “Monroe and Rosalee found the person setting up the deals, a nurse at the Redfield clinic. We need to get over there and question her.”

“I-I want to come,” Beatrice said.

“No, you stay here,” Sloane said. “You’re safer with a bunch of cops. Let us handle this.”

She frowned but Sloane motioned for an officer to escort her away while they piled into the car to drive off.

At the clinic, Monroe and Rosalee were waiting and waved a bit as they entered. “Hey. So, the... don't let her leave thing...It got a little tricky.”

They arched their brows and noted the ice pack on Rosalee’s hand. “…Well, good job all the same,” Sloane said, smiling a little.

“We’ll take it from here,” Nick said. They walked over, looming over the nurse in the chair who squirmed under their gaze. “Who's your contact?” She didn’t answer and he glared and leaned in. “Give us a name. We need to find him.”

“I don't know his name,” she said, nervous. “I swear I've only met him once.”

“But that was enough to set this all up?” Sloane asked.

“We contact each other by phone!”

“Where does he meet the couples?” Hank asked.

“I don't know. I-I-I have nothing to do with that. He calls me when he's in town.”

“And you find the buyers,” Sloane said in disgust.

“I'm helping couples that have given up hope!” she said.

“Is that how you justify it? It's accessory to murder,” Nick said.

“I'm not involved in murder…” she said quietly.

“Where the hell did you think the feet were coming from then? A farm?” Sloane bit out, looking tempted to grab her. She shrank back more.

“Found the nurse's phone!” Wu called, breaking her out of the angry stare. They looked hopeful but he sighed. “Her contact is using a burner.”

“He's gonna text us tonight with the where and when if that...” Monroe started.

Nick shook his head. “Chloe will be dead by then…” He then paused and looked at the nurse. “Wait a minute, who's the last couple you set him up with?”

“The Spinellis. They're patients here. Dr. Redfield couldn't help them…” she said quietly.

“Give us an address.”

They were out the door before the ink dried and over to a relatively normal looking house—which it always was it seemed. Nick pounded on the door.

“Just a second, I'm coming,” a man called. The moment the door was unlocked, and unlatched Nick kicked it in.

“Police!” Hank yelled, letting the others circle around.

Nick grabbed the man, pushing him against the wall. “Where's the Willahara foot?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about!” he yelled, terrified.

“Don't lie to me!”

“Where’s your bedroom?” Sloane asked, figuring that must be where it is.

Mr. Spinelli woged into a maushertz and screamed. “Oh, my God!”

“We’re not here as cops,” Nick said, lifting him a little higher.

“What's going on here?” a woman asked, coming in from the back of the house. She gaped at what she saw.

“Sally, they’re Grimms!” he yelled.

She gasped and, instead of running for the back door, ran up the stairs instead. Sloane was hot on her heels and Nick dropped the man to follow. Sloane rammed the door with her shoulder before the woman could close it, sending her tumbling back at the force. It was the master bedroom and she and Nick both went to the bed to look.

“Wait, please, don't!” Sally begged.

They didn’t see a foot under the bed and looked at one another in confusion.

“Did you find it?” Hank asked as he came up, following the husband.

“No…”

“Hold up,” Sloane said, grabbing the mattress. Nick caught on and grabbed it as well, lifting. Sure enough, there between the box spring and the mattress was a hairy foot. Nick growled and grabbed it before going over and holding it up to the couple who were shrinking back in fear.

“Where'd you meet the guy who sold you that?”

“A cabin in the woods off Highway 22, a mile north of Post Road,” the man said quickly.

Nick nodded and then hit him in the chest with the foot. “I can't arrest you for this, but good luck when the Wesen Council finds out about it.” He turned to leave.

“No, please don't say anything!” the wife said, in tears. “All we wanted was a baby! Please!”

Sloane glared and took the foot back. “A mother lost her son so you could get this. 17 years old and dead because of _you_ and a stupid ritual from the middle ages. You think that makes you fit to be parents?”

They cowered and looked down, unable to answer. Sloane headed out behind Nick after grabbing a shirt off a chair to wrap the foot in. “We’re taking that?” Hank asked as he followed her down. Nick looked up in confusion as well.

“The nurse will testify all the couples she knows that bought or wanted to buy one of these or I will make her. But I’m not leaving it here with them,” she said. They smiled and nodded before rushing out to the car.

Getting to the cabin as fast as they could, they parked a way back and tried to get to the door as quietly as possible. It wasn’t easy in the dense layer of leaves—at least not for Hank toting a shotgun, Sloane and Nick were doing well. But when they got to the door and busted it in, it was empty with the back door wide open.

“Dammit,” Nick sighed.

“Guys,” Hank said, pointing down to a single shoe and sock near what looked like a chopping block with a leather strap on it. A left shoe and sock.

“No blood, she might still be alive,” Sloane said, rushing for the door. Nick and Hank followed. It led right out into the woods and they moved through the more open areas where a man carrying a teenage girl would have an easier time going through.

Part way through they had to pause. “…Do you guys hear…accordion music?” Sloane asked, looking around in confusion. It was a jaunty little tune echoing around them, played on a concertina accordion.

“Oh, thank God you hear it too,” Hank sighed.

“Yeah, but it’s making it hard to hear anything else…”

“It’s coming from this way,” Nick said, leading them over to another area.

The music stopped and they frowned, moving into a small clear area. The according was on the ground—a distraction they unfortunately fell for. The Leporem Venator—black furred and foxlike— swung down with an axe towards Hank, who just barely brought his shotgun up in a cross guard in time. He tried to hit him with the butt of the gun under the chin as he broke the guard, but he fox wasn’t stunned. He prodded him hard with the axe, making Hank back up.

Nick and Sloane tried to rush in, but he booted Nick in the stomach and sent him sprawling back while he swung at Sloane close enough she felt the wind on her face. Hank tried to line up a shot, but he used the axe to push it away as it fired. A few more blows from the blunt edges and Hank was on the ground groaning. He turned to try and put the axe into Nick, but Sloane rushed up and grabbed it with both hands. He couldn’t bring it down far with her holding it and Nick was able to roll and get up. She then pitched her body back, using her foot to send the fox flying and landing hard on the ground. He was already trying to get up though when Nick rushed up and kneed him right in the head. Another couple of punches followed but he still had the axe and Nick had to dodge one furious swing. He hit Nick with a push of the axe head top into his stomach, making him back away as the wind was knocked out of him. Sloane then rushed up kicked him hard in the side. He snarled and grabbed her foot, raising the axe, but she twisted and brought her other foot up into his arm, making him howl when she hit. She had to drop to the ground when he let go and Nick struck him again. Another hit had Nick on the ground now though and the fox advanced with the blade raised. He was just barely able to roll and let the axe hit the log instead. It was firmly embedded and would take too long to get free, so he cut his losses and ran into the woods.

Hank was up and aiming again but Nick quickly got up. “Hank, no! No, he’s got Chloe!” Nick reminded him.

Hank growled but lowered the weapon and they rushed after the man. Sloane pause only to grab the axe and then raced ahead, surprising the boys. She was rushing through the woods like an animal herself on his trail. But she skidded to a halt when something suddenly hit him from a bush. A metal post of some sort, in the hands of Chloe Bennet. She brought the rod down again on the fox’s back. “That’s for my brother!” she yelled. The man turned, unwoging and looking at her in shocked confusion. He likely hadn’t expected her to fight him like this. “And this is for my father!” She brought the rod down and through his foot, making him scream.

He back handed her, and she fell to the ground. Pulling the rod from his foot, he glared down at her. “Well, this is for—”

Sloane didn’t give him a chance to finish. She rushed in, jumping over Chloe and yelling as she brought the axe down. He was just barely able to try and block with the post, but she ended up going through some of his fingers. He screamed, letting go and backing away. “You stupid bitch! Look what you did to me!”

“I’m planning on worse,” Sloane said, choking up on the axe. He woged, reading to try and tear her throat out, but a shotgun blast through the chest made him yelp and fall back. Sloane turned, sighing when she saw Hank and Nick. “I had him…”

“I know. Just figured it was better to put him down quick. He almost kicked our asses,” Hank said.

“Not sure he deserved quick,” Sloane said. She tossed the ax down into his corpse and turned to look at Chloe. “Hi…you okay?”

“Y…yeah…” she said.

Nick went over to help her up, looking her over. “Hey…why don’t we get you back to your mom?”

She gave a shuddering breath and nodded, and they all started back through the woods. On the way Sloane picked up the little accordion and decided to bring it back for a souvenir.

\----------------

“Thank you so much, again,” Beatrice said, hugging her daughter close.

“You’re welcome,” Nick said, smiling a little. “Take some time to rest and plan.”

“You can wait around for Peter’s remains too,” Sloane said.

She sniffed but nodded. “Yes…yes, I want to do something good with them.”

“I…got this,” Sloane said, holding up a bag. “I didn’t get a chance to take it to where he is, but…it’s to make him whole.”

Beatrice and Chloe’s eyes were stricken a moment, but she shakily took it. “Thank you…really, I appreciate it.”

“What are you going to do now?” Hank asked.

“I…don’t know. We’ve been running for so long…There might be other Leporem Venator out there…but at least this one is finally gone. But I think we need to go somewhere…”

“…I got one more thing for you then,” Sloane said, pulling out her wallet. “I know a town, in California. It’s a nice place, not too old or too modern. Nice people. I know one of the new deputies and she’ll understand keeping you safe. Also, a couple there.”

“A couple?” Chloe asked. That probably didn’t have a great ring to it.

Sloane smiled, writing down a number on her card. “They’re lesbians and like, old enough to be my moms. You don’t really need to worry about them wanting kids that way. But they’re wesen. So’s the deputy. And they’re all good people and friends of mine, so I can assure you they’ll watch your backs.” She handed Beatrice the card. “They can help you find a place, get settled, get work…Up to you how long but it’ll be a safe option.”

She took the card, looking at it and then at them. “You’ve all…done so much for us, I can’t believe you keep doing more.”

“We’re just trying to do our best,” Hank said with a smile.

“But I mean…even you two…” she looked between Sloane and Nick.

“We’re unconventional, I know,” Nick said.

“Makes it interesting,” Sloane chuckled.

“Well…thank you again. We’ll kind of figure out what works best, but having options is a relief.”

They nodded and left them int heir hotel room.

\----------------

“Juliette?” Nick called as he entered his house. She came out from the dining room, standing in the archway and he paused. She didn’t look excited to see him, but he couldn’t say he was excited to see her either. “I talked to Henrietta…I'm not giving up. We're gonna get through this.”

Juliette sighed, shaking her head. “You can't change it…”

“I'm not gonna let it destroy what we have,” Nick said, determined.

She frowned and walked forward, staring him down. “I see the way you're looking at me…and when you’re not looking at me.”

“Juliette...” he started.

“It's not the same. It'll never be the same,” she said, disappointed and sad.

“You learned to understand me, now I have to learn how to understand you,” he said, remembering what Henrietta said. “We have to…to do our best with what we have or make it better.”

“Make it better? How?”

“I…don’t know but staying together is what I want.”

“Is that forever?” she asked sardonically.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

She stared at him then woged. Nick quickly turned his face away. It was hard to look at the gray, decaying skin hanging off her bones and the red, coal-like eyes. She snarled a little, then said in her normal voice that didn’t sound any different. “Is this what you want to spend the rest of your life with? Is it?”

“Why are you doing this?” Nick asked, almost desperate for her to stop.

“If I'm the girl of your dreams, the least you could do is kiss me,” she said sweetly. She reached up to lay her hand on his cheek and he shuddered at the feeling of the parchment dry skin touching him. This wasn’t like Henrietta, there was no spell to try and make him want her. This was her making him face the fact she was _this_. That he had to take this form if he wanted Juliette at all. “Kiss me,” she said again. It was a test. And he was failing, he knew, but his skin was crawling. “You can't even look at me,” she said, her voice turning bitter. He tried but looking into those red eyes made every fiber of his being screamed to get away, to fight, to _kill._ He hated it but that was the feelings he had, no matter how painful they were for him to admit. She took her hand back and then changed to her human form. “This is what's forever.”

She moved past him and then out the door, closing it behind her. Nick didn’t turn but he had to lean against the wall as he felt the fear, anger, sadness, disgust, all of it _drench_ him and try to drag him down.

_What am I going to do?_

\---------------

Henrietta came downstairs tying the sash to her black velvet robe when she heard the knock that didn’t go away. Opening the door, she was only mildly surprised to see a familiar, if bruised, face. “Adalind,” she greeted, smiling politely.

“I hope you don't mind me just showing up,” Adalind said, walking inside.

Henrietta closed the door but kept smiling. “I heard you were back in town.”

“I bet you did,” Adalind said dryly. “So... I understand a mutual friend came by to see you.”

She smiled and nodded. “Juliette. Lovely girl.”

“Not so much anymore…”

“Depends on who you ask I’m sure,” she said.

“Look, can you cut the Glinda the good Witch act,” Adalind said testily. “I know Sean Renard sent Juliette to you, and I want to know how she got so good so fast. What did you teach her?”

“I haven’t taught her anything,” she said simply, spreading her hands in a placating gesture.

“Bullshit!” Adalind spat. “She kicked my ass the other night! Me! Who’s been training since I was in diapers practically! And she nearly wipes the floor with me.”

Henrietta just looks amused and it infuriated Adalind more. “I’m afraid whatever Juliette can do at the moment is self-taught. The only pointers I gave were on controlling her woge. Perhaps she’s a natural.”

Adalind glared but Henrietta wasn’t the type to lie about this. “And you’re fine with that?”

“I admit, I’m worried,” she said slowly, sobering a little. “After all, Hexenbiests often go mad with power, don’t they?”

“I didn’t go mad with power,” Adalind hissed. “I went a little mad trying to get it back, but I had a right to be! It’s mine, it’s a part of me! Her’s should just be a pale imitation of the real thing, not stronger!”

“I have about as much control over that as you do,” she said patiently. “My advice would be: Don’t challenge her again until you have a plan. That includes what to do if the Grimm should find out. Because if you haven’t already guessed, he got his powers back and that’s how she ended up as she is.”

Adalind huffed, crossing her arms. She was right, she knew. Nick was a Grimm again and he would be ready and willing to take her head probably, especially if she did anything more to Juliette. But it was unfair! After all the work she went through to get her powers back, to do all that complicated spell work, Juliette’s powers were just _naturally_ stronger?! This complicated trying to get Nick to tell her where his mother was—

“…There’s something else.”

“Oh?” the other witch asked curiously.

Adalind reached into her pocket and pulled out the picture of Diana. “Gathering information was always a specialty of yours. That includes scrying. Can you find this child?”

Henrietta took it, looking at the picture and smiling. “Oh, she’s beautiful. Takes after her mother,” she said, looking at Adalind coyly.

“You already know…” Adalind sighed.

“Sean asked if I could try to find her as well after he got this picture. Nice of him to give you a copy, seems he does still care.”

“That’s not what’s important right now, can you do it?” Adalind asked impatiently.

Henrietta eyed her, gaze moving up and down, before handing the picture back. “Can I? Maybe. Will I? No.”

“Excuse me?” Adalind growled.

“You called me “Glinda the Good Witch” earlier. I admit, I go against some of my instincts helping people. But I prefer it to hurting them. Your daughter has a lot of power I’m told. And after your past actions, I’m not sure I want you to be the one to guide her.”

Adalind felt her rage boil over. “I didn’t come here to be judged by you!” she screamed. She tried to woge and then gasped, staggering a little at the flash of pain over her entire body.

“I lit an incense burner full of derivative of Rue when you came in. Witches Bane. I don’t actually want to cause you pain so please don’t try to woge through it just to throw a tantrum.”

She glared at her. “You just have that lying around?”

“Admittedly it was a precaution I meant for Juliette if she came back having control issues, but if it keeps this a bit more civil I decided to use it. This is what I mean though, Adalind. You’re losing control.”

“I am in control!”

“Are you? Or are you in the royal’s pocket? Again?” Adalind glared more and Henrietta sighed. “I’ve kept my ear to the ground ever since your mother’s death. Catharine and I didn’t get along, but I don’t get along with many of my kind. And honestly while her behavior was often alarming over the years, yours is worse. At least for a grown woman.”

“Insulting my mother? Really?”

“I’m not insulting her. Once, she and I were friends. We were a small coven of our own in a small town, with Renard’s mother. We were learning a lot on our own, trying to be so grown up when we were teenagers…For Elizabeth and me it was mostly just fun to test our limits. But Catharine had ambition. She wanted power, by any means necessary, beyond her limits. Her methods became dangerous…sadistic. She started doing magic much darker than what was allowed.”

“Please,” Adalind huffed. “My mother wasn’t a saint, but she wasn’t evil.”

“Evil comes in many forms and degrees. We were all apprenticed to a powerful Hexenbiest when we were thirteen, Sybil Enfield.”

“Apprenticed? I was never apprenticed, my mother taught me…”

“Well, it’s up to the family and the witch often. But likely she worried you’d hear about this…Catharine disliked Sybil. She was very hard on her, constantly making remarks that she wasn’t good enough. She was like that with us, but Catharine was her favorite target. Catharine took it as a challenge. And before we graduated high school, she put a plan into motion to get back at her. And she roped Elizabeth and I into it. We thought it was just a prank. She said it would teach Sybil not to underestimate us. One of the most difficult spells—a spell to turn her into a goat. We thought it was a hilarious idea, and she said with the three of us together it’d be easy. Except it didn’t work correctly. We lured Sybil into the spell circle, chanted the spell and…whatever she became wasn’t a goat or a human or a hexenbiest.” Henrietta’s calm smile was gone, looking nauseous at the memory. “It was like she was just a pile of flesh and bone…screaming in pain as her body was trying to put itself back together.”

Adalind swallowed a bit but shook her head. “It was an accident…”

“No. Admittedly Catharine didn’t mean to take it that far, but Elizabeth saw where she’d changed the circle. She didn’t know what it would do but she intentionally sabotaged the spell, thinking it would get back at her and cause her pain. That if she thought we were screw ups we’d prove her right and make her sorry for not teaching us better. And she made us complicit in the scheme without our knowledge.”

“You’re lying…”

She sighed and walked over to painting—a still life of a pomegranate cut open in front of another bowl of fruit and in the back a shadowy figure holding the other half in his hand. She reached through it like it was water and pulled out a box the size of her hand. “We tried to reverse it but couldn’t. In the end, Sybil died. I think her lungs couldn’t even work anymore. And we buried what was left of her in the woods. We had to take her out in a wheelbarrow... Catharine swore us to secrecy—and by that I mean she forced us into a blood pack. We’d meet the same fate if anyone told. The pack ended when she died, but…I still kept this.” She opened the box and pulled out a lock of silvery hair—except it oozed like slime in her fingers. Adalind backed up, staring at it in shock. “She placed the pack onto bits of Sybil’s hair…We had to keep them with us.” She looked at the sadly and put them in. “She wasn’t a bad woman. Just harsh and stubborn in teaching us. But there’s no one left looking for her now.”

Adalind frowned, watching the hair as it slipped back into the box, looking once again like normal hair. “…My mother never even let on that something like this ever happened…”

“No. We tried to go on with our lives. We all had our ambitions. But it never sat right with me that Catharine moved on so easily when she was the cause. Like the fact she’d done that, killed her so painfully for such petty reasons, didn’t bother her…That dragging us down with her didn’t matter. So, we didn’t talk much. She toured the US, Elizabeth went to Europe, and I…did a lot of soul searching. Took a chance in finding a weiße Hexe and starting new training.”

“A…white witch? Those still exist?” Adalind asked in surprise.

“Yes. Though secretly, since most other hexe think they’re unnatural. I’m not quite that level though. We lost touch till Elizabeth contacted me needing a place to hide with, with a seven-year-old Sean. I offered her a room and help starting over in Portland. Then your mother called. I was still wary, but Elizabeth felt for her because she needed a place with you, as a baby. Said your father died suddenly and she needed a new home. Again, we suggested here, and she came out. But she hadn’t changed much. She was still focused on her own agenda, leaving you with us most of the time. Still selfish, still vain, still controlling…”

“…She was my mother,” Adalind said quietly.

Henrietta looked at her sympathetically. “I know. But I also know when you first lost your powers, she disowned you. She considered you dead, didn’t she?”

“If you didn’t talk, how do you know that?” she asked, wincing.

“Because I know Catharine. It’s not that I don’t think she had any love for you, I think it was there. But she loved herself more. You being strong was a testament to her own power. You failing was like her failing and she wouldn’t accept that. And I see too much of your mother in you, Adalind. You will do anything, step over anyone, _hurt_ anyone to get what you want.”

“I wouldn’t hurt my daughter,” she choked out.

“No, but I don’t want your daughter thinking that her power is the only valuable thing about her.”

“It’s not! That’s why the royals want her, not me!”

“So, if I said I help you get her provided we suppress her powers permanently? Now before she becomes too strong?”

“No!” Adalind nearly yelled. She swallowed at Henrietta’s dubious look and stammered. “I’ve had my powers taken. I felt like part of me was lost. Like I died, that Nick killed me. I don’t want to do that to her.”

She nodded. “A good answer, but I’m not sure it’s the true one. After all, without her power, the royals wouldn’t want her. She would be safe, even if it has a cost. And you can learn to live with loss. And therein lies my further concern. You’ve entangled yourself with the royals worse than Elisabeth. Even before your daughter was born. You promised her to them in exchange for your powers.”

“But I didn’t follow through!”

“No, and she’s being hunted. As hard as it was, Sean came up with a plan to keep Viktor from getting her. Then you fell for his deceit, took the Grimm’s powers, and from there you have your situation with Juliette. Even before that, the Grimm took your powers because you chose to take your fight outside of the two of you and involve his friend, didn’t you?” Adalind didn’t deny it, looking away. “Adalind, nearly every problem you have faced is one of your own making. By pushing the Grimm, you got your powers taken. By working with the royals to get your powers back, you bartered your child and brought them after you both. By running, you brought Viktor to Portland and forced Sean to make a plan—”

“I didn’t force him to trick me!”

“Maybe he didn’t handle it well either, but he was protecting his mother, you and Diana doing what he did, with little time to prepare. Your actions were purely for yourself. And you knew that. Knew what Viktor would threaten. But long before then, even orders you were given by Sean, you were ruthless and made enemies left and right through your selfishness and pride. And I’m not interested in seeing what you do to yourself and that girl as long as you are focused on the past like this.” Adalind glared but then turned to storm out the door. “And do not try to come here again to fight me because I may like to help people, but I am not a push over,” Henrietta warned seriously.

Adalind cast her one last angry look before slamming the door behind her.

\------------------

In France, there is a hidden library beneath the Bibliothèque Historique de la Ville de Paris. It matched the age, grandeur and beauty of the library above. And it had refreshments—it was Paris, after all. A kitchen with good food and better alcohol to give Grimms a rest and feel like someone appreciated the work they did. Due to its size it also had a much larger staff, including a concierge to handle matters not directly related to the inventory.

When the concierge checked their mail list, he saw a letter had arrived some days ago for a patron who had returned from a hunt that day. Taking the letter from the sorter and placing it on a tray. He walked it out over to the sitting area in front of a fireplace—now electric to avoid fire, smoke or carbon monoxide but still cozy. A figure was sitting in the chair in front of it, sipping from a glass partly full of amber liquid. The paused when the concierge approached, speaking in French.

“((Madame, this arrived for you while you were on your hunt.))”

“((A Dead Letter))?” she asked, voice deep but rather flat.

“((I’m afraid so.))”

“((A pity, but who would send it to me?))” she sighed, putting her glass down taking it. He bowed and walked away as she used her finger to break the wax seal and open it. She picked up her glass again as she started reading but paused before taking a sip as she read. Her grip tightened on the glass more and more before it cracked and broke under the pressure.

“((Madame?!))” The concierge gasped, rushing back over. He paused, seeing that despite the broken glass, she was unharmed, just shaking her hand out angrily.

“((Louis, I need a plane ticket,))” she said, standing. Her expression and her voice were like jagged stones falling in an avalanche and the man shrank back.

“((Of course…where?))”

“((Portland, Oregon. In the United states. First available.))”


	23. A House Divided

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains rewrites of Double Date and Heartbreaker
> 
> Juliette and Nick are on the outs after her secret is revealed and Nick is trying to figure out what to do and who to tell as cases keep cropping up.  
> Worse than that though is another shadow from Sloane's past has arrived. Oh yes...Dierdre Galperin, her mentor who taught her the fine arts of killing wesen without remorse, has arrived in Portland. And she is determined to return Sloane to her days as a traveling hunter or kill trying.

\----------------------------------

**Double Date**

\----------------------------------

Sloane squinted at the label in her hands, standing on the ladder leading up along the shelves. “Uh…Epazote?”

“Right, I know that one,” Rosalee said, writing that down. Rosalee had realized there was a stock of goods hidden on top of the shelves that had a lot of bottles on it she’d never even seen. Sloane had offered to help since she was a little taller and could reach easier, so they’d been spending the hour looking through them all. “Does it look okay?”

“I’m not sure what the difference between okay and not okay is…” Sloane said honestly. She opened it and took a sniff. “It smells spicy?”

“It’s supposed to.”

“The label looks like it’s 20 years old. And there’s no date,” she clarified, looking over the dusty jar with a wrinkled nose.

“Mmm…better safe than sorry then. Bring it down, I’ll refresh it.” Sloane nodded and nimbly slid down the ladder. “I wish I could do that without banging my chin on every rung,” Rosalee laughed.

“Just takes practice,” Sloane smiled, setting the bottle in the box. “That was the last one up there and that fills this up.”

“Great! Thanks again. I’ll take it down in a sec. Then how about lunch?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Alright. And I’ll treat you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“You used your morning off to help me find expired goods while Monroe is finishing that job in Lake Oswego. I owe you,” Rosalee said firmly.

Sloane smiled and held up her hands. “Okay, okay, I will be treated under penalty of the glare. Do what you gotta do and I’ll pick up a bit up here.”

She smiled and grabbed the box, heading down the stairs to the storage area to clean the bottles and set them up to dry. Sloane meanwhile put the notebook they were using under the front counter and grabbed the broom to sweep up a bit. A lot of dust had come down when she was grabbing the bottles.

As she was sweeping she heard the bell above the door and sighed at not having turned the sign when she had the chance. But she didn’t want to send them away and give the shop a bad name. “Hi, welcome to Exotic Spice and Tea. I don’t work here but the owner will be right…back up…” She had turned to face who entered and felt the breath stop in her lungs and the broom slip from her grasp.

The woman who walked in was in her fifties, but she had aged like a fine wine into a robust and terrifying vintage. She had dark hair with a streak of white at her forelock, bulled back from her face in a low ponytail. A strong jaw and nose similar to Sloane’s. And her eyes, which were looking at her directly, were the color of the light through amber glass—bright and hard to miss as they stared into your soul.

“Sloane…” she said coolly. Her voice was deep, sultry and biting like the wind off the ocean in winter. “I didn’t realize I would find you playing shop girl.”

Sloane swallowed through the lump in her throat. “Dierdre…It’s…good to see you.”

“Oh, I rather doubt that,” she said, walking forward sedately. It but there was a predatory pace to it. She was wearing dark jeans, a black top and a charcoal gray wool coat over black boots. Sloane took a deep breath and settled her nerves. This was a shock, but Dierdre could smell fear she was sure and showing it would not do her any favors.

“Well, it’s been a few years and you look well. …What are you doing here?” She picked up the broom and set it against a shelf, keeping it in reach.

Dierdre looked around a bit. “You know, I had to ask around to a few places before I found this one. I was starting to hope someone was just playing a stupid joke on me, saying you were setting up roots. In… _Portland_?” She said the name with a slight sneer.

That feeling came back to her stomach, but she stood tall. “And where did you hear that?”

She arched her brown and then from her coat plucked a letter. “Collin Donahue sent a Dead Letter to me. Apparently he’d been tracking you and found out some rather worrying things before dying against those Wendigos. He said something about finding out you’d being seen at an herb shop fairly often, but of course neglected to actually get the name.”

Sloane cursed a blue streak in her head that once again Collin had tried to screw her over even after death. “Well, what am I accused of?”

“Accused? Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she smiled. Sloane hated that smile, the smile she used in public to make people think she wasn’t capable of any real harm. “But there are some worrying allegations in this letter. I mentioned setting up roots. And really, I could perhaps forgive that in time, but in _Portland_? It’s a city I suppose, but all the places we went you choose here…”

“…It’s a nice city. And I’ve found a lot of work here. Good hunts.” _Keep it simple. Don’t give too much information. Don’t give away anything she could use to hurt the others._

“Hmmm…there’s another bit though…” She pretended to read the letter again. “What was it…oh yes, befriending wesen.” She cracked a smile but that only made Sloane tense more. “But that can’t be, right? I mean, after everything I taught you, the years I spent teaching you and taking care of you, you wouldn’t throw that away to go soft. Right?”

“…Of course not,” Sloane said. “I don’t know what he was on. Collin was always doing something stupid, let’s be honest. He probably wanted to get back at me one last time.”

Dierdre nodded slowly, considering. “True…but then, why are you here? In this shop?”

“Just…made a contact here, doing a favor while she gets some things ready for me. I’m just about through with what I need to do in this city.”

She looked at her and took the last few steps forward. “Sloane…I know it’s been a long time since we were together. But did you forget my warning about lying to me?”

Sloane’s eyes widened and she reacted too late to block the slap that came to her face, hard enough to knock her into the post near the stairs. Rosalee heard the thump and glanced up from the sink downstairs in confusion. But she didn’t hear anything else, so she moved to finish the bottles. Sloane meanwhile pushed herself up, trying to clear the ringing in her ears. She felt something wet tricking down her face and reached up to feel a cut above her brow from where she’d hit the post. _Shit…_

“Now, let me ask again. Why are you here?” Dierdre said, not trying to lighten her tone. “I already know how long you’ve been here. Collin included that and I doubt he’d include that if he didn’t double check somehow.”

She balled up her fists and stood, glaring at her. Why was it her past kept coming back to try and disrupt her life? Why did Dierdre think she had the right, any more than Collin did? The anger boiled over, and she crossed her arms. “I’m not under your wing anymore. What I do is none of your business.”

Dierdre paused and looked at her with mild confusion. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Whatever you did for me or to me is in the past. I’m a grown woman and you made it pretty clear over the years you don’t want anything to do with me. So, what does it matter why I’m living here or what I’m doing?”

“…Something is wrong here,” Dierdre said, looking her up and down. “You usually so more respect than this.”

“Respect? Ha!” Sloane said, thumbing the small trailer of blood away. “That was fear. But I’m not scared of you now.”

“Really? Because I thought you knew better,” she said coldly.

“And you should know better than to start shit in a public place with a security camera.” She pointed up to the camera they had gotten Rosalee after the Wesenrein incident. Dierdre didn’t look but narrowed her eyes. “Now get out before the owner sees and calls the police. You want to talk, we do it as adults. Contact me through the library or just leave and forget about me like before. Our lives obviously don’t matter to each other.”

“…Well…you grew a spine at last. But I still see the shake in it,” she said snidely.

“I said get out!” Sloane said louder.

“Sloane?” Rosalee called, hearing the yelling. She was starting to come back upstairs.

“Stay downstairs!” Sloane called, glancing at the stairway for just a moment. When she turned back, Dierdre was already heading out the door. She glanced around, making sure she didn’t fake her out before sighing and leaning against the post

“Sloane, what is going on?” Rosalee called up, getting worried. She decided to not listen and got up the stairs. The moment she got up and saw Sloane she gasped and rushed over. “Oh my God! Sloane, what happened?” She tilted her head up, looking at the cut anxiously.

“…Don’t suppose you’d believe I tripped?” she asked, smiling humorlessly. Her old go to when sparring with Dierdre got out of hand. Rosalee gave her a confused look and she sighed. “We need to call everyone…Another huge problem just arrived.”

\-----------------

Nick sighed as he checked his phone again. It’d been two days since Juliette had walked out the door and despite trying to contact her she didn’t call him back. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He’d called in, wanting to stay at home in case she came back, but she never did. He worried what she was doing for clothes, a place to sleep, all if it. And he cursed himself for not trying to be more supportive—but also he cursed her for not understanding that they head to cure her. It wasn’t about hating her; it was about the fact that she wasn’t meant to be a Hexenbiest and it was his fault she was going through this now! If he could fix it, then there was nothing to worry about.

That’s what he told himself anyway.

When his phone did ring he was hopeful till he realized it was Rosalee. He was tempted to ignore it but didn’t want to risk missing an emergency. Besides, maybe he could ask about Rosalee. “Hey, Rosalee…what’s up?”

“Hey. Are you busy?”

“Uh, no, I took a personal day but…not busy.”

“Okay, well, I need you to come to the shop.”

“What’s wrong?” Nick said, his danger alert cutting through his funk.

“I’m not sure. Something happened to Sloane and she wants to talk to all of us. Something or someone hurt her.”

Nick frowned more and looked at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t really shaved or showered in two days. He was sure they’d know something was wrong if he showed up like that, so he needed to clean up. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay, thanks,” she said, hanging up.

Nick took a quick shower—very much just trying to scrub the obvious heartache off of him—and shaved before heading to the shop. Hank and Wu were already there, as was Monroe. “Hey, sorry I’m the last one here…Sloane, what’ happened?” Nick asked, seeing the bandaged around her temple.

“She won’t me till we were all here,” Rosalee sighed.

“Well, we are, so…?”

“Not yet,” Sloane sighed.

“What? Why not—” He heard the bell ring again and looked up to see Renard stepping in. Nick tensed and had to resist grabbing him and demanding why he didn’t tell him about Juliette but stopped himself. Now wasn’t the time.

“I got here as soon as I could,” Renard said. “You said this was an emergency?”

Rosalee looked at Sloane who nodded. “Yeah…Remember when I told you Collin was in town?”

“Oh God, he’s back from the dead?” Wu asked.

“No, it’s worse than that,” she sighed. She looked hesitant still, maybe trying to find the words, before resigning herself. “Dierdre Galperin is in Portland.”

Everyone froze in surprise a moment. “Wait, your teacher Dierdre? That Dierdre?” Monroe asked. “The one you said would kill any wesen she came across?”

“Yeah. And when I say kill, I mean she will actively hunt any she sees with a cold precision. Collin was a menace, but he wasn’t nearly as skilled or calm about it and usually ended up having to drop it unless he could get them alone. I have seen Dierdre kill someone in a crowded room and walk away without drawing attention.”

“…That’s terrifying,” Wu said.

“Did she do that to you?” Hank asked with a frown, pointing to her bandage.

“…I tried to lie to her. This is how she reacted. How she usually reacted since I was supposed to lie to anyone else but her.”

“Sloane, that’s—” Nick started.

“Wrong. I know. I’m done making excuses. I’ve had to do a lot of thinking on how Dierdre taught me and other things. I used to just say that’s how she is, and it was to make me strong, but…”

“Well, glad you realized it’s not something to justify,” Renard said honestly. “What should we do though?”

“She’s on tape,” Sloane said, nodding to the cameras. “If we can get a clear picture, I vote putting out a wanted poster of her. I don’t recommend catching her because we might end up with a dead guard like the manticore incident, but it’ll restrict her movements and she’ll hopefully move on.”

“So, no confronting her?” Wu asked.

“Absolutely not,” she said, her tone serious. “She has no qualms killing people either if they’re in her way. She will gut you all and walk away.”

They all looked at one another, a bit worried. “Okay…”

“You know, I’ve wondered, why is Dierdre your mentor?” Monroe asked. “I mean, I feel like your grandmother would not have gotten along with her.”

“She didn’t,” Sloane sighed. “Anytime she’d come back it was awkward all around. Oma was always super tense, even when she was trying to be nice and loving to her.”

They blinked, looking at each other. ““Nice and loving”?” Rosalee asked.

“Yeah. I mean, I can’t blame Oma looking back and knowing what I know now. It must’ve been hard dealing with Dierdre and how different she turned out from her…”

“Okay, I’m confused,” Monroe finally said. “You knew Dierdre as a child? And your grandmother loved her but didn’t agree with her?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s kind of like you and your parents in some ways, though you actually get along now…” She looked at them all and frowned. “What?”

“…Sloane, who is Dierdre to you?” Renard asked, though he looked like he’d figured it out. Nick did too, but he looked sickened thinking about it.

“…Ooooh…I never actually said, did I…?” she said, realizing. She rubbed the back of her head. “Um…Dierdre is my mother.”

It was quiet a gain before the room exploded. “What?!”

She jumped. “What? Did you guys really not know?”

“Sloane, you—she—you always talked about her like she was someone that just took you in!” Monroe said. “You would say “Dierdre” most of the time, and other stories you said, “my mother”! Her last name is Galperin, you said!”

“…She doesn’t like me calling her that. She said to call her Dierdre, but when I have to talk about…who gave birth to me, it’s “my mother”,” she said, shrugging. It was obvious to her but also sounded like a sore subject. “And my grandmother raised me as “Larson”, but her maiden name was Galperin. One of the longer running Grimm lines—I got second or third cousins I’m told but I think our branch is the one that hasn’t died out in the Grimm traits. Dierdre chose to keep that name instead of Larson. She never offered it to me.”

“…All that stuff she did to you…and she was your mother,” Nick said quietly.

“Yeah…I’ve had to kind of come to terms with how messed up it is. How messed up she is,” Sloane sighed, tracing the bandage. “Seeing you and your mom…all of you, honestly, with your families…”

Rosalee frowned and hugged her close. “You deserve a family like us…we are your family.”

“Careful, or Rosalee might be your new mom,” Monroe smiled.

“Don’t think I’m not tempted…”

Sloane managed a smile and hugged her back. “Thanks…”

“Any reason she’s the way she is or is she just Satan?” Wu asked.

“I think that might be too good of a name for her,” Rosalee said venomously. Monroe patted her shoulder and nodded.

“Don’t know…Oma told me she had to deal with a lot a s child too, but I couldn’t find any references to what. Her diary said that she left with another Grimm when she didn’t like Oma’s methods at like 17. Like a decade later she comes back, heavily pregnant with me. Wouldn’t tell her anything about my father. Had me, stuck around for six months, then left. That’s all I really knew about her for years before reading Oma’s diary and…she sounds like a normal kid. That was…weird to read.” She was obviously still confused by it.

“Sometimes how people end up the way they do remains a mystery,” Renard sighed, though he looked troubled as well.

Sloane nodded then shrugged. “Look, I just want to make sure we get her out of town. I don’t want to put any of you in danger, and preferably no one else either.”

“Hey, we handled Collin and the others, we can handle this,” Hank said.

“There is no handling Dierdre. It would be like handling a live grenade,” Sloane said bluntly. Then she sighed. “I need to go home, make sure she hasn’t figured out where that is.”

“I’ll come with you,” Nick said, standing.

“We all will,” Rosalee said. “Strength in numbers.”

“Yeah. Though a gun may be good too, just saying,” Wu added. “I mean, I know she’s your mom but if she’s that dangerous…”

“Open fire,” Sloane said dryly. “But she’s not going down without a fight, so we do need to be careful.”

“I agree with the sentiment, but I do need to get back to work…though I’d like to talk to you two,” Renard said, looking at Monroe and Rosalee.

“Us? Why?” Monroe asked.

“It’s a…personal reason.”

Rosalee frowned, hesitating, but Sloane patted her arm. “Help him out. I got three big strong officers to escort me home.”

She smiled and hugged her before letting her go. Then she gestured for Renard to follow her to the back with Monroe.

“You sure you’re okay?” Nick asked.

“Just a bump and a cut,” Sloane said. “Admittedly she hits harder than I remember, but it’s been a decade..” She headed for the door and they shared a look that they all knew meant they would be guarding Sloane until this was all over.

Rosalee watched them go but then turned to Renard. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Renard sighed and suddenly looked much more vulnerable. “I need your help…with a problem.”

“A problem? What kind of problem?” Monroe asked hesitantly.

“You helped my mother figure out what Adalind had done to Nick and how to fix it,” he reminded them.

“Yeah. Good times…”

“There was a book that Adalind used to cast a spell and my mother used to research it.”

Rosalee nodded. “Yes, we still have it.”

He sighed, looking relieved. “Okay, good. I was hoping you did.”

“What's the problem?” Monroe pressed. “We have another Grimm to deal with, I want to know if this is like going to try and kill us too.”

He hesitated but then nodded. “No, I don’t think so. Not you anyway. I'm not exactly sure, but it appears to be related to what my mother did to save my life...Some sort of residual effect from my visit to the other side.”

Their eyebrows shot up and they glanced at one another. “You mean, as in when you were dead?”

“Yeah. I keep reliving the moment that I was shot over and over. And I wake up...And I have blood all over me, and it's as though I've just been shot again and I'm bleeding to death,” he sighed, looking haunted.

Rosalee was listening and frowning in worry and sympathy. “That does not sound good.”

“And you're hoping the answer to this is in the book?” Monroe asked.

“I am,” he nodded.

Rosalee sighed and walked over to her desk, opening a drawer. “Your mother shut the book. So, I'm hoping you can open it, because we can't.” She pulled it out and handed it to him at the prep table.

He looked it over and there was no obvious lock on it. Just bourbon colored wood with a metal scroll work hammered into it. He tried to open it, resorting to two hands when it refused to give and grunted in frustration. Sighing, he took it in one hand again and looked at Rosalee. “How'd she open it?”

“With her blood,” Monroe said. “Big knife right in the middle of her...” He gestured stabbing at her hand grimacing.

“She's your mother. Maybe your blood will work,” Rosalee said.

He sighed, shaking his head. “No, if that kind of lock has been cast upon it, then only Hexenbiest blood can open it…”

“Don't suppose she's coming back to town anytime soon?” she asked hopefully.

“Not that I know of. I’m not always included on her plans nowadays.”

“And I'm guessing you don't want to bring Adalind in for help on this,” Monroe said.

He frowned, looking uncomfortable. Adalind hadn’t tried to contact him since that day in his car and while that was only a couple of days he wasn’t sure it was long enough for either of them to be civil. “No, not really.”

“Well, what about Angela?”

“…No, she’s currently in talks with a company to make more of her beauty products and grow into a franchise,” he sighed. “She’s in California to negotiate and I don’t know when she’ll back. I’ll give her a call just in case.”

“Well, any other local Hexenbiests in your area?” Monroe joked.

Renard frowned again. Juliette came to mind, though he wasn’t sure about her. There was also Henrietta, possibly the better option. “…I have options. I’ll take it with me, see what I can do.”

“Alright. If you need us to help with a treatment, let us know,” Rosalee said.

He smiled a little. “Thanks. Oh, and email me that footage so I can get our visitor’s face. I want to get her out of town as soon as possible. If I can get it on the evening news it would help.”

“What’ll you say?”

“That’s she’s wanted in connection with an assault of an officer. It’s true enough.”

Rosalee nodded, waving as he left. She and Monroe then started cleaning up and getting ready to close shop. She accessed the footage and sent it to Renard like he asked, though it took a while. She wasn’t used to the software yet. Just as they were almost done, Rosalee’s phone rang and she picked it up when she saw the name. “Nick?”

“Hey, Rosalee. We got a call for a case.”

“What? Now?” She put it on speaker quickly. “You’re going to a case now?”

“Yeah, it sounds pretty bad though.”

“Like Grimm killed someone bad?” Monroe asked worriedly.

“No, like someone melted bad.”

“That’s bad…”

“I’m going with them,” Sloane said. “It sounds wesen already.”

“Shouldn’t you rest?” she asked.

“I’m fine, really. It’s just a little bump and scrape.”

“What about Dierdre?” Monroe asked.

“We got to my house and it’s secure, I’m making sure it’s double secure before we leave..”

“Yeah, like Kevin McAllister…” Hank said.

“…Home Alone?”

“Yes! Thank God you knew that one…”

“I’m not that out of touch, it came out when I was like 5! Anyway, do the same at the shop. She didn’t act like she knew who you two were, so I think you’re safe for now. I can’t let her just stop my life. I’ll call you when I’m home later, okay?”

“Alright…be safe. All of you.”

“You too.”

The phone call ended and Rosalee sighed. Monroe put an arm around her. “You okay?”

“…I’m angry. I wish I’d come up when that woman was here, and I could’ve torn into her.”

“…With words or teeth?”

“Both,” she huffed.

Monroe smiled and gave her a squeeze. “Hey, look at it this way: Sloane used to be scared of her. Now she’s standing up to her. That’s gotta be a good thing.”

Rosalee smiled. “True. Well, we’re already closing up and your done with the clock, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I worried but I’m still hungry. Want to have lunch?”

“Oh, lunch with a beautiful woman, how can I refuse?” he said with a smile. She rolled her eyes but smiled back and kissed him before they went out the door after locking up.

\--------------------------

The scene was about as gruesome as it sounded. A man was lying in the street with half his face now a bubbly, gooey mass of melted flesh. He’d been dragged to some bushes nearby but there was a trail left.

“Came over from Rosalee’s soon as I got the call. Maintenance main found the body this morning,” Wu said.

“Any witnesses?” Hank asked.

“Not yet.”

Nick looked down in disgust, fairly sure he saw bone in some places. “It looks like an acid attack…He must’ve been hit there in the street though before he was dragged over this way.”

Hank kneeled down, going through his jacket and pulling out a wallet. A key card also fell out and he picked it up. “Got a key card for the Benson Hotel,” He said, handing it up to Sloane’s gloved fingers.

“So, he’s either a visitor or having an affair. Or both,” Sloane said.

“Kind of a jaded view…” Nick said.

“How many affair’s have we come across in general in all our cases?” she asked wittily.

They all had to nod, knowing she was right in that regard. When Hank flipped the wallet open, he found the man’s license. “Cody Carson. Augusta Main.”

“So, one right, we’ll see about the other. Bit far from home though,” Sloane said. “What was he doing in Portland?”

“Got credit cards here, but no cash,” Hank said, looking through it.

“Robbery gone bad?” Wu suggested.

“They usually don’t put the wallet back after stealing the money,” Nick said.

“Unless you wanted the police to think it wasn’t a robbery gone bad,” he said.

They looked at him, unsure if that made sense, but he seemed pretty proud of it. After looking around some more and finding little to no further clues or marks, they headed back to the station. Hank called the hotel to find out when Carson checked in, while the others tried to find any other information on him. Renard was in by then and they met in his office to go over the case.

“Mr. Carson checked into the Benson Hotel three days ago,” Hank said, handing him a photo of the victim as they found him. “Manager says he wasn’t due to check out for another week. Clothes and suitcase still in his room.”

“He was here on Business,” Nick continued. “Works for Mason freight. We found a cell phone charger, but no cell phone in his possession, in his car or in his room.”

Renard nodded. “He probably left it wherever he was last night.”

“We got the number from the hotel, we’re trying to run it down,” Hank said.

“Do we know how the victim got these burns?” Renard asked, eyeing them. He paused and looked towards the window where Sloane was standing, looking out. “Sloane?”

“Hm? Oh, sorry,” she sighed, walking back over. “Um, according to the ME, the vic choked to death on viscous matter, which then ate it’s way through his lungs and moved on to other organs. The substance is consistent with a parasitic enzyme like necrotizing fasciitis, a skin-eating bacterium found in contaminated water.”

“…Okay, you just recited that from memory?” Hank asked, reading over the report in his hand.

“Yeah. I also know that certain animals produce that enzyme that eat through body tissue. Arachnids, earthworms, snails, slugs, insects and some plants like the Venus fly trap,” she said, smiling slightly.

Nick smiled and gave a little clap, Hank joining in. Renard rolled his eyes but looked somewhat amused beneath his serious exterior. “Sounds wesen to me.”

“That or we’re looking for a big-ass snail,” Hank said dryly.

“Acid is a popular self-defense mechanism. Nick and I fought some Enxame Vermelho a little over a year ago.”

“Yeah. But they’re usually in large close-knit groups, I don’t think it’s one of them. They wouldn’t need to steal money and Carson is from out of town, no reason to kill him if they were trying to take over.”

“Do we know what the victim was doing in that neighborhood?” Renard asked.

“Not yet. Car was parked on the street, no restaurants or bars nearby,” Nick said.

“Well, maybe he had a friend in the area?”

“That’s what we’re thinking,” Hank said.

“My money is on an affair still,” Sloane said.

There was a knock on the door and Renard called out to come in. Wu stepped through quickly. “Just got an approximate location on the vic’s cell. It’s in a condo near where the body was found.”

“Next stop then,” Nick sighed. Renard nodded, motioning for them to go.

Outside the station, Sloane paused, looking around.

“You okay?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, just…keep expecting to see her. I feel like her eyes are on me…”

He frowned and looked around. “…She might be, but I don’t see anyone that stands out.”

“She’s good at not standing out,” Sloane sighs. “I’m quiet but I swear she can actually like…make people not realize she’s there.”

He set a hand on her shoulder and she looked at him. “You sure you don’t want to take some time off? You were supposed to be off today anyway.”

“…No. I’m serious when I say I don’t want her disrupting my life. That’s what she wants I’m sure. Plus, if we have a dangerous wesen out there, we gotta do something about it.”

Nick winced. Juliette had come to mind when she said that, and that made a bit of guilt bubble in his chest. Both in thinking she was “dangerous”, and in not telling Sloane. It wasn’t that he thought she would hurt Juliette; it was more that she worried what might happen if they confronted one another. Sloane could be…forceful, and with Juliette’s new powers that could end badly.

“Nick? You okay?”

He jumped at looked at her and felt another wave of guilt at the worried like she had. Here she was, scared another Grimm from her past was going to hurt her or her friends, and he’d zoned out into his own problems. “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about how to deal with this…”

She sighed and nodded but turned to get into the car so they could continue their investigation.

Wu met them at the condos, bringing up the tracker while they got the property manager’s permission and help to go track it.

When they found the right residence, the manager said that the man who owns it lived in New York and was currently sub-letting it through an on-line service. The person there now was a woman who she said was tall, attractive, with long brown hair.

“She’s very nice…God, I hope nothing happened to her in there,” she said, hesitating to open the door. Sighing, she knocked and called loudly. “Hello? It’s the manager. I’m here with the police and we have to come in.” She unlocked the door and pushed it open. It was a nice, modern place and nothing looked wrong or like a horrific murder took place there. Nick and Sloane followed Wu into the bedroom as he followed the phone’s signal while Hank looked a bit more closely at the living room with the manager.

“Gotta be around here somewhere…” Wu said.

“This place looks pretty empty though,” Nick said, going into the bathroom. There were no personal care items left out, just a soap pump that went with the house.

“Yeah, nothing here,” Wu said, kneeling to look under the bed. “Not even a sock.”

“Nothing in the closet either,” Sloane said. “I’m pretty sure no one actually lives here.”

“Yeah, if she was here, she’s gone now,” Nick agreed, moving into the second bedroom.

Wu meanwhile was following the signal, looking at a map on his tablet that showed the origin as a green blip. He moved until he should right on top of it and knelt again to look under a chair with a cover that went down to the ground. He clicked his tongue in triumph when he saw the black rectangle on the floor. “Got it!” The others all came in to see and he held it up with a loose glove protecting it from his fingerprints.

“Well. What do we think Cody was doing with a pretty woman in a bedroom sometime last night?” Hank smirked.

“Called it,” she said, bumping his fist.

Wu looked around. “Well, no obvious signs of foul play…”

“Lets get CSU in here, check for semen and dust for prints,” Nick said. Wu nodded and headed out, dropping the phone into an evidence back as he did.

Hank looked around and sighed. “Well whoever they are, they sure cleaned up pretty good…Do we think the woman was with him? Did she kill him?”

“Well if you’re going to kill him, why kill him outside? Where anyone can see you?” Nick asked.

“They did still hide the body, but not far. I think that might mean it was spur of the moment thing, not planned,” Sloane said.

“Possible. Or maybe he ran, and they took care of them outside when they meant to do it inside.”

“Not sure, acid and blood would be hell on this rug…”

“And on that note, are we even sure it is the woman? Maybe she had help,” Hank said.

“Well either way, we better go find this pretty woman.”

“The kind I like to meet.” He looked at Sloane dubiously and she held up her hands. “Slipped out. Hanging with Wu too much.”

“I heard that!” Wu called, making them smile a little as they headed for the front. Sloane scanned the outside again before walking down the steps. She paused when she thought she saw a flash of gray go around the corner ahead and moved a little faster.

“Sloane?” Nick called.

She didn’t listen, coming around the corner, only to see a man in a gray coat waiting for the bus. She let out a breath. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. Without thinking, she grabbed it and twisted, turning to grab them by the throat. Before she threw them down though she saw a terrified man staring at her.

“I-I just wanted directions!” he said.

She quickly let go, horrified. “Oh, God, I am so sorry-” He was already running away, and she grimaced.

“Sloane!” Nick rushed over with Hank and Wu. “What was that?”

“I thought I saw…something, and um…he tapped me on the shoulder and I…I just freaked out.”

Nick frowned. “Why? …Did you think it was…”

“…Yeah,” she said quietly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” Hank said, though he looked worried. “Let’s head back to the station.”

“Right,” she sighed, following them back to the car. She still had the feeling of being watched. If she was, Deirdre was probably laughing or whatever her equivalent was at her scaring innocent tourists.

Once at the station, Hank was able to find out that the owner hadn’t been back to Portland in a year, but he’d leased it out to someone named Alexis Toynbee from Omaha, Nebraska. Except Alexis was 60 years old and still in Omaha. So that meant whoever they were looking for had gone through the trouble to get a fake name, fake card, and renting a place for apparently one night.

“So, good news, bad news,” Wu said, walking over.

“What’s the bad news?” Sloane asked.

“Ah, that kind of girl. Okay…Rosalee sent over the footage from this morning. I sent it to you two, just in case,” he pointed at Nick and Hank. “But, we can’t get a usable pic of her.”

“Seriously?” Nick asked, frowning.

“I tried, but the angle just doesn’t work. She picked the right spot to make it hard. You might get Rosalee to move the camera and maybe pick up another couple to get other angles in the future…”

“I’ll suggest it,” she sighed.

“What’s the good news?” Hank asked.

“Well, on the murder investigation, we got a hit on one of the fingerprints from the condo, but it’s not a woman,” Wu said, coming over and setting down his laptop. He brought up the search to show a Caucasian man with dark brown hair’s mugshot. “Thought it might be just random till I looked up the profile. Linus Balouzian, from Louisville, Kentucky. Has a record as a conman, and a car registered in his name.”

“We got a last known?” Nick asked.

“In a way. Condo gets cleaned after every rental. It was cleaned this last Friday, which puts Mr. Belouzian in the condo sometime this week.”

“So, Mr. Belouzian and our victim were in a condo rented by an attractive woman with a fake identity,” Hank summed up. “Sound like a con to anyone else?”

“That or porn,” Sloane said. Nick coughed a bit on the sip he took of his soda and all the boys blushed, but she smiled. “What? I’m not that out of the loop.”

“Well, if it was, I don’t think Mr. Carson was ready to get—” Wu started.

“Okay, before we have to talk to HR, let’s just agree it’s a con,” Nick said quickly. “I think likely Linus might be working with this mystery woman. And Cody got caught up in whatever game they were playing between the two of them. Don’t,” he warned Sloane, who opened her mouth with that smile again. She stuck out her tongue at him.

“My guess is, you come all this way to Portland, you’re going to play this gag more than once,” Hank said.

Wu was nodding. “I checked with robbery, and they’ve been hearing about businessmen, single guys from out of town, being trick-rolled.”

“Carson wasn’t single,” Sloane said.

“No but he traveled a lot and usually presented himself as single, according to his coworkers. So, if he wasn’t wearing the ring, he might’ve been a target,” Nick said.

Hank nodded. “Put an APB on Belouzian’s car.” Wu nodded and headed off again.

“If Belouzian is the guy who attacked our victim, he could be wesen,” Nick said.

“Don’t rule out the woman. Could be both,” Sloane said.

“I think the main question is what kind,” Hank said.

“And if they’re going to pull this off again, where?” Nick sighed.

Hank thought for a moment before looking at them. “If they used Toynbee’s identity once, they might use it again somewhere else.”

“I’m not sure that would be smart, but if they didn’t anticipate having to change their set up so soon, maybe,” Sloane nodded.

“Let’s run the names again, see if we can come up with any other fraudulent charges,” Nick said, moving over to his computer.

“And then research tonight. I don’t like acid, so I have a subsection for my books, I’ll drop by and get them.”

“Just don’t forget you set those traps,” Hank said.

“I won’t.”

They started going back through the information mentioned, but Nick did pause to bring up the video. Indeed, it was at just the right angle that he could only see her in profile—in part thanks to the popped collar of her jacket. He frowned deeply when he saw her strike Sloane though. _This is her mother…God, how did she end up with a mother like this…_

\---------------

Gallin was sitting in a café at the college she was going to, going over some notes and sipping coffee to get her through the day. Going back to get a full medical degree wasn’t easy, but she was nothing if not determined. When her phone rang, she sighed and set her drink down to answer. “Cynthia Gallin.”

“Hello, Cynthia. I’m not sure you remember me. It’s Dierdre Galperin.”

Cynthia nearly dropped the phone and found it hard to breathe. “O-Oh, yes, I remember…um, how did you get this number?”

“From the directory.” Cynthia cursed and told herself she would delete her number the first chance she had. “You’re the Librarian in Portland, aren’t you?”

“Um…I was, but I actually left. I decided I needed a change in venue. They haven’t gotten a replacement yet—and I mean, it’s been almost a year really.”

“I see…” she said. Cynthia could imagine the narrowed eyes of disapproval just from the tone.

“Yeah, I just felt I needed to go do get a bit more education, do a bit more. It’s going really well—” she said, the nervous talking bubbling up.

“I didn’t ask for your life’s story.” The words were cold, no longer polite, and she shut up immediately. “What I want from you is information on Sloane Larson.”

“O-oh…um, I don’t really have any information.”

“I’ve already met her, dear. I came because something’s wrong with her. Something about what happened with Collin back in September and her injuries…”

“What? Is she okay? I thought she healed fine—” Gallin sucked in a breath when her mind caught up with her mouth.

“That’s what I thought,” she said, amused. “Now then, why don’t you tell me what you know?”

“Y-You said something was wrong with her.”

“There is. Do you know about that too?” She was quiet, feeling antsy. “You know, I remember you now. You were William’s daughter, apprenticed under Robert at the Library in Missouri. Heard about what happened to your father and brother, nasty business.”

She swallowed. “Yes…it was.”

“Well, they went with honor. I heard you had a niece though…how old is she now? Do you think she’s inherited? Maybe she needs a mentor…”

“You stay away from her,” Gallin said, her voice hard but there was still a slight quiver.

“My, so many people grew spines when I wasn’t looking,” she laughed. “Then again, I remember you standing up to me as a child about how I trained Sloane. That didn’t end well for you either. As I said, I won’t even consider advice from maggots who can’t do anything against me. I hope you pick your fights better at least. Do you think Margaret can fight?”

Gallin closed her eyes, feeling bile rise in her throat. “…What do you want to know?”

\---------------

They did what they could at the station before clocking out. Sloane headed home first. She didn’t see any attempts to break in from the front thing piece of wood she’d set at the top between the door and the jam was still in one piece, with her mark on it. She pulled it out and put it in her pocket before undoing the fishing line she’d tied around the knob and held it firm Opening the door slowly, she opened wider when nothing went off and stepped in. On a chair she had a paintball gun set up—something she borrowed from Bud back when they were first training Trubel and hadn’t returned yet. She had it set up to fire if the wire was slackened too much. Hooking it around the knob again, she closed the door and moved around the set up. Non-lethal, since she didn’t really want to make a scene at the front door, but now without Nick or Hank she had the chance to set up something a bit more intensive.

After collecting the right books, Sloane grabbed one of her axes and did a quick set up that it would fall when opened. She set up another at her back door—non-lethal but it used a sound grenade she’d bought online and hadn’t gotten to use. Loud enough to alert the neighbors. That one she was able to set up and leave through the back to get to her car. The boys had thought she might be a little paranoid setting up the first, but she refused to let Dierdre get the drop on her or sneak in.

Getting back to the trailer, she paused when she saw Nick was pacing outside on the phone. He said something as she pulled up but hanged up as she got out of the car. “Hey, took you a bit.”

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure no one had been by…you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. Sloane frowned and he sighed. “I’m…Juliette and I are going through some stuff. She’s giving me the silent treatment.”

“Oh,” Sloane said, surprised. But she pushed her own feelings of interest away. Nick looked miserable and it made her heart hurt. “Wow…man, none of us get a break, huh?” she said, smiling awkwardly.

He smiled a little bitterly but nodded. “Yeah…I’m hoping I can get through to her.”

“About what?”

“It’s…personal,” he said. “I don’t know if she wants others to know or…If I’m ready to talk about it either…”

“Okay,” Sloane said, reaching up to rub over his arm with the books cradled in the other. “I’m here if you need me. Or…her, if I can help, of course.”

“…Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind. Let her know if she talks to me again.”

“Hey, I’m sure she will. She loves you.” Her hand lingered a moment, thinking _I do too_ before she pulled it back. “C’mon. Let’s figure out what we’re dealing with.

He nodded, following her inside when she opened the door. Hank looked up and smiled. “Hey! Think I got something. It looks like some kind of…Grimm medical book. Date on it is 1917.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Sloane said, walking over to look at the book. “I usually only see medical sketches at the Libraries.” She set her books down and took a seat across from Hank while Nick sat next to him. They could see a drawing of a wesen that looked gooey—a smooth, featureless face with slightly wrinkled or venerated skin rippling down from the back of its head, down its neck and beyond.

“Well, I think this is what we're looking for. It's a Huntha Lami Muuaji. They're some kind of a wormy Wesen. Listen: “Much like the flatworm Platyhelminthes, the epidermis of the Huntha Lami Muuaji secrets enzymes that feed on its host's skin."”

“That sounds like our guy,” Nick said, perking up in interest.

“I’ve never met one, but I think I have something on them too,” Sloane said, pulling a reference card from her pocket where she wrote down “acidic/flesh melting wesen” for her rolodex.

“This is kind of interesting...” Hank went on, drawing her attention. “"Huntha Lami Muuaji always travel in pairs, one female, one male. But no female has ever been captured or killed. The males are extremely dangerous. Decapitation upon contact is the best course to take. Unlike other Wesen, the Huntha Lami Muuaji appear to have only one Wesen state, visible to all, but whoever has seen it has died. Even Grimms have been especially cautious in dealing with this Wesen and the data recorded by them is incomplete."”

“So, we got a pair...Linus and the woman he's working with. No ID on the woman,” Nick said, lining up the dots.

“But she's the one picking the guys up.”

“And only one fingerprint in the room...That's the guy's. So where did the woman go?”

“I think we better run this by Monroe and Rosalee,” Hank said.

“Let's bring the book. Sloane, you got one?”

“Yeah, hold on…9,” she said, taking one book from the pile and starting to flip through.

“Bring it too, we’ll go over it all with them.” He sighed when his phone rang, grabbing it out. “Hey, it's Wu.” He accepted, putting him on speaker. “Wu, what do you got?”

“Got a hit on Toynbee's name in the system. Apparently, her credit card was used to book an apartment three blocks away from the condo,” Wu said.

“Then the suspect's working the name neighborhood,” Nick said.

“Looks like.”

“All right, get a list of all bars and restaurants that are within walking distance.”

“Already did. There's one that caters to businessmen. It's called Olive or Twist. Get it?” he chuckled.

“Yes, and they should be ashamed,” Sloane said.

Nick rolled his eyes. “We're headed to the Spice Shop. Let's regroup later.”

“Okay.”

They hanged up and Sloane grabbed the book. Nick dialed Monroe as they headed out to their cars to coordinate meeting at the shop. They’d meet them there. As she drove her phone rang but it was a number she didn’t recognize. It quieted but when she was stopped at a light it rang again. Thinking it might be Kelly she used her Bluetooth to answer. “Kelly?”

“No. Who’s Kelly?” Dierdre asked.

Sloane froze a second, then breathed deeply. “How did you get this number?”

“It’s all in who you ask and how. You remember,” she said. Sloane gripped the steering wheel tighter, knowing that meant she found someone to threaten. “Got a bit more information on you too. And some of your friends…Oh! Kelly! That would be Nicholas’ mother,” she said, mockingly remembering. “How is he? You work with him now, don’t you?”

Sloane almost felt like puking. “…How did you find out about him?”

“Well, like you said, I contacted the library. But the local librarian left town. She did have her number saved still though.”

 _Cynthia…_ “You better not have hurt her.”

“Now how would I do that when I’m still in Portland?” she asked snidely.

“You’d find a way, and I’m sure you threatened to do something awful. What else do you know?”

“Well…I know that cute little shop you were in today is owned by a fuchsbau. She’s very well reviewed. But I’m surprised she stays such late hours there…”

Sloane’s eyes widened and she threw the phone down and floored the gas, running the red and making a few cars honk at her. Nick and Hank gasped when she did it.

“What the hell?!”

“Follow her,” Nick said, worry getting to him. Hank threw it into drive and followed. They turned on the lights because she wasn’t slowing down and at least this way people might get out of the way. “What got into her?”

“I don’t know but she is pretty good at driving fast!”

She skidded into the parking lot, just barely putting the car in park before rushing out and practically breaking the door off its hinges as she rushed in.

Rosalee and Monroe jumped and looked up at her. “Sloane?” Rosalee asked. Sloane stared, panting, looking around frantically. “Sloane, what’s wrong?”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost…” Monroe said, worried as well.

“She’s not here…”

“What?”

Sloane sighed and leaned against the door frame. Nick and Hank pulled up then and rushed out. “Sloane, what was that? You ran like four red lights!” Nick aid.

“…Dierdre…” She straightened and moved back out to the parking lot, looking around wildly. She must’ve known Monroe and Rosalee were here. She must’ve seen them.

“Sloane?” Nick asked again, worried.

“Dierdre called me. She knows about Rosalee and that she’s a fuchsbau. And she said she saw them come in late.”

“What? How?” Hank asked.

“Gallin. She called her and…I don’t know, must’ve threatened her or someone to get her to talk. She would do that.”

Rosalee frowned worriedly and walked over, despite Monroe’s attempt to stop her, putting her arm over Sloane’s shoulders. “Let’s get inside then.”

She hesitated but finally sighed and walked with her back inside. Nick looked around as well but headed in with hank and closed and locked the door behind them. Rosalee got Sloane to sit and take some deep breaths.

“What should we do?” Monroe asked.

“I’m not sure…Dierdre’s just toying with me right now…” Sloane said, rubbing over the unbandaged side of her head. “I tried standing up to her and that just made her push harder to knock me down.”

“Then keep standing up,” Nick said. She looked up at him. “You’ve to us behind you. She can’t knock us all down.”

She was surprised a moment. “…I’m scared she’ll knock any of you down.”

“Don’t be,” Rosalee said. “We know what she looks like now. If she comes anywhere near us we’ll either fight or run.”

“Yeah, don’t worry so much. I’m a lot more alert about the whole danger might lurk anywhere thing since the, y’know…” Monroe said. Rosalee elbowed him slightly and he tried to smile jokingly.

“What he means is, we’ve faced tougher situations than this. We’ll get through it.”

She didn’t look so sure but nodded. “Okay…”

“Now, you came here about a wesen case?” Monroe said.

“Yeah. Our victim’s skin got…well, melted,” Nick said.

“Oh, see, melting skin. Way worse than a psycho Grimm.”

Sloane tried to smile. “I left my book in the car, let me go get it…” She rose, heading out. When she got there, she saw a note left on her windshield. She knew what it must be, but she still hesitated before taking it.

_You better remember what you are. I’ll get them eventually, and it will be your fault. You want to save them, leave Portland and get back to work. Never contact them again or I’ll end it permanently. I’ll give you five days before the hunt is on. If you think I’m not serious, check by the dumpster._

_-D_

Sloane read the note in the dim streetlight and steeled her nerves before walking over to the dumpster. Her stomach turned when she saw a severed head sitting on top—no one she knew. But the man was older, and the look of terror on his face was still frozen. It was fresh and Dierdre had literally pinned a note to his head that read _Mausehertz._ Like a specimen on display in a macabre museum.

Dierdre was toying with her. She only did that when she really wanted to hurt her prey. It was a psychological war first, then a painful execution—she’d seen it plenty of times before. Whatever would hurt her she would do. She gripped the note tightly before putting it in her pocket, then took out a pair of gloves she still had on hand. Grabbing the head, she murmured an apology before putting it in a box nearby. Then she rushed it over to her car and hid it inside. She leaned against the car, wanting to hit something. She was vibrating with rage, the feeling rolling in her stomach. Taking a moment to breathe, she tried her best to push it all down. She grabbed the book and went back to the door. Breathing again, she opened the door and headed inside.

Nick already had opened his book to the right page, and they were looking it over. “So that's a Huntha Lami Muuaji,” Monroe was saying. “Okay, so what's the plan? How you gonna catch these varmints?”

“Well, we think the woman's gonna be at Olive or Twist tonight,” Nick said.

“Olive or Twist, I love that place! Prices'll scare the Dickens out of you, though,” he laughed.

“So, what, somebody goes to the bar and tries to get picked up by a pretty woman?” Rosalee asked.

“Exactly,” Nick said.

She smiled. “So, which one of you good-looking guys is gonna be the bait?” Monroe chuckled again, still looking over the diagrams in the book.

Sloane felt a stab of pain go through her thinking about Nick doing such a thing. But then it dug in harder thinking about the note. _By them, she means everyone…I’d never see Hank or Wu…Renard…Bud…Monroe and Rosalee…Nick…it would all be gone. But they’d be safe…_

“We'd like to use someone who knows what they're up against,” Nick was saying. Both of them turned to look at Monroe. Rosalee followed their gaze and her smile fell. Monroe looked up and his fell as well, looking uncertain. “If Rosalee's okay with it,” he added.

She looked a bit uncertain but swallowed and nodded slowly. “Well, I mean, as long as it doesn't get out of hand…”

“We'll be backing him up the whole way,” Hank promised. Monroe still looked like he wasn’t sure what was going on and Sloane felt a smile come to her face.

_I’m going to miss them…No, don’t think like that. Gotta figure out how to stop Dierdre. Somehow…_

\-------------------------------

Sloane managed to quickly bury the severed head at the edge of Linnton park not too far from the shop before meeting with the others outside the bar. In her head she apologized again that she couldn’t risk being found with his head and finding his body just yet. Assuming Dierdre didn’t take it to be disposed of already.

Monroe managed to attract Alexis. He apparently had some sort of charm or animal magnetism (Sloane may have said that jokingly, but he liked it which made it worse). She took Monroe home and started her seduction before going into the bathroom. From there they were waiting for Linus to show up. Wu had gotten into the apartment just before the two arrived and made sure there was no one waiting. Now he was with them in their car watching the window from below. They could just make out Monroe pacing, agitated.

“Still don’t see Linus,” Wu said.

“He’s gotta be on his way,” Nick sighed. He looked over at Sloane, who was reading through her book. “Anything else useful?”

“Not really,” she sighed. “It’s about the same as yours. Though my ancestor said he overheard an argument between the male and female…”

“Well, couples argue sometimes,” Hank said. Nick flinched a little but didn’t say anything.

“No, but it’s weird. Listen. “1882, Bohemia. As I waited in the attic to get the drop on the Huntha Lami Muuaji, I heard the man come in berating his partner. A shopkeeper had apparently made a pass at her in the alley behind they store, and she slapped and burned his face. I say argument, but I only ever heard the male speak, calling the female “Paulina”. I thought perhaps the female didn’t wish to speak, yet he seemed to be responding to the words of another person I couldn’t hear. Getting another vantage point, I was able to see that the man was indeed alone, undressing, but looking in the mirror. I wondered then if perhaps they communicate through the mind. Mister Freud in Vienna I believe would find this quite fascinating, but I only want to stop these two. I wasn’t able to ascertain the female’s whereabouts however—in the end I had to settle for shooting the male with my crossbow, dropping down to decapitate him, and running. I can only hope alone she is of little harm to others.””

“Huh…that’s weird…Maybe they have like a mind link?” Wu said.

“Mind link?”

“Yeah, like they can read each other’s minds. Maybe it’s part of being in pairs.”

Sloane pursed her libs but nodded. “Not a bad theory. Maybe we can ask them.” She looked up and frowned when she saw Monroe was standing with his back to the window and flailing and turning back a lot though. “Uh, guys?”

“Oh crap, Linus is in there,” Nick said, rushing out.

“How’d he do that?” Hank said, following with the others.

They rushed up the stairs and Nick kicked the door in like it was made of wooden blocks, clear off the frame. Monroe just barely stopped short, having woged to get past Linus, and woged back.

“It's him! He's in the bedroom!”

“Where's the woman?” Nick asked.

“In the bathroom.”

Nick nodded and rushed through in time to see Linus open the balcony door and jump down to the roof of a building below before trying to run. He cursed but looked back at Hank. “Don't let the woman get out. I'm going after Linus.”

“I’m with you,” Sloane said. He nodded and jumped down to the garden roof below and she followed. While he climbed down though she jumped and started running.

“Hey! What happened to with me…” He let go and then rushed after her.

Sloane was running through the streets, passing people by and even pushing them out of the way as she ran. However, when she got to the end of the street and looked around, there was no sign of Linus. She panted, turning around and around to try and catch sight of his gray jacket.

“Loose something?” Sloane gasped and turned her head to see Dierdre across the street, looking at her condescendingly. “Tick tock, Sloane. Better make your choice. Or I’ll make it for you.”

A bus passed by and when it cleared, she was gone. Sloane blinked, looking around, and wondered if she’d imagined her.

“Sloane?” She gasped and turned to see Nick. He was panting, looking at her in confusion. “What’s up?”

“I…I don’t see him anymore! Or hear him!” she said in frustration.

“I don’t either,” he agreed. He frowned and then looked over near a planter in an alcove between buildings a short ways back. He walked over and picked up a jacket. “This is his…”

“Why would he drop a jacket?” Sloane said, walking over.

“Throw us off?” He paused when he felt something weighty in the pocket and reached in. He pulled out a set of gold and emerald earrings and blinked. “What in…why are these here?”

“I don’t know…” Sloane glanced behind her but there was no sign of Dierdre either.

They checked with a couple of people, but no one had seen Linus come by. They were finally forced to head back to the apartment. Everyone looked up at them hopefully, but he sighed and shook his head. “We lost him,” Nick announced, walking in. “Where is she?”

“Well, she's not here,” Hank said, looking lost as well.

“I'm telling you, she went into the bathroom and never came out,” Monroe said, agitated.

“Well, there's a door on the other side of the bathroom. No clothes in the closet, nothing. It's the same setup as the condo. She must've left when Linus came in.”

 **“** How'd she get past us?” Wu said.

“I don't know,” he sighed.

“Was she wearing these?” Nick asked, pulling the earrings from the jacket.

Monroe looked surprised but took one, dangling it in the light. “Yeah…Where did you get these?”

“They were in Linus’ jacket,” Sloane said.

“When we chased him, he left it on the ground. I found them in the pocket.”

“How the hell did her earrings get into his pocket?” Wu asked, confused.

“What if she didn't go anywhere?” Nick said, the wheels in his head turning.

“Well, she had to go somewhere because she ain't here,” Hank pointed out.

“The book says the female is never found,” he reminded them. “What if they're the same person?”

“You're saying, what if this Wesen, this Huntha Lami Muuaji, whatever, is both? Like, male and female?” Hank asked. “They can woge from one to the other?”

“I'm just guessing, but that would explain why the woman is never caught. And the Grimms always kill the male when he woges. That would explain why they never find the female.”

“Oh, that hurts just thinking about it,” Hank groaned, rubbing his temple.

“That explains why she's got no record; only Linus does,” Wu said.

Sloane was nodding as well, looking at Nick in admiration. “I think you might be right. That’s why my ancestor only heard the man arguing—they share a body! Their woged state must be a sort of…cocoon-like state, where they go between male and female. Like when caterpillars become butterflies, they actually turn into liquified state before putting themselves back together. There’s other wesen that have fluid genders too, and animals.”

“Okay, so how do we find him? Her. Them.” Monroe looked confused as well.

“I think the bigger question is how do stop them?” Sloane said. She felt the note burning in her pocket, but she didn’t say anything.

\-----------

“So, the suspects you're after are one and the same person?” Rosalee asked, making some tea at the shop. “This Wesen sounds like the epitome of an identity crisis. I can't even imagine how it must feel to be both a man and a woman.

“Got to be complicated,” Wu agreed.

“Yeah, and the problem is, after the woge, it looks like he or she can return to him or her. And we need the he.”

“Linus is the one with the criminal record,” Hank clarified.

“Yeah, and the one who left a fingerprint. Alexis or Stacy or whatever her name is might not get convicted,” Sloane said.

“So, you want to lock him into Linus?” Monroe asked.

“And prevent him from turning into Stacy,” Wu nodded.

“Wait a minute... Forcing someone to be one sex sounds like one of those ethically ambiguous morally-gray-area- type situations. I'm just saying, the feminist inside me is cringing,” he said, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“Cringe away 'cause we don't have another choice. They're murderers,” Nick said.

“Honestly I’d normally agree with Monroe because that’s some next level torture. But I don’t think it’s necessarily that,” Sloane said, pondering. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s all of them or just the one from my ancestor’s book, but he said the two halves _argued_ with each other. By name, looking in a mirror, as though having a conversation. I’m not a psychologist, but I don’t think that’s how multiple personalities work. Usually they aren’t aware of one another.”

“So…you think it’s two people sharing the same body?” Hank asked.

“I think its possible. Two separate minds and personalities, one male, one female, sharing the same body. Able to transform between the two.”

“I’m not sure that’s entirely better,” Monroe said. “I mean, would we then be killing one of them? Or just trapping them in one body?”

She sighed. “I don’t think we have enough time to debate all the ethics…Like Nick said, Linus is the only suspect we have so at this point, we gotta bring him in or risk him getting away to keep doing this and possibly killing more people. Feminism doesn’t excuse her hand in this.” Monroe sighed as well but nodded.

Rosalee sipped her tea, ruminating on the problem. “It sounds like the woge is neutral ground, hormonally speaking, so I think that's your moment of opportunity. But you're gonna have to use something to keep him from turning into Stacy mid-arrest.”

“Well, can you even do that?” Nick asked.

“I've never tried anything like this before, but maybe something like hormone therapy might work. Maybe giving them a dose of testosterone, like how bodybuilders use steroids. It's the same idea.”

Monroe chuckled. “You're gonna need a lot. This was a pretty good-looking woman.” Rosalee and Sloane both shot him a look and he swallowed and closed his mouth.

“Yeah, but how much is too much?” Hank asked, trying to stay on subject.

“I don't know. Better to be on the safe side, especially if you want to keep him as Linus.”

“How do we inject him with the hormones?” Nick asked.

She shook her head. “I can make a pretty potent batch of hormones, but you're gonna have to figure out how to get it into him. You can't get too close to this Wesen, remember. He's got flesh-eating slime.”

Nick frowned then smiled. “Darts.”

“Doppelarmbrust!” Monroe said.

Hank frowned and Sloane and Nick said, “Crossbow,” at the same time.

“Perfect,” Hank smiled. Wu just looked lost and concerned but nodded slowly.

\-----------------------

Adalind paced in her room at the hotel. It was lavish and comfortable, but it was also as much dungeon as the one Viktor had thrown her into before. He hadn’t liked her going out on her own and was confining her more. She’d managed to keep seeing Sean and Henrietta under wraps, but she couldn’t sneak out again. She’d also put a spell on Diana’s picture so that it appeared to be a picture of her mother to anyone else, in an enchanted silver frame. Viktor didn’t even notice so she was thankful for that. He barely noticed the black eye after her fight with Juliette, which thanks to the magic salve was completely healed now. But just because he wasn’t terribly observant didn’t mean the men around him were. Rispolli especially enjoyed trying to keep her on a tight leash now.

And the worse part was there was no escaping this time. If she tried, she’d be hunted down and, well, being burnt at the stake could kill her like it did most things. If by some miracle they didn’t kill her, she’d be a prisoner. Likely barely seeing Diana, if at all. They’d have their own way of raising her after all…

_“Nearly every problem you have faced is one of your own making.”_

She growled as she heard Henrietta’s words in her head again. Going to the bathroom, she tried to smooth her face down. Anger caused wrinkles, as her mother used to say. But the anger still boiled under her skin. It wasn’t her fault things didn’t go her way! If Nick had just handed over the key, Hank wouldn’t have been in danger. If he hadn’t taken her powers, she wouldn’t have had to go begging for help to Frau Pech, or Stephania! Wouldn’t have had to barter her child! Or escape! If they hadn’t taken Diana, she wouldn’t have had to go crawling to Viktor and done as he asked in taking Nick’s powers! None of this was _her_ fault! She was trying to fix everything wrong with her life and they kept messing it up!

She jumped when the mirror cracked. She’d been projecting too much. The broken mirror made her think of her mother, dying by being thrown through a mirror by Nick’s mother. That made her think about what Henrietta said about her and she sobered. While she didn’t necessarily _want_ to believe her mother would do such a thing as purposefully ruin a spell and put another person and danger to be petty…it seemed possible. She also didn’t want to believe she’d let them die and hide the body, but Catharine Schade was cutthroat to say the least. She remembered times her mother and Elizabeth met, and sometimes Henrietta, that things seemed tense. She often wondered why they were all friends. Now she knew it was something other than friendship that really tied them to her mother, but they couldn’t sever that tie. Not till she was dead.

… _Did mother have any friends?_ _Real friends? Did anyone even cry at her funeral?_

She shook her head. What did that matter? _She_ had no friends. That’s why she was looking out for herself.

_“Every problem you face is one of your own making.”_

“Shut up!” she growled. Sighing, she went back to the bedroom and considered just watching some TV before bed to try and take her mind off things.

“I adamantly oppose this!”

She paused at the exclamation from the hall. That was Viktor’s voice, and he sounded angry. Normally that would precede someone getting their ass handed to them by guards, but that’s not what she heard. Going to the door, she listened closer.

“Viktor,” a man sighed.

“May I remind you, nobody understands the complexity of the situation like I do.”

“And no one has exercised as much patience as I have,” the man replied testily.

“I need more time,” he said. Adalind had never heard him with a pleading tone and she opened the door and peeked out. She froze when she saw a man in an expensive dove-gray suit in the hall. He was older, with a white hair and beard. A little shorter than Viktor, with a build like a man enjoying his retirement after years of labor. Softer and rounder but not without strength. But she knew him immediately—he’d met her in Vienna once before she and Victor left, and that visit had been nerve-wracking on its own.

“And you will have plenty, Viktor. In Vienna.” Viktor looked annoyed but turned and stalked back into the room with the guards close behind. The door close and the man turned but paused when he caught sight of her. He smiled as though he met an old friend. “Adalind, so nice to see you again.”

“Your Majesty,” she said, bowing. This was Frederick Renard. Sean’s father. The _King_ of the house of Kronenberg.

“You're looking lovely as ever,” he quipped.

She smiled, trying not show how uncomfortable she was. Frederick had a thing for blondes, she heard. “Is Viktor going somewhere?”

“Yes,” he sighed, glancing at the door.

“Am I leaving too?” She was slightly hopeful, slightly scared. Being away from Juliette might be safest, but she needed to figure out how to get Diana!

“No, you're staying here,” he said.

“Alone?” It was a little too hopeful, but that would give her a lot more freedom. Both in how she lived and how she tried to get information.

He chuckled. “No, dear. I would never leave you alone. You are far too important. Another member of the family will be joining you soon.”

That was disappointing but she tried to smile. “May I ask who?”

“He’ll be here soon. Viktor has his skills, but he prefers too much cloak and dagger, shadow dealings and such. It’s taking too long. I think perhaps more…direct approaches may work best.”

“…You know, your Majesty, I would be happy to make some direct approaches,” she said. “I mean…I appreciate you consider me important, but I’d like to be of more help in finding my daughter. Viktor has been…resistant to the idea.”

He looked at her with consideration and nodded. “Indeed…Just so you know, I never really approved of him throwing you in the dungeon like that. On the other hand, you did betray the family by leaving Vienna with the Resistance.”

She flushed and tried to look ashamed. “I was so confused…With the baby coming I just…”

“The world is confused,” he said, reaching up and patting her arm. “People like the illusion of being in control of their lives. But ultimately, what they crave is protection, safety. And none of that happens without singular vision of the future.” Adalind swallowed a bit. She could feel a presence—a cold feeling down her spine despite his warm smile. “Your child has a very important part to play in that future. She has royal blood. And we will get her back where she belongs.”

\---------------------------

“A little more,” Rosalee said, watching Monroe pipe part of the mixture into another.

He looked at her, unsure. “What, are you trying to turn this guy into a Tyrannosaurus?”

“A little more won't hurt,” Hank said.

Nick came in then, holding the double shot crossbow and a small case under his arm. “Got it.”

“All right, we're almost ready here,” Monroe said, piping in a little more of the hormone.

“What’s in the case?” Wu asked.

“Our delivery system.” He opened them, smiling at the array of arrows. All of which were hollow, with holes in the heads to help administer whatever was placed inside. “Which should we use: the 4-inch, 6-, 8-...Or the jumbo?” He pulled out the biggest with a smile.

“Let's not take any chances. Jumbo,” Hank said.

“All right, it's ready. Let's fill it up,” Rosalee said, taking the arrows from him.

Nick smiled then looked around. He spotted Sloane over by the window and frowned, heading over. “Hey…you okay?”

“…You think you could handle this? Without me?” she asked hesitantly.

He was surprised but nodded slowly. “Yeah…you still worried she’s out there?”

“I know she is. I just don’t know when exactly she’ll make a move. You might be safe but…I don’t want anything happening to Monroe and Rosalee.”

He nodded, understanding right away. “Stay with them. We’ll let you know how it goes.”

She smiled a bit, but he could tell she was growing more and more worried and paranoid. Maybe she’d tried to seem stronger but after years with Dierdre, it wasn’t going to just un-effect her overnight. He felt a bit stupid thinking it would, that she was fine because she didn’t back down that first time. There was so much going on and it seemed like just when they got a break two more actively terrifying situations happened. And no matter what he wished; he couldn’t fix all of them himself. He might need help with his own problems too. “…Sloane—”

“Hey, APB picked up Linus' car outside Los Portales bar on Thurman,” Hank called. “They've got it under surveillance.”

“Uh, let's pull the surveillance once we get there. I don't want to have to explain this to anyone else,” Wu said.

Nick sighed but nodded to her again before going and checking the crossbow. “I hope this works.”

“Yeah, you and me both,” Hank said, taking the arrows.

“I’m going to stick around,” Sloane said.

“What, don’t want to go acid worm hunting?” Wu asked.

“…You know that made it sound cooler, but no. I’m still paranoid about Dierdre.” She looked at Monroe and Rosalee. “I’d like to go home with you and, if you don’t mind, spend the night.”

They were surprised but nodded. “Yeah, okay. No problem,” Monroe said.

“If you’re sure,” Rosalee said.

“I’m sure I don’t trust her…” Sloane muttered. The note said five days, but she wasn’t sure Dierdre would stick to that. “But yes. I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“Thanks for your help,” Nick said. They headed for the door, waving.

“Good luck, fellas,” Monroe said. He exhaled deeply when they left, hoping it turned out alright.

Rosalee turned to him then, a dubious look on her face. “So... how pretty was she?”

Monroe’s eyes widened and he looked like a cornered rat for a second. He looked at Sloane.

“Uh, I’m going to go check the perimeter,” she said, backing away and heading out the back door. That was Monroe’s corner, not hers. She walked out the door and started making her way around to check that no one suspicious was loitering around the shop.

Meanwhile, Nick and the others headed to the bar in question. Wu saw Stacy leaving with a man and managed to stop him by saying he fit the description of a robber. He radioed Nick what direction she was heading and once she was crossing on a concrete path through a small park between a synagogue with a beautiful stained-glass window and another building.

Stacy stopped when she heard something metallic drop to the ground near her feet. “Hey, you dropped something,” Nick called. She turned and looked down, seeing a pair of gold and emerald earrings she’d written off as lost when they were running from the police. And when one of the Detectives that chased them stepped out with his hands behind his back she tensed. “Hey, Stacy. I thought you might want those back.”

She tried to smile and took a step. “Those aren't mine. I don't know what you're talking about.” She turned to keep walking.

“Oh, then they must belong to Linus?” She paused and looked back. “I'd like to talk to him.”

“I don't know anyone named Linus,” she laughed, feeling a bit worried.

“We think you do,” Hank said, stepping out as well. “You're not going anywhere.”

“Game's over, Stacy,” Nick said.

“You got nothing on me,” she said, defiant.

“We know what you are.”

“He's a Grimm. And you're a Huntha Lami Muuaji. I hope I pronounced that right,” Hank said with a smile.

She was surprised a moment but then glared. “Well, if you know what I am, then you know what I can do.” She took off her jacket, dressed only in a slinky red dress and heels, before her form rippled. Instead of a beautiful woman she was now a large, ripple skinned creature dripping in slime. They’re hollowed, drooping eye-sockets with black eyes glared and the holes for nostrils flared as they started moving towards them.

Nick quickly brought the cross bow out and fired both shots, hitting right in the chest. The flesh was squishy, like the slime it was covered in, and though they paused a moment they didn’t go down. Growling, they grabbed the arrows and pulled them out, tossing them aside. “So, you think some little darts are gonna stop me?”

Nick swallowed and Hank pulled out and readied his gun. “Yeah, that was the plan…”

They growled and started forward again but then shuddered and grunted. Groaning, they dropped to their knees and looked sick. “What is this? What have you done?” They groaned again and then de-woged into Linus once more. He stayed on his knees, panting and groaning as if in pain.

“It's Linus,” Hank gasped.

“It worked!” Wu laughed, running up.

“Let's get him cuffed.” Nick walked over, preparing the handcuffs.

“Is this the same person?”

“Wearing the same dress,” Hank pointed out as he moved to get him on the ground.

Wu just realized he was indeed wearing a sexy red dress and nodded. “True…”

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and—”

Linus reared back and moved away, kicking off his heels. He was still obviously a little pained, but his wits were coming back. “What the hell did you do to us!?”

“Linus, calm down,” Nick said.

“No, you brought _me_ out, how?!”

“You’re the one we needed. Stacy doesn’t have a record.”

He panted, looking at them wildly. “It was just a few cons! We separated a bunch of men from their money. No one got hurt!”

“Cody Carson is _dead,_ ” Hank said.

“It was self-defense! He was supposed to leave but he stayed and then he grabbed Stacy! He threatened her, threatened to call the police! He grabbed her, he was hurting her and that just—it made me angry! I had to defend her, defend us! The man had a wife and kids and still wanted Stacy, and then he was hurting her!”

“That’s all very noble, but it’s still murder,” Nick said.

Linus glared and then took a breath like he was trying to woge again. Except nothing happened. He blinked and tried again, still nothing. “Stacy…? Stacy, where…” A look of horror came on his face. “Where is she? What did you do to her?! I can’t find her!”

Nick actually felt a pang of guilt at the desperation in his voice. Maybe Sloane was right, maybe it was two minds in one body. “I’m sorry. You gave us no choice, you’re the one we need.”

“Give her back!”

“I can’t.”

“You don’t understand! I love her! We’ve been together our whole lives! Please! I can’t be alone!”

“You won’t be where you’re going,” Hank said, moving towards him.

He sobbed, dropping down to his knees again. “No…no no…Stacy, baby, please…I can’t live without you…”

“Then let me send you to her.”

Hank paused at the voice, confused. It was a woman’s voice, echoing in the small courtyard. Then a shot rang out that went straight through Linus’ chest—and judging by the hole, it was likely a hollow point with how large the wound bloomed when exiting him. Linus’ eyes widened a moment before he looked at peace and collapsed. “St…cy…”

Hank backed up in shock and Wu immediately drew his gun, looking around. “Who’s there?!”

“Up here.” Nick turned, looking up at the building that had been several paces behind Linus. From the roof, a woman jumped down nimbly, like a free runner, and sauntered over, holding a large sniper rifle in her hands.

Nick tilted his head, but the white streak and the face were hard not to place after looking at the footage from the spice shop. “Dierdre?”

She smiled a bit. “You must be Nicholas…yes, you look a lot like Kelly. But also, your father.”

Nick eased a bit in surprise. “You knew my father?”

“Very briefly, met when I ended up where he and Kelly was living once. Honestly, I thought he was a weak choice on her part. All brains, no skills.” Nick glared a bit and she just smiled. “Oh, don’t take it personally, dear. My standards are very high, as I’m sure Sloane told you.”

“She’s told us enough,” Hank said, raising his gun with Nick. Wu followed suit as well. “You killed our murder suspect so the way I see it, you’re our new murderer and coming with us.”

Dierdre stared a moment before chuckling and then actually laughing. “Oh! You are funny, I’ll give you that.”

“We’re serious,” Nick said. “Drop the gun, kick it over, and get on your knees.”

“Oh, that’s a lot of instructions…let’s see…drop the gun and kick it?” She let go and then with her foot flipped it back up lined up a shot and fired before they could even blink. It just missed all of them but struck the wall of the synagogue. Wu jumped and looked at it, then back at her with wide eyes. Hank resisted but swallowed softly. For an older woman, her reflexes were sharp as a blade. But Nick was fairly steady still. “Oops, I forgot the last step it seems…”

“She failed to mention how _funny_ you are,” Nick said. “Why did you kill him? He was down, we were taking him into custody! He couldn’t woge anymore!”

She eyed them. “You think you can be a Grimm and a detective?”

“Yes. I’m good at both.”

“Mmm, doubtful. You don’t bring wesen into custody. Even if their powers are gone. You put them down like the dangerous animals they are and hope the others get the point. Though even if they don’t, they’ll be put down as well and anyone who helps them,” she said. It was said brightly as though talking about baking a pie or her favorite hobby.

“That’s not how we do things. We take them in whenever we can, to face justice.”

“This is justice, child,” she said dryly.

“That’s debatable,” Hank said.

“I’m not talking to you, Tierliebhaber,” she said bluntly. Hank’s brows went up, unsure what she just called him, but it sounded like she hated whatever it was. “Now, I’ve got four shots left in this rifle. That’s, at the most, one more than I need if I wanted to end this quickly.”

Nick held his gun at her face. “Or we could shoot you first.”

“Can you?” she asked. “Ah, but I did tell Sloane I’d wait to hunt _you._ All of you, I suppose. So, for now I’ll settle for the Huntha.” She turned to walk off.

“I told you to get on your knees!” Nick yelled.

“I don’t get on my knees for anyone,” she said, her tone dropping to ice. She then jumped and Nick gasped at how high she managed to go, grabbing onto the side of the roof and flipping back onto it. He did fire one shot, but it missed and she was gone.

“Okay, that was some Spiderman stuff right there,” Wu said, voice a little shaky. “She’s like my mother’s age and can move like that?”

“Apparently,” Hank sighed. He holstered his gun, looking down at Linus. “How do we explain this?”

“…Maybe we say he dressed as a woman to throw off witnesses before robbing them with a woman’s help and Mr. Carson was killed trying to confront him?” Wu suggested.

“Best we might get…Nick?”

Nick finally looked away from the roof line. “Yeah, sorry…just…”

“We’ll get her,” Hank said. “But for now, we gotta do damage control here.”

\------------------------

Sloane went back home with Monroe and Rosalee after checking to be sure the coast was clear. They’d stopped for dinner on the way at a place with vegan dishes for Monroe and were eating while watching a movie to calm down. But Sloane was still peeking out of the window fairly often. Rosalee was worried about her turning paranoid, but she also couldn’t blame her. In a way it was also reassuring that she took protecting them so seriously.

When it was almost midnight, Sloane’s phone rang. She didn’t have a ringtone for Nick—just the generic one. She was too scared she might choose something that betrayed her feelings. “It’s Nick.” Monroe paused the movie and she put the call on speaker. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, we’re alright…”

“Uh oh, that doesn’t sound like the triumphant tone of someone who won,” Monroe said.

“No, we did. It worked, he turned into Linus and actually couldn’t turn back. He said he couldn’t “find Stacy”, and freaked out pretty hard. Seemed like they were some sort of linked minds.”

“Interesting…” Sloane said. “We’ll update the books later. But why do you sound frustrated?”

“…He’s dead.”

They all gasped. “Oh no…did I miscalculate the dose or…” Rosalee asked worriedly.

“No, no, you did everything perfect,” Nick reassured her. “He was shot…by Dierdre.”

Sloane’s eyes widened. “Y…you saw her?”

“We talked, briefly. She’s as charming as you made her sound.”

“And you’re okay? All of you?” she asked again, urgent.

“Yes. Just Linus was killed or even hurt. She didn’t have to do it though; he was no threat anymore!” he growled.

“Dierdre has her own criteria for a hunt sometimes,” Sloane said. “Even if they aren’t a threat, if they are wesen, they’re dead. If they help wesen, their dead.”

“She didn’t kill us though…”

“…She’s waiting. She likely has a plan of some kind,” Sloane said.

“She did say she told you she wouldn’t hunt us yet…”

“Oh, that’s reassuring,” Monroe said.

“There’s gotta be a way to make her leave,” Rosalee said, agitated.

“…I’m not sure how,” Sloane said honestly. The note was heavy in her pocket, but she knew telling them about it would just make them more prone to trying to keep her there. And she wasn’t sure that was the best answer.

“Well, we’ll finish up here. Oh, she called Hank something… Tierliebhaber?”

“Ha, yeah… “Animal Lover”. A not so nice term among Grimms for Kehrseite who are friends with wesen.”

“Charming…” he said snidely. “We’ll keep you updated.”

“Okay…talk to you later.”

“Later.”

She hanged up and Sloane sighed. “She followed them instead of you two…I should’ve known. She knew I’d focus my attention here.”

“Well, no one was hurt. I mean, besides the guy you were trying to catch…” Rosalee said.

“This time…” She rubbed over her eyes.

“…Maybe we should head to bed. The guest room is right by ours, fresh sheets are on it, so try to get a goodnight’s sleep.”

“Not sure that’s possible but…yeah, sounds good.” Standing, she smiled wanly at them. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight…” She started upstairs but when Monroe and Rosalee were in their room she silently made her way back down and out the back door. A few feet away was Monroe’s shed for his garden equipment and she went inside that and closed the door. Pulling out her cellphone, she looked at her recent calls and called the number.

“Sloane. Wasn’t sure you’d try to call me,” Dierdre said, sounding amused.

“And I thought you at least kept your word on these matters,” she growled back.

“Oh? What word is that?”

“Your letter said I had five days before you started hunting!”

“Oh, I should’ve been clearer,” she said, mock apologetically. “I meant the hunt for your _friends_. I never said anything about other wesen. I mean, I have to keep busy. And really, I did the world favor killing that abomination.”

“If you hurt my friends—”

“You’ll what?” she asked in her ear.

Sloane gasped and tried to kick out but Dierdre caught her foot and twisted it painfully for a few seconds before she let go and Sloane was able to regain her footing. She could’ve done a lot more damage if she kept twisting but that would end the game. “Why are you here? _How_ are you here?”

“I still have contacts. Asked them to run the plate of your little animal friend’s car, got their address a little while ago. I knew you would be with them, but it was so tempting to follow the others.”

Sloane glared. “If you do anything to them, I will—!”

“Listen to you!” she laughed. “You’re tied down! Tethered to this place and those people, and that is _weakness._ At least with Collin and the others you were on the move, growing your strength, killing what needed to be killed!”

“Nick is a Grimm too. Are you going to kill him?” she asked.

“If he makes me,” she said simply.

“Kelly will hunt you down then,” she reminded her, trying to find anything that might persuade her.

“Let her come. If she stands in my way, she’s not worth letting her live.”

“Then why haven’t you just done it?!” she nearly screamed. “Why are you doing this-this cat and mouse, teasing game and not just…”

“Because you need to learn,” she said vehemently, her hand coming up to grab Sloane’s jaw in a painful grip. “You never learned easily, so I’m making this lesson stick like I did some of the others. I’m doing the cruelest thing I can think of so you will learn. And that’s not to say killing them all in front of you isn’t tempting. But I’m not sure it would work on you. You’d try to get revenge and honestly, it’s all just too troublesome. So, I’m doing something much more likely to get through that thick, stupid skull of yours.”

“How’s that?” Sloane asked, glaring but feeling that old, helpless pit in her stomach.

“I’m to give you hope that I _won’t_ do that, in exchange for dropping them all and leaving and never contacting them again. The life you wanted, the connections you made, severed or it will be their heads instead. Maybe this pain will teach you why these connections should not be made if you want to do your duty as a Grimm properly. It’s not just for your sake though. It’d be so inconvenient killing Nicholas…as it would Hank or Juliette. Though you know I’d have no qualms leaving Monroe and Rosalee’s heads on your doorstep.”

“…How much did Gallin tell you?” she asked, voice wavering a little.

“I know how to ask the most probing questions, you know that. But don’t hold it against her, I twisted her arm…then again, let’s add her name to the list. She said you encouraged her to leave and it’s so inconvenient having the library closed.”

“You can’t be serious!”

She squeezed her face, making her wince. “I am. You have to leave and hope that I keep my word and don’t hurt them, but the moment you contact even one of them after you leave this town I will certainly kill them all. And you know I can do it even if you fight me. You’ve always been too weak.” She pushed Sloane away and she nearly fell over, just catching herself on the work bench. Dierdre gave her a disgusted look and turned to walk out. Sloane watched her go and it took a lot of willpower not to scream and destroy the shed. She was angry at Dierdre, but more than that at herself because no matter how tough she acted or tried to be, her mother was too strong for her to fight.

\--------------------------

**Heartbreaker**

\--------------------------

“Hi, you've reached Juliette. Leave a message.”

Nick sighed. Since that night four days ago, Juliette had still not talked to him. He’d left her what felt like dozens of messages and texts, he didn’t know where she was, and he was starting to wonder what he was going to do. He felt like he was going crazy. He felt lost. And he felt alone keeping this inside.

“Juliette, it's me. Call me…I don't know what else to say,” he said honestly. He hanged up, sighing.

Hank came in just a moment later, much brighter. While having a suspect die on their watch wasn’t good, once they told Renard he took care of it. Since no one knew they were going to confront Linus that night (to avoid a lot of questions on the cross bow if things went wrong), he decided the best course of action was for him to be “found” dead. Trying to rob the wrong target would be their story and though they’d allegedly try to find the shooter it would eventually go cold—unless they could get Dierdre. That would be easier said than done, so for all intents and purposes it was closed. “You order yet?”

“No,” Nick sad, putting his phone down.

Hank arched his brow. “You going to order?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Nah.”

“Something going on?” Hank asked worriedly.

Nick hesitated but sighed and leaned in, speaking quietly. “Juliette walked out.”

Hank was shocked, then leaned in, trying to speak calmly. “Did you guys have a fight?”

He chuckled cynically. “A fight, I could deal with. This... not so much.”

He didn’t try to keep it casual now, openly worried. “What happened?”

Nick sighed, rubbing over his face before speaking again. “You know what we had to go through to undo what Adalind did?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, there was a side effect.”

“You all right?” he asked immediately.

“Yeah, it's...It's not what happened to me.”

He frowned deeper. “I don't like where this is going…”

“It doesn't get any better,” he said, groaning softly. He looked at him with a deep breath. “Juliette's a Hexenbiest.”

Hank’s eyes widened and his internal alarm ramped up to _RED ALERT_ fast. He leaned in more. “Run that past me again.” He was sure he did hear that right, and that Nick wouldn’t joke about this, but he really hoped one of those was happening right now.

Nick sighed. “I knew something was wrong. I just didn't know what. And she was trying to figure out a way to tell me, but she just... she couldn't.”

Hank’s jaw worked soundlessly for a bit before he looked at him anxiously. “So how'd you find out?” he asked.

“…She decided show would work better than tell. After Adalind tried to attack her at the house—”

“Seriously?!” he hissed.

“Yeah. But Juliette…beat her. Maybe it was the element of surprise, I don’t know. But when I came home she prepared me as best she could and then just… _woged._ ”

“How is this possible?” Hank breathed, mind spinning.

“I don't know. Turning into Adalind I guess…If I knew, I would never have put her through this,” Nick sighed, agitated just thinking about it.

“All right, so what are you going to do?”

The feeling drained out of him and he shook his head. “I don't know. I...I don't even know what I'm dealing with. Neither does she. I don't have a lot of luck with Hexenbiests.”

“And she might be afraid of what you might do to her—Oh, man, this is really messed up,” he said, shell shocked.

“Yeah…”

“Can you undo it?”

“Not from what I'm told…”

“…What about Sloane? Where is she anyway?” Hank said, looking around.

“I don’t know. But I haven’t told her. I mean I told her we were having some problems, just not…this. I don’t know if I should. I mean…I don’t think she’d know anything and I’m worried that if I do need her help Juliette will say no or start a fight and then…”

“It’s a lot to think about,” Hank agreed.

“Yeah…I haven’t told Monroe and Rosalee either. Just you and…she told Renard.”

“Renard?” he asked, surprised.

“She said to get help. And he sent her to someone else who told her there is no help.”

“Man…no wonder you're not hungry,” he said, trying to smile and lighten the mood though it was a bit half-hearted. Nick tried to smile back with just as much, if maybe half that half of heart. He sighed and sobered a bit. “If there's anything I can do to help...”

“Right now, she's not even talking to me…” He heard his phone and for a brief moment he was hopeful. But the number was from the precinct. He sighed but accepted the call. “Burkhardt…Where?...All right.” He ended the call and looked at Hank. “Got a dead body at Mount Tabor Park.”

Hank sighed as well and stood. “I need to start carrying meal bars like Sloane.”

“Yeah. I’ll text her. Guess she’ll just have to meet us there.” 

They headed out and over to the scene. Wu was there waiting for them and nodded as they walked up. “Hey. Cyclist discovered a bike on the trail up there and a helmet, then saw the body down here. Looks like some kind of allergic reaction, but I doubt it's to the flora or fauna.” He lead them down to where the body rested of a young man. He looked like he’d fallen from his bike and rolled all the way down the hill from the amount of dirt. But more concerning was the large number of pustules on his face—hives it looked like, or some other kind of swollen boil.

“It doesn't look like acid. Face isn't burned,” Nick said.

“Well after the other night, that’s a relief,” Wu sighed. He paused and looked around. “Hey, Sloane isn’t here…?”

The frowned as well. “We haven’t seen her today…” Hank said.

“She might still be with Monroe and Rosalee,” Nick said. “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s not going to let Dierdre get the drop on her.”

“After what she did to that pedestrian, I’m pretty sure of that,” Wu sighed. “I guess we’ll brief her on this later.”

They nodded and Hank looked up at the trail where the bike was found. “My guess is it happened up there. He was either overcome by something that happened earlier, like maybe he ate something that didn't agree with him…in a big way.”

Nick nodded, kneeling to look through pockets and pulled out a wallet. “Zack Blumenthal, 26 years old. Lives over on Thurman.”

He handed it up to Wu to log and he looked it over. “Organ donor, but I think that ship has sailed…”

“Do we think this is a homicide or an accident?” Nick sighed.

“I figure we should wait for the M.E. report,” Hank said.

Nick nodded and held up a key ring he’d also found. “Why don't we check out his place? Hopefully, one of these keys will open it up.”

They headed to the apartment to do their preliminary search. Mr. Blumenthal lived alone it seemed, and fitness was a large part of his life. They found designs for athletic shoes and an award for those designs, answering questions about his day job. They also found a photograph of a lovely blonde woman, and several sketches that could be her. It definitely interested them, so they kept the picture.

They took almost an hour searching the rest of the apartment and Sloane still hadn’t shown up. Nick frowned and pulled out his phone. No answer to his call or text. Sighing, he tried calling again with no answer. This was starting to worry him. They returned to the precinct, thinking she might be there, but there was no sign of her. Lunch came and went while they tried to find more information. Wu found pictures of the same woman from the apartment saved on the vic’s laptop, and most all were candid shots. More than a little creepy giving the number, but Wu found they were from a Facebook page for the River City Riders—a group of cyclists that the vic was a member of. They’re next meeting was soon, at a trail almost exactly where their he was found.

And Sloane still wasn’t there. While he understood why Juliette was not responding, he had no idea why Sloane would be ignoring him. Hank tried and she never called back either. This was not like her at all so Nick called someone he knew would pick up.

“Hey, Nick, what’s up?” Monroe answered.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Little sore from my morning workout—I’ve been neglecting my Pilates, so my flexibility isn’t great—”

“Okay, you’re alright,” Nick sighed in relief. “What about Rosalee and Sloane.”

“Rosalee is fine. Sloane asked us to stay home today and then took off—she said she was meeting you guys.”

Nick felt his gut twist. “We haven’t seen her all day…We got a call for a case and she never showed up, and she hasn’t answered my texts or calls.”

“What…Hold on. Hey, honey?” Rosalee looked up from reading a book on the couch. “Sloane was going to meet Nick and Hank, right? Did she tell you different?”

Rosalee frowned, putting her book down. “No…”

Monroe frowned as well. “She never showed up and they can’t reach her.”

“What?” She was up quickly, on high alert. She pulled out her phone and starting dialing.

Monroe focused back on Nick, putting him on speaker. “You said you have a case?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if it’s wesen yet. A man dead at Tabor Park. We’ve already been to the scene, his apartment, doing research…And she never picked up or responded for us. I was hoping she was with you guys still…”

“I can’t reach her either,” Rosalee said.

“You don’t think Dierdre did anything to her…I mean, she’s her mother! Could she be _that_ evil?” Monroe asked, unsure.

“Considering how she raised her, it’s possible,” Nick said, agitated.

“Okay…we’ll go check her house and let you know,” he said, looking at Rosalee who nodded.

“Thanks,” he sighed.

Monroe hanged up and looked at Rosalee. “You still got your key?”

“Yes. Just a sec, it’s upstairs.” She went up to her table upstairs, grabbing the key she kept on a new keychain that had a scrollwork ‘S’ on it. She paused at the room Sloane stayed in the last night to watch over them and walked in. She was hoping maybe she had come back and was napping or writing or…anything. But it was empty, the bed made and clean. It looked like she hadn’t been there at all except she knew she’d been there that morning for breakfast.

She was about to turn away when she noticed something on the ground near the foot of the bed. A piece of paper. That was odd so she picked it up, thinking it might be something Sloane needed. Reading over it though her heart stopped. “Monroe…Monroe!”

“What?” he yelled rushing upstairs.

“Look at this! It must’ve fallen out of Sloane’s pocket.”

Monroe took it, reading out loud on habit. ““You better remember what you are. I’ll get them eventually, and it will be your fault. You want to save them, leave Portland and get back to work. Never contact them again or I’ll end it permanently. I’ll give you five days before the hunt is on. If you think I’m not serious, check by the dumpster.…signed D.”” His eyes widened. “Whoa…”

“It’s Dierdre. She’s trying to make Sloane leave Portland to protect us!”

“O-okay, if she’s considering that then…I mean, she really must be at her house getting her stuff, right?”

Rosalee grabbed the note and rushed for the door, Monroe close behind. He grabbed his phone out and dialed Nick’s number back.

“Hey, find her already?” he asked hopefully.

“Not exactly. We found a note left by Dierdre at some point saying if she doesn’t leave Portland she’ll kill us—kill Sloane’s friends!”

“What?!”

“Yeah! It must’ve been at the shop the other night, it said something about a dumpster—anyway, she might be planning on leaving!”

Nick took a deep breath and started grabbing his stuff. “We’ll meet you at her house.”

“Okay.” Monroe hanged up and reversed as fast as he dared out of the driveway.

\------------------------------

Sloane was just finishing boxing up her books. She didn’t have time to pack up everything—the pictures she put up, the souvenirs she’d brought from Oma’s she’d acquired over the years, all her furniture would all be left behind. She had to prioritize her books and weapons. Even then she didn’t have enough room. She’d filled a box with things to give to Nick for the trailer.

She sighed and stood. She’d have to figure out the best way to load it all now—the layout of her new car was different. As she was trying to imagine the space and visualize how to stake them, there was a knock at her door. “Sloane?” Rosalee called.

Her eyes widened and she cursed. She didn’t think they’d come over there so quickly! She figured a few more hours of her being gone and then they’d start looking and find some carefully worded letter left in a conspicuous place. Dramatic but informative. So, she kept quiet.

“Sloane? Sloane, are you there?”

“I can’t see through the blinds,” Monroe sighed. “Better open the door. Let me go first, just in case.”

Sloane cursed again as she heard the key in the lock. “Wait, don’t-!”

The trap was tripped, and the paintball gun started firing. “Ahh, what the hell!?” Monroe yelled as green and yellow splats of paint were fired at him. He was blocking Rosalee with his body on instinct, but the paint was going everywhere. Sloane rushed over and quickly pulled the trigger jammer from the gun. Monroe stared at her askance, arms up and looking down at his clothes that were now like something form a Jackson Pollack painting. “Why…?”

“It…was meant in case Dierdre came,” she said, covering her mouth. She was trying very hard not to laugh but she could hear Rosalee laughing hard behind him.

“Didn’t realize Grimms had a weakness to paintball,” he said.

“We don’t, but figured it was the best way I could do it without neighbors calling the cops about a dead woman on my lawn with a crossbow bolt through her chest…Though not sure even that would kill her.”

“Fair enough…”

Rosalee came around him into house. She paused when she saw the boxes though. “…You’re really going to leave?” Sloane looked at her in surprise and she held up the note. “You forgot this…”

Sloane dropped the gun and checked her pockets before sighing. “Dammit…”

“Sloane, you don’t have to go,” she said, coming forward.

“It’s safer for you all if I do,” she said, taking a step back.

“Without even saying goodbye?”

“I just…it was safer if I don’t, and I thought less…hard,” she admitted.

“For who?” she asked, a little upset.

Sloane didn’t answer, looking down at the floor. Rosalee looked at her worriedly.

Just then Nick and Hank rushed up to the door. “Oh, thank God, you’re still here,” Nick breathed.

“Yeah…uh, what happened to you?” Hank asked, looking at Monroe.

“She had a trap,” he said testily.

“Oh yeah, forgot about that…”

“Would you all please, get out?!” Sloane snapped, startling them all. “I’m doing this for you! Just…let me go.”

Nick stared and then frowned and marched forward. “Do you want to go?” She looked at him and then away. “Do you want to go?” he asked again.

“Dierdre will kill all of you if I don’t leave and go back to hunting on the road! She fired an arrow at the shop, she will have no qualms doing it to one of you when you least expect—” she said, looking near the point of a breakdown.

“That’s not what I asked. Do you want to go?”

“No!” She yelled, her voice cracking. Tears were coming to her eyes and Nick was surprised. He’d never seen her actually cry before. “Of course, I don’t want to go, dammit! This is my home! My house! My life! But that’s because of all of you and I can’t let her hurt you!”

Nick put his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “She can try, but that’s not going to happen. You are staying here, in _your_ house, with _your_ friends. If she doesn’t like it, she can take it up with _all_ of us together if she’s got the guts to do that instead of just threatening us.” Sloane stared at him, astonished by the steel in his voice. Nick had been pretty down, what with having a fight with Juliette, but he was ready for a fight.

“He’s right,” Hank agreed, smiling. “You’re _our_ girl. We’re not letting anyone make you leave.”

Sloane breathed deep, feeling a strange emotion well up. She felt tears go down her cheeks, but not in sadness or frustration. _Relief. Happiness._ But she shook her head. “My past keeps bringing you all trouble though! First Collin, now Dierdre! Hell, _me!_ I just keep causing problems—”

“Nope, not going that route,” Hank said, walking over. “I’ve read too many comics in my day not to recognized “Brooding Hero” when I see it. Collin was not your fault, and neither is this woman. So, you get that all out of your head, now.”

“Yeah, you’re not your mother’s keeper,” Monroe said. “And everyone has an ex that’ll bring trouble if they can.”

“Our point is, we’re not letting her get to us, so don’t let her get to you,” Rosalee said. “After Wesenrein and Collin and everything else, I feel weirdly ready for a crazy Grimm.”

“…You are all probably crazier than her. And so am I,” she said, smiling a little. They walked forward and she didn’t move back this time as they hugged her as a group.

“We’ll figure something out. But you told me I gotta stop doing stuff on my own and thinking I have to protect everyone. The same goes for you,” Nick said gently.

“Yeah. She isn’t just your curse anymore,” Monroe said.

Sloane smiled then paused and looked thoughtful. “Curse…That could work…”

“What could?” Rosalee asked.

“I’ve got an idea, hold on. I’ll be right back,” she said, gently getting out from their embrace. She took out her phone and went to the other room. Waiting for it to connect, she breathed out when she heard Renard’s voice.

“Sloane?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Well, good to know you’re alive,” he said, a little snide.

Sloane frowned but sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t come in or call. Dierdre made a move.”

“Are you alright?” he asked, sounding a might concerned now.

“Yeah. It was more her telling me to get out of Portland and go back to my old way of life or she’ll kill as many people I consider my friend as she can.”

“I see…” he said, troubled.

“She’s given me five days—well, four-ish now—and I honestly don’t think that she’d keep her word to leave anyone alone, but I almost did leave. The others all figured it out and came to stop me. They’re convincing,” she said wryly.

“Well, that’s good. I’d prefer not losing one of my better investigators.”

“Well, as one of your better investigators, I have a favor to ask…”

“You want me to try and assassinate Dierdre?”

“…If I thought it would work, maybe. But…she is also still my mother, at least by blood,” she sighed. “At least in my grandmother’s memory I don’t want her dead if I can help it. No, I was hoping you could point me in the direction of a Hexenbiest.”

Renard seemed to freeze a moment before speaking again. “Hexenbiest? Why?”

“I need to see if they have a spell that can stop her somehow…Preferably not involving any sex,” she added under her breath.

“…I see. I know someone then.”

“Not Adalind, I may kill her,” Sloane said.

“No, not Adalind. Her name is Henrietta. Nick knows where she is.”

“What?”

“Just ask him. Keep me updated.”

He hanged up and she frowned at her phone. “I was going to say she might kill you too, but sometimes I wonder if we’re friends…”

They looked up when she came back in. “Who’d you call?” Hank asked.

“Renard. I need to find a hexenbiest. He says you know one?” She looked at Nick and blinked at the sheer _panic_ on his face. He looked like someone had punched him in the gut. Hank looked panicky as well and she was confused. “Uh…he said her name was Henrietta?”

Nick breathed out in relief and nodded. “Right, yes…Henrietta…”

“Wait, you know another Hexenbiest?” Monroe asked in surprise.

“She…came up in an investigation,” Nick said evasively. “Lives at 1—” Though he tried to keep talking, but his jaw worked soundless. He frowned and tried again.

“You okay?” Monroe asked.

“Yeah…I guess I can’t say it out loud,” he sighed. He grabbed a pad and pen from the coffee table. “This is her address. Memorize it, trust me, this note won’t help.”

“What?” She took it when he offered it back, reading the address. Seconds later the letters twirled and cascaded all around the paper and she jumped.

“Whoa…” Monroe said.

“A Hexenbiest who values her privacy,” Rosalee said. She looked at Sloane. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, I’ll be alright alone I think. You should take it easy someplace secure, just to be safe.”

“We got a case to keep working on,” Hank sighed.

“Does it seem Wesen?” Sloane asked, worried.

“Maybe, we aren’t sure yet,” Nick said honestly. “ME’s been busy lately, we’re waiting for the results. Something he ingested or touched just…did a number on him. Not melting, but…we’ll show you later.”

“Yeah, do what you gotta do. We know you got this, we got this, and we got you when you need us.”

She smiled, calming down and looking more like herself.

“You do owe me a shirt though,” Monroe pointed out, making them all smile and laugh a little.

\------------------------------

“Prince Kenneth Alun Goderich Bowes-Lyon, may I present Adalind Schade?” Rispolli said respectfully. Adalind had having a leisurely breakfast when he’d come in saying Prince Kenneth, Viktor’s replacement, would be arriving soon and to get presentable. Adalind was annoyed but knew full well not to test him or the royals and quickly changed into a little black dress that showed off her figure and some designer heels from the closet Viktor had set up. She had to give him credit, he had taste.

Now a young man—Mid to late twenties if she had to guess—entered the room. He wasn’t dressed like a prince. Viktor had been meticulous in his suits and shined shoes. While she had no doubt his clothes were just as expensive, he was dressed in a black shirt and brown leather jacket over dark jeans and boots. He was handsome, as most royals were, but looked bored.

“Good afternoon, your highn—” she started.

“So, you're the Hexenbiest mother of the child everyone's so obsessed with,” he sighed.

She tensed a bit. His tone was not hostile, but neither was it friendly. It was a rebuff. To put her in her place. That descriptor was all she was to him. Taking a breath, she straightened and tried to maintain her dignity. “Yes.”

He looked her over and paced around. “I'm here for one reason, and that's to get your child back to the family.” She held her tongue, though she felt bit of foreboding at the words. “I understand you made contact with Mr. Burkhardt's girlfriend. Juliette.”

“I did,” she confirmed.

He turned and smiled, but there was no mirth behind it. “And how did that go?”

Adalind hesitated. This was not a man you wanted to admit weakness or fault to. But he was going find out one way or another and lying would be a worse idea. “Nick is a Grimm again,” she sighed.

He did look surprised a moment and turned to look at Rispolli, who’s stony face didn’t betray much. “I was told you took care of that.”

“I did, but he figured out a way to undo it,” she explained.

“That's possible?

“I didn't think so. But it does explain why Juliette is now a Hexenbiest. I want that bitch dead,” she finished darkly.

“A Hexenbiest? Well, I was wondering why she wasn’t dead already…” he said, huffing a laugh. “I’ll be honest, I don’t care for Hexenbiests. In fact, I find this whole ordeal trying to get your bastard back a bit below me.”

Adalind felt a flash of anger but kept it in check. “Then why are you here?”

“Because it’s what the king wants. Believes in some old prediction or some such that a child born of a royal and one of your kind could mean the end of the royal family…or it’s ultimate rise to power. He thought Sean might be that child, but we both know how laughable that is. He has no power of his own,” he said, truly smiling for the first time. It was malicious and hateful and Adalind suddenly felt for Renard. As much as she was angry, she remembered this was what he’d grown up with.

“…I just want my baby back,” she said.

“Oh, you’ll get her back. For how long is up to how useful you actually are. I’m letting your past failures slide this _once_. By the King’s request. The moment you aren’t useful in anyway, I have no need for you. Understand?”

She swallowed. Henrietta’s words were coming back to her and she wondered if she really had made a mistake aligning herself with the royals. But she nodded. “Yes…I understand.”

\----------------------------

While Nick and Hank returned to the precinct to keep looking into Mr. Blumenthal’s case, Sloane went the address Nick had copied down. She hadn’t expected a sweetly yellow-painted Victorian house but walked up to it and knocked.

The beautiful black woman who answered smiled at her. “Well, this has been my week for visitors…please, come in.”

Sloane hesitated but did so. “Are you…Henrietta?”

“I am. And you…you’re the other Grimm in town.”

Sloane nodded slowly. “Yes…Sloane Larson.”

She smiled and closed the door. Her house was very classic and homey. “So, what brings you here? Are you here to talk about Juliette?”

Sloane blinked and frowned. “What about Juliette?”

Henrietta looked at her, assessing, then smiled. “Never mind. That’s between her and Mr. Burkhardt I believe.” She frowned more but the Hexenbiest sat down at a table and motioned for her to join. “So, why are you here?”

“…I need a curse.”

Henrietta’s brow rose. “A curse? That’s surprising…and not my usual fair. I try to be a bit more neutral on things in the world, if not…kinder.”

“That’s surprising too,” Sloane said, sitting. “No offense but aside from Renard’s mother—who still honestly I don’t know how to read—Hexenbiest have been downright evil.”

“Yes. That saying about power corrupting is true. When you feel you can do practically anything, you feel it’s your right to do anything you want. It’s a mindset I’ve worked hard to try and unlearn. And even now temptation is always there to cause a little chaos and get what I want. But I try.”

“…Okay,” Sloane said, easing slightly. “Then I’m giving you a chance to cause chaos. For another Grimm.”

Henrietta looked intrigued and leaned in. “Go on…”

“I want a curse to protect my friends from my mentor. My…mother. A very strong Grimm.”

“A curse for protection…that’s new. Is she a threat?”

“A big one. She’s given me an ultimatum: Leave or everyone I care about here dies. Nick, Hank, Juliette—all of them. Including wesen friends I have. But I don’t want to leave, and I don’t trust her to keep her word if I did.”

Henrietta smiled at some secret joke but nodded slowly. “You want something that will keep her from following through on that threat. Make her incapable of hurting them.”

“Yes.”

“And you?”

“…I’m not the priority.”

“Oh, that’s a sad thing to say…but I understand.” She stood and walked over to a shelf of books, moving her fingers along the spines. “I have one in mind. It is indeed a spell of protection against one person, that can be stacked to protect many. The base is a sort of vessel that you will have to hide somewhere to keep safe.”

“Sounding good so far…”

“You haven’t heard my price,” she said, taking a large book bound in purple died leather down. It had a large lock shaped like a many pointed star on the front.

“Don’t suppose you accept credit cards?” she said, smiling thinly.

“No. And cash isn’t a large concern.”

“If it’s a first born you want, you may be waiting a long time,” Sloane said.

“Ha, no. Never had children, never want children. No…” She looked her over. “What would you give me for this, I wonder? Would you give me your blood? Your tongue? Your eyes?”

“…I’d need my eyes,” she said.

Henrietta laughed. “Oh, you’d consider the others!”

“I can make more blood and…I can learn sign language. My eyes…I guess I’d just need one,” she said thoughtfully.

Henrietta stared and then burst out laughing again. “I’m sorry, that little chaotic streak in me coming out again. I was just teasing. But I didn’t expect you to be so willing!”

“…It’s for my friends,” she said quietly.

“…You’re heart seems good,” she smiled. “Not that I want that either.”

“Then what?”

Henrietta hummed before resting her head on her hands. “Let’s say…a favor. I don’t need it yet, but one day when I need your help.”

“…Alright,” She nodded. Henrietta smiled and held out her hand and she hesitated before taking it. She gasped when she felt a burning sensation and took her hand back. On her palm was a mark in black that resembled two crescent moons set end to end was on her hand. Before she could voice her displeasure, it disappeared as she watched. “What was that?!”

“Just a little insurance. I invoke that mark, you have to keep your promise. Or face some consequences.”

“…Seems a bit distrusting.”

“I’m a Hexenbiest, dear, I’m well acquainted with double dealing the same as you,” she said with a smirk. “Now, let’s get started.

\-----------------------------

Nick and Hank had gone to talk with the River City Riders at the park right after they left Sloane’s house. They were still preparing to go, checking over their gear together and shooting the breeze, when they pulled up. Questioning them, they were all shocked and horrified to hear that Zack was dead. No one had seen what happened, but they had seen him take off after a girl named Bella Turner. They confirmed Bella was the woman in the pictures and that they were pretty sure Zack had a major crush on her. But she kept to herself. Apparently while she was part of the club, it was purely for cycling and not so much to socialize. She was passionate about cycling and worked at a shop called City Bikes on Ankenny street.

While Hank took down the club member’s information, Nick got a call from Wu. ME had the results back and Zack had been killed by a toxin that caused acute systolic heart failure—essentially a broken heart. It was classified as a batrachotoxin, usually found in frogs and birds in Papua New Guinea, though even their toxins were not the same as the one found in the victim. Extremely deadly all the same though, as even one ounce of this poison could kill 10,000 mice, 10 to 20 humans, and 2 African bull elephants according to Wu’s research. He was pretty sure whatever killed Zack was wesen, and Nick and Hank were inclined to agree as the ME had no explanation for why it would be there.

Going to City Bikes, they went in with the thought in mind Zack’s crush was their wesen. Bella Turner was in the back doing repairs and he was fairly sure she’d tried to get out the back as they came around, but she smiled and said hello when he called her name. She also acted shocked at the news of Zack’s death, and it could be believable, but Nick wasn’t sure. As they pressed about what happened when he followed her further ahead on the trail she got more upset. Though she turned away on occasion, she never showed any sign of woging though. Not even when he asked about batrachotoxin.

After they left he called Monroe and Rosalee—they’d decided to go to the shop and install more cameras and they had learned to secure it tightly. They were ready when he came over though and started explaining what they’d found out.

It was during this explanation Sloane came in. “Hey, good, you all are here,” she sighed.

“Hey!” Rosalee said, going over. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine…she’s…not bad for a Hexenbiest?”

“Really? She wasn’t great to me,” Nick huffed.

“She wouldn’t tell me why you two met but she said you were pretty upset about something and it, uh… made her want to tease you?” He blushed and looked away.

“What about your visit?” Rosalee asked. “Did she have an answer?”

“She does,” Sloane smiled. “But it’s not easy.”

“When is this ever,” Monroe sighed. “You don’t have to like…sleep with anyone though, right?” Nick looked at him and he grimaced in apology.

“No, none of that thankfully. I need something from you guys though.”

“What?”

She sighed and pulled out what looked like several small bits of paper. “Blood.” They all looked at her with wide eyes and she went on quickly. “She’s doing the first part of the spell, which is making me the little…alter, vessel, thing. When it’s done, I have to put a tab of this special paper with your blood on it inside. I also need to get Renard and Wu’s…Bud and his family to be safe. And, uh…Kelly.”

“My mom? She threatened my mom?” Nick asked, standing a bit.

“More in that she said if you made her have to kill you, she’d fight Kelly when she came for her. Better safe than sorry. If there’s anyone you’re worried about, she gave me a lot of these tabs and we can keep adding them in till the jar is full Anyone whose tab is inside she won’t be able to hurt—at least not on purpose she said.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Monroe said.

“What did you have to give her for it?” Rosalee asked.

“I had to promise to do her a favor someday. She didn’t specify what or if she even had one in mind…”

“That sounds ominous,” Nick said worriedly.

“Yeah, but I figure that’s a future Sloane problem. Now, find something sharp and bleed on this.”

They took the tabs and Rosalee grabbed a small knife to prick their fingers—lighting a flame to pass it through to be safe. “So, this is all we have to do?”

“Yeah, you guys. I…have a bit more to do.”

“Sloane,” she warned, still holding the knife.

“…I have to get Dierdre’s blood,” she sighed.

“…Oh hell,” Monroe muttered. The others looked just as worried.

“Yeah…but that’s my mission.”

“You think you can do it alone?” Nick asked.

“I think she won’t expect it. So, it might be my best bet. She’s surprised I’m standing up to her. I am too, honestly…” she admitted. She then looked at Nick and Hank. “What about you two? How’s the case going?”

“Uh, confusing,” Nick admitted. He accepted the knife when Rosalee offered it straight from the fire and hissed when he pricked his finger. Letting a drop onto the paper tab, he watched as it soaked in and then it was pulled through the paper, creating a swirling design across it with his name. “Whoa…”

“That’s kinda cool…But yeah, we’re not sure what’s going on. We’re pretty sure it’s wesen because it’s excreting a poison found in animals in Papua New Guinea, but not sure what kind of wesen it is,” Hank said.

“And our one suspect didn’t woge when I confronted her,” Nick sighed. “She got upset, she answered the questions, but no woge. So, it’s either someone else that maybe was jealous or…”

Rosalee pricked her finger for her tab and immediately held the knife back in the fire. “If it's secreting batrachotoxins through its skin, then touching is deadly.”

“And you're saying she didn't woge?” Monroe asked, accepting the knife. He grimaced and was not enjoying all the blood scent mixing around but quickly did his own without looking at the blood.

“No,” Nick shook his head.

“See, I was thinking it was a Peau de la Mort, but those rascals, you sneeze and they woge,” He said, holding a tissue to the pin prick.

“They’re more like birds too, aren’t they?” Sloane said, trying to remember.

“Yeah, really nervous birds…”

“I think you're dealing with Folterseele,” Rosalee said, handing the knife to Hank once it was clean.

“What is that?” he asked as he did his card.

“Well, they're kind of classically tragic. Always beautiful, always deadly,” she sighed sympathetically.

“Really? You think a Folterseele,” Monroe asked in surprise.

She nodded, looking at the others. “They're kind of rare, thank God, and they don't woge like any other Wesen.”

“Then how do they woge?” Nick asked. Sloane was curious too; she hadn’t heard of these wesen before.

“Well, it's not an emotional response. It's more of a physical…sexual one.”

“So, like, when they're aroused?” Hank asked.

“It's not them; it's whoever's turned on by them. It's a defense mechanism,” she explained.

“Yeah, an extremely offensive defense mechanism,” Monroe added.

“Well, no wonder they're rare,” Nick muttered.

Hank looked up, thinking. “That sounds like the old Frog Prince story…”

“Yeah, but you kiss this frog, your face bloats up and you die,” Monroe said.

“So, hold on,” Sloane said. “The only way you can get a Folterseele to woge is if you you’re attracted to her? _Sexually_?”

“Yeah, basically,” Rosalee nodded.

“So, we can't tie her to the crime and we can't make her woge…Interrogation room's not gonna work on this one,” Hank said, looking at his partners. They both sighed, looking troubled as well.

“Unless you guys get in there and one of you is, like, totally into her, and then...”

Rosalee scoffed and looked at him. “Really?”

“Well, why not? I don’t think it’s gender specific, so even Sloane…uh, if you liked girls, that is,” he amended.

Sloane shrugged. “Yeah.”

“…Huh?” They all looked at her in surprise.

“Yeah. What, you thought I’d only been with Collin?”

“No, but…”

“I’m not really discerning when it comes to what’s in people’s pants. But sex has never been a high priority for me, so it’s still not a big number of girls or guys. And I guess that might make it harder to woge her?”

“Well…see, you leave, we would stop learning so much about you,” he smiled. Rosalee looked at her apologetically and batted her husband’s shoulder.

“Let’s…get back to the case,” she said, blushing a little.

“Right…So we can't make the arrest 'cause we don't have any evidence, and we won't know if she's a Folterseele 'cause we can't get her to woge,” Nick said, sighing in frustration.

“Look, if you are dealing with the Folterseele, she's not doing this on purpose,” Rosalee said, looking anxious. “She's probably trying to avoid it. A lot of men can't control themselves around the female Folterseele.”

“Don’t tell me she secretes hormones too?” Sloane said.

“Possibly, or it could be that they’re usually seen as very beautiful but…they pull away. And some men find that a turn on.”

“Bad men,” Monroe added.

“Yes, honestly…Most stories I’ve heard are that female Folterseele especially deal with being targets of sexual assault…But then even those they want to get close to would be at risk.”

“That is pretty awful…Well, that's probably why she keeps to herself,” Hank said.

“Exactly. So maybe you guys need to just let this one go, you know, let the sleeping Folterseele lie,” Monroe said.

Nick looked thoughtful but shook his head. “It could happen again, that’s the problem.”

Rosalee sighed, then looked thoughtful. “What if we, I don't know, neutralize what's happening to her, like of like we did with that toad-eating lawyer?”

“Is that possible?” Hank asked.

“Won't know till we try.”

“Try,” Nick said.

She nodded. “Okay, I’ll let you know what we find out.”

“We’ll keep looking into it in the meantime too. Sloane, do you want to come?”

She shook her heads, taking all the tabs they’d done. “Not yet, I gotta get these to Henrietta and then track down Dierdre. If I can do that, I can keep her from following you and maybe killing this girl or someone else too,” she sighed. “But I will stop by the precinct to let Renard and Wu know what’s going on. And get their blood.”

“It’s getting late though,” Hank pointed out.

“The sooner I get this done, the sooner I don’t have to worry about you and Dierdre will be in for a world of trouble…”

“But if you need to get her blood, you might want to rest up. She’s going to put up a fight, I’m sure,” Rosalee said.

“I’m fine—”

“I can see bags under your eyes, sweety,” she said gently.

Sloane sighed but nodded, rubbing her eyes. She hadn’t slept much the night before. “…I’ll rest for a bit while you guys research. Then I go to the station.”

“Okay, that works,” Nick said. “Let us know if you need anything else.”

Sloane nodded and they said their goodbyes before heading out again.

\--------------------------

Adalind was sitting, having an awkward dinner with Kenneth. He mostly ignored her existence, which would be fine by her if she wasn’t also dying for any kind of conversation. Renard at least would talk to her when they would have dinner…

“So…Do you enjoy being in America?” she tried.

“I would prefer being almost anywhere else, including naked in the heart of Africa,” he said, not even looking at her as he took a bit of his steak.

_Well, so much for that…_

Rispolli was actually a savior in this case as he walked back in. “Damerov is here, sir.”

Adalind was a little surprised. Sam Damerov—the private eye Sean had hired that was double dealing into the royals. Viktor had been in contact to get all the information Sean was getting, and information on Sean himself.

Kenneth wiped his mouth and stood. “Bring him in. Hopefully, he has good news about the whereabouts of your child,” he said, fake pleasant. Sam walked in but slowed as he walked to the living area. His face didn’t betray confusion, but it was there in how he moved. “You were expecting Prince Viktor?” he smiled.

“Yes…”

“He's been recalled. I'm Kenneth. I've heard a lot about you, Sam. Have you found Kelly Burkhardt or Adalind's child?” He was acting personable and charming, which put Adalind on guard.

Sam though sighed and walked over, opening his zipped briefcase. “Not yet, but I've made progress.”

“Progress? Is that what's in the briefcase?”

“Yes.” He pulled out a folder and held it out but didn’t approach Kenneth. He knew better than that. Rispolli walked by him and took the folder, delivering it the few feet to the prince. “We know that she sold the truck in Spokane. We believe she's still in the area with the child.”

Kenneth scanned the documents in the folder, but sighed, holding it back out to Rispolli who took it. He then leisurely paced over to Sam. “You know, the problem with being a double agent, Sam, is that you never really know where your loyalties lie…”

“I work for the family, sir,” he said.

Kenneth frowned in sympathy. “Not anymore.” He then struck Sam. The blow nearly knocked him off his feet, but the next did. Then another, and then a kick, making him cough and writhe on the ground. Adalind had stood with the first blow, shocked as Kenneth kept hitting him. She had thought he wouldn’t get his hands dirty—but he enjoyed striking Sam. It was obvious he relished pain and that made her skin crawl. This was the man who wanted to help find her baby? No, he’d made it clear he didn’t care. But the king had sent him here. The king wanted _results_ , and screw whoever was in the way.

Kenneth sighed when he finished and smoothed back his hair. He looked at Adalind and smiled at her. “I'm a little more hands on than Viktor. So, I would do my best to listen. Now…give us a smile.” She felt her stomach roll but managed a smile. “There we go…now, take him out to the car.”

Rispolli nodded, grabbing Sam with another man to head out. Adalind watched him go battered and bruised, and had a bad feeling. But she couldn’t do anything to stop it…

\--------------------

Nick had a rather unsatisfying dinner from the microwave. There was still no sign of Juliette. He was starting to get frustrated, wondering why she wouldn’t at least talk to him. He called her again and again no answer and the frustration leaked out into his voice. “Juliette, where the hell are you? Just answer your damn phone.” It was heated, though not an angry demand. He didn’t want to do that to her. Sighing, he ended the call. Then he heard his laptop email notification beep. Going over, he clicked on the mail icon to see a message from Trubel. Sloane was copied on it.

_Josh moved back in, no Hundjagers yet, seems kind of strange, nobody paying attention._

_I miss you guys._

_Everything okay?_

_Trubel_

Nick hesitated, thinking about messaging her back. He wasn’t sure what Sloane would tell her either. He started typing, still thinking.

_Everything here is_

The front door opening gave him pause and he looked up to see Juliette walk in. “Nick?”

He breathed out, relief flooding him.

 _Fine._ He typed that last word and hit send before standing to go see her. “Juliette…”

She looked up as he came in and then away and the relief faded. “I need to get some of my stuff.”

“What, so you're just... moving out?” he asked. He knew that’s what it was, but he was hoping she’d say something else. Instead she just nodded slowly, and his heart sank.

“I was hoping you wouldn't be home,” she said quietly.

He took a breath, trying to keep calm. The anger and frustration were gone the moment she walked in and he just wanted to save this. Save them. “Look, can we talk about this?”

“There's really nothing you or anybody else can say or do,” she said. “This is who I am.”

“Juliette, this is my fault, and if there's anything I could do to change it, I would,” he said, desperate.

She looked at him and nodded. “I know that.”

“I haven't given up yet!” he said.

She frowned now, looking confused. “Why not?”

“Because I love you!” he said, looking straight into her eyes.

She stared and smiled, which made him hopeful, but then she started laughing. He frowned and she sighed. “That's... That's great. That's really great.” Her tone was bitter and brittle despite the smile.

He frowned, confused by the reaction. “Juliette...?” His phone rang and he looked towards it in annoyance.

“Answer it. Come on, Nick. There's a lot of big, scary Wesen on the loose in Portland. That's what you're good at.” She slapped his arm, laughing again. “Go get 'em, Grimm.” She turned then to head upstairs, and he watched her go. It felt like he was talking to someone else just now, but it was Juliette he was sure. The phone kept ringing and he went to answer it when he saw it was Hank. “Hey, what’s up?”

“We got another dead guy,” Hank sighed. “Like Zack.”

Nick cursed under her breath. “Where?”

“Bike City.”

“Bella Turner’s shop…”

“Yeah. I’m heading down now.”

Nick looked up towards the bedroom. “…I’m on my way,” he sighed.

\------------------

Sloane rested like she said, and even ate dinner with Monroe and Rosalee while they took a break researching. But she then headed back to the precinct. She didn’t see Wu at the station, but she did see Renard in his office. She went over and knocked but he held up a hand. He seemed troubled, talking on the phone to someone. Finally, he hanged up and gestured for her to come in. He looked unsettled and she frowned. “You okay?”

“Fine, just a business call,” he sighed. “Were you able to see Henrietta?”

“Yeah. She’s nice.”

He quirked his brow. “I…see. So, she helped you?”

“We’re working on it. That’s part of why I’m here. Bleed on this.” She held out the paper.

“…Excuse me?”

“Sorry, just…I need blood from everyone I don’t want Deirdre to attack.”

“…Including me?” he asked, equally mystified.

“Yeah…you’re my friend, right?” Renard stared. “…Well, this is awkward.”

“I…sorry, just…I didn’t expect that,” he said honestly, clearing his throat. “I…suppose, when not on the clock and I’m your boss…yes.”

“Well don’t get all touchy feely on me,” she said, smiling dryly.

Renard smiled dryly back and took the paper. “So, this will protect me from her?”

“It goes in a thing Henrietta is making me. The last one I need for now, in the immediate area, is Wu.”

“Alright…Sloane, I have a question for you,” He said, pulling out a small pen knife and pricking his finger as if it was natural. He didn’t react when the paper wrote out his name in his blood either. “If say you thought perhaps someone you once trusted was working with your worst enemy…what would you do?”

“…Well, in the past, it’d be confront them and beat the shit out of them if it’s true, then go from there. Now…I don’t know. Cause, you know…several people I once trusted were working with one of my worst enemies recently. And it puts a lot of stuff in perspective.”

“Ah…sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up…”

“It’s okay. I guess confirm it and then figure out if there’s a way to use it, depending on how bad it is. Maybe he has information you’d like. If not, cut ties. Then cut throats if he fights back.”

Renard hummed, wrapping his finger in a band aid he also got from his desk before handing the tab to her. “I’ll think on it.”

“Someone double dealing you?” Sloane asked, frowning as she put the tab with the others in a small envelope.

“Possibly. As you said, I should research it more first. I don’t want to hurt him if I don’t have to.”

She nodded. “Well…let us know if you need help.”

He hesitated but nodded.

As Sloane walked back out just in time to see Wu, Nick and Hank walk in.

“Sloane!” Wu sighed, walking over. “Glad to see you’re okay. The guys told me what’s going on.”

“Then they also told you I need something from you?” She said, holding up a tab.

“Ah…right,” he sighed, taking it. “Oh, I found something in the case they’re working on.” He motioned for her to follow and Hank and Nick smiled when they saw her.

“Hey, you okay to be here?”

“I made sure Monroe and Rosalee were secure in the shop. What’s up?”

“Well, first, I found something on our suspect’s mother. We found her picture at her apartment, but Bella wasn’t there.” He showed her the picture and Sloane frowned.

“Her face…” The woman looked like she’d have been very beautiful, except for the huge burn mark on her face.

“Yeah, we’re not sure what caused that…”

“A branding iron.”

“What?”

Sloane turned the photo and pointed. “There’s this…wavy design in it. That’s a branding iron, I’m sure, but a generic one. This would be used for torture…”

“Yikes,” Wu said.

“Well, not sure who did that to her then…but I found a history on the mom, Cindy,” Hank said.

“Criminal?” Nick asked, standing to go look.

“No, opposite,” he sighed. “Police report from 1989. Cindy Turner was victim of a rape.”

“That's her? No scarring,” Nick said, looking at the picture of a young woman. She was beautiful but looked like she’d been crying and he frowned deeply.

“Well, the picture was taken 24 years ago. Same night she was attacked.” Sloane felt the tight, angry feeling in her chest thinking about it. “"Suspect William Ashford attacked victim Cindy Turner outside Spackle's Bar and Grill but died at the scene." No charges filed against Turner.”

“Cause of death?”

“He died the same way our vics died. But Ashford's death was ruled accidental. Cause of death: severe allergic reaction to something unknown. They didn’t have the equipment we do today to search for rare toxins and the like quickly.”

“So, they must be the same,” Sloane said. “This…this was how Bella was conceived,” Sloane said quietly. The date matched up with her current age. “I don’t know how he stayed alive long enough but…”

“God,” Nick said, shaking his head. His phone rang then, and he quickly answered, putting it on speaker but low enough only they should hopefully year. “Rosalee?”

“I think we've got something that might work, but no guarantees. It's never been tried. What I think we have to do is depolarize her membranes by either using a tetrodotoxin or a saxitoxin, both of which should have antagonistic effects to the poison she secretes. This would allow us to block her from creating the poison in the first place.”

“I understood none of that,” Wu muttered. Sloane shrugged, only getting every third word or so.

“Any side effects?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, these are some hardcore toxins we're dealing with here,” Monroe said. “I can't imagine there wouldn't be...And probably not very good ones. But it's better than her being out there killing people.”

“It's not as if she has a choice here,” she sighed.

Nick nodded. “Do it.”

“We’ll track her down and bring her in,” Sloane said.

“Oh, you’re there?” Rosalee asked.

“Yeah, but I haven’t found any sign of Dierdre on the way over.”

“Maybe she left?” Monroe asked hopefully.

“Not likely. I want to go with Nick and Hank, in case she follows them again. I don’t want someone else dead on a case because of her. But if anything happens, you call me.”

“We will,” Rosalee agreed. “See you soon.” Nick hanged up and Wu waved a folder.

“Sooner than you think, maybe. Got a DMV on Bella's mom, Cindy Turner. The address on her license is in Gresham. She might go there.”

Nick looked at them and grabbed his jacket. “Let's go.”

“Blood first!” Sloane said, eyeing Wu. He groaned but looked for something sharp.

\-----------------

Cindy Turner’s house was built back from the road on a couple of acres. Lonely. Isolated. A big white island in the fields around it, with a smaller white barn next to it. Pulling up, Sloane looked around intently. She couldn’t see that anyone had followed them, but that didn’t mean much. Nick looked with her, paranoid as well.

When they got up to the house, he knocked on the door. But Hank looked through the window and immediately was on alert. “Hey, forget knocking! There's a woman on the floor, and she's not moving!”

Nick looked through the door and could see her feet in the living room. He pulled back and kicked the door open, breaking some of the glass but they didn’t care as they rushed in.

“Dierdre?” Sloane called. There was no answer and Hank was rushing over to the woman.

“She's got blood in the back of her head…” He reached down to put his fingers to her wrist and breathed out. “All right, she's got a pulse.” Sloane eased back a little. Dierdre would’ve just killed her, so she doubted that was her attacker. The woman, Cindy they realized, groaned and started to wake and try sit up.

“I'm calling an ambulance,” Nick said, pulling out his phone. He nearly fumbled when he heard a scream though and Sloane looked towards the back of the house and the door there.

“Bella!” Cindy said, trying to get up faster. She gasped when she saw Hank.

“It's okay. Police,” he said, pointing at his badge.

Another scream came and she kept trying to stand. “You don't understand! My mother's with her!”

Sloane heard the last distantly as she ran for the door and actually jumped through it, landing in a crouch after dropkicking it off it’s hinges. Nick was close behind as they jumped over the railing of the back porch and rushed for the barn.

Bella was screaming, trying to get into a corner and pull some of the stored items in front of her to protect her from an older woman with white hair holding a red-hot branding iron.

“Do you want to keep on killing?!” she roared.

“No!”

“Do you want to be raped like your mother and me?!”

“No!” She wasn’t answering her, she was trying to plea for her not to hurt her.

“You have to do what we all have to do! It's for your own good!” She moved to try and strike her in the face.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” Sloane shouted. The woman turned, surprised to see her. Sloane gasped when she saw the burn mark on her face, exactly like Cindy’s mark. Had she done that? Was this how they tried to keep men from finding them attractive now? “Police! Get down!”

“No! Get out! I have to do this!”

“Put it down!”

She yelled and then tried to charge her, and Sloane managed to dodge out of the way as she aimed for her chest, the brand hitting a wooden beam. Smoke went up and the squiggle line mark was left in burned into the wood. Sloane then grabbed it two handed, as far from the hot end as she could, and wrenched it out of the old woman’s surprisingly strong grip.

“No! Give it back! It’s the only way!” she shrieked, reaching for her.

Nick rushed in and grabbed the woman, pulling her away from Sloane. “Stop!”

Sloane sighed in relief, looking at the hot iron in disgust and then back at Bella. She was in tears, shaking and looking at her and her grandmother in fear.

“Bella!”

“Mom!”

Cindy rushed in and over to her, hugging her close and Sloane was now surprised. “Thank God…Thank God you’re alright…”

“You think you saved her?” the old woman croaked. “Oh, you haven't saved her from anything.”

Sloane glared a bit but then set the iron down in the doorway and kicked dirt over it while Nick walked over calmly to Bella and her mother. “Well, maybe we have…You need to come with us.”

“It's not her fault. You can't arrest her!” Cindy said, holding her protectively close.

“We know,” Hank said.

“There might be another way…We know someone, someone who specializes in wesen conditions and biology and she thinks she may have a way to…Stop you from woging.”

Bella straightened, looking at them. “I…what?”

“You know?” Cindy asked.

“We know,” Sloane agreed, coming back in. “It’s untested so we’re not sure if it will work or what might happen, but she offered specifically to try so no more guys die because they’re horn dogs.”

“Not how I would’ve phrased it, but yeah,” Nick said. “But we gotta go to their shop.”

“I’m not letting you take her alone,” Cindy said.

“You can come too, but that one is not invited,” Sloane said, pointing to the old woman on the ground who was still looking at them all with a deep glare.

“Mom…I want to see if they can help,” Bella said quietly.

“Bella,” she said, warning on her tongue

“I’m 24, I can decide… I can’t keep doing this…and I don’t want to be burned,” she sobbed. “If they can help, I want it. M-maybe it would work for you too…” She stared at her a moment before Bella gently slipped away from her grip and walked over. “L-lead the way…”

Nick nodded, gesturing for her to follow him gently.

“I’ll be right there,” Sloane called. She looked at Cindy and her mother. “…Need help back to the house?”

“I’m staying here,” the old woman said. “I’m going to be ready for when she comes back, and this doesn’t work!”

Sloane frowned at her and looked at Cindy who just looked haggard. “Fine, stay here mom, in the cold,” she said bitterly. She marched back out and Sloane followed, eyeing the old woman.

“…Your mother…did that to you?”

“…Yes. Just after Bella was born. Said it was the only way to protect me…It’s meant to be a last resort. Honestly though, I think she wanted to do it…”

“Why?”

“She’s resented me a long time…After how I was conceived…and then her mother burning her…” she shook her head with a sigh. “Our whole kind is cursed…”

“…We saw your file.”

“Ha, yeah,” she said with a bitter laugh, wiping at her eyes. “I wanted different for Bella, but…even if it’s with love, it comes with death. Or men try to take it and die…”

“…But you love her?” Sloane asked quietly.

She looked at her and then nodded slowly. “Yes…I was scared I’d be like my mother. She told me once she wished she’d…gotten rid of me but her mother made her go through with the pregnancy. It was hard growing up and I rebelled which led me to be there that night and…” She shuddered. “Even so, she made me go through with it. I thought I’d feel the same but…I loved her the moment I saw her. She’s my baby. Even if she’s half that man’s, she’s half mine too and I was all she had. So, I did my best…” She looked at her, hopeful and sad. “Do you think your friends can really help her?”

“I think so. Don’t know if it’ll be perfect, but the goal is no poison production so…”

She nodded. “Okay…please, go with them though. I just…don’t trust men.”

“I don’t blame you. We’ll send her back soon.”

She nodded and Sloane headed out to the car so they could drive to the shop. She looked relieved Sloane was in the back with her as they drove, but she stayed pretty quiet. When they got there, they went inside, and Sloane looked around. “I’m gonna go take a walk…”

Nick looked back at her. “…Alone?”

“Just to check. I’ll be right in.”

He nodded slowly, walking in with Bella and Hank. Sloane sighed and started walking around the building looking around. “If you’re here, just come out.”

“So, demanding,” Dierdre sighed. Sloane looked up to see her on the fire escape of the next building. “You keep tempting me to just kill them by leaving you know…And you’re running out of time before I do. I was more than generous with five days.”

“I thought you might follow us. A good chance to kill another defenseless person we already took care of.”

She glared mildly but didn’t take the bait. “Is that what you’re doing now?”

“Yeah. They’ve got a suppressant for a Folterseele.” Dierdre paused, quiet and Sloane smirked a little. “Don’t know what that is?”

She glared. “You better not get smug, you little—”

“I’m not little anymore,” she said. “So, I want to talk. Face to face. Somewhere private.”

She gave her a cold look before jumping down, landing perfectly. “Are you trying to distract me from your friends?”

“I’m trying to have a goddamn conversation with you,” Sloane said impatiently. “Something we never actually have done. But I don’t like doing it in an alley.”

Dierdre frowned again and sighed. “You’re sounding like a petulant brat. I thought that stopped ages ago. But fine, follow me.” She started walking and Sloane glanced back at the shop once before following.

\---------------

Dierdre led her a few blocks over to an old abandoned warehouse. They went in and up to the office, where Dierdre had set up camp in front of the large window on the second story. “What, no motel?”

“I’d hoped I wouldn’t be here that long,” she said. “But you were right about one thing…there’s a thriving wesen community here. Took care of a few more today. Schalengecke, hundjager, dickfelig—a nice variety. That Mausehertz I left you, I almost felt sorry for him. But I kept thinking how nice it would be to get a Fuchsbau…and a Blutbad.”

Sloane’s fists tightened but she took a deep breath. “You’re being catty. Here I thought that was beneath you.”

She glared mildly but sighed. “So, you want to talk like adults? Let’s talk like adults. Why the hell are you still here?” she growled.

“Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Dierdre stared and then narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I told you before, I’m a grown woman. I can decide what to do with my life. And I’ve decided I like it here. I’ve set up roots and I’m staying. Indefinitely.”

“Why would you do that?” she hissed, angry. “I trained you for almost a decade and this is what you decide to do with your life?”

“Yes. Besides, you’ve seen the amount of activity here. I’m busier than I was traveling, and I’m learning more than I was.”

“Like how to be a wesen lover?”

“That sounds dirtier than it is. I’m friends with them.”

“…You’re not even ashamed,” she said, shocked.

“You didn’t raise me to have shame,” she reminded her.

“You cheeky—” She growled. Then she paused and took a deep breath. “You know what? I shouldn’t be surprised. You were raised by my mother for the first years of your life, of course you’re like this…”

“So were you,” she pointed out.

Dierdre glared more. “I overcame that weak will she tried to impart on me. I didn’t realize how it would influence you.”

“Yeah, well, leaving me with her was your choice,” she said, impatient now.

“There was no choice. I wasn’t being tied down by a child, my own or anyone else’s,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“…On that note, I have one question for you.”

“One?”

“Yeah, though it might lead to others.” She took a breath, preparing herself. These were questions she’d had for years and had always been afraid to ask. “If you didn’t want anything to do with me, why did you even have me? Why didn’t you just terminate me?”

She blinked, not expecting that. “You’re asking why I didn’t abort you?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, holding up and dropping her hands in defeat. “I don’t understand why you even wanted to have me. Was the chance of another Grimm that important? Was it just too much trouble? Just tell me the truth and I’ll never ask again.”

Dierdre looked at her and sighed. She looked less combative and suddenly…tired. This was new. She’d never seen Dierdre tired like this. Tired from a hunt, yes, but this was…emotionally drained? Was that possible? “The truth…fine. There was a time I wanted to be like you and my grandmother. A time I thought maybe I could ease back, settle down.” Sloane looked at her like she’d grown a tail and she smiled. “Hard to believe, I’m sure.”

“A bit,” she said, honestly not believing her. “Considering how you’ve torn me apart since you got here for settling down.”

She scoffed. “I realized it was a stupid wish long ago. But…I won’t deny I had it. Considering it led to you. My proof I tried and failed. And what’s worse…I did love your father when we conceived you. Or thought I did. Then he betrayed me.”

Sloane was surprised even further, reeling a little. This was the most she’d ever really said about her father, and it was surprising to hear she’d loved him. Then the rest caught up to her. “Betrayed you?”

“Yes. But I was already pregnant when I left him and…” Apparently the rest wasn’t a story she needed to hear. Dierdre sighed, rubbing between her eyes—a gesture so much like Oma’s that it almost made Sloane angry. “I had high hopes or you, despite your father. I thought I could just be a single mother, raise you and it would be good. I would feel something. I looked forward to you being born. But when you were, after much pain and strain, my mother was beside herself with joy and I felt like…"This is it? This?”” She laughed a little, gesturing at Sloane. “I felt nothing when I held you. And no feeling ever came. I never felt like a mother, I felt like I was saddled with a whining, crying, _burden_.”

Sloane expected it, but to hear it put so bluntly still made something inside her twist. So different from the loving tone Bella’s mother had used. She didn’t say anything but Dierdre went on as if having a conversation, nonplussed. It was like pulling the lid on an overflowing pot. “So yes, you were a disappointment from the beginning. I suppose it isn't your fault you couldn't fill the void of something missing from my life. I came to terms that nothing would after that. Mother dying hurt of course, but I'd long since grown tired of her preaching at me. Then I had to deal with you, and I figured the least I could do for her is make sure you didn't turn out as weak as she was. I suppose I failed.”

“…Yes. You did. Because Oma was never weak,” Sloane said. The twisting feeling was gone, and it was like instead of being warped it was now straight—no more anxiety. Just anger and resentment. This woman didn’t want to be her mother, she’d always made that clear. So why on earth should she treat her like she was her mother?

“Oh please,” she sighed, rolling her eyes.

“She wasn’t. I read her diaries. Her personal ones. She did more in her life than either of us, and she did it for the right reasons.”

Dierdre sneered. “Right reasons? Damn, you really are starting to sound like her.”

“Better than sounding like you,” Sloane said.

She glared and moved forward but Sloane didn’t even flinch. That gave her pause. “…Did you come across what happened to my father in those diaries?”

She blinked. “…Grandpa Charles committed suicide in the attic. The town knew,” Sloane said.

Dierdre laughed and the sound was much harsher and made Sloane’s skin crawl. “Oh, that’s what they said happened. It was the easiest explanation they had, after dressing the scene. But no. He was killed by a wesen. One my mother tried to help and brought into our home. Strangled him while he tried to protect _me,_ 12 years old asleep in my bed. I had no idea until I found his body. He’d killed the man before dying as well.”

Sloane’s eyes widened. “…I’m so sorry…” she said. It was an open, sincere tone and her expression was the same.

Dierdre gawked at her a moment, surprised, before growling and grabbing the front of her shirt. “Don’t give me your apologies! You weren’t even there!”

“…I’m sorry you had to go through it. I had to watch Oma die protecting me. I understand.”

“No, you don’t! I thought you did, but if so you wouldn’t be making friends with monsters,” she said, her voice returning back to the smooth icy tone she remembered.

“They’re not monsters. I’ve done more to help people with them than I ever did with you.”

“They’re wesen. You should hate them! For everything they’ve taken from us! Taken from others! No good they do will make up for that!”

Sloan broke her hold and pushed her hand back to her. “Holding on to that hate didn’t make me happy.”

“You’re a Grimm! It’s not about being happy, it’s about hunting wesen! I had to beat that into your head and now I have to beat it again!? How stupid are you!?”

“It’s what Oma wanted for me. And for you.” Dierdre glared more and wound her hand back, closed fisted and ready to hit her. But Sloane grabbed it when it came close, digging her fingers in. Dierdre looked at it in confusion as she couldn’t move her hand. “I’m not letting you ruin it for me. _You’re_ going to leave Portland.”

She glared and tried to punch with her other arm, but Sloane grabbed that one too. Rearing back, she then headbutted Dierdre right between the eyes. She yelled, moving back. A small drop of blood came from her nose and she looked at her. “How dare you!”

“How dare I what? Fight back?” Sloane asked, taking off her jacket and dropping it to the floor.

“You think you’re stronger than me?” she asked, sneering. “All you do is prance around, play detective and make friends with animals! You think you can beat me like that?!”

“I don’t know, but I’m willing to find out if you are.”

She stared at her before moving to hit her. Sloane blocked, moving with the blow and spinning away, bringing her elbow down onto Dierdre’s in a way that would snap a normal person’s but just made her yell and move away. She kicked out, trying to get Sloane in the side but she moved back. When she tried to rush her, she hit Sloane in the cheek and smiled, but it faded when she stayed standing and glared back. Then Sloane uppercut her in the jaw, making her stagger. As she did, Sloane kicked her hard to get her on the ground and then tried to bring her foot down on her chest.

Dierdre rolled out the way and jumped up. “Well…you’re stronger than I thought.” She took off her coat and dropped it, showing that she was as well built as Sloane if not even more muscled. “Let’s not hold back then.”

Sloane didn’t quip back, instead getting into a fighting stance with her hands up and her legs ready. Dierdre rushed her, trying to punch her again but Sloane pushed that punch away with her hand, then followed through twisting her body and slamming the but of her palm and Dierdre’s face. Dierdre kneed her in the stomach, but when she tried to get her in the face she forced it away and down with a cross block and brought her hands up to push her away. With the distance that bought her, she kicked out and sent her flying across the room into the table, breaking it. Dierdre looked up with a livid glare—and this was new. Sloane realized she’d never seen Dierdre look like that when they sparred as a teen. She didn’t have time to think too long about that though as she jumped up and rushed her, grabbing her and throwing her to the ground. Sloane shouted but broke the hold and punched her before rolling away and getting up.

Blows were exchanged in rapid fire succession, each landing hits with fists and feet. It went on for longer than most fights Sloane had, but it felt incredibly fast as she had to keep her wits about her. Dierdre was incredibly strong and had lived long enough her Grimm powers had just gotten better with age. Yet, Sloane knew almost every move. Years spent sparring—not trying to do real injury like now but still fighting hard—were coming back to her and she remember the subtle signs of when and where a blow was coming from. Dierdre though seemed to have forgotten. Maybe she didn’t think the knowledge of Sloane’s movements important enough to remember, or maybe Sloane had changed, but she was delivering a lot more damage than she used to when she was young.

When Sloane jumped off the wall and kicked out, Dierdre was surprised. She was barely able to block the one kick aimed at her head, but then the other foot came around and hit her in the stomach, sending her skidding over the old wood floor. Sloane landed elegantly, almost like a dancer, while Dierdre coughed on one knee. “Where…the hell did you learn _that_?!” she growled, wiping at her bloody nose again.

“It’s been 10 years, Dierdre. I’ve been all over the world and I learned a lot more than what you taught me,” Sloane said, already catching her breath. Dierdre was still breathing hard though and Sloane tilted her head as she listened to her. It wasn’t put on; she was getting winded. “…Am…Am I actually stronger than you?” Sloane asked, surprised. This terror, this looming threat, suddenly seemed so human. She’d been thinking that when she talked about her father’s death, how hurt she looked deep in her eyes that had never shown anything before, but now it was clearer. She wasn’t all powerful.

Dierdre looked as though she’d been slapped and glared. “Don’t get full of yourself!” She ran for her and Sloan grabbed her arms and ducked down, using her foot to send Dierdre flying out the window she forgot was behind her. Sloane laid in shock a moment, trying to come to grips that Dierdre was having trouble keeping up with her. Then she realized what she did and got up quickly to look. The only thing she saw was the broken glass on the street two stories down. Dierdre was gone.

Sloane sighed, cursing herself for letting her get away. Tracking her down again would be hard with her on her guard and getting her blood even harder. Craning her neck out to try and see her, something red caught her eye—a blood-soaked shard of glass! A weird thing to be thankful for but she had to let out a breath of relief. Taking out her gloves and an evidence back, she broke it off and put it in the bag for safe keeping. She then grabbed her jacket and went downstairs. If she was hurt, it bought Sloane time and she could hopefully get to Henrietta’s to finish the spell. She grunted and put a hand to her side. _Cracked some ribs again…damn…_

When she got back over to the shop, Nick was outside looking around. When he spotted her, he paled and ran to her. “Sloane! Oh my God, what happened?”

“Found Dierdre,” she said.

“Are you…?” He hesitated, since it was obvious she was hurt. Bruises, a split lip, a brewing black eye were all rough.

She smiled though. “I won…sort of. I threw her out a window two stories up and she got away.”

“She got away from that?” Nick asked, a little shocked.

“Yeah…but she left something behind.” She smirked as she pulled out the bag. “I need to get to Henrietta’s…”

Nick nodded slowly. “Okay…I can take you. I don’t think you want to drive.”

“Thanks,” she sighed, following him towards her car. “What about Bella?”

“She drank the treatment and…well…”

“Did it work?” She asked hopefully, buckling up.

“We’re not sure exactly, but um…she grew scales.”

“…Huh?”

“Scales. All…up and down her face and neck and…” he gestured before starting the car. “It was a shock, but Rosalee thinks it’s a good sign. A side-effect but they’re not producing any kind of toxic secretion so…their safe?”

“…And how does she feel about that?”

“Well, it hurt less than the branding iron but it’s not what she hoped for. She’s a bit worried but we don’t know how to test it…I hope she gets through it though. She’s never been in love and she really wants that…” He looked down, feeling that bit of hopelessness come back thinking about Juliette.

“…Yeah. Hope it works out.”

“Well, gotta be somebody for everybody,” Nick sighed.

They drove in silence for a while till the made it to Henrietta’s house. Sloane got out and grunted at the pain in her side. Nick came to help her walk up to the door. Henrietta opened it and smiled. “Ah…two Grimms at my door now…Oh, you look like you went a few rounds in a rock tumbler though.”

“I feel like it,” she sighed. She pulled out the bag and held it up. “Is this enough of her blood?” she asked hopefully.

She took the bag, holding it up to her porch light. “Hmmm…Yes, this should do. Come in. Follow me.”

Nick helped her inside and then to the back of the house. There was a covered patio at the back with a concrete floor—and at the center was a spell circle. It was a lot of symbols Nick didn’t recognize, spiraling around to the center where a squat iron vase rested also covered in symbols. At the top was a wooden lid latched to the vase with chains that were small but strong looking, and a coin-slot like slit cut into the wood. It was about the size of a large bongo drum.

“You have all your slips?”

Sloane nodded, pulling out the envelope with them.

“Good. Let’s get started then. I need you to sit in the center and hold the vessel in your hands.”

She sighed and untangled herself from Nick, limping over to the center, picking up the vessel and sitting down where it was.

Nick looked at Henrietta, distrust plain on his face. “This will work?”

“Of course. There are dozens of protections spells. This one I thought would work best because you can keep adding names to it. But this first part is a little painful.”

“What?” he snapped.

“It’s okay, Nick. I’m ready for it,” Sloane said, having figured there would probably be something to it.

He looked at her, worried, but sighed. “You’re taking a long rest after this…”

“Sounds good to me,” she chuckled. “Since she won’t be able to hurt you, you can be the one to run her out of town…”

“Wait, this won’t work on you?”

“The spell requires the one wishing to place it as the initial conduit,” Henrietta said, holding up the glass shard in the bag. “They can’t put their name in the vessel, or it will cause a feedback loop that breaks the spell. So, she will still be a possible target.”

“I’m fine with that. I kicked her ass tonight, I’ll do it again,” Sloane sighed.

“That’s the spirit,” she chuckled. She let go of the bag and they both stared in surprise as it hanged in the air. She moved her finger in a pattern and the bag and glass disappeared bit by bit, as if the atoms were being pulled away and scattered. All that was left was a glob of blood about the size of an eyeball. “Hold the vessel up.” Sloane did so and watches as the blood floated over and began filling in the carved symbols around the top. It glowed a bright red as it did. “Alright, this is the hard part…take a deep breath.”

Sloane did so and so did Nick. Leaning down, Henrietta woged and then placed her hands on the edge of the spell circle. It glowed red a moment, then white. Sloane gritted her teeth as it felt like electricity was coursing through her. But she tightened her hold on the vessel. _Protect them…got to protect them…_

Nick watched, feeling useless. But then he heard the front door open and someone moving inside. He didn’t want to interrupt Henrietta’s concentration, so he moved inside. “Hello…?”

“Hello, Nicholas.”

He turned and felt a punch to the jaw that had him seeing stars. But he didn’t go down. Dierdre was there, covered in scratches, a large one bandaged on her thigh. He straightened, blinking the stars away and glared. “What are you doing here?”

“I followed you. Well, I followed Sloane. We had a lovely heart to heart, then we beat each other black and blue. And it’s strange…she got stronger..”

“Maybe you got weaker.”

She glared and tried to strike again, then actually grabbed him when he dodged and threw him across the room. “I have not gotten weaker! But I want to know how she could be this strong now, but so _weak_ …and I think you’re to blame. You and Kelly, always so weak willed…So much potential, _wasted_. And now Sloane is a waste too. She always was, but at least she could be trusted to do what was necessary before now!”

Nick growled and jumped up. He moved to strike her. She dodged but he brought his foot around to step on her instep and she backed up with a hiss, glaring daggers. They traded a few more blows, knocking over the table—which Dierdre then tried to hit him with but splintered on the floor when he dodged back. Nick used one of the legs to hit her and she backed up, looking surprised. “Sloane is not a waste. She’s the only good thing you’ve ever done.”

She growled and rushed him pushing him against the wall and with an arm over his throat, trying to cut of his air, the other locking the hand with the table leg in place. He glared back and then felt the feeling of his heart slowing, his skin turning white. Dierdre faltered for a fraction of a second in confusion and Nick let go of the leg and grabbed her by the throat to throw her across the room. She rolled and then got up, staring at him. “What the hell…?”

Nick took a deep breath and calmed down. “Yeah, we’ve been through some things you can’t really understand…And I honestly feel sorry for you.”

“Excuse you?” she spat, standing.

“You’re alone. Not even your own flesh and blood wants anything to do with you and I don’t blame her. You have no one, and it’s honestly your fault.”

Dierdre glared. “I don’t need anyone else!” She moved to hit him again. But just as she was about to connect she froze. Her eyes widened. “W…what is going on?” She gasped as the freeze was released and she stumbled back. “What…” She looked at him and moved to try and kick him, making him jump, but she froze again. Growling, she pulled a gun from her coat and aimed it at him. He felt a flash of fear, but her finger froze on the trigger. “WHAT IS THIS?!”

“A spell,” Henrietta said, coming into the room.

“You…you’re a Hexenbiest? She’s friends with you now?” Dierdre looked like she was loosing her mind. Nick had always had this image in his head of a heartless, cold woman—and she was, but there was a burn under her. An anger that was boiling over into madness.

“Yes.”

Dierdre pointed the gun at her and tried to fire but froze again. “What did you do to me?!”

“It’s a protection spell, and I took the liberty of putting my name in it too. Sloane has put the name of all her friends and other important people into it, and she can add more. You’re now unable to hurt them. But they can hurt you.”

Dierdre looked like she’d been slapped and growled before rushing past them into the room. But it was empty. The spell circle, vessel and Sloane were gone. She turned, looking manic. “Where is she?!”

“Also, safe,” Henrietta said. “Now…Officer Burkhardt, this woman is trespassing on my property and I believe she is a threat. Would you kindly arrest her?”

Nick’s eyes widened and he nodded, feeling satisfaction roll through him as he reached for his cuffs. “Yes, I would.” Dierdre glared before lifting her gun and firing at the light above them. The sudden darkness disoriented him for just a second, but he saw her run as fast as she could out the door. He followed, gun raised, and fired a couple of shots that missed as she raced to her car. “I’d rethink staying! You have at least six people you can’t hurt ready to take you down when we find you!” Dierdre looked back and the hatred on her face actually gave Nick pause. But she climbed into a large black SUV with Utah plates and drove off before he could aim again. He cursed but sighed and then went back in. “She got away…”

“Not surprising,” Henrietta sighed. “She’s lived this long as a Grimm after all.”

“Where is Sloane?” Nick said.

“Oh, don’t look so suspicious,” Henrietta chuckled. She went back out to the enclosed patio and opened a trunk off to the side. Sloane was asleep inside, clutching the vessel to her. “The spell took a lot out of her. She collapsed and I moved her here as fast as I could when I heard you and that woman fighting.”

Nick sighed in relief. Leaning down, he lifted her out of the chest with a grunt. “I’ll take her home then.”

“If you’re sure. I can put her up for a little while.”

“I am…but thank you. For…this,” Nick said, not quite looking at her.

Henrietta smiled, taking that as a sign bygones were bygones. “You’re welcome…Let me help you to the car then. And give one more gift…”

\--------------------------------

Dierdre made it back to the old warehouse where she’d been camping out. She’d need to find a new place to set up now. A motel was likely the best choice. But that wasn’t what had her breathing deeply. Her leg twinge from the cut there, but it was nothing she hadn’t pushed through before. It hurt less than her pride.

_How…how could she do this? How could she be stronger than me? How could she actually go to a Hexenbiest for help?! And it worked?!_

Roaring, she struck the beam next to her. It splintered just slightly, and she looked at it.

_“Maybe you got weaker.”_

She growled and struck again. She started to continue punching it, her mind racing. _You have strength in numbers, I have strength in myself! You used magic against me! That’s not strength! You think just because you learned some things you’re **stronger than me**_ **?!!** With another blow, the beam broke, splintering

Dierdre panted, shaking out her hand. She knew who all was likely protected now. While she may have a whole city to hunt in around them, there were too many now she couldn’t fight against. And she knew not to push her luck killing in one city for too long. It was why she wanted to push Sloane out and move on. But she’d somehow out maneuvered her. Breathing deeply, she leaned her head against the beam. _Control…control and don’t let your anger stop you from thinking…_

When she was breathing steadily again she straightened. Then she grabbed up what equipment she brought up with her and headed down to her car. _I’ll show you…you’re not the only one who can get creative._

\-----------------------

Nick called Monroe and Rosalee on the way home and let them know what happened. Especially letting them know that the spell worked. Once home, he made sure there were no other traps—the one in the office scared the shit out of him but he’d been standing to the side to be safe—and then brought Sloane inside.

“Mmm…Nick?” she mumbled.

“Hey, yeah. I brought you home,” he said, carrying her to the bedroom. He set her down and she tried to stay up and get her boots off. Nick helped her and she fell back almost immediately across the bed. Chuckling, he got her facing the right way. It was a bit like dealing with a drunk but at least she seemed happy.

“Vessel…?”

“I got it,” he said, setting a hand on it on her bedside table. “It worked. Dierdre couldn’t hurt me.”

She smiled. “Good…hopefully she leaves…since she can’t hurt me through you…”

“Hopefully. Now rest up.”

“Mmm…Oh, but she said she did hurt other wesen,” she said, looking concerned. “She said so, that she hunted…She killed a Maushertz…left me his head by the Spice Shop. I buried it, I didn’t know what else—”

“Hey, hey, shhhh,” he said, gently pushing her back down as she tried to get up. “We’ll find out what she did and do what we can. But she can’t hurt me, Hank, or Wu now. Or Monroe and Rosalee. We’ll get her.” She hummed again, relaxing. He smiled and stroked back her hair. “Go to sleep. I’ll lock up.”

Sloane settled back. “’Kay…love you…” she mumbled.

Nick blinked, surprised, but then smiled. _She’s pretty out of it…_ “Love you too.”

She smiled happily and fell back asleep. Nick made sure her doors and windows were secure, and on the way out pulled Henrietta’s gift. It was a charm shaped like a hand with an eye in the center—a Hamsa she said. The eye was made from black tourmaline and marble, set into the hand sewn hand stuffed with yarrow, cumin, rosemary and salt. Then infused with magic and a drop of Diedre’s blood. She said she threw it in for free. Hanging it up on the door on the inside, she said used a similar spell and Dierdre wouldn’t be able to enter Sloane’s house uninvited for at least a month. It was the only protection she could offer her for now.

Closing and locking the door, he headed back to his car and home. Juliette wasn’t there when he arrived and the good feelings he felt sifted away. Sighing, he laid down on the couch so he wouldn’t see their bed and missing things and closed his own eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm curious, did anyone see Dierdre being Sloane's mom coming? I had been toying with the idea ever since the start if she should be or if her mother should have her own presence, but this felt more...sad but right. We'll be seeing a lot more of her as the next few chapters roll out and she's just going to get more awful, I can promise that.
> 
> I hope everyone is staying safe right now with the virus going around. My job is "essential" so I'm still working, which is both good and bad as far as worrying about all this. But I do have more time to write with nothing else going on ^^;


	24. Save the Last Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 24 of the Casebook of Sloane Larson
> 
> While Sloane is still worried about Dierdre's next move, Nick is worrying about Juliette's transformation into a Hexenbiest. But a suspicious death at a ballroom brings more of Sloane's past back to her--but is it bad this time? Well, Nick's not amused with the dance lessons! Meanwhile, Adalind is realizing Juliette means to kill her, and is trying to figure out how to get herself out of Kenneth's control.

**“The next morning the soldier said nothing, for he wanted to see the amazing thing once again. He went along the second and third nights, and everything happened as before. Each time they danced until their shoes were in pieces.”**

\-----------------------

Save the Last Dance

\-----------------------

_13 years ago_

_Reno, Nevada_

A young woman of about 16 walked up to a house in the suburbs, a box in hand and a hooded sweatshirt over her hair despite the heat. She set the box down, the rattle of the couple of small trophies inside the only sound in the evening air. She straightened one, lingering on it, but then sighed and let go. Pulling a small note from her pocket, she taped it to one trophy.

_I’m sorry. Thank you, but goodbye._

_-E_

Straightening, she rushed off again, towards the apartments a few blocks over. Outside a woman was packing up a large SUV. She was fit, with dark hair and one white streak through her forelock. She looked up and glared. “Where did you run off to?”

“Just…getting rid of some things,” a rather meek voice said.

“Well, make yourself useful and get the herb box. We need to get out of here.”

She nodded, grabbing the box and securing it where it needed to go. “…Dierdre?”

“What?” she asked, closing up the back.

“Where are we going next?”

“Hell if I know,” she sighed. “You’re what, a Junior now?”

“No, still a sophomore…”

She groaned slightly. “Great, that’s another couple of years in school…” she sighed in frustration.

“I could drop out?”

“No. That would just raise questions. You still look too young, no one would believe you weren’t still a child,” she huffed. She then pulled something out of her pocket. “Here. Burn this, we don’t need it anymore. You’ll be getting a new one. Hope you didn’t get attached in two years.”

She took the paper—A birth certificate with a fake Social Security card in the name of Emma Klein. “…Can I use my real name?”

“Real name?” she said, sneering a bit. “Obviously not. I use your name, no one else can know or it could get us caught by the law. Stop getting sentimental and just burn that. Emma Klein is dead, and you don’t exist. We’ll pick you out a new name next place we go.” She was quiet and Dierdre turned to glare. “Do I need to repeat myself, _Sloane_?”

“No, sorry,” she said, quickly grabbing the lighter from the car and going over to the dumpster. She checked to make sure no one was watching before clicking the flame on and burning the certificate to cinders. “…Bye, Emma…”

\-----------------

_Present day_

_Portland, Oregon_

A week passed and there was no sign of Dierdre.

This was almost a relief, if it wasn’t so nerve wracking.

“I don’t have any updates,” Renard sighed. This was the third time Sloane had asked this week. “I understand you’re worried. But we haven’t had any other mysterious deaths or disappearances since you did that spell. Maybe she left?”

“Maybe…” Sloane said hesitantly. Her bruises and cracked ribs were already healed thanks to rest and care (and Henrietta mainly), but she was still paranoid. “But I don’t think she’s given up. I expected her to keep hunting, taunting me, figuring out something to get me angry…not just slink away.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but we can’t do anything till we either track her down or she reveals herself…Maybe you should take a little time off.”

“Time off? I had two weeks off not too long ago,” she said incredulously.

“That was when you were recovering. From a broken leg.”

“…Yeah. And it was awful. I had nothing to do.”

Renard sighed but stood, shooing her towards the door. “You need to find some way to relax before you drive yourself crazy. Find a hobby.”

“My hobbies are generally considered felonies.”

“That kind of hunting is not a hobby. Garden. Knit. Paint. Just something that takes your mind off of Dierdre for now.”

Sloane frowned but let herself be gently pushed out of the door. “Easier said than done…do you have a hobby?”

“…Yes. But I won’t say what it is.”

“Why not? Embarrassed?” she asked, curious now.

“Go find your own hobby,” he said, pointing to the door.

She sighed and walked back over to her desk. Nick and Hank looked up. “You okay?” Hank asked.

“No. I keep waiting for Dierdre to do something and she hasn’t.”

“…That’s good though.”

“Not when I know she’s planning something and the anticipation makes it hard to sleep again…” Grimms could go a while without sleep, but there was a point when the lack of sleep vs time could start to fray anyone's nerves.

“Ah,” Nick said, understanding. “Well, we’re alright for now. If she isn’t culling the rest of the wesen in the city, maybe she’s planning something somewhere else.”

“That’s not comforting, Nick. If she’s taking time to plan something out, it’s going to be bad…” she said.

Nick frowned. This was really weighing on her. He’d hoped the protection spell would help ease her fears, but he supposed that he couldn’t blame her that it felt more like the eye of the storm and it would be coming back for them any moment. “Well, whatever happens, you got six near invincible friends who can take her down.” She did smile a bit more at that.

“Come to think of it, you collecting more for your…jar?” Hank asked.

“Yep. Sent some tabs around to others. Bud and his family, Trubel and Josh, Jacob, Gallin…”

“After she told Dierdre about us?” Nick asked dubiously.

“I called and talked to her. She was super apologetic—but Dierdre threatened her niece. Told her not to warn us too. I kind of figured it was something like that so I sent her a tab for both of them so she wouldn’t have to worry.”

“That’s good,” Nick smiled. He then looked up behind her. “…You send one to Mim and Jean?”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, I don’t know if Dierdre would go after them after all these years, she must have a reason not to, but better safe than sorry.”

“Were they supposed to send it back by mail?”

“…Yes?”

“Did you specify that?”

Sloane frowned then turned her body in her chair to follow his gaze. Then promptly nearly fell out of it. Mim and Jean were at the front desk, talking to the poor officer in reception animatedly. She quickly got up and rushed over to save her.

“…telling you, we are family! Even if we’re not related by blood!” Mim was shouting.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t just say whether Detective Larson is here or not to anyone without an appointment, it’s a security issue!” the officer said back.

“Diaz! I’m sorry, it’s fine,” Sloane said, rushing up. The officer sighed, mostly in relief, and quickly walked off to let her handle it. She turned to her aunts who smiled brightly, and she had to smile back a bit. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but what the hell are you doing here?”

“We got your letter and we wanted to check things out for ourselves,” Jean said. “Oh sweetheart, you look thin…and tired.”

“Jean, don’t tell that to the girl, she’ll get a complex.”

Sloane just chuckled. She remembered a similar conversation when she was young. “Well, I’m glad to see you.”

“Hey, Mim, Jean,” Nick said, waving as he walked up with Hank.

“Oh, there’re your boys!” Jean smiled, going over to them.

“My boys?” Sloane asked, arching her brow.

“It’s what she’s calling them,” Mim said, smiling too. “It’s good to see you two. It’s been almost a year now.”

“Nice to see you too,” Nick said, accepting the hug from Jean.

“You should really come back to Wildred soon though! It’s changed quite a bit again, but for the better.”

“Yeah. The new Sheriff and the girl you sent us for a Deputy have whipped the department into shape, that’s for sure,” Mim said.

“We’ve had a lot of people moving in who say your name too, Sloane. A Langen ohren _and_ Willahara mother and daughter pair both showed up within months of each other.”

“Oh yeah, how are they?”

“Doing good. Mrs. Bennet is the school secretary at your old elementary now. Mrs. Munoz started as a clerk at the grocery store and has already moved up to manager. The girls settled in fine and honestly, things are going real well.”

“Which is why we were so upset to know Dierdre came here and almost messed your life here up!” Jean said. “We wanted to come check on you in person.”

“Come to think of it, you two must’ve known Dierdre for a while?” Nick asked.

“A bit,” Mim sighed. “She was 10 when I ended up with Rebecca in Wildred. She was always…difficult. Then her father died, and it got worse. Rebecca got me off to college a bit after that, and Jean too, so we were not around for a while. She finally up and left at 17 and we didn’t see her again for a long time…”

Sloane was quiet a moment before nodding. “Yeah…I’d like to talk to you guys about some stuff actually…but not here.”

They looked a bit worried but nodded. Nick set a hand on her shoulder. “Go on, we’ll cover for you.”

She smiled and nodded to Mim and Jean as they headed out to their cars to go to her place.

\----------

Katarina watched her steps in the mirror as she moved, flicking her feet and twirling. She was beautiful, in her twenties and with fiery red hair and a slender build. She was more prone to slow dances, but her partner wanted to do something livelier at the upcoming competition. So, she was trying work on her quick step. She sighed and tried again, trying to get the step down, but her flowing practice skirt kept getting in her way. She was getting angry despite the upbeat music playing. “Dammit…”

A hand reached out to the stereo to push a different button and the music changed into something slow and romantic. Katarina paused in confusion before turning. “What…Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here?” She frowned as he reached a handout to her. “Um…I’m waiting for Grisha.” He kept his hand out and she smiled. “You need to practice that bad? Fine…” She took his hand and he pulled her into a hold for a waltz. The started dancing and she smiled, looking entranced for a time. Then she started having trouble catching her breath. “What…?” Her hand where he held it started shriveling up and she tried to pull in enough breath to scream. “S…stop…” she said, only managing a whisper. He kept dancing with her as she slowly turned into a husk and her breathing was little more than a rasp. Then he set her down gently and walked away.

In the hall, a young man with dark hair and hawkish features was moving quickly up towards the practice room. “Kat! Sorry I’m late, I had to get new laces for my…shoes…Kat?” He walked slowly forward where he saw her body. “Kat…this isn’t funny,” he said, leaning down to shake her awake. She was awake, he found out, when she turned to him and reached out desperately, gasping to draw in air like a fish on a dock. The black veins around her face were in stark relief to the pallor of her skin and she was crying. He screamed and it echoed through the building.

\---------------------

Sloane set the cups of tea down on the table before sitting with Mim and Jean. She took a sip, thinking.

“…You okay there, hon?” Jean asked.

“Yeah, just…Dierdre mentioned some things I’m curious about.”

They glanced at one another before back at her. “Well…she never exactly told us much, but we can try and help,” Mim said. “Shoot.”

“…Did she ever tell you anything about my father?”

That surprised them. “Your father? No…”

“I’m afraid she definitely never mentioned him. We helped when she came back pregnant as much as we could without her…”

“Going off on us,” Mim said dryly.

“That, yes. But she never wanted to talk about how she got pregnant. We learned to just drop it.”

“You traveled with her for almost 10 years, she never mentioned him?”

Sloane shook her head. “I asked once and the look she gave me was enough to say don’t ask again…but she mentioned him when I confronted her to get her blood. Said she loved him.”

Mim choked a little on her tea, coughing, and Jean looked surprised too. “Really? I mean…I rather assumed that sort of thing didn’t interest her. Even young she didn’t seem the romantic type.”

“I thought she’d eat any man she had sex with like a black widow spider…”

“Mim!”

“What, you thought it too.”

“And on that note, she mentioned he betrayed her.”

“…Well that could mean anything knowing Dierdre. Helped wesen, lied about his heritage, got the wrong kind of mustard…”

“You will not let that go.”

“She yelled at me over mustard! Damn straight I’m not letting it go, pregnancy cravings or no,” Mim griped. “But yeah, sorry Girlie. We don’t know anything about him…”

Sloane shrugged. “I figured, but it got me curious. Um…next question, why hasn’t she actually…killed you?”

“Ah, because she’s merciless?” Sloane nodded and Mim sighed. “I guess it’s in respect to your grandmother.”

“Yes, she tried to have us get along. She was like a mother to us too after all. Never quite worked out though…” Jean sighed.

“Well, I still want to protect you from her. Did you bring those tabs I sent?”

“Yep. Though I gotta say, I’m not sure how comfortable I am with this. Hexenbiests aren’t the most trustworthy creatures…” Mim dug into her jacket and pulled out her sunglasses case, where she’d put the tabs for safe keeping.

“Generally, I agree. But Henrietta seems fine,” she said, taking them from her.

“If you trust her, so will we,” Jean said.

She nodded and looked at the tabs. “…One more question. Did my grandfather really commit suicide?”

“What?” Mim asked, surprised.

“That’s what I always heard, but Dierdre said that’s not what happened…That a wesen Oma was helping killed him.”

They looked at one another again, hesitating, but finally sighed. “Yeah…that’s true.”

Sloane straightened. “Really?”

“Yes. But it’s more complicated than that too…” Jean said. “The wesen that did it was…a trap, we’ll say.”

“A trap?”

“We’re not sure by who, but we found a letter specifying to kill Rebecca and Dierdre to end their bloodline,” Mim said, staring down into the tea. “Charles found him trying to get into Dierdre’s room—which they’d locked just to be safe. Rebekah wanted to help but she wasn’t stupid. Another wesen lured Rebecca out while he was to kill Dierdre. He didn’t think Charles would be a threat, but that man…God, he should’ve been a Grimm. But Deidre opened the door and he got in front of her to save her, ended up strangled by the thing’s tongue…”

“A…a Phansigar?” Sloane asked in surprise.

“We think so,” Jean nodded. “He still managed to kill it though. Rebecca came back to find Charles in front of the door, keeping it closed, and Deidre screaming and crying for her father…”

“…Is it bad I…can’t imagine my mother doing that? Crying?”

“I can’t blame you. She was a brat, but she wasn’t a bad kid. That…changed her. More so we had to say he committed suicide—how the hell else would we explain that bruising? Anyone who knew Charles would know he wouldn’t do that but…”

“…I always assumed…being married to a Grimm took it’s tole,” Sloane said quietly.

“Oh, it did. They definitely had their arguments, especially when she wanted to travel for a hunt, but they always made up. He understood and even helped pretty often. But Dierdre…because her mother was often busy as a Grimm, she was closer with Charles. He walked her through her first time seeing a wesen—luckily it was me. But she had a late start really teaching her empathy to them. It’s why she made sure to retire when you came along. She wanted to be sure to raise you to be…”

“Kind,” Mim said, smiling sadly and wiping at her eyes.

Sloane was quiet before standing. “I’m…gonna go put these in the vessel. I’ll be right back.”

They nodded, watching her go. Sloane felt her mind buzzing with all this new information. She had thought, reading the journals, her grandfather didn’t sound the type to commit suicide. Even after the war he’d gone right into business in Wildred as a renovator/salvager. He was the one that got Mim into learning engineering to build things. It was a relief on some level to know he hadn’t killed himself. But it was also somehow just as tragic knowing the truth. _He and Oma died protecting their family…and my own mother feels nothing for me. May actually try to kill me now._

Sighing, she went to her closet and upturned part of the carpet. There a safe was embedded in the floor—about two feet square and two feet deep. It was something she’d had done shortly after she moved in by a contractor for cash without a lot of questions. Opening it with the combination, she looked down inside. There were a few books that were a bit more precious inside, including her grandmother’s journals. And now, at the side to keep it steady with a small wall of books, was the vessel. She slipped Mim and Jean’s papers inside and it briefly lit up and she felt a little energy drained from her. It would do that with each new name, but then it was fine on its own.

Closing the safe and spinning the imbedded dial, she replaced the carpet.

“Sloane! You’re phone is going off!” Mim called.

She stepped out quickly and grabbed her phone from the kitchen bar she’d set it down on, accepting the call. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey. Sorry to interrupt you all, but we got a case. Sounds like a suspicious death. Suspect,” Nick said. Suspect was a new code word for _“Wesen?”_ when they were talking in public.

“Where?”

“Golden Grove Ballroom. It’s a venue and dance school downtown.”

“…B…Ballroom?”

“Yeah…you okay?”

“No, yeah, fine, um…be there soon.”

“Okay.” They hanged up and Sloane bit her lip. It had ben a _long_ time since she’d been at a Ballroom…

“Gotta head out?” Mim asked.

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” she sighed. “We have a suspicious death. It might be wesen. I mean…”

“We understand,” Jean said with a smile. “We used to help Rebecca.”

“Go on but be safe. We’ll hang out here if that’s okay.”

“Of course! And you’re staying in my guest room,” she said, grabbing her jacket to get ready.

“We don’t mind getting a room somewhere.”

“If you haven’t already, stay,” she said again. “It’ll be nice.”

They smiled and waved as she headed out the door. “I heard her say Ballroom,” Mim said, sipping her tea.

“She used to dance everywhere when she was younger…” Jean sighed.

“She still does when she thinks people aren’t watching. Saw her once when we visited last year, shaking her groove thing while folding laundry.”

“And you didn’t video it for me?” she gasped, betrayed.

Mim smiled. “I love you, but I’m to old to run to save that damn phone from her.”

\---------------------

Sloane headed up the steps to the dance studio, looking around curiously. The bottom floor was almost entirely a ballroom event center. She had looked it up on her phone after she arrived and Golden Grove was about 40 years old and was a dance studio, ballroom and events center. It had its own events, but also regularly rented the space out and offered classes. Studios were upstairs and down and the officers on scene directed her upstairs. She knew it was a practice room from the large mirror all along one wall and her shoes echoed in the room.

“Sloane, hey!” Wu said, waving over where a body was on the floor. Nick and Hank were there as well.

“You guys start without me?” she asked.

“No, we waited,” Nick said.

“Yeah, you might know more about this,” Wu said, looking down at the body. It was a young woman, maybe mid-twenties, lying on the ground. She had bright red hair, the kind that was obviously dyed, and was wearing a simple top with a long flowing skirt over tights, and kitten heels. But it was her body that stood out—and not in a way anyone would wish. Her veins had all seemed to turn a blue-black, especially around her hands which seemed almost dehydrated in how boney they were—though no other part of her was dry. “Katarina Dvorak. A competitive ballroom dancer, she was here practicing for the upcoming competition. Her partner, Grisha…uh…” He held out the notebook. “I asked him to spell it, but I still can’t pronounce that,” he said quietly.

“…Vi-no-gra-dov,” Sloane said slowly. “It’s Russian.”

“Oh good, more Russians,” Hank sighed. “It’s not that Rasputin one?” Wu looked at him in confusion.

“No, not a Koschie, that’s for sure. This isn’t radiation poisoning. This is how she was found?” Nick asked.

“Right. He found her like this, he was running late because of his shoes apparently. Alive for a little while but then she went into respiratory failure and passed away before EMTs could get here.”

“What caused this?” Hank asked, frowning.

“We’re not sure. It’s not exactly obvious,” Wu sighed.

Sloane knelt down, accepting some gloves to put on before looking her over gently. “…Damn…”

“You know what did this?” Nick asked quietly.

“Possibly…it would make sense of this,” she gestured at the veins.

“Wesen?”

“Oh yeah,” she nodded. “But…to do kill like this is still out of the norm nowadays…” She looked up when another officer came close and she gave them a look that said _later._ Standing, she looked around and walked over to the stereo. Pushing play, the sound of a waltz came out. This would be the last thing she listened to, and it was a dance you really needed your partner to practice. “Is her partner here?”

“In the other room. He had a slight panic attack, some of the other dancers who were practicing in the other rooms called the police,” Wu said.

“We’ll need to talk to them too,” Hank said. He nodded and went to start rounding people up while they walked out and through the door. There were a few other people in there, the girls dressed similarly to Katarina and the men dressed in exercise pants and tops but with shined shoes. They were able to pick out Grisha by seeing him sitting in a chair with a blanket over his shoulders and walked over.

“Mr. Vinogradov?” Sloane asked. He looked up, looking numb. “Hi, we’re Detectives Larson, Griffin and Burkhardt. We’d like to ask you some questions if you’re up to it…”

He blinked but nodded a little. “Okay…”

“You’re Katarina’s partner, correct?”

“Yes…W-we’ve been dancing together since we were teens…”

“Were you…?” Nick asked.

“Ah, no, not like that,” he said, waving a hand. “We did date for a little bit, but we made better dance partners than romantic partners. I mean, she was one of my best friends…I just…can’t believe…”

“She arrived here first?”

“Yeah…I broke a shoelace, so I had to get a new pair. I texted her but I knew she’d already be practicing. We were going to do a Quickstep at the competition this year and that’s not her strongest…It wasn’t…”

Sloane frowned. “The last song on the stereo was for a waltz.”

He frowned back. “A waltz…that’s her strongest, why would she…?”

“Did Katarina have anyone who disliked her?” Hank asked.

Grisha looked out at the crowd of people behind them. Many turned away as if being caught staring. “This is a competition. Starting drama isn’t uncommon…But I can’t think they’d do something like that to her. Or how they could. I-I didn’t see anyone when I went into the room.”

Sloane eyed them all as well before turning back. “We’ll let you rest but we might have some questions later. Here’s our card if you need to contact us.”

He nodded, taking the card. “Thanks…I…Need to go call her parents.” He stood, looking dejected, and headed out with an officer to walk him.

Nick sighed. “We might have to question all these people…”

“There’s like a dozen of them…Better get started. Where do we want to—”

“Emma? Emma Klein, is that you…?”

Sloane didn’t react at first, but the full name gave her pause and she turned. She nearly dropped her notebook when she saw the man walking up to her. He was her age, tall, fairly good looking with blonde hair and brown eyes, a familiar birthmark on his neck, and dressed in a practice outfit like the other men. She very, _very_ nearly said his name. But she managed to school her face into confusion. “Uh…No, sir, sorry. I’m Detective Sloane Larson, Portland PD.” She held out her hand. Nick and Hank glanced at one another, unsure what was going on.

He deflated a little in disappointment. “Oh…Sorry, you just…reminded me of someone I knew a long time ago.” He took her hand and shook it. “I’m Thomas Lang. One of the competitors. I’m here with Maria Bellomo.” He gestured to a woman with olive skin and dark hair who was looking a bit put out by him coming over to introduce himself.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Lang.”

“You too…”

“Um, we’d like to ask all the contestants some questions. You wouldn’t mind coming with us to the next room, would you?” Nick asked.

“Of course. I don’t know how much help we’ll be though…” He followed them out to the other room where they sat at a quickly unfolded card table.

“So, can you tell us your version of events?”

Thomas sighed. “There’s not a lot to tell, to be honest. Several of us came into the large room to practice and I suppose scope out the competition. Katarina was practicing alone in the side studio since Grisha wasn’t in and they wanted to do a different sort of dance.”

“You know them well?” Hank asked.

“Not that well, no. They recently turned started trying to go pro on their own but are still green, and they live in Seattle. I’m from Nevada.”

“Wait, so…why are you here?”

“For the competition. It’s a tempting prize, 1st place is $5,000, which is pretty great. Second is $3,500, and Third is $2,000.”

“For dancing?” Nick asked. Sloane shot him a mild look of disapproval at the incredulous tone.

Thomas just smiled. “I know people tend to dismiss it, but think about it: How is it different than any other sport? We learn skills, steps, routines, and let me tell you we work up a sweat. And we put ourselves out there for people to watch and judge us.”

“Fair enough,” Nick nodded, admitting he had a point.

“Did anyone dislike Katarina?” Hank asked.

“Mmm…no, I don’t think so. She was a bit eager to prove herself and could be…showy, but dance competitions rely often on standing out so that’s not surprising.”

“Did anyone leave the room around that time?”

“Ah…not that I saw, but Maria and I were focused on our dance so I can’t be sure…”

Nick sighed but nodded. “Okay. That’s enough for now. Don’t leave town though, we may have further questions.”

“Of course.”

“And if you could please send in your partner, we’ll start with her.” He nodded and looked at Sloane again before heading for the door. “…Sloane, do you know that guy?” he asked quietly.

“He called you “Emma”,” Hank said.

Sloane sighed and glanced back but leaned down on the table. “Yeah…I went to school with him for a while, in Nevada…Under a different identity though.”

“Seriously?” Nick whispered. “What if he outs that? It could put your work here in danger!”

“Don’t think I haven’t realized that,” she sighed, messaging her temples. “My past just wants to haunt me apparently…” she groaned.

“When did you last see him?”

“When I was 16. I was in Reno for two years and…we actually got close. It was the longest I’d ever been in one place for years to be honest. Dierdre…was traveling a lot. I’d join her sometimes during the summer but then she’d send me back because it was convenient.”

“…Wait, she left you alone? At sixteen?” Hank asked.

“She sent money for food and what not, but yeah. I did a few hunts, got extra cash…It was fine—”

“Sloane,” Nick warned.

“…I got through it. Not that she cared,” she sighed.

“And this guy was your friend?”

“Yeah…No, he was Emma Klein’s friend…and she doesn’t exist anymore,” she sighed.

They looked up when the heard clipped heals making their way over and Maria Bellomo took a seat. She was very beautiful but looked dour as she huffed and sat down. “Let’s get this over with.”

They glanced at one another and sighed. “Alright…What do you remember of the incident?”

“Nothing. Because I didn’t see it. I was dancing with Thomas, and we were doing fine, and then Grisha screamed bloody murder—excuse the phrase—and scared us all! That’s all I know.”

They all arched a brow. “You…don’t seem concerned one of your fellow dancers suddenly collapsed and died,” Hank said.

She sighed. “I feel sorry for her, of course. But honestly she probably did it to herself.”

“Excuse me?” Sloane asked, frowning.

“I see it all the time. Girls get self-conscious, they start dieting, or get an eating disorder, or use shady pills and the like and it puts a strain on their body and their organs. They fall over, dead, rather than get help. Or in her case, just accept she wasn’t cut out to be a pro.”

“That’s a lie!”

They looked up to see Grisha in the doorway, glaring daggers at her. “Kat didn’t do any of that! She stayed in shape because of dance, it was her passion, and she was good at it!”

“Good does not equal pro,” Maria said derisively.

“You’re just jealous because she actually had passion and didn’t dance like a dead fish!”

Maria glared and rose. “Excuse me?!”

“Okay, everyone calm down!” Nick said, holding up his hands. “Mr. Vinogradov, please stay outside while we’re speaking with witnesses.”

“But—”

“We need to get the whole picture, from everyone, regardless of personal opinions. It’s the best way to figure out what happened and interrupting us doesn’t help.”

He looked at Maria angrily another moment before turning to head out. “Little brat. He dances like a drunk frat boy and has the nerve to call me a fish,” she muttered, sitting back down, trying to calm herself.

They all looked at one another and realized with how dramatic and _passionate_ dancers could be, this might take a while…

\-----------------------

Gallin walked out of her class feeling pretty good. They’d had an anatomy test that day and she was pretty sure she aced it after studying. She’d also gotten those tabs sent off. Getting a tiny bit of her niece’s blood had been awkward but when she said it was for a project she’d agreed easily, and she’d gotten it in a visit to their part of the state. The fact that Sloane didn’t hold telling Dierdre what she knew against her was a huge relief. Taking the bus home, she paused when she got to the door. Something felt…off. Frowning, she tried the knob and found it was unlocked. She was certain she locked it before leaving. But she’d been stressed with the test in her brain, so maybe she didn’t… Swallowing, she grabbed her pepper spray from her purse and slowly walked in.

Nothing seemed immediately wrong. There was a little mess but that had honestly already been there—she wasn’t the neatest at home. Work yes, home no. But she couldn’t shake the feeling. Walking further in, she scanned the living room, the kitchenette, and then went to the bedroom. It wasn’t a large apartment despite what she was charged for it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary there either. _Maybe I’m just being paranoid…_

She was about to just go relax finally until a thought occurred to her. _No…_ She quickly walked over to her bed and knelt down, reaching under to grab a metal lock box under her bed. Pulling it out and unlocking it with a key on her keyrings, she looked inside. Several documents were there—Birth certificate, SSN card, etc.—but also her Grimm Library card, contact numbers and other important numbers, books and references. “Seems like it’s all here…wait…” She pawed through them more furiously. _Gwen’s recipe book…where is it?!_

As she started looking around, hoping somehow it had just fallen out, she had no idea Dierdre was out on her balcony to the side where she couldn’t be seen through the windows. She smiled and looked at the book in her hand. When she’d originally called Gallin for information on Sloane and her little friends, she’d mentioned when they’d gone to a Glitrende Hud for help. Though she’d been disgusted, she had found the story interesting. Gallin mentioned taking care of the beast’s notes, and that made Dierdre curious to see if that meant destruction or safekeeping. She seemed the sentimental sort so her still having something of the ice-wesen was logical. She knew Sloane was likely going to extend her protection to Gallin and anyone else she could use, so a bit of subterfuge seemed the better answer. She’d spent the whole morning examining Gallin’s apartment after tracking her down a few days before. Looking at things and moving them back as exactly to where they were as she could. Nothing was perfect though and she could hear Gallin starting to search.

Going back through wasn’t going to work so Dierdre looked down over the side. After a little consideration she tucked the book into her inner pocket and vaulted over the railing. They were three stories up, but it wasn’t hard to drop down to the next balcony. The couple making out inside were surprised for a moment before she vaulted over again and landing on the railing below, then stepped off it and onto the sidewalk to walk away.

\-----------------------

It took a couple of hours, but they interviewed the rest of the dancers. Most expressed sadness and shock that Katarina was dead. A few maybe expressed a little too hard. They appeared to wear their hearts on their sleeves.

The last person to interview was actually the owner of the studio, who Wu was finally able to track down.

“Mr. Stepenov, these are Detectives Larson, Burkhardt and Griffin. This is Edmund Stepenov, owner of Golden Grove.”

The man was older but stood straight with perfect posture even with the cane in his hands. He had finely trimmed steel-grey hair and a was clean shaven, the very definition of a refined older gentleman in his fifties. He also spoke with a Russian accent. “Thank you for coming so soon. I apologize I wasn’t available; I was looking into the arrangements for the competition off site. The florist and the caterer to be exact.”

“So, you weren’t on the premises when the victim was killed?” Nick asked.

“No…I honestly cannot believe this happened,” he said, brow pinched with concern. “Katarina was the picture of health, so I don’t imagine it was natural. Did someone…assault her?”

“We’re going to have to wait on the preliminary examination, but there was no sign of sexual assault,” Hank said. He sighed, looking a little relieved. “We’re still looking into what happened, so we don’t know the cause yet.”

“I see…Well, whatever I can do to help, just let me know.”

“Mr. Stepenov!” They looked up to see Maria walking determinedly towards him. Thomas was trailing behind, looking embarrassed and frustrated. “Mr. Stepenov, what about the competition?”

The man blinked. “The competition, Ms. Bellomo?”

“The competition will go on as planned, won’t it?” Sloane couldn’t help but look at the woman in disgust and glance back at Thomas. He was hanging his head, apparently annoyed with her behavior as well.

“I don’t know that this is the time to discuss that,” Mr. Stepenov said slowly.

“Why not? She has a point.” They looked up to see another man coming up the hall. He was tall and handsome, with finely chiseled features and muscles and dark hair. He was dressed in jeans, boots and a well fitted jacket. “After all, we have so many guests that came in.”

“Illya,” he said warningly.

“Father,” he said, imitating the tone with a smirk.

“Father?” Hank asked.

“Yes. This is my son, Illya Stepenov. He is the teacher of my school here at the center. My other son helps handle the back of the house. Isaak?” He looked around.

“Here, father.” Another handsome man walked over, and they realized quickly the two were identical twins. “I was letting the officers know I’d pull security footage for them.”

“Oh, sucking up to the police now,” Illya said.

He looked at his brother reproachfully. “Illya, you are making yourself a nuisance again.”

“Oh, that hurts,” he said, laughing.

“Were you both here when this happened?”

The brothers glanced at one another and Illya quirked a brow. “I was actually on my way over. Classes were on hold for the competition.”

“And Isaak was on the phone with me when it happened. I rely on him to help me make sure we’re preparing things adequately for the competition,” Edmund said. Isaak sighed but nodded, though his brother frowned. “But we may just have to take the hit and cancel…” He looked at Isaak who was nodding slowly.

“I don’t think that would be wise,” Illya said.

“You talking about wisdom isn’t wise,” Isaak said snidely.

“Hey! I’m only trying to help. We have nearly 20 couples who’ve come for this competition. I understand it’s a tragedy, but it’d be awful to turn them away after coming all the way here. They might avoid us in the future. We don’t want to lose all our business and close.”

Isaak frowned more worriedly and seemed to sweat a bit.

“That’s right!” Maria said.

Mr. Stepenov sighed. “I need to think on it…I will await what your police say about Katarina. Until then, it will be on hold.”

“But—” Maria started.

“That is my decision,” he said, thumping the cane on the floor. That seemed to signal all of them to be quiet and he looked back at the detectives. “If you need me, please call.”

They nodded, watching him and his two children walk away. Maria sniffed but then stomped away as well and Thomas gave them an apologetic look.

“…Weird family,” Hank said. They started heading out and he looked around before looking at them. “Any of them woge?”

“Not that I saw,” Nick said.

“Me neither. But I do think this is wesen…”

“What makes you say that?”

“I’ve dealt with this before…I have the book at my house, if you guys want to head over.”

“Sure, sounds good. We can grab dinner too.”

“Do you need to let Juliette know?” she asked.

Nick flinched and Hank grimaced a little, looking at him. “You haven’t mentioned…?”

“No,” he sighed.

Sloane frowned, looking between them. “What? What did I say?”

Nick paused in the stair rail and sighed, hesitating still. “…Juliette…isn’t staying at our house right now,” Nick said.

Sloane’s eyebrows rose. “I…huh? She’s not?”

“No. She moved out a little over a week ago…” he said.

“Why? I mean, I know you said you were having some problems…” she asked, confused and concerned.

“She…there were some aftereffects of the spell to bring back my Grimm powers.”

“Are you okay?” she asked quickly.

“Yeah, it…it didn’t affect me. I think that and everything else just kind of…it was too much.”

“Oh…wow, I…I’m sorry, Nick,” she said honestly.

“Thanks…I’m hoping to work it all out, but for now just…letting her have space. Trying to call her didn’t really work out well.”

“Okay…let me know if…I don’t know, just if I can do anything.”

He nodded and Hank gave him a look behind Sloane’s back when she turned to keep heading down. Nick shook his head. He still didn’t want to tell Sloane exactly what the side effects were.

Sloane for her part was trying not to be _happy._ It felt pathetic and wrong to be glad Nick and Juliette had all but broken up, but an annoying little spark of hope was in her chest and trying to push her into stupid ideas and fantasies.

\-----------------------

Adalind was starting to feel more like child than a powerful Hexenbiest. She was trying to ingratiate herself to Kenneth, but he brushed her off at every chance. Today he’d told her that she should take one of Rispoli’s men and go shopping. Use the royal card. Back before everything started unraveling she would’ve enjoyed this and gotten all the designer clothes she could carry and come back to wreak havoc on the shoes. Now she found herself uninterested in them. None of this brought Diana back to her. This was meant as a distraction because Kenneth didn’t trust her and more than that, didn’t want her around. She was likely only still there or still alive thanks to the King.

_None of the royals care about me…I always knew that, but why does it feel so lonely now? Because of what Henrietta said?_

She was losing herself staring into a window and looked up. Her blood went cold when she saw Juliette in the reflection. Turning, she saw her there, glaring at her, her hand pointed upwards. Adalind turned her head up in time to see a gargoyle at the top of the shop starting to tip over, pulled by an invisible force. She was frozen for a moment until Rispoli’s man rammed into her like a linebacker to push her out of the way. It smashed to the ground and several people screamed in shock. Adalind looked around again and Juliette was gone. _Oh, shit…_

\----------------------

Getting to Sloane’s house, she headed in and Mim and Jean looked up and smiled. “Hey, welcome back! Oh, you brought the boys,” Mim said.

“Yeah, um…we’re still working the case,” Sloane said. She had forgotten they were here for a moment, even with their car in the driveway.

“Oh? Ohhh, it’s…” Jean said.

“I think so. Um, I gotta look through my stuff…”

“Don’t mind us,” Mim said, waving a hand. “We used to help Rebecca all the time. We understand you have some Grimm necessities somewhere.”

Sloane sighed in relief and headed into the office. She picked up her rolodex from the desk and turned it to P, finding the entry she needed and going to grab the book.

Nick and Hank hanged back in the living room at first. Jean looked up at them and smiled. “So…how is she doing?”

“At work? Great,” Nick said.

“Yeah, she’s a natural born detective.”

“Good, good…but what about not at work?”

“After what we heard happened in Idaho—which I still resent not being told sooner—and now Dierdre, we worried she might’ve had some problems,” Mim added.

“We’re…keeping an eye on her,” Nick said. “She tries to not show that kind of thing though.”

“Oh yeah, she hides it well. Just worries us more though…”

“Okay, got it!” Sloane said, coming back out. “I’m fairly certain this is our culprit.” She turned the book and held it out. The sketch sent a shiver up Nick’s back—it showed a skeletal human figure wearing fine clothes, with wisps of dark smoke or mist coming off of him, holding the lifeless body of a woman as if dancing with them. “Phantänzchen?” he sounded out.

“It’s portmanteau of “Phantom” and “Tänzchen”—German for dance.”

“Phantom dancers?” Hank asked curiously.

“Something like that. Here, listen. “In my travels through Bavaria I came upon a group of intrepid Phantänzchen. A noble with six lovely daughters was distraught that his children were becoming ill one by one. The night before each grew sickly, the girl somehow vanishes and returns the morning with the soles of their dancing shoes nearly worn through and gravely ill. The Noble had locked their doors at night to attempt to keep them safe but still they seemed to get out and return exhausted the next day. No current illnesses are spreading to explain the exhaustion, or the worn shoes. Two daughters were already dead, and another was close it seemed. The girl was exhausted, her hands were shriveled and her veins almost black along her arms and up to her face. Promising I would help, I staked out the girl’s rooms that for three nights from the bushes at their window. At midnight I witnessed the next girl in line stand at her window in in a trance, dressed for dancing. And just below the windows appeared the Phantänzchen. I knew what it was by the telltale features of his smoke-like hair and translucent skin giving fleeting glances of his bones beneath. I do not know what the girl saw, but it was enticing enough to allow the Phantänzchen to spirit up to her balcony door and descend with her in his arms, leading her away to some secret place where he might feed on her young life through his ghoulish dance. I followed and found others waiting their turn—they all intended to dance and steal the life from her. I surprised them and managed to get the girl to safety before hunting them down. It was a difficult fight as he can make himself nigh impossible to strike, but they couldn’t hold that mist-like form forever and I was finally able to take their heads. I do not know if the girl will make a complete recovery as her hands seem to be damaged, but I believe she will at least live.””

“Well, that’s creepy,” Mim said, putting an arm around Jean almost protectively.

“Very,” Nick agreed. “But what’s this guy doing with them dancing?”

“Well, there’s a few theories scratched out on the next page,” she said, turning the page to show a human diagram. “My ancestors had a few ideas, but one says he’s almost sure that the Phantänzchen needs something from the body produced during dance—hormones maybe, like serotonin or endorphins or adrenaline. And they use contact as they dance to drain it out of them along with other chemicals. Because it’s literally leaching the life out of them and it causes trauma to the veins.”

“That does sound like our guy,” Hank nodded, thinking. “But no one noticed this going on for a long time with Katarina. Could they just kill her in one go?”

“Maybe…I’m not sure.”

“Does it say anything else? Like what form is he talking about that makes them hard to hit? “Mist-like”?” Nick asked.

“No…unfortunately, the initial entry is by my great uncle, Oseric Galperin. He’s not known for being very detailed…” she sighed.

“I’m afraid I don’t know anything,” Jean said.

“Or me…Never met one.”

“Well…we got two other possible sources,” Hank pointed out.

Sloane nodded. “I’ll bring the book.”

“Oh, can we come along?” Jean asked, standing. “I mean, you’re talking about the Spice Shop, right? I’d like to see it again, it’s so lovely.”

“Uh…well…” Sloane looked at Nick and Hank and they shrugged. “…Sure, why not. You might take your car though, just in case we have to go suddenly.”

They smiled and hustled out the door with them to head to their cars.

\----------------------

“Did you really order six boxes of Syrian Rue?” Monroe asked, looking over the order receipt for the boxes just delivered. He was carrying three while Rosalee had the others.

“I did.”

“Not that I know what that is…” he added.

“Oh, it's basically a Banisteriopsis with the same active alkaloids. It flies off the shelves.” She smiled, putting them down on the table in the side room.

He put his down and nodded slowly. “Well, can't argue with Banisteriopsis.” She smiled at him and he smiled back. “As long as you can pronounce it.”

She laughed and started organizing things while he carried a few more boxes to the corner. They heard the door open and Nick’s voice call out. “Monroe, Rosalee?”

“In here, Nick,” Rosalee called.

They all headed for the side room and Monroe smiled. “What's up, guys? Hey! Mim, Jean, when did you get here?”

“Earlier today. Drove up at the buttcrack of dawn to deliver our tab things personally,” Mim said. She inhaled and smile. “Ah, I love the smell of this place. Old wood and hundreds of herbs. Reminds me of the forest.”

“You know, you have a point,” Monroe nodded, breathing in. “I guess that’s part of why I love it too. The other part being the lovely owner.”

Rosalee rolled her eyes but smiled, then looked at them. “What brings you all by?”

“We've got a Wesen-related case we're working on,” Sloane admitted. “I’m pretty sure what it is, but my book is a bit skimpy on details. Wanted to see if you guys had any additional information that could help before we try to figure out what to do with them.”

“Alright, what we got?” Monroe said, rubbing his hands together after setting the boxes down.

“Phantänzchen,” she said, opening the book to the page she bookmarked.

“Oooh, wow, I haven’t thought about those in a long time,” he said, looking over the pictures. “Not since prom when my grandma warned me not to trust them or they’d suck you dry. My teenage brain went a totally different direction before she explained…”

“Well, the warning was for a good reason,” Rosalee said, grimacing. “They are pretty dangerous.”

“They’re dancers though?” Hank asked.

“If you don’t think dancers can be dangerous, you should see what some ballerinas can bench press. But they’re more dangerous because they’re like emotional vampires. They aren’t common but they aren’t rare either.” Monroe said. “Some Phantänzchen are in the major companies around the world.”

“This one likes Ballroom dancing.”

“Ah, classic. But wait, why would this get your attention?”

“We have a dead woman,” Nick said, pulling up the photos on his phone. “A ballroom dance competitor who was found like this.”

Rosalee took the phone, looking at it with a frown. “Poor thing…”

“That’s surprising too though. Most Phantänzchen nowadays don’t really kill, they don’t’ have to.”

“Why do they do this?” Jean asked.

Rosalee sighed and handed the phone back. “Phantänzchen have trouble feeling things. I mean emotionally. But when they dance, they can syphon the feelings from others by connecting with them even briefly. And in some cases, it’s a necessity. Like treatment for depression. But it can be addictive too.”

“They usually syphon off what they need pretty slowly and easily. Like…sipping.”

“This isn’t sipping though, it’s binge drinking,” Rosalee said, cringing. “Look at her hands…her veins…”

“How’d it do that?” Hank asked.

“Well, we know now their molecular structure is…odd, when woged. They’re bones become very light and flexible and their skin…it’s almost like a mist. It’s why they got their name—they can actually squeeze through a lot of tight spaces and looking like they’re floating. But this allows them to sort of connect to their victims on a near molecular level as they dance.”

“They’re preferred method, as they’re naturally light on their feet and dancing gets people happy and the blood flowing. But they can get…carried away.”

“Yeah, it goes from medication to a straight up opiate. They take all the good chemicals to feel that high, but they don’t filter them out till in their own blood stream. They pull them through the veins in their partner’s bodies—causing the discoloring veins as it all gets pulled the wrong way and damage is done.”

“…That sounds terrifying,” Jean said, horrified. “Doing that is cannot be good for a person’s brain or heart.”

“It’s not. That’s what usually causes complications that kills their victims, from brain damage to respiratory issues,” Rosalee agreed.

“My book mentioned they put someone into a kind of trance?” Sloane said, taking a few notes.

“Yeah, they can do that too. It’s similar to the ziegvolk, but less…”

“Rapey?” Mim said, looking angry just at the mention of that breed of wesen.

Rosalee nodded, not shying away from it either. “They expend some of the chemicals they store to create a mist of hormones to calm and relax their victims, making them more receptive to dancing. But again, most nowadays don’t need to do that, they just take a little as they dance in performances or competitions or clubs and the like.”

“Yeah, it’s easier now that people dance more outside of like festivals and stuff.”

“This guy took more than a little though,” Sloane pointed out again.

“It could be an addicted one then. Or someone who hasn’t partaken in a while might overdo it. And if it is, they might strike again. They might not be able to control it or feel like they can’t. Addiction is like that…” She added. Monroe rubbed over her back. They heard the door chime behind them, and she quickly came back to herself. “Be right there!” She looked at Sloane and the others. “I don’t want to recommend killing them, but they do need to be stopped as soon as possible or more people are going to end up sick or dead. Prolonged contact can cause depression and a lot of other less than stellar symptoms.”

“If they can turn into a mist, I’m not sure how we’d put them in jail…” Nick said.

Rosalee sighed and nodded then looked at Monroe. “We should see who this is, we’ll be right back.”

“Yeah, of course,” Sloane said, nodding for her to go.

They headed to the front and Mim and Jean looked at them. “You might have your work cut out for you…” Mim said.

“That’s usually how it goes,” Sloane sighed. She paused and looked up when she heard a familiar voice in the front of the shop. Nick was looking alert as well.

_Juliette?_

“It's a side effect of me becoming Adalind and sleeping with Nick…”

“What side effects?” Monroe asked, worried. “What are you talking about?”

There was a long pause and Rosalee piped up. “Juliette, talk to us.”

“I'm... I'm losing myself,” she said, sounding scared. “I need help.”

Nick was striding out to the front before any of them could stop him. Sloane motioned for Mim and Jean to wait—she didn’t want Nick to feel like they were all invading his privacy. But it was also in part because she was worried they might notice any strange looks on her own face. “Juliette…” Nick said, staring at her.

Juliette looked at him in surprise and…fear? That was odd, but it sounded correct when she spoke. “I didn't know you were here.”

Monroe and Rosalee blinked and looked at Nick, confused.

“You told them?” Nick asked.

“No, I didn't.” She looked at Hank, who looked away awkwardly. Juliette gaped and then looked at Nick, betrayal now on her face. “You told Hank?”

“Well, yeah, he's my partner,” Nick said, looking awkward. Sloane frowned in confusion.

“Oh, so Sloane must know too then?” she said, getting more upset.

“Uh…” Sloane started, looking at Nick.

“So, what do you think?” she said, the fear being replaced by indignation.

“What is going on?” Monroe asked, getting annoyed at being talked around but also anxious.

“Oh, my God. Did you guys break up?” Rosalee gasped.

“In a way,” Juliette said, smiling bitterly. Nick flinched.

“Okay, the only thing I know is you moved out, kind of,” Sloane said, holding up a hand. “But I didn’t get a set reason why.” She looked at Nick again, frowning when he looked anxious.

“Can someone just tell us what's happening right now?” Monroe said.

Nick sighed and looked at Juliette. “Tell them.” Juliette looked at him. “If you don't, I will.”

Juliette looked betrayed by the ultimatum. And hurt. But then a thin, brittle smile came to her face. “All right…Hold on to your hats,” she half-laughed, half-sobbed. Then she turned her head and woged into a Hexenbiest with growl deep in her throat that ended in a screech.

“Oh, my God!” Monroe yelled, moving back with Rosalee. Sloane stared a moment and didn’t realize she’d reached for her knife until she felt the hilt in her hand. She quickly let it go but was still staring at Juliette in shock.

“It's the new me!” Juliette said, still her voice despite her face now desiccated and withered. She turned back, looking at Nick with a burning anger. “There, it's done. Are you happy?”

Nick looked away, unable to say anything though his jaw was set, and Sloane looked at him askance. _You knew? This is why she moved out_?

“There's got to be something…” Rosalee said quietly, looking at Juliette with a mixture of fear and worry.

“You always say that. This time you're wrong. There's nothing anybody can do,” Juliette said, shaking her head with a bitter smile.

“When did this happen?” Monroe asked, looking between her and Nick.

“Sometime after we did what we did,” Nick said. There was little emotion in his voice. He was trying extremely hard to hold it together.

Juliette looked even more upset at that and shook her head. “I made a mistake in coming here. I don't know what I was thinking. You all had a hand in this!” she sobbed, pointing at them all.

“This is my fault, not theirs,” Nick said. “Don't blame them.”

She glared and Sloane eyed her. The suspicion was hard not to have, and she was looking for any sign she would lash out at them. Juliette caught her eye and glared hard enough it nearly made her get ready for a fight.

“There's enough blame to go around,” she spat, then headed for the door. She was out and gone and finally they all tried to breath.

“You can fix this, Nick, right?” Monroe asked, looking at him desperately. “You can change this. Like... like when you took Adalind's powers away!”

“That's not gonna work this time,” Nick sighed, pacing back into the side room.

“How do you know? Are you sure?” Rosalee asked, trying to wrack her brain for anything useful.

“She met with a friend of Renard's who knows about this. Juliette tried to undo it before she told me, and she can't,” he said, letting some of the sorrow leak into his voice.

“Okay, well, I'm sure you both need time to...”

“Time is not gonna help this,” he snapped. He then tried to gentle his tone. “She moved out. I don’t…know if I can fix this. She's a Hexenbiest. I'm a Grimm. It doesn’t work. Right Sloane?” He didn’t get an answer and frowned looking at her. “Sloane?”

“…Why didn’t…you tell me?” She asked slowly.

Nick felt a jolt of dread go through him at the upset tone. “…I…was going to—”

“You told Hank,” Sloane said, looking at them both icily. “Neither of you thought maybe I should know about this?”

“Ah, well…I didn’t know if I should…” Hank said. He looked at Nick, unsure if he was going to or should throw him under the bus for this.

“When did he tell you?”

“About a week ago…yeah, it was when you were thinking of leaving!” He said, trying to smile. “He told me at the breakfast you couldn’t make it to—I’m sure he would’ve then.”

“A week ago. You’ve both known for a week and didn’t tell me,” she asked, glaring more.

Nick flinched and then looked away. “I wasn’t sure how…”

“Not sure how? Oh, well, let’s see: “Hey, Sloane, Juliette turned into a Hexenbiest—just a heads up so you don’t freak out and try to kill her if she woges.” Something like that? Maybe?” she asked, sneering a little.

Nick had to admit it sounded simple, but it didn’t feel that way. Hank wasn’t looking at her, knowing she was upset with him too.

“Hey now, Sloane,” Jean said, going over. “This…all sounds complicated, so maybe we should just calm down and talk it out—”

“No, that was option 1,” Sloane said, getting more upset. “Option 2 is what happened, which is not telling me and seeing it for myself and nearly having a panic attack that there’s a Hexenbiest in front of me I’m going to have to protect my friends from, _then realizing it is one of my friends_!”

“Well I didn’t ask for this to happen either!” Nick shouted back. “I can hardly look at the love of my life because I see… _that_ when I do! You think I wanted to confront that!”

Sloane felt the already painful feeling in her heart double, and she glared harder. Rosalee was looking concerned and tried to go over to her. “Sloane, I…it’s a hard thing to even explain. We didn’t know either.”

On some level she knew that was true, but the hurt was just chasing its tail inside her. She looked at Rosalee, then back at Nick. “Yeah...But see, I thought I was his partner too. But I guess maybe not the one he could trust.”

“Sloane,” she started. Nick looked at her in confusion before remembering his own words. He was about to speak when she shrugged out of Rosalee’s hand and headed for the back door.

“Sloane!” Hank said.

“Sloane, don’t you just walk out!” Nick called, but the door was already closing. He growled and then slammed his hands on the table, making it shake. “God dammit!”

“Easy there, Slim,” Mim said. “Give her some space and a little time…We’ll go after her, take her home. Let her cool her head.”

“This is pretty different though,” Jean said. “Your girlfriend—that nice redhead from before—is a _hexenbiest_? I’ve never heard of this…”

“Yeah, I admit, they’re a wesen I don’t enjoy being around much either…no offense.”

Nick didn’t answer, just looking agitated still. Mim and Jean left quickly to catch up to Sloane and he sighed and rubbed over his eyes hard enough he saw stars.

“Nick, I'm gonna call Juliette,” Rosalee said, setting a hand on his. “We're not giving up. And just…let Sloane calm down. You two will make up.”

“Thanks, Rosalee,” Nick sighed, looking grateful but tired.

“…Why don’t we go to the precinct, start looking at background on some of the suspects,” Hank asked. Nick sighed and nodded, following him to the front door.

“Oh, my God…” Monroe sighed, going to close the door behind them

“She's a freaking Hexenbiest?!” Rosalee finally exclaimed loud enough it echoed in the shop, holding it in since she transformed.

\-----------------------

Renard sighed when he got home, looking in the mirror. The same day Dierdre had left, he had received word from Sam about a breakthrough. This ended up being a trap by Kenneth—who had taken Viktor’s place. It was obvious when he’d found Sam, beaten and shot, tied up in the back of the paper mill. A dramatic way to introduce himself, but the prince was nothing if not serious. He didn’t know much about Kenneth but judging by how he fought he was not someone to trifle with. Renard had been holding his own up until the phantom wounds rose up—his bullet scars bleeding once again. Kenneth didn’t pause in knocking him down in that moment of weakness. He made it clear that Renard could either join him or be collateral.

The marks hadn’t appeared since then and he kept trying to think what was going on. His mother was meticulous, and he couldn’t imagine she made a mistake, even if it was in a rush to save his life. At the moment she was traveling and lying low however and he wasn’t sure how to get back in contact with her.

He heard the door open and looked up to see Juliette walk in. That was the other current issue. After leaving Nick a week ago, she’d come to him once again and asked for a place to stay. It wasn’t good for his nerves that she was now a Hexenbiest. And it didn’t seem to be good for her nerves either. It wasn’t good for his reputation to have the girlfriend of one of his detectives staying with him. Even less if they knew how she had “tended to his wounds” after his fight with Kenneth. She’d left that morning and not returned for a while, apparently shocked by her own behavior. The influx of power was wreaking havoc with her emotions. He’d seen her rarely in the last week since then and honestly tried to tread carefully.

This seemed to be one of those times as she was extremely agitated. To the point he was worried her powers would start lashing out.

“Juliette?”

She looked up, narrowing her eyes. “What?”

He frowned a little but just watched her warily. “What’s wrong?”

“What makes you think something is wrong?” She looked ready for a fight still and Renard held up his hands.

“You just seem…upset.”

“I have a right to be upset! I’m a hexenbiest, Nick hates me now, my friends are scared of me and your book was useless—” They both jumped when a vase on his hall table shattered.

“…I’m not saying you don’t have a right to be upset. I just wanted to know why. But I think that answers things. You need to calm down—”

“Shut up! You don’t understand!”

“I know I don’t—”

“Then stop telling me to calm down!” A wall of force hit Renard and he shouted as he was sent sliding back and then tumbling over. Juliette stood over him, panting. “…All my life everyone has treated me like I’m made of glass. And I have done my best to reflect all the best things in them. Then this happens and they all look at me like…like I’m a monster. When they did this to me. But maybe…maybe it’s time I start looking at myself and what I want. Now that I can get it.” She turned and headed back out the door and Renard stared after her. She did that without even woging.

Grunting, he stood up and moved into his bathroom. No damage he could see at first, but then he gasped and gripped the sides of his vanity. Looking up, the bullet wounds that should be closed were bleeding again, staining his shirt, and he felt that same phantom pain—but sharp and real. Like he’d just been shot again. _She has that power…and I’m still this weak…You can’t even open a book on your own, you needed Juliette to do it for you. And even then it was useless. Like you._ Growling, he punched the mirror. It felt like then dozens of eyes—his own eyes—were staring at him. Flashes of the day he was shot were coursing through his memories—but this wasn’t right. It’s like he was remembering them as a spectator, seeing the doctors working to try and save him. Watching himself die. And then there was a light—like a door opening, with crying voices following him…

He looked at the mirror and shouted when it looked like he was covered in blood from head to toe—then two red, clawed hands burst through the glass to grab him. He backed away and blinked and the hands were gone. The mirror was still up, still cracked, and he was only bleeding from his chest when he checked. He panted and then gasped when he felt like something grabbed his heart and _squeezed._ The pain buckled his legs and he fell to his bedroom floor, curling up as he tried to breathe. _What’s happening to me?_

\-------------------

Nick and Hank had returned to the precinct to start background research on as many of the dancers as they could. Nothing was standing out, however. There were no mysterious deaths where any of them had traveled in the last three years, and no one had more than minor misdemeanor or parking tickets on their records.

Sloane didn’t return either.

Nick sighed, looking at her chair. He was alternating feeling guilty and feeling defensive. Hank could see it playing out on his face and wanted to sigh as well. But he wasn’t sure which to prod to make up.

After a few hours it was getting late. Renard had already returned home so they decided it was best to pack up and leave. But just as they were, Wu rushed up. “Hey, guys. I was looking back to see if there was anything weird going on with that ballroom and I did find something.”

Nick paused getting his jacket on. “What is it?”

“Well, no deaths, but about 15 years ago there were reports of students getting sick. Similar physical symptoms, and a lot of fatigue and depression.” He opened a folder and showed a news clipping he’d printed. “Mr. Stepenov and his wife, who has since passed, canceled classes for a while and determined it was a mold problem which they spent a lot of money remediating.”

“They had that kind of money?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, apparently dancing was the passion and having family money and wise investments made most of their income. All that took a hit, but they bounced back thanks to a good ad campaign and starting the Sea of Stars dance competition.”

“The one everyone’s here for?”

“Yeah. It’s big entrance fee and ticket price, but apparently it’s got some of the best prizes. It’s why a lot of them don’t want to just pack up and go home. A couple have dropped out though.”

“Can’t say I blame them,” Nick sighed. “Since it was a dance class, I don’t know if it was a student or a teacher who might’ve left, if it’s even the same person or if it’s someone from out of town...”

“So, we can’t narrow the suspects still?” Wu asked.

“Well, we can cross reference names and see if any of them are the same. But it could be someone new. We won’t know for sure unless we can get them to woge. But these dancers have nerves of steel.”

“Guess when you make your living being judged by others you gotta have them,” he sighed.

“We’ll think on it, ask Renard tomorrow,” Hank said. “But if we can find out if anyone lines up with back then it might still help narrow it down.”

“Alright. I’ll see what I can find tomorrow. Sleep well,” Wu said, waiving as he headed away.

“…You should probably tell Wu too,” Hank brought up.

“Right,” Nick sighed. “Tomorrow though. I…need to figure out how to talk to Sloane about this.”

“Good luck with that,” Hank said, smiling sympathetically. “Let me know if I can help.”

“…I can’t ask you to apologize for me,” Nick sighed, though he’d obviously thought about it a moment. Hank patted his back and they headed out. Nick was honestly dreading going home. The house felt empty…

Sloane was having the opposite problem. She was used to being alone to vent her anger, but Mim and Jean being at her home made that more difficult. She was pacing and muttering a lot.

“Sloane? Sweety, are you alright?” Jean asked.

“I’m fine. It’s Nick that’s lost his damn mind!” She paused, growling low. “A Hexenbiest! Juliette turned into a Hexenbiest and he didn’t tell me!”

“I’m sure he wanted to…”

“Then why didn’t he? I’m not angry at Juliette, I’m angry at him for keeping this from me! I’ve been here pretty much two years; I’ve been one of his partners as a Detective nearly that long. Why didn’t he trust me…?” She finished quietly. The hurt was there and wouldn’t stop throbbing. A whole week since he’d told Hank. Even with Dierdre causing trouble, there were plenty of quiet days after he could’ve said something to warn her. Instead, she could only assume he was scared she would hurt Juliette. And though she had reached for her knife, it was instinct. She had no intention to follow through. _Keep telling yourself that…_

“It’s hard to say what was going through the guy’s head,” Mim said. “But I’m sure “holy shit, my girlfriend is a literal witch” kind of was first and foremost… _Bewitched_ made it seem more fun than it is I’m sure.”

“But he put us in danger by not telling us! I don’t want to believe Juliette would hurt us, but we don’t know if she can control her powers. And he always does this!” she threw up her hands. “He keeps trying to do things himself, but he gets upset when I do it! He keeps wanting to keep secrets when that information could literally keep people sane or safe! Just why…” _Why do I love him again?_

“It’s man thing.”

“Mim,” Jean said. “Sloane, can you say you’ve always been upfront about this sort of thing?”

“No, but I’ve gotten better…he gets on my case about it and pulls this shit,” she huffed, flopping down on the couch. “It just…makes me feel like we’re back at square one. When I first came, and he didn’t trust me not to kill any wesen I saw. I mean, I admit I went overboard sometimes, but that’s not me anymore…I thought he knew that, after all I’ve done, all I’ve had to face and deal with…”

Jean and Mim both frowned and walked over, sitting with her and putting their arms around her from either side. “I’m sure he does, sweety.”

“Yeah. It’s probably just him being protective of his girlfriend, hoping to fix this before it got out of hand. And that didn’t work obviously. But I know that boy cares about you.”

“Yes. He got us down for your birthday last year, he came to help you…Everyone makes mistakes sometimes, even friends and lovers. Mim and I have had our fights. You just have to talk it out and make up.”

Sloane sighed deeply. “Yeah…I just wish it didn’t make me feel like this…”

They gave her a squeeze. “Feeling things is good. Even the bad things because you learn from them. Things will hopefully look up tomorrow.”

\----------------

In the morning they got a call—another assault at the ballroom. Victim was a live this time, but barely. It was another woman from the competition, and they got there just as she was being loaded into the ambulance. She looked incredibly tired—bags under her eyes, a gaunt face, and those same dark veins through her arms up to her neck. The EMTs were looking her over before taking her to the hospital.

Nick was about to go talk with her when he saw Sloane. Their eyes locked a moment, but it was Sloane that looked away first and went over to Wu. “What happened?”

“Hey. Got the call about an hour ago. Victim was Danica Dominguez, another competitor. Her partner was going to get them something to drink from the café across the street—ended up with a long line. When he got back he found her collapsed on the floor. He thought he saw someone in the room for a second but then they “vanished.”. He called us right away.”

“So, this is the second competitor out now?” Hank asked.

“Yep. A few more are really considering dropping out too. Some think it’s someone trying to sabotage the competition…if it goes on.”

“And I told you that’s preposterous.” Sloane looked up to see Isaak Stepenov nearby. “No one here would…poison anyone,” he said, looking frustrated.

“We haven’t found any trace of poison in Katarina’s body,” Sloane said.

“Well then I don’t see how someone can do this,” he said. He was agitated, looking around. “This is eating into our prep time.”

“So, the competition is going to continue?” Hank asked.

“Yes. Illya managed to convince father and I agree that canceling isn’t in the best interest of ourselves or the dancers considering what we’ve already spent. However now that there’s been a second incident, I’m wondering what you all are doing to try and figure this out.”

“There hasn’t been much time,” Nick said, coming up behind Sloane. She didn’t acknowledge him. “Maybe if we leave a few officers for protection—”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “I understand safety is a concern and we’ll look into what we can do on our end, but a police presence would only distract or scare them further. We’re already having to deal with the press and trying to keep everyone from pulling out or asking for refunds. Just…figure something out!” He turned and stocked off.

“Someone’s stressed…” Hank said. “I don’t think he’s been feeding on good feelings.”

Sloane nodded and then looked at the stretcher. “Do you think she can answer any questions right now?”

“Maybe. See with the EMTs.”

“Alright. You guys head inside,” she nodded and headed over to them, not looking back. Nick hesitated because he could feel the anger still in her. It was hard not to.

Wu looked at them. “Uh, she okay?”

“Some…stuff happened yesterday,” Hank said.

“I’ll explain later, in private,” Nick sighed.

Wu nodded. “Okay…” He led them in to look at the practice hall but aside from the dropped juices at the doorway there was nothing standing out as odd. Similar to yesterday, no evidence anyone else had been with the victim when they were attacked.

Sloane meanwhile went over and showed her badge. “Hey. Do you need to take her right now or can I ask a couple of quick questions?”

The EMT pursed his lips but nodded. “Real quick and real simple. She’s more fatigued than someone who’s run a marathon right now. Haven’t seen anything like this.”

Sloane nodded and walked over. “Ms. Dominguez? My name’s Sloane Larson, I’m a detective with Portland PD. I want you to go rest as soon as possible, but if you can tell me anything about what happened it would be great.”

She was breathing with an oxygen mask, looking at her with dull, glassy eyes. “…I…don’t remember…” she rasped out.

“Don’t remember? Anything?”

She shook her head. “I was practicing…I think someone came in…but then it’s all blank.”

Sloane frowned. “I see…Alright, we’ll talk again later, rest up.”

She nodded and they started loading her in. She walked back over to the others as they looked the room over. “She says she doesn’t remember anything…”

“Could it be a side effect?” Nick asked.

She didn’t look at him but nodded. “Possible…But at this rate, we might lose our target.”

“How so?” Wu asked.

“If the competition is canceled and they’re just visiting, they’d be lost to the wind and this would go down as another mold issue.”

“That’s not good,” Hank said.

“Maybe Monroe and Rosalee might have an idea of how to trap this wesen?” Nick asked, looking at her again. She still wouldn’t look at him though.

“Worth a shot…I’ll meet you all there.” She turned to head away. Nick moved to follow her but paused when Thomas stepped out to meet her.

“Detective Larson…do you know what’s going on?”

“…We’re looking into possibilities, but we don’t have a set cause of death for Katarina yet, or an idea what’s happened to Ms. Dominguez,” Sloane said. Nick noted she had no trouble meeting his gaze despite trying to keep from being recognized again.

Thomas sighed. “Maybe we should cancel this…I’ve only seen this once before and it was pretty bad.”

“You’ve seen this before?” she asked, feigning surprise.

“Yes, at one of my old schools. People kept getting sick for some reason. Then it just stopped.”

“…You don’t think it’s sabotage?”

He laughed a bit. “Well…while I’m sure some might be that cutthroat; I’d like to think we have a pretty honest crowd here.” He looked at her again. “…It’s so strange. Your hair is different, and you’re older—obviously—but you look almost just like my old friend from high school…”

“…One of those faces I guess. I’ll keep you all posted on what’s decided, but I need to go run down a lead right now,” she said, trying to quickly put that wall back up.

“Of course, sorry. Thank you.” She nodded, heading away again. Thomas kept looking at her as she left though.

“Think this is a problem?” Wu asked quietly.

“Not sure…but I’m curious about Mr. Lang,” Nick said.

“I’ll run a more in-depth background check on and look more into that “mold” incident while you talk with Monroe and Rosalee.”

Nick nodded in thanks and he and Hank headed down to follow Sloane to the Spice Shop.

They got there about the same time and headed in. Monroe and Rosalee looked up and smiled. “Hey. Glad to see you made up,” Monroe said. Sloane shot him a look and Nick just looked away. “…Or, uh…so, how can we help today?”

“I haven’t found anything yet about Juliette,” Rosalee said, putting something away from up the ladder.

“It’s alright, it’s only been a day…. We’re here about the Phantänzchen,” Nick said. “Someone else was attacked. She’ll live, we think, but she was pretty drained, and she said she doesn’t remember what happened.”

“Oh, that happens,” Rosalee sighed, coming down. “Between the haze of good feelings and then getting drained, the brain doesn’t know what to do and it can make memory hazy at best. She might remember eventually but considering how they look when they woge she’s better off thinking it’s a nightmare.”

“Do you have a way to catch them?”

They looked at one another, both thoughtful, before shaking their heads. Sloane wondered if marriage came with telepathy. “Not without knowing who it is,” Monroe said. “I mean generally a lot of our “cures” or stop gaps or whatever you call them would be pretty harmful to other wesen or humans than what they’re intended.”

“Even then, I’m not sure what would work,” Rosalee said. “Phantänzchen have such…ethereal wesen forms, I don’t know how to stop that. They’re solid but also not, it’s hard to describe.”

“Yeah. Who you gonna call, right?” Monroe smiled.

“I get that reference, but I don’t think we have those laser light guns in the arsenal,” Sloane said.

“Proton pack. But yeah…”

Rosalee looked thoughtful. “Well…can you stake them out and watch them? Try to figure out who’s doing it that way?”

“We suggested a police presence and the owner’s daughter declined,” Nick sighed.

“Oh…” she frowned. Then she smiled again. “Well…what if you put someone in the competition.”

“…Huh?” they all asked.

“If you get into the competition, then you could use the practice space all you want, and be able to keep an eye on the competition, right?”

“Well…yes, but none of us can ballroom dance,” Nick said.

“Sloane can.”

Sloane’s head whipped to her and everyone else whipped to Sloane. “Rosalee!”

“You can though! I’ve seen you dance on your own and you’re really good! And when we watch _Dancing with the Stars_ or _Strictly Ballroom_ , you can name the dances and the moves!”

Sloane turned beet red as they all stared again. “You promised that was between you, me, and Hulu!”

“Wait, she’s the one you’ve been stream cheating with?” Monroe asked, looking at her askance.

“Just the dancing shows and some things you aren’t interested in…” she said, smiling apologetically. “But you do know how to do it, don’t you?”

“…Even if I do,” she said, still red up to her ears, “you forgot one thing. I need a _partner_.” Nick frowned a bit at the slight bitterness in how she said that and sighed. “Unless one of you boys has been holding out, I don’t know a guy who can ballroom dance.”

“You could teach someone,” Monroe said.

“The competition is in a _week._ Even as amateurs, it’d be a bootcamp! This isn’t some reality TV show.”

“But it’s possible. I mean…maybe not me, I’m helping Rosalee with the whole Juliette debacle and I’m not much of a dancer…”

Sloane frowned and looked at Hank. He smiled wanly. “Oh, gee…I’d love to, really, but this darn Achilles tendon—it’s been acting up lately,” he said, pretending to rub the back of his leg.

Sloane glared and for the first time that day looked at Nick.

“…I…don’t know,” he said, hesitating. “I agree it could work, but it could also still be suspicious…Plus, we can’t just make a move like that without running it by Renard.”

\---------------------

“I think it’s a great plan,” Renard said.

“…Seriously?” Sloane asked, staring at him. Nick and Hank were also surprised.

“Yes. I had no idea you had hidden talents,” he smiled a little. Sloane looked ready to cuss out a rebuttal, but he went on. “So far, the ME’s report hasn’t found an explanation for the cause of death other than “trauma to the vascular system around the hands, heart and brain stem.” This caused her to have trouble breathing and functioning. Similar with our second victim, though she thankfully lived. However, they did find evidence of something else…Nicotine.”

“Nicotine? They were smokers?” Sloane asked, screwing up her nose. “That’s a bad call if they want to, y’know, breathe properly while dancing.”

“Indeed. But it gives us an out. We found both women used the same brand. For now, we’ll say that the cigarettes were tainted. If the families want to sue, well, that’s their own problem and no one can say a tobacco company is completely blameless. From there, we can have you and a partner join under the guise of showing we believe the competition is safe. Use it as publicity for the hall and precinct.”

“Publicity?” Nick asked, a bit shocked at the gall.

“Why not? An additional benefit, and it will hopefully keep the dancers calm until you can find the Phantänzchen.”

“Then who do I take as a partner? Do you know how to dance?” Sloane asked, a little hopeful. Nick frowned.

“I picked up a bit, yes, but…” Renard sighed inwardly. After that terrifying vision and passing out the day before, he’d woken up with more blood on him. He washed it off, but he felt exhausted. And he didn’t really want to be in a room full of mirrors now. “I’m afraid with everything else I have to handle, it’s not doable. One of you two should do it, we don’t want to surprise another officer,” he gestured at Nick and Hank.

“Well see, my Achilles tendon is acting up…” Hank started again. Nick looked at him in betrayal, but he just smiled apologetically.

“Then I guess that narrows it down.”

“I don’t know if that’ a good idea—”

“Is this really necessary—”

Sloane and Nick stopped at looked at one another with deep frowns as they started talking at the same time.

Renard arched his brow. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah. A lot of things,” Sloane said. She looked at him. “Actually, you’re in on this too! None of you deemed to share with me Juliette turned into a Hexenbiest?”

Renard’s eyes widened and he looked at all of them before sighing. “I see…So, you all know now.”

“Yeah…But you knew before any of us,” Nick accused.

He sighed and rubbed over his eyes. “Yes, but Juliette asked me not tell anyone. She wanted my help. I directed her elsewhere.”

“Henrietta.”

“That’s how you met Henrietta?!” Sloane gaped.

Nick sighed, looking frustrated, but kept speaking to Renard. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Again, she asked me not to.”

“Why?”

“Because she was scared of you!” he said, his own frustration boiling over. “And quite frankly now, she’s angry and disappointed. I’m guessing, because yesterday she sent me flying across the room when I tried to ask what was wrong and then left. I haven’t seen her since.”

Nick was up immediately. “I need to go find her—”

“No. You need to get ready for dance lessons.”

“You can’t be serious—”

“Juliette is dealing with a lot physically and emotionally, things none of us can understand. And instead of trying, you are treating her like patient zero. That much I can see.”

“Because this isn’t a good thing!”

“No one said it is, but no one said it’s bad either! Just because she’s a Hexenbiest doesn’t make her a monster, it makes her _wesen._ But you’re treating her like a…a leper.” Nick closed his mouth, surprised. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out. She talked about _you_ focusing on “fixing” her, and everyone else being scared. Considering my upbringing, I can’t say I blame her for being angry with that view. But when she’s angry, people can get hurt without her even touching them. So, let her calm down and don’t talk to her till you can do it like you normally would. Focus on this case and don’t go looking for her—I mean this as concerned advice, but I’ll make it an order if I think you’re going to put anyone in danger. Do I make myself clear?” They were all quiet and he huffed. “Good. Now, I’ll call the studio and arrange things.”

Sloane sighed and stood. “Fine. C’mon.”

Nick frowned and stood. “Where?”

“We need to get the right equipment…and it’s going on the expense report!”

Renard just rolled his eyes at her anger as she stalked out the door. “I take it she’s angry no one told her?”

“Oh yeah…You think they can actually pull this off?” Hank asked, standing to head out.

“All things are possible,” Renard said, picking up the phone.

\-----------------

Adalind was pacing, agitated. Kenneth hadn’t been back to the hotel in over a day and Rispoli was with him. Though Rispoli’s men tried to comfort her that she was safe, she didn’t feel it. She kept thinking about the gargoyle nearly falling on her and Juliette in the window’s reflection. She kept worrying she’d see her there again. She’d maybe be ready for her in a fair fight, but Juliette was now using underhanded tactics like surprise attacks. Something Adalind didn’t think she’d do.

Finally, the door opened, and the prince walked in. “There you are,” she breathed.

Kenneth looked annoyed as she walked up. “Adalind. What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you about something. There was this gargoyle yesterday—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” he sighed, waving a hand.

She frowned. “You know?”

“Rispoli’s men report to him, and he reports to me. I’m aware you nearly had an accident. I thought your nerves would be a bit steelier and you wouldn’t need constant coddling though,” he sighed.

She glared, stomping over as close as she dared with Rispoli there. “That was not an accident!”

“What makes you think that?” he asked, bored, as he removed his coat.

“Because I saw her! I saw Juliette across the street. She made it fall.”

He paused and looked at her with a bit more curiosity. “You're sure?”

“Sure enough. You need to kill her before she kills me,” she said, almost desperate.

“Don't be stupid,” he scoffed, handing Rispoli his coat. “She helped Kelly Burkhardt take your child. She might know how to get in touch with Nick's mother, and now that she's a Hexenbiest, there's no telling how this has affected her relationship with the Grimm. I can't imagine it's good, which is probably why she's coming after you. She blames you for what happened.” He smiled and Adalind felt her stomach drop at just how unwilling he was to stop Juliette. In fact, he sounded happier than he had since he came here. “This could well turn out to our advantage.”

“What, her killing me?” she snarled, balling up her fists as she tried to keep from using magic to turn his head into a grape and squish it.

Kenneth looked at her and smiled a bit more gently. Placatingly. Like to a child. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Calm down. No one's going to kill you... unless you keep shouting,” he added, squeezing her shoulders painfully. Adalind swallowed any other angry words. She could fight back with magic, but he could have her killed easily, and no one would even know. And he wouldn’t feel a thing. He might even enjoy it. _What am I going to do…_?

\-----------------------

“So, to ensure no one else is harmed, I ask that no smoking be allowed on the premises from here on out,” Isaak Stepenov said. They had fed him the incorrect cause of death as the supposedly tainted cigarettes and she latched onto it eagerly. “I would recommend that anyone who does smoke take this time to look into quitting. Katarina’s passing is a tragedy, and Danica is going to have to go through rigorous treatment. I don’t want anyone to have to face the same.”

The remaining dancers—11 couples—all murmured agreement.

“Now, to help make up numbers, we have a new couple joining us. They’re amateurs, and this will be their first competition. But they’re dance is more…publicity driven. Detective’s Sloane Larson and Nick Burkhardt have volunteered to dance with us.”

Sloane and Nick stepped into the room and Nick was trying very hard to smile and not feel like he was being sent to the chopping block. Sloane had taken him to a store and gotten him dance shoes as well as suitable practice clothes that felt a little too tight for his liking. He was blushing still, feeling exposed as they others looked at him. Sloane for her credit though was cool and refined as she stepped out in a loose skirt and tighter top. She managed a smile and keep near bubbly tone of voice that also made him uncomfortable. “Thank you for including us. This is very exciting!”

The other dances clapped politely, Thomas eyeing her again. But someone kept clapping even when they stopped. Looking over, Illya Stepenov was still clapping slowly. “Very nice indeed. Though really, sending a couple of wet-behind-the-ears dancing detectives? Like this is some junior prom?”

Nick frowned a little. “We’re amateurs, like he said, but I wouldn’t go that far.”

“No? Do you even know how to dance?” He walked forward, eyeing them both. “I’m more inclined to think the police still have some questions about what happened. Maybe you’re here to spy on us, thinking we had something to do with this?”

The dancers all looked at one another in surprise, though some looked like they might’ve considered it. Nick glared and was going to say something, but Sloane stepped up first. “Is it hard to believe we might enjoy dancing?”

He looked her up and down but smiled then. “Well…you I can believe. You hold yourself like a dancer. I’d like to hold you like one too,” he winked with a lascivious smile.

“Illya!” his brother hissed.

“Excuse my brother. Despite being twins, he lost the joy of dancing years ago. And his sense of humor with it,” he sighed. Isaak looked livid for a moment before taking a deep breath to calm down. Illya eyed him, maybe wondering how much more to push him, but then blinked when Sloane held out a hand.

“You want to see how well I dance? Judge for yourself.”

Nick looked at her in surprise, heart racing a bit. Was she about to blow their cover?

Illya smiled. “Bold…I like that. You don’t want to dance with your partner though?”

“He, I admit, doesn’t know what he’s doing. I’ll be tutoring him. If you want to see what we can do, you see what I can do.”

He smiled and took her hand and bowed, kissing it, and Nick glared more. “What dance did you have in mind?”

“This is the only time I consider letting a man lead. You choose.”

He laughed. “I’m liking you more and more, _lapachka._ ”

“Oh honestly,” Isaak muttered.

Sloane narrowed her eyes at the endearment. _I don’t know what that is, but I want to kick your ass…_

He looked at the other dancers. “We need a routine first…Thomas, Maria, do you still know that rhumba you did last year?”

“Of course,” he nodded. Maria turned her chin up as if insulted he asked.

“Let’s see if she’s a quick study then. Give us a demonstration and we’ll see if one half of this pair can keep up.”

“Illya, you learned it already—” Thomas started.

“I’m not the one with something to prove,” He said, impatient.

Thomas looked at Maria who smirked and moved out to the floor without further prodding. She seemed happy to show off and gave Sloane a pompous smile. Thomas went to the stereo and after pulling the song up on his phone plugged it in and took his starting point across from Maria. The music started—sultry, sexy, with a little Latin flare to it. Maria began swaying, her hips ticking back and forth like a pendulum as they met together and embraced in hold. They moved together, apart, together again, turning, all to the rhythm perfectly. The ended with a move where the Maria wrapped her arms around Thomas neck and they slid their back feet across the floor, dipping low together with each other for support.

Nick felt nervous. _We’re supposed to dance like that? I mean, she’s dancing with Illya right now, but how am I supposed to do that in just a few days?!_

“Do you need to see it again?” Illya asked.

“I got it. Do you?” He smiled and Sloane moved forward and to the same starting place as Maria.

Thomas waited for Illya to be in place and hit play again. Nick watched worriedly—which quickly turned to surprise and a little awe as she moved in a near perfect imitation of the dance she just saw. He knew her memory was good, but he didn’t realize she could do this! And she looked good doing it he also had to admit. Sloane was an attractive woman and even in simple practice clothes she could make moves looking flowing and sexy.

Illya seemed shocked she was remembering the dance perfectly well but was smiling as they danced. Sloane just looked like she was deep in concentration, but there was a lightness in her gaze too. She was enjoying this. In fact, it radiated from her. Finally, they ended in the same low position and the other dancers clapped in surprise and admiration. Maria looked upset that she managed it but clapped nonetheless. “Well. Not perfect, but impressive I suppose,” she said.

“For a first try at the routine, I thought it was extremely impressive,” Illya said. He kissed her hand again and smiled. “If you ever want be perfect, please come see me in a class here.”

Sloane smiled. “Well, you have confidence, I give you that.”

“That’s the only thing he has in spades, even if it’s unfounded,” Isaak sighed.

“Says the one who stopped dancing years ago.”

“Because I had bigger responsibilities and things father _trusts_ me with.” Illya glared slightly and Isaak smirked. “Now let the woman go, she needs to practice.”

Nick frowned again and stepped up. “Yeah…for now, we’re just going to practice in the adjacent room.”

“Ah, yes. The please, by all means.” He stepped back and Sloane headed for the door with Nick behind. He cast a glance back and saw the other couples heading off to practice in their corners—but Illya, Isaak and Thomas were watching them leave with interest.

“…What was that back there?”

“What?”

“You, showing off,” he said, a little disapproving.

Sloane paused at the door and turned to give him a flat, annoyed look. “That was me showing I actually know how to dance. Our target has been targeting women, so I’m more his type than you are. Now he knows I’m a viable source.”

“…I’m not sure I like you painting a target on your back,” he said, shifting from annoyance to worry.

“I’m not sure it’s your choice,” she shot back.

“Dammit, Sloane—”

“We need to start. If we want this to be believable you at least need to know the basics.”

“I can figure it out. You can do it.”

“It’s not that simple. I did learn from someone…”

Nick tilted his head. “Who?”

She was quiet a moment before shaking her head. “Doesn’t matter. Get over here so I can start teaching you. We’ll start with a waltz. Stand here.”

Nick frowned but walked over to stand in front of her. Sloane huffed and then moved around him. Then he jumped when she smacked him between the shoulder blades. “You’re slouched. Straighten your back all the way up to your head. Pretend it’s a balloon trying to go to the ceiling, tied to your hips.”

“What?” he asked, turning to look at her.

“You heard me.” She came around and pushed her hand hard into his stomach (nearly a slap) while using the other to lift his head up under the jaw, making him straighten. “Like you’re trying to suck in your stomach. You should feel your hips tighten and your pelvis rise up. But your shoulders should be relaxed. Drop them!” Nick quickly tried to do so because there was no arguing with that tone. She walked around him again and she nodded. “Good. This is what a strong posture looks like. It's the posture I take to intimidate. You fight, you should know how it feels.”

“…Yeah…it’s familiar,” he agreed.

“Good. You need to learn to keep it when dancing though.” She reached out and grabbed his right hand and stepped into him. Nick blinked in surprise. She’d hardly wanted to talk to him the last couple of days and now she was so close… “Put your hand like it’s cupping my shoulder blade.” Nick moved so it was, blushing faintly at how intimate it felt when she set her own hand on his shoulder. “Your left with my right.” She took his hand and raised them together. “This is the basic hold for a waltz.”

“Okay…”

“Break this hold and I break you.”

“Hey!”

\----------------------

By the end of the day, Nick was exhausted. Sloane was training him harder in dancing than she had training him to be a Grimm. And he didn’t think it would be harder to learn. He’d worked up one hell of a sweat after 8 hours of near constant work with only a couple of breaks and a brief lunch.

“I think…I need to rest,” Nick finally admitted. He’d wanted to not admit defeat, but Sloane was too relentless.

She was panting and sweating too but sighed. “Yeah…alright, we did good for a start today. I think we can join the others tomorrow without raising too much suspicion.” She went to over to grab a small towel she brought and run it through her hair. Nick eyed her a little. She was still clipped with him, but he could tell she was enjoying this. The spartan training of him, yes, but also dancing in general. She was flushed but seemed calmer than she had since Dierdre had first come and scared her so badly. That relieved him a bit because he’d been worried about her jumping out of her skin at every report of a mysterious death.

“…Hey…Sloane, can we—”

“You two are still here?”

They looked up to see Isaak in the doorway. “Most of the others have left already.”

“We had a bit more ground to cover. We’ll be heading out now.”

“…Are you two here to compete or investigate?”

Nick eyed him but Sloane just smiled. “We’re in here practicing. Why would we investigate that way?”

He narrowed her eyes and stepped in. “This school is very important to my father, my brother and me. We have a spotless reputation and I don’t want someone jeopardizing that.”

“Spotless? Wasn’t there a similar problem 15 years ago?” Nick asked.

He frowned more. “I see you did your research…That was an unfortunate incident with mold in our airducts.”

“Seems like similar symptoms though…Did you check?”

“Yes, and they are clean. Look, this school is my mother’s legacy! I will not let you railroad us into some-some unfounded rumor that we’re responsible—”

“We’re not out to ruin anyone’s reputation or legacy,” Sloane said, holding up her hands. “We do still have questions, yes, but we want to be sure this doesn’t happen to anyone else, smoker or not. But I know what I’m doing on the dance floor.”

“…Fine…Yes, sorry,” he sighed. “I just…this is all very stressful.”

“Investigations usually are,” Nick said, standing. “We’re having the cigarettes tested but if it’s not the cause or if they were tampered with, can you think of anyone who would do this? Or how”

Isaak hesitated but shook his head, looking conflicted and unsure. “No…I mean, I don’t know all these dancers, but I can’t think they would do this even to win…This feels desperate. But Ballroom dancing isn’t this cutthroat, worse I’ve ever seen is someone trying to trip or bump someone accidently on purpose.”

“…You don’t dance anymore?” Sloane asked. He looked at her suspiciously, as though anticipating being mocked, and Sloane shrugged. “Something your brother said stuck with me. That you lost your love of dance.”

He looked a little sadder. “Yes…I used to dance, but after the mold incident I…”

“You got sick?” Nick asked.

“Yes…not as bad but it…has affected me the rest of my life. I sometimes still danced when my mother was with us…but after she died it just…didn’t feel right anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Nick said, sympathetic.

“We appreciate the cooperation,” Sloane said. “We’ll head out for the day though.”

He nodded and turned to walk away as well.

“…I get the feeling he knows more than he’s saying,” Nick said.

“Well, you’d know all about that,” Sloane muttered, grabbing her bag and heading out the door.

“Sloane—”

She ignored him and kept going. Part of her was embarrassed how far she was taking this—as though she were in high school again. But she was still angry and hurt. Further, she was hoping holding on to this for a while, she could trick her feelings for Nick into becoming non-romantic. An even worse part of herself had thought _Maybe you should make a move_ , and she’d promptly strangled that voice and thrown it deep into her subconscious. She wasn’t sure she’d say she and Juliette were close, but they weren’t enemies. Further, Nick still loved her—that much was obvious.

_Stay angry a little longer. Until you don’t want him for yourself. Be a good friend…_

\-----------------------

“Juliette’s a witch?” Wu asked, nearly dropping his pizza.

“She is now,” Nick sighed. “A Hexenbiest. And I…didn’t handle it well. So, she’s not very happy with me, I’m frustrated with her and the situation and I just…”

“Man…I’m sorry, seriously.”

“Just be careful if you see her, she might still be pretty upset still,” Hank said.

“Yeah, no…I’ll be careful,” he said, a little mystified still as he took a bite.

“So, how’s the training going?” Hank asked Nick. He was part teasing, part honestly curious. They’d mainly come over with take out to hang with Nick at his house. Nick appreciated it since it took his mind off how empty it felt.

“It’s…harder than it looks,” Nick sighed, opening a beer and handing it to him, another to Wu, then taking one for himself. “But Sloane’s still a pretty good teacher. Little strict but I got the basics of the waltz in like a day.”

“I’m sure that will come in handy again someday,” Wu chuckled. “We found a couple things out on our end. No deaths in the incident 15 years ago at Golden Grove. Around that time Isaak and Illya Stepenov were in their teens and helping teach classes with their mother, Leticia. The school and ballroom closed for 6 months to ensure the “mold” was eradicated, and when it was back up and running it created the Sea of Stars Competition and managed to get back on its feet. In Ballroom Dancing circles, it’s pretty damn popular. But Leticia Stepenov died about 6 years ago.”

“Was she sick?”

“In a way,” Hank sighed. “Accidental overdose. Apparently she suffered from depression. She had medication but she overdosed…Husband found her too late.”

Nick frowned. “That’s awful…”

“Yeah, but it gets me thinking on what Rosalee said. That the…Phan-tan-schen, they steal the good feeling brain chemicals from others because they need them, or they’re addicted…”

“…You think she might’ve been one?”

“Can’t rule it out. That could mean one or both of her children are too—don’t know about Mr. Stepenov.”

Nick sighed and nodded. “That’s a possibility…”

Wu nodded. “Not the only one though unfortunately. The other one I found is Mr. Lang. He lived in Reno, Nevada most of his life. Took classes in dancing since he was young—tradition in the family. However, there was a similar issue of people falling ill at his studio when he was a teen.”

“Huh…he did mention that, very briefly,” Nick said, frowning.

“One death there, a lot of sick people, and then it just seemed to stop suddenly. But I found an article on it. They blamed the water there. No other apparent incidents though since then on his end.”

“Still suspect,” Nick said, sipping the beer. “I’ll keep my eye on him.”

“…He’s Sloane’s old friend, she might not like that.”

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t like me much either right now,” he said sourly.

“You haven’t made up?” he asked, raising a brow. “You spent all day with her dancing while I was being a detective.”

“She’s not giving me a chance! It’s like she wants to be angry with me! She’s stubborn…”

“It’s a Grimm trait I’m pretty sure,” Wu muttered. Nick sent him a petulant look and he sighed. “Maybe it really did hurt her. You might just have to try harder. Luckily you got six more days of this.”

Nick groaned a little but nodded.

\--------------------------------

The next two days was mostly training at the studio. They got there early to practice a bit alone, then went to practice with the others. Nick was a bit self-conscious he had to admit. Watching the others practice was like watching forces of nature—like swirling breezes and flowing water and blazing fires. He’d never really given this sort of dance much thought before. If he did it was to think it a bit old fashioned. Here though he was feeling out classed by people his age, and that didn’t happen often in his line of work if he could say so himself.

Sloane was still not being very open to him though. He was frustrated she wouldn’t really talk with him, and at times he could admit he didn’t want to talk back to her much either. The frustration with one another was coming out in other ways though.

“You’re timing is off again,” Sloane said, pausing with a frustrated sigh and dropping the hold.

Nick frowned back. “If I’m leading, shouldn’t you follow?”

She glared. “I’ll follow when you lead properly. Are you paying attention to the music?”

“Yes!” he hissed. He was trying not to raise his voice, but it was getting hard.

“Start over,” she said. Nick growled but took the stance back up with her. They started the box step in time to the music and then added in their turns. He could see in the mirror they were looking better. More elegant. Graceful. But he could also see Sloane wasn’t looking at him. She had a tight look of concentration on her face as they danced, not the look of enjoyment. That was frustrating too…

As they were going Nick didn’t see another couple dancing close to him till it was too late and gasped when he crashed into them at the shoulders. They were doing a faster dance—A Quickstep he thought, after looking them up the night before—and it caught him off balance. He started tipping forward, unable to get his feet under him, and Sloane’s eyes widened as he was about to flatten her to the ground. Without really thinking, he gripped her tighter and turned so he would land on his back with her on top of him. He braced himself and the air was knocked out of him. He anticipated hitting his head but realized Sloane had quickly put her arm around his neck to cushion it. “You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, you?” she asked, sighing in relief.

“Yeah…”

“Sorry about that,” the man said, both of them helping them stand.

“No, yeah, I’m sorry,” Nick said.

“You should be.” They looked up to see Maria looking at them judgmentally while wringing a bright orange towel between her hands. “The first part of this competition, like with any, is dancing all together. You can’t even be aware of the other dancers around you?”

“Maria,” Thomas said, disapprovingly.

“It’s true! They may be here for some little PR stunt, but we worked hard to get here and even qualify. Now we have to worry about them crashing into us?”

Sloane glared. “Why don’t you worry about yourselves and we’ll worry about us.”

“Well, when you’re everyone’s problem, that’s hard,” she said snidely. The snide expression faded when Sloane walked up to her and she actually backed up a step, eyes widening.

“I’m not everyone’s problem. But you’ve definitely got a problem.”

“Y-you can’t threaten me!”

“I’m not. Your problem is you’re unconfident and rude because of that. If you can’t grab the judge’s eyes with a couple of amateur _guests_ dancing around you, figure that out with yourself instead of taking it out on us.”

Maria’s jaw dropped and she blushed deeply before glaring. “And you-you think you can just come here and say—”

“Yeah, I do,” she said, and Maria had the sense to snap her jaw shut at the tone. “You want to feel better, do better. Dancing is a fight with yourself, not the other dancers.” Thomas straightened and looked at her in surprise, but Sloane just sighed and grabbed her water bottle. “I’m taking a break though, because now I need to cool off and I need more water.”

“Sloane—” Nick started.

“Take a breather, I’ll be back in a bit,” she said, waving him off. He frowned but sighed and sat down to drink. He closed his eyes and tried to relax a bit, stretching his legs for a few minutes. When he looked up and saw Maria huffing in a corner on her own though he went on high alert and got up to quickly walk out the door. _Where’s Thomas Lang?_

Sloane was filling up her bottle from the fountain in the hall. She heard footsteps and looked up, then straightened more. “Mr. Lang…if this is about what I said to Maria—”

“Yes and no. Honestly…Maria is not my usual partner. I paired with her last year and I’ve been frustrated with her plenty of times myself.”

“…Then what is it?”

“…Dancing is a fight against yourself. I’ve never heard anyone else say that…but I said it years ago to one of my first partners. Emma Klein.”

Sloane cursed in her head but tried to smile. “I told you, I’m not—”

“Emma disappeared 13 years,” he went on, looking at her hopefully. Sloane was surprised at the look—like seeing something too good to be true. “I always…always worried what happened to her. My parents did too. She just left a box of mementos on our doorstep—ones from when we danced together, even won a few trophies together—and disappeared. I’ve checked on and off online, once a year at least, to try and find her. Just to know if she was okay…or even alive.”

Sloane stared at him for a long while before sighing deeply. “…Emma Klein…doesn’t exist, Tom. She never did, except for those two years,” she said.

He was surprised before breathing out whatever breath he was holding. “But…it was you.”

“…Yes.”

He laughed a little and moved forward before she realized he was and hugged her. “You are alive…thank God…But why?” He pulled back and looked at her. “You’re name is Sloane Larson now?”

“…It was always actually Sloane Larson,” she said. “My…my mother…Do you remember what I told you about her?”

“Uh…not much, you didn’t talk about her really. Aside from saying she was super strict and couldn’t know about the dance lessons or she’d flip.”

“Yeah. Well, she came back, and we had to move, again. That was the routine. New place, new name, every so often.”

“…That sounds sketchy as hell,” he said bluntly.

“Oh, it was, but I can’t really be more specific. My mother is not a good person. I told myself for a long time she did what she thought was best for me, but I’ve come to realize that’s not exactly true.” She looked up at him and patted his shoulder sincerely. “I’m sorry for how I left things…Goodbyes are tough for me and I didn’t want to answer a lot of questions. But…that was one of the hardest things I did. Because honestly, in my entire four years of high school…I think you were my only real friend.”

Thomas frowned more and gave her another hug. “I have a lot more questions but…I’m just glad you’re okay, Em…sorry, Sloane.”

She smiled and patted his shoulder. “You always were clingy…13 years didn’t fix that.”

He laughed a bit. “And you’re still a smart ass.”

“Hey!” They both jumped and looked to see Nick jogging up towards them, eyeing Thomas suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

Sloane sighed. “Just explaining some things to Thomas…”

“And you have to hug her for that?” Nick asked a little sourly.

Thomas blinked. “Um, it’s a bit confusing but she’s an old friend…”

Nick looked at Sloane, surprised she’d admitted anything, and she shrugged. “He figured it out.”

“Oh, did he…then maybe he can talk a bit more about when he was a teen and some dancers at the studio he went to got sick. Similar to here.”

Sloane looked at him, a bit galled by his tone. “Nick—”

“Sorry, you’re checking up on me?” Thomas asked, looking between them.

“I’m not, but I guess my _partners_ did,” she said, looking at Nick in annoyance.

“I think it’s a valid question.”

“Asking me about people getting sick when I was a teen in Reno is valid?”

“Yes. So, is asking if you’ve heard of a Phantänzchen? And Grimms?”

Sloane looked ready to smack him, but he kept his gaze on Thomas, waiting for him to woge. Thomas however just looked confused. “Uh…okay, my grandfather’s German and I think that’s German but…yeah, doesn’t ring a bell. I mean, Grimm kind of does. Like being grim? Kind of dark and dreary?” He looked at Sloane who smiled ruefully. “I used to say you were kind of grim, but you always just rolled your eyes. I don’t think I am…”

“Something like that…” She then let go and walked over to Nick, glaring mildly as she whispered. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m trying to get him to woge,” he hissed back.

“He’s not a wesen!”

“You can’t know that!”

“Yeah, I can,” she said, glaring deeper.

Thomas watched them bicker, not hearing much of the words, and frowned. “You two…have issues, huh?”

“That’s not really your business,” Nick said. Sloane glared at him again for his rude tone.

“No, but it’s pretty obvious,” he said. He looked worriedly between them. “Look, that might be a problem. You two need to trust each other if you want dance well.”

“Ha!” Sloane said, folding her arms. “That might be an issue alright.”

Nick glared at her now. “Really?”

Thomas held up his hands. “Okay, don’t start fighting for real. There’s an empty room over there…maybe you should talk it out. The competition is only a couple of days away and while I know you’re not here to win exactly, you at least don’t want to look bad in front of the crowd.”

“We’ll be fine,” Sloane said sullenly.

Thomas smiled a little. “Still not great with emotions I see…Go on,” he gestured at the door again.

Nick was about to tell him to back off, but Sloane sighed and headed into the room. He frowned more, glancing at Thomas before following her in and closing the door. “Sloane, we can’t just let him walk around—”

“He’s not the Phantänzchen, Nick,” she said impatiently.

“How do you know?!”

“Because, the Phantänzchen you brought up is dead. I killed it, 15 years ago.”

Nick blinked and slumped a little. “What?”

“Yeah. That’s how I met Thomas and the first time I saw one. He went to my school and was talking about dancers getting sick and someone dying—male dancers. It sounded promising so I tried to manipulate him to letting me in on a practice. That was…unintentionally how I caught his attention, because he needed a new partner. Worked out because I was able to figure out it was this female instructor feeding an addiction, so I dispatched her when she got me alone to try and kill me when she realized I was a Grimm. But…by then I also enjoyed dancing. So, I stuck with it the whole time I was in Reno. And I danced with Tom enough to know he’s not a wesen. Like, we did competitions, I went to his house, he would’ve woged at some point.”

“…Oh…” he said. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I guess I forgot,” she sighed, shrugging.

“Forgot?” he asked incredulously.

Sloane glared at him a bit. “Yeah. Like you forgot to tell me some important things.” She moved to go past him, but Nick held out his arm to block her.

“Okay, yes…you’re right. I should’ve told you about Juliette,” he sighed. Sloane looked up at him, arching her brow. “I’m sorry. I really am. I just…I didn’t want to believe it,” he said quietly.

Sloane felt her walls crack. “…Did you think I’d hurt her?” He hesitated and she felt the walls go back up, spackled up with outrage. “Really? You did?”

“Sloane—” he started. They jumped when they heard a scream though and in seconds were both rushing out. They saw others coming out of the practice rooms as well.

“What was that?” one of them asked.

Sloane looked around and then went over to the stairs. At the bottom she saw Mr. Stepenov, curled up on his side. “Shit!” She rushed down and Nick was close behind her but pausing when he saw the cane at the top of the stairs, at the wall across from them. That seemed odd, why wasn’t it with him? “Mr. Stepenov?” Sloane asked, kneeling by him. He groaned, a gash in his head bleeding steadily. She looked at Nick. “We need to get him an ambulance.”

He nodded, already grabbing his phone out to call.

“Father!” Illya was rushing down the stairs. “What happened?”

“We’re not sure, we just heard him scream and came to find him here,” Sloane said, checking him over. “I can’t see any breaks, but he might have a concussion.”

Illya cursed in Russian and knelt by him. Mr. Stepenov cracked open his eyes and looked at his son and for a moment he looked unsure and…scared? “I…Illya?”

“Yes, it’s me…What happened?”

“I…I tripped…took a tumble down the stairs, it seems…” Sloane frowned, unsure that sounded convincing.

Illya frowned as well. “You’re supposed to take the elevator now…” he said, pulling the towel from around his neck and pressing it gently to his father’s head.

“I thought I’d be fine going down one floor…”

Nick hesitated but picked up the cane and walked down. “Here, this was at the top.”

“Ah…Thank you, it must’ve dropped it when I fell,” he said, taking it to lean on. Nick frowned.

“Father?” They looked up to see Isaak rushing towards the stairs from upstairs, the direction of the offices. “What on earth happened?!”

“He said he fell…obviously,” Illya said.

His brother glared at him. “Thank you for being so helpful.”

“Children, stop,” he said, holding up his hand. “I’m fine.”

“I’ve got an ambulance on the way,” Nick said.

“Really, that’s not necessary, I’m fine…” He said, moving to try and stand. Illya and Isaak both helped him up, but he was obviously unsteady.

“It doesn’t hurt for them to check you out,” Sloane said. “I’m sure we’d all like peace of mind you’re alright.”

“…Very well,” he sighed.

“I’ll get you a chair,” Isaak said, turning to run off.

“The least you could do…” Illya muttered.

“Illya, stop. You two need to get along,” he sighed. He looked up and smiled, waving. “I’m sorry to worry you, everyone. I’ll be fine, it was just an accident. Please, continue practicing,” He smiled, trying to put them at ease. The dancers still looked nervous but started dispersing.

Sloane looked at Illya uncertainly but turned to walk with Nick back upstairs. “I’m not sure that was an accident…how he landed is strange and he seems nervous.”

“I agree,” Nick said. “Plus, that cane was way too far away at the top, more like it was thrown. But who would try to kill him? Who has motive there?”

“I can’t see the dancers doing it if they want that prize money…If the competition is canceled that’s gone. But then, he didn’t say someone pushed him…”

“…The only reason he’d not say who directly would be if he wanted to protect them,” Nick said, glancing back. They could just see Isaak bring a chair for his father and hear the siren outside as the paramedics arrived.

“Which means Isaak and Illya Stepenov are our new chief suspects…”

\--------------------------------

Adalind sighed as she finished getting dressed for dinner. Kenneth was out doing whatever malicious deeds he had planned for that day. Adalind had stopped asking since he never told her, but she got the distinct feeling it ended with someone hurt every time. He seemed to like that. He also seemed to like scaring her—he’d denied any guards to her for the last couple of days, effectively house arresting her.

“Ms. Schade?”

She looked up and smiled a little at the maid who had come in. “Yes?”

“I’ve just come to collect clothes for the laundry service, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said politely, a little timidly. She was probably used to people being outrageously entitled.

Adalind smiled and walked over. “Right, I’ve got mine all ready.” She picked up a small hamper and brought it over. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“Me?” she asked, surprised. Adalind nodded. “Um, I’m Susanna.”

“Well, thank you Susanna. Look, I’m super bored right now…do you have time to chat?”

She looked taken aback a moment. “Bored? I mean…”

“Yeah…I know, this place is beautiful, but my company leaves a lot to be desired,” she sighed. “I feel like I’m going to go stir crazy at this rate.”

“…What would you like to talk about?” she asked, unsure but willing.

Adalind smiled in relief. “Oh, anything really. Mainly current events—I think I’m out of the loop a bit.”

\----------------------

Morgan Sutherland was in many ways similar to Rosalee Calvert, though neither knew the other existed. She was from a supposedly long line of herbalists and apothecaries and owned a shop in New Orleans, Louisiana. Morgan was a little older, but still quite lovely in a mysterious and dangerous way—like spider webs glinting with morning dew. Her shop was in a beautiful old building in the French Quarter and had been there almost as long as the city. _Sutherland’s Spices_ was painted on the shop window and the inside was old world beautiful with dark woods and shelves of jars and boxes.

It was also neutral ground for Grimm and Wesen. Morgan had plenty of contacts on both sides, and the knowledge to get what they all needed, so no one liked to be on her bad side. She’d learned long ago not to ask questions about what they were doing with what she sold them. That was where she differed—as long as she was paid, Morgan didn’t care. She didn’t get involved, she didn’t get attached, and when the shop was closed it was closed. Your problems were not her problems and she didn’t do charity.

When she heard the door chime she looked up from her book resting on the carved ebony counter and quirked a brow. “Dierdre Galperin? Haven’t seen you in a while. I’m rather surprised as you said you’d never return,” she said, her Louisiana drawl rolling her words.

“Morgan,” she nodded, glancing around.

“You’re my first today, we’re alone,” she said. Some thought she could read minds, but she could even read books that tried to stay closed. Dierdre was no different—then again, she hardly made her feelings secrets when alone. One would have to have empathy for that.

“Good. Because I’m about to ask for something I don’t want other people knowing about.”

Morgan smirked a little. “You’re shamed? That’s a surprise.”

She glared mildly. “It’s not shame so much as secret.”

“I find that’s usually why it’s secret. But go on, what do you need?” Dierdre pulled out a piece of paper and held it out. Morgan took it and looked it over. “This is a recipe…One I haven’t seen before.”

“Yes. I’m wondering if you can recreate it, with some tweaks.”

“…What does it do?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not in the long run, but I want to be sure it won’t kill _me_ ,” she said dryly.

“No, it shouldn’t do that. After all, nothing can,” she added, equally dry.

Morgan smirked and nodded. “Alright…and what tweaks did you want to make?”

“I heard that you have some…wesen parts.”

Morgan blinked but then smirked a bit. “You know I do. Though I thought I was worse than a wesen.”

“Not what I mean,” Dierdre said testily.

“You said last we met you’d rather die than ask help from me again, cher. But you look pretty alive to me.” It was said snidely. She took that a bit personally considering she had come through for Dierdre and still got the cold shoulder. Not getting attached was one thing, getting death threats even when she provided valuable services were another.

Dierdre sighed loudly. “This is a special circumstance. Now can you do this or not? I _will_ pay you.”

“…Well, I have a few things. But don’t tell, I don’t want to scare off my other clients. What did you have in mind?”

She held out another piece of paper. “I found information on this wesen a long time ago and I want to recreate what it does. Do you have anything that would mimic its ability if they try to break the effects of that?”

She took that paper too and her eyebrows rose. “This thing is rare outside Japan and China…”

“Is that your way of telling me it will be expensive or that you can’t do it? I’ll find another to do it if I have to,” she asked with a bored look.

The other woman quired a dark brow at her. “Another of my kind? That’s even rarer for your kind.”

“I’ll ask a hexenbiest if I have to,” she snapped.

“Oh, this is serious,” she said, brows raised. Morgan looked back at recipe and smiled. “Don’t worry though. I can do it. But it will be cost you.”

\-----------------------

“…And that’s why I’m here,” Adalind sighed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Susanna said honestly. “I’m shocked someone just took your baby…why didn’t you go to the police?”

“It’s complicated, but I’m not giving up without a fight,” she said.

“I have a baby too…” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a rather battered photo of her and a toddler girl. “Kristen. I have better pictures on my phone, she’s actually older now, but they don’t let us take our phones on shift...but I wanted to keep her close. I would do anything for her. This job is the best I can do because I had to drop out of school. It’s tough. But it’s all for her because I’m all she has. I can’t imagine what I would do in your situation…”

“She’s so cute,” Adalind said. “…Susanna, could I ask a huge favor?”

She looked unsure but nodded. “Alright…”

Adalind quickly went over to the pad of paper left on the nightstand and the hotel’s pen and wrote a note. “Give this note to Captain Sean Renard at the Precinct 83.”

“The police? Now?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes.”

“Ma’am, if you are being held here—”

“No, it’s not like that,” Adalind said quickly. “He’s…my daughter’s father. It’s all really complicated right now; I just want him to know some of what’s going on. I promise, it’s nothing that’ll get you in trouble.”

“…Alright.” She took the note and put it in her apron. “I want to help. But I should be getting back to work, before my manager knows something is wrong.”

“Of course, I don’t want you to get in trouble. Here,” she grabbed her purse and pulled out a fifty. “For your trouble, and for giving me someone to talk to.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—” she quickly began.

“Take it,” Adalind said. “It’s the least I can do after spending most of this time complaining to you and getting you to do me a favor on top of it.” She was laying it on a little thick, but the woman was her only outlet to the world at the moment and she didn’t want her chickening out.

She hesitated but took the money as well and smiled. “Thank you, Ms. Schade. I’ll, um…I’ll be back another day.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. The maid quickly scurried off and Adalind sighed and flopped back on the bed. She hoped that note would alert Renard that Kenneth was working doubly hard to locate Kelly. And while she wanted Diana back, she didn’t like the idea of Kenneth being anywhere near her.

\----------------------------------

Sloane sighed as she looked through the racks of dresses. She’d realized belatedly she needed something to wear at the competition. This was the part that was out of her comfort zone—they were glitzy, sparkly and eye catching. Generally what Dierdre raised her to avoid at all costs. Even back in Reno, she’d opted for the simpler dresses. But being older, there wasn’t many like that in her size.

“What about this one?” Jean asked, holding up a canary yellow dress with a lot of sparkles down the front and a feathered boa attached to it around the collar and down. They’d found a place that rented and sold dresses and Jean had insisted to come with her. Which meant Mim was along for the ride.

“To what, look like Big Bird?” Mim asked.

“It’s not that bad.” She then wrinkled her nose as a feather got stuck to her lips and spit it out. “Okay, never mind.” She set it back up.

“What color do you want, girlie, that would help narrow this down?”

“I don’t know to be honest,” she sighed.

“…What’s wrong?”

“All these fancy dresses are just too much—”

“No, what’s actually wrong,” Mim said, putting her hands on her hips. “Are you still fighting with Nick?”

Sloane was quiet and Jean sighed. “Sweety…I know what he did hurt, but you can’t stay mad forever.”

“Yeah I can,” she muttered.

“Sloane,” Mim said. She didn’t say anything but Mim sighed. “Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t be mad. But I also think you know you’re not as angry as you feel. So why are you punishing him?”

“I’m not!”

“Then what are you doing?”

Sloane closed her mouth and looked down. “…It’s…complicated…How I feel about all this…and it’s hard to really figure out. I just…need time to get over...” _Him._ “It.”

They looked at one another in concern but Mim and Jean ultimately dropped the subject. After trying on a few dresses, she made a pick and they headed out. What she didn’t expect was seeing Juliette having a coffee at a café on the corner. She looked pensive and Sloane hesitated but handed the bag to Mim. “I’ll be right back…”

“You sure?” she asked, having seen her as well. Jean looked over and paled a bit, looking worried.

“I’ll be fine, we’re in public.” Sloane walked towards the café.

Juliette paused taking a sip and looked up at her. “…What do you want?”

Sloane frowned a little at the cold greeting. That wasn’t like Juliette at all. “…Look, I…just want to talk. See how you’re doing.”

“How I’m doing? How do you think?” she spat.

“I don’t know,” she said, lifting and dropping her arms. “This isn’t something I’ve ever seen and definitely not experienced…we’re worried about you.”

“Yeah, worried I’ll hurt you. But you wouldn’t knife me in public, right? Not that dumb.”

“Given most experiences with Hexenbiests, can you blame us?” she hissed, leaning in. “We’re just as worried you might get hurt! You’re our friend.”

Juliette looked away a moment. “…I thought that…but why then are they treating this like a problem?”

“…Do you not think it is?” Sloane asked, surprised.

She looked at her. “You’ve seen some of what Hexenbiests can do. Maybe more than the rest of us. Rosalee is can do amazing things with herbs, but this is actual magic! I can move things with my mind, blow things up, stop criminals! I…have so much potential now. So much power.”

“But that power is also dangerous,” Sloane said.

“And yours isn’t? Strength, speed, agility—all to kill people. But when I do it, it’s a problem?”

Sloane flinched a little but then blinked. “…You’ve killed people?” she whispered, looking around at the other people at the café.

“Yeah. At the wesenrein, and that manticore. You think I could’ve done that without this power? I’d be dead! Hell, Adalind came for me and I wiped the floor with her. But she got away. No, ran away. I scared her,” she said, smiling a bit more smugly.

“…Well, that’s good…but you don’t enjoy that, right?”

“And if I did?” She looked at her.

“Juliette—”

“You know, part of the reason I lived with my grandmother in Spain when I was young was that my mother and I were attacked in our home when I was a kid,” she said. Sloane was surprised. “We lived, but my mother was really traumatized and I…was powerless. She got really paranoid and my father thought it would be good for her to focus on herself for a while. And she did and she got better but she always, always made sure those doors were locked and that she knew where I was and who I was with. I was sheltered a lot. Like a princess. She and my dad liked Nick a lot, thinking I’d be pretty safe with a cop. Ha! And they both died in an accident just after we started dating. Rockslide on the mountain trail they were hiking.”

“I’m sorry…” Sloane said.

“Yeah. Something they didn’t expect, not a person but a force of nature…Nick helped a lot then, comforting me…” she said, a touch wistfully. “But I felt so _powerless._ I was angry—years of paranoia and fear and that’s how they died. Years of being treated like glass and it didn’t matter! Anyone can kill you but so can anything. Except now I can fight anything. Inside I wanted to be stronger all that time. I wanted to be the kind of person someone would regret messing with. I didn’t want to be the damsel in distress.”

“You’re not,” Sloane said. “You never were! You were fighting before you were a hexenbiest! The siegbarst, your friends abusive ex—The zombies! We couldn’t have helped them without you!”

“But I was also a pawn against Nick,” she said. “Always, that’s what I was made into, something to hurt him, something to use against him. Now they can’t do that…For more reasons that one,” she added bitterly.

“Don’t…You still love Nick, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” she said, but she looked like it hurt to admit.

“And he loves you too!”

“Then why can’t he look past this? Why am I a problem to be fixed, huh?”

“It’s not that easy. Hexenbiests…They’re wesen, and they’re not.”

She frowned and looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Those powers you talk about, they’re different from a lot of things wesen can do. Some of course have powers that defy logic or science, but not on the scale Hexenbiests and Zauberbiests do. The fact we can see them woge means they are in someway related, but they are also something else entirely. In the past, some Grimm have specialized solely in hunting them.”

“…Witch hunters?” she guessed.

“Yeah. Real ones—the Salem Witch Trials were not part of the Grimm work and was mass hysteria and Blinde Jaegers causing things to get real bad real fast. But real witch hunters were something not to mess with. Unfortunately, their techniques are lost—the real books and tools they used are gone.”

“Unfortunately?” she asked, lip curling a little.

Sloane winced but then shrugged. “Hey, like you said, that power is lethal and most Hexenbiests don’t do good with it…It could’ve maybe had a way to help you—”

“I don’t need help!” at her shout, all the tables shook, and a few people jumped in confusion and surprise. Juliette took a deep breath and looked at her. “You’re afraid of what I can do now. That’s the problem.”

Sloane frowned more. “Honestly, yes. Because you’re lashing out and we’re worried you’ll hurt yourself or someone else,” she said, grinding out her words.

“I’ll learn to control it. And then I can use it to do a better job than you or Nick keeping people safe.”

“Juliette, listen to yourself! You _want_ to keep this power! That maybe could fine, but who are you actually helping right now? Nick and I are on a case, and what are you doing? Running around, having coffee?”

She glared but then arched her brow. “A case?”

“Yeah, a wesen that killed someone at a dance competition. That’s why we were talking to Monroe and Rosalee the other day. You could be helping us too, like you used to, but you’re staying angry and giving into the power and you’re seeing us as the enemy! This isn’t like you! You’re giving it power over _you_.”

Juliette glared and there was another rumble before she stood. “We’re done here.”

“Wait!” Sloane reached for her. “At least—at least do this.” She pulled out a tab from her pocket. “You weren’t around so you don’t know, but Dierdre came here and caused trouble. I had a protection spell made by Henrietta and I need a bit of your blood to protect you—”

Juliette wrenched her shoulder from her grip and looked at her in disgust. “I don’t need your protection! I already told you, I’m going to be strong enough I don’t need you, or Nick, or anyone to hold me back anymore. And just because you trusted one Hexenbiest doesn’t mean I have to trust you. Heck, Henrietta is just as jealous of my power as you all are!” She turned and started up the sidewalk, people wisely getting out of her path.

Sloane wanted to go after her, but that seemed like a bad idea as she stood and stalked away. Sighing, she walked back over to Mim and Jean. “That didn’t seem to go well…” Mim said.

“No…no it did not,” Sloane sighed. She thought a bit more about what she said to Juliette and sighed, knowing she couldn’t deny part of it was also frustration with herself.

\-------------------------

Nick and Hank couldn’t find anything on the Stepenovs in the system aside from Illya having one drunk and disorderly where he treated the local bar to dance that would make Magic Mike look tame. There was video.

“Sloane’s not going to teach you to dance like that I hope,” Hank said, trying not to laugh.

“I don’t think she knows how to dance like that…and even if she did, no,” Nick said.

Wu walked over then. “Hey guys, got the—whoa, okay, are we allowed to be watching that at work?”

“It’s one of our suspects,” Hank said.

“I suspect a lot of baby powder was used in getting into those leather pants.”

“And on that note,” Nick said, quickly pausing the video before he overheated from the blush. “What do you have?”

“Confirmation that Illya, Isaak and their mother were all part of the class where everyone was getting sick. But no formal complaint was ever filed, and the students all made full recoveries.”

“So, whoever it was had more control back then,” Hank guessed.

“Something must’ve made them snap recently then,” Nick said.

“Well, onto the next bit of news…Mr. Stepenov recently went into surgery for a blood clot in his leg. That’s part of why he’s using the cane—due to complications, he’s going through some intense physical therapy. For a man that was once a pro-dancer, that probably put a lot of stress on him and by extension both his children.”

“So, we have our stressor possibly, we just need to know who’s most stressed by it besides dad.”

“I’d say Isaak but he’s still pretty tense.”

“Could be an act,” Wu pointed out.

“Possibly…Illya seems more like the kind who’s been taking other people’s good feelings…” Nick said. His phone beeped and he looked at it. “Sloane found a dress…I guess I better head over to the studio.”

“You know…I gotta say, you’re seeming a bit more mellow lately,” Hank said.

“Me?”

“Yeah. I mean this whole Juliette thing had you really worked up, understandably. But you seem calmer. You always do on a case, but now outside of work too. Sloane too, seems calmer after the whole Dierdre thing. Maybe it does help.”

Nick frowned but shrugged. “Maybe…”

“Have you made up with her yet?” Wu asked. Nick looked away and he frowned. “Still? Dude, it’s like two days before this whole competition thing.”

“I know! She just…doesn’t seem to want to hear it…”

“Guess she can hold a grudge then…”

“Just sit her down and make her listen,” Hank said.

“You think I can _make_ Sloane do something?” Nick asked, quirking a brow.

“Honestly no, but you gotta take this more seriously. She’s your partner, and more than that your friend right? Put some effort into it.”

Nick sighed, knowing he was right, but headed out and towards the studio.

Sloane was there in her practice clothes when he arrived, working through some moves in the mirror with Thomas. Nick frowned a little and walked over. “Hey, I’m here…”

Thomas smiled. “Hey. I was just showing Sloane a few things.”

“Didn’t think Maria would like that…”

Thomas sighed. “She doesn’t…I don’t know what’s wrong with her. We had a fight and she disappeared…”

“A fight?”

“She’s gotten a bit clingy…”

“The woman has the hots for you,” Sloane said matter-of-factly, sipping her water.

He pursed his lips, uncomfortable but knowing she was right. “Nothing more is going to happen though…I mean, it happens sometimes. When you dance, for a little while, you fall in love with your partner. Or try to, so that the judges can feel the emotion…But if you’re not together, you’re supposed to leave it on the dance floor.”

“Not this again,” Sloane sighed.

“Yes, again. You always struggled with this part,” Thomas said, prodding her forehead. Nick felt a bit of anger that he was acting so chummy with her. “You get the technical stuff down, but you forget to smile or show any emotion. It’s why we never placed first.”

“We never placed first because we went up against dancers with decades of experience, _Tommy_ ,” she said, poking his forehead back.

He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Technical experience doesn’t take the place of emotion. Go ahead and work on it, I’ll go find my own partner.” He headed for the door and Nick watched him go.

Sloane turned to him and finally got a good look at him. “You need to change.”

“Yeah…first, can we talk? We need to talk,” he amended, trying to be a bit more insistent.

She hesitated but sighed and set her water bottle down. “Okay…”

Nick sighed in relief. “Okay…let me start. You’re right.” She gave him a look that said _I usually am_ , but he pressed on. “I did hesitate to tell you about Juliette when I really should have…”

“Because you thought I’d hurt her?” she asked again.

He started to shake his head but paused and sighed again. “I mean, that was a worst-case scenario in my head, yes. But I didn’t think you’d do it on purpose or…I just kept thinking about all the ways this was messed up and could get worse and I got scared to tell anyone. I didn’t even tell Monroe and Rosalee, you saw they were surprised. I told Hank because I was going crazy—and I really would’ve told you too, but it was that morning you were packing up to leave because of Dierdre. And then everything else happened…I haven’t handled any of this well,” he groaned, pulling at his face. “Juliette is really angry at me and I can’t blame her too much with how I’ve messed this all up. I don’t want you angry at me too.”

“…Why do you think she’s she mad at you?” she asked, honestly unsure.

“…When she revealed herself, I didn’t react well. I…pulled my gun on her.” Sloane’s eyes widened in shock. “I thought she was Adalind! I thought she must’ve done something to the real Juliette…then I realized it was her. But because of me, again, she’s having to go through something so…awful.”

“You didn’t know,” Sloane said, putting a hand on his arm gently.

“No, but it’s happened and I…I think she was hoping I would say it didn’t matter. That I’d love her no matter what. And I do, I still love her! But I just can’t help the way my skin crawled when she woged. And again, later, when she…kind of proved I couldn’t handle it. I mean, a wesen is one thing. I could accept if she was a fuchsbau or a blutbad or even…even whatever the ugliest kind of wesen out there. But a Hexenbiest? I…Can a Grimm and a Hexenbiest even make it work?” He sounded lost and Sloane felt her heart squeeze.

Sighing, she gently wrapped her arms around him. Nick was surprised but she hugged him gently. “I don’t know. You’ve shown me anything might be possible. Henrietta is a Hexenbiest but seems…alright at least. Heck, Renard’s mom isn’t too bad either. They’re fickle but not evil. But after all your run ins with them, I think it makes sense you’d be pretty turned off and freaked out…”

He nodded. “I don’t want to be…”

“It’s not something you just get over…but I’ll be honest, I think it’s really effecting her for the worse…”

Nick pulled back and looked at her. “Really?”

“…I talked to her today. She was at a restaurant near the dress shop.”

His eyes widened. “How is she?”

“…Not great,” she sighed, pulling her arms away. “And she is hurt by you. But I mean, if she sees reason, would being a Hexenbiest really be something you two would split over after everything?”

“…” Nick hesitated, and Sloane was surprised. True love seemed stronger than this but maybe there were limits after all. He finally sighed and leaned down against her shoulder. “I want to say no. I do. I love her so much and I still want to be with Juliette. But…it feels like something else changed in her. I can’t put my finger on it, but…it feels like she’s another person. I’m scared maybe she likes being this way. Maybe these powers are corrupting her…maybe she’ll turn into a real monster.”

“…I think you’re right to fear that,” Sloane said honestly. “She doesn’t want to go back. She wants to hold onto this power. She’s talking about doing good with it, but…I’m not so sure. Henrietta said that Hexenbiests are naturally chaotic. That it takes a lot to not fall down into that hole of just seeking power. It might be inherent…the power might’ve gone to her head.”

Nick nodded slowly. “Maybe…we found a cure for bringing back my powers though. I…have to hope we can do that for her. Because I just…don’t know how to feel now. I just want it to go back to how it was.”

Sloane frowned. She wasn’t sure that was possible but decided to hold her tongue. “Okay…But you know, you need to stop keeping things to yourself.”

“I was going to—”

“I’m serious,” she said, looking at him. “I noticed it dancing with you. You’re leading, but you’re holding too much tension. You’re trying to do it all on your own when I’m _right there._ ”

Nick blinked in surprise. “I am?”

“Yeah.” Sloane took his hand into position and he automatically went into hold. “I did the same when I first learned. I kept trying to lead,” she smiled wryly. Nick smiled, able to picture that. “Thomas explained it this way: Dancing is a fight against yourself. You have to have the presence of mind to remember the moves, your choreography, your posture, hold, all of that. But you also have to make it seem effortless and like you’re not thinking at all. To look like you’re in control and having fun. You have to be thinking five steps ahead but also be in the moment. And part of that is relying on your partner to be fighting that same fight against themselves, with you. You focus on what you’re doing, but you’re forgetting _I’m_ here too.”

“…I think I understand,” he said slowly. “I’m in my head too much and not looking around me.”

“A bit. I do that too though.” She looked thoughtful before relaxing their hold. “You know…I think compared to Dierdre, our greatest strength is this. That we’re not alone. That we work together, and work with Monroe and Rosalee and the others. I don’t know what kind of Grimms we are, but we’re stronger than her this way.”

Nick smiled. “I can agree there…it’s just hard when I worry how much trouble I’m bringing everyone.”

“And I know that feeling. You kind of got on my case about it,” she pointed out dryly.

“Yeah…sorry, guess I’m a little hypocritical…” he said, smiling apologetically.

“Just a little. But I forgive you.”

He smiled and then got her back into position, so close Sloane felt her heart flutter a little. “Better practice a bit while we can then.”

“…Right. But you still need to change first.”

“Okay, okay,” he sighed, stepping back. Sloane almost reached for him again but sighed as she watched him go.

\---------------------------------

Renard looked up at the knock on his door to see an officer and a woman standing outside it. He motioned and the officer opened the door. “Captain? There’s a woman here, says she needs to see you. It’s about a Miss Schade?”

He sat up straighter, glancing at the woman who looked away, fidgeting. “…Send her in.”

He nodded, letting her through and closing the door when Renard nodded to him. She swallowed, looking nervous before reaching into her pocket and quickly marching forward. “Miss Schade asked me to give this to you.”

He blinked and took the note, opening it up. His lips twitched when he saw it was written in German—she must’ve confirmed the woman doesn’t speak it to make sure she couldn’t snoop.

_Sean,_

_I think you already know, but Kenneth has replaced Viktor. He also seems interested in Juliette after I told him she almost killed me—you need to do something about her before he gets to her! If she turns against you, we’re in deep trouble. I’m sorry about the detective, but I’m glad to know you’re at least trying. Now try to stay alive._

_-A_

He sighed, slipping the note into the desk. So, Kenneth knows about Juliette? That could be a very bad problem given her moods lately. “Thank you. I’ll see what I can do for her on my end.”

“…She is…a very unhappy woman.”

Renard quirked his brow. “Is she?”

“We talked. I know her baby…your baby, she’s been taken?”

“…Yes. It’s complicated though.”

“I have a daughter. I almost had her taken away too—by people who thought I was too young and irresponsible. If I can help…”

He hesitated but reached into his desk again and pulled out another bit of paper. “Give this to Adalind. It’s to let her know I understand and I’m still doing all I can…sorry, what is your name?”

“Susannah.”

“Susannah. I’m sorry to put you in this awkward situation but thank you. Just be careful of the men Adalind is with, they are not to be trusted.”

She nodded, taking the paper. “I got that feeling. They’re very cold.”

 _That’s putting it mildly…_ “Just let me know if you run into any trouble.”

She nodded, taking the note and heading out again quickly. Renard sighed, leaning back a little to think over what to do to keep Juliette and Kenneth far apart.

\---------------------------------

The morning of the competition, Nick was surprisingly nervous. He’d known he’d be dancing in front of others, but it being the day of and with only hours to spare he was starting to feel a little stage fright.

“You’ve done this before, right?” he asked, adjusting his tie. He was speaking with Sloane from the other side of the door to one of the practice rooms where she’d opted to change. Because while the other female contestants were changing in a dressing room, they weren’t also finding places to strap a knife that wouldn’t be too noticeable.

“Yeah, when I was a teenager…” she said.

“So, first is the part where we all dance at the same time, where they switch between the styles…”

“That’s par for the course and how most competitions are. Our main concern is going to be figuring out which one of our suspects is the Phantänzchen.”

“What if they both are?”

“Then we deal with both.” The door opened and Nick turned and then almost fell backwards. Rosalee had already helped with her hair and makeup earlier but hadn’t let Nick see. So now he was being struck by the full picture all together at once. Her hair was smoothed and done up elegantly, with a beaded rose and leaf fascinator worked into it and around the small French twist. She had a smokey eye with a deep pink lipstick that made her look sultry and seductive. But most stunning of all was the dress—it was a silver-gray with a tight bodice in a dusky rose color with beadwork over it looking like climbing roses and a few crisscrossing straps over and around her shoulders. Ruffles of silver-grey were attached to her arms by beaded rings at her shoulders, wrists and elbows. Nick had never really thought of someone looking like a fairy-tale princess outside of Disney Land, but he could see it now. She looked at him as she fixed one earing (roses with short, beaded dangles) and froze. “…What?”

“I…uh, you look…wow. I mean, it’s a lot of sparkle but…wow…” He wanted to smack himself. Had he forgotten how to compliment a woman? “I’m trying to say you look great. Beautiful.”

Sloane blushed slightly and looked away. “Thanks…you too.” She blushed more and inwardly groaned. Did she not know how to say he looked handsome in his suit?

Nick smiled a little. “Thanks…”

“Hey!” They both looked up to see Thomas jogging towards them. “Have you—Whoa, looking good. Uh, I mean, have you seen Maria?”

“She’s missing again?” Nick asked.

“Honestly, she’s been missing since day before yesterday…I thought she just needed a break and honestly, I did too so I video chatted with my family but now she still isn’t here.”

“Could she have decided to just leave?” Sloane asked.

“I thought about it, but she begged me to do this, so she’d have a chance at the prize money—she took out a loan she needed to pay back. That’s why she was really adamant about going on with it. Also, her practice things are all still here, upstairs…she wouldn’t leave all that behind.”

“Where did you last see her?” Nick asked.

“It was here, in one of the back practice rooms…she wasn’t at the hotel either. At least I don’t think she was, she didn’t answer when I knocked…”

Nick frowned and looked at Sloane. “…Just a sec.” Sloane hiked up her skirt on one side and pulled her phone from a thigh-holster. The men’s eyes widened.

“You…I mean, you kept your phone on you that way?” Thomas asked.

“For work,” Sloane said. “You’d see the same thing if I was in a bathing suit, so stop blushing.”

“It’s the context…the garters…” he coughed, blushing and looking at the ceiling. Nick cleared his throat, looking away. Sloane just huffed and dialed the precinct.

“Precinct 83, Franco speaking.”

“Franco, it’s Detective Larson. Is Wu there?”

“Hey! Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your big debut, detective? You and Burkhardt gotta trip the light fantastic, right?” he grinned.

Sloane frowned. “I see you’ve all heard then…we are, but we’re also still looking into things here and I need you to look into some information ASAP. A woman, one of the competitors, seems to be missing.”

“Oh, shit…Sorry, uh, Wu actually took off. He, Hank and even the Captain went to watch you guys—they all got tickets through the captain.”

“Of course, they did,” she said, though it was a little fond. They were going to have their own cheering section at this rate. “I’ll let them know too, but I need you to do this then.”

“Right, on it. What do you need?”

“Her name is Maria Bellomo. B-E-doubl L-O-M-O. Last seen day before yesterday by her partner, Thomas Lang. He’s here. Hold on.” She took her ear away and looked at Thomas. “What’s the hotel and room number?”

“The Langston Inn, Room 203,” He said, looking surprised.

“She’s staying at the Langston Inn, Room 203. See about contacting them to find out if she’s there. I want to be sure someone hasn’t taken the opportunity to hurt her.”

“Right, will do. I’ll call you with what I get.”

“Thanks Franco. Leave a message or text me if I don’t pick up.” She hanged up, looking back at them. “He’s going to look into it. For now…does this mean you drop out?”

He sighed. “I guess so…truthfully, I was thinking this would be my last competition, so I’m a little disappointed.”

“Last one?” she asked in surprise.

“Yeah…Especially with Maria. I didn’t realize how into me she really was…”

“And you say I’m blind to emotions,” Sloane said, rolling her eyes.

“…No, you’ve gotten better with that,” he said, smiling. She looked at him with a quirked brow. “Anyway, I’m going to go make one more inquiry with the girls in the other dressing room.”

“Alright, let us know if you find her,” Nick said. He nodded and walked off and Nick turned to Sloane. “You think she’s taken by the Phantänzchen?”

“It’s possible…But is she dead or being held somewhere?”

“Held?”

“Maybe our phantom learned how to sip instead binge,” she said. “We only have minutes before the competition starts, and if we’re not there it might seem suspicious…so we don’t have time to search around here.”

Nick sighed as well, thinking the same thing. “…Monroe might be able to sniff her out,” Nick thought. “If she’s still here.”

She smiled. “Alright. After the competition we’ll get him and get something of hers. I doubt we’d place even with the low numbers.”

“Gee, thanks for the pep talk,” he said sarcastically.

Sloane rolled her eyes but smiled. “You’ve gotten good, but we’re both still amateurs. C’mon, time to make our debut.”

He nodded offering his arm with a smile. Sloane tried not to smile too much as she took it and they headed down to the ballroom. The other couples were all gathering at where they were to make their entrance. Sloane paused, looking around. “I don’t see any of the Stepenovs…” she muttered.

“They’re probably out in the audience since they aren’t competing,” Nick pointed out.

“I suppose, but I figured Isaak would be directing all this. He seems pretty type A.”

He nodded, finding that odd as well. But they didn’t get a lot of time to think. The music outside started, and the door opened, and all the dancers were making their way onto the floor. Nick took a deep breath and fell in line with Sloane as they made their way onto the floor. She must’ve felt him tense up because she squeezed his arm.

“This is just another fight. I’m with you,” she whispered, just enough he could hear her over the music and the applause from the audience. He smiled a little and actually felt a bit more relaxed at that.

In the audience, their cheering section were gathered around a few close by tables thanks to Renard’s influence. “Wow…Sloane looks amazing,” Wu said as the couples were all announced and taking starting positions.

“Of course, she does,” Jean said proudly.

“Nick doesn’t look bad either,” Mim said. While Jean had gotten a nice dress to wear, Mim was wearing a suit and had her hair slicked back into a low ponytail in a more butch style.

“But I wonder if they have any idea who our culprit is,” Renard said.

They quieted as the lights dimmed except for those on the dance floor. They saw Isaak then, looking as put together as they expected, taking the mic as MC. “Thank you for joining us in the 14 annual Sea of Stars Dance Competition. I am Isaak Stepenov. My father, Edmund, is the founder of the competition and owner of the Golden Grove. This competition was also founded and is now in memory of my mother, Leticia. As always, she is here in spirit, loving watching you all share her love of dancing. Dancing to my parents was like breathing…it was how they showed their love for each other and the world. I hope today we see more love out in the world, and on this stage, for dance and each other.”

The crowd clapped again, and Sloane glanced at Nick but then quickly away.

“As always, we will begin with the traditional competition dances. I’ll announce each dance as the music changes, so be prepared. After that, each couple will have one solo dance to showcase their best work.”

He stepped back and motioned to the band. The couples all got into position as the music began to play and they started dancing.

“…Wow, they’re doing pretty good,” Hank said. “I mean, I’m not expert, but they look as good as everyone else dancing to me.”

“Judges can be picky,” Renard said. “Some might prefer a more rigid, traditional way to dance than anything more free flowing.”

It was about a minute and a half before Isaak’s voice came over the speakers again. “Argentine Tango.”

The music began to shift into the appropriate tempo and the couples shifted their hold to follow suit. It went on like this for a few more (Salsa, Foxtrot, Cha Cha, Samba) before Sloane frowned a bit as she looked over the audience. Illya was still nowhere to be seen and she realized Isaak was announcing the dances, but she couldn’t see him. Edmund was sitting at a table of honor behind the judges, watching them. But he also seemed to occasionally glance around the room as if looking for something.

“Something’s up with our hosts,” She said quietly.

“I was thinking the same,” Nick said, twirling her a little and pulling her back before another couple got too close. This was feeling a little secret agent-like as they danced and kept trying to figure out what was going on. He looked at Sloane then and felt a sudden burst of fondness. She was still trying to figure out who their culprit was, but there was a buzz of excitement in her too. One he’d only seen when she danced. A wide-eyed, blazing excitement under her skin that radiated off of her, that was infectious. He wondered why she only showed this side of her when she danced. And he realized probably that was the only time she could when she was young. Dierdre had controlled everything about her for years, either by her physical presence or hammering it into her head. But learning to dance had been her rebellion—had been her moment to step away from the shadows into the lights and breathe. To say something, she couldn’t say with her voice.

_Look at me! I exist! I’m here! I’m not just made for killing! I’m not heartless! Look!_

When the last dance, the Quickstep, was announced and the music changed, Nick pulled her closer. She looked up and it was like they both understood each other in that moment without words. Smiling bright through the sweat and the racing heart, they forgot about murders and wesen for a moment and danced. Their friends were shocked as they made that final push. Each step was lively but precise—Rise and Fall, Lock Step, Natural Hairpin, Running Finish, Outside Change, Chasse'—with turns and charges mixed in. They moved in perfect unison, in line, like one mind. Nick was smiling, but Sloane looked like she would glow if she could with how much fun she was having.

They finished and the band wrapped up. All the couples were panting after twenty minutes of constant work but were trying to remain composed. The judges were furiously scribbling last minute notes. The audience erupted into applause and they broke apart. Nick bowed but gestured at Sloane as she curtsied—something he’d learned from watching videos.

“Fantastic!” Isaak’s voice came on and they finally saw him back behind the judges table. He looked a little out of breath as well. “We’ll take a break to let them all have some time to rest and get ready for the solo dances. Don’t forget to order your drinks!”

Sighing, Nick offered his arm again and Sloane took it as they exited the dance floor.

“Guys!” Hank said, waving. They smiled and walked over. “That was pretty damn good!”

“Yeah, I’m impressed,” Wu agreed.

“You were amazing!” Rosalee smiled, hugging Sloane. Jean and Mim both took turns as well.

“Thanks…But we haven’t forgotten why we’re here.”

“Yeah. Monroe, think you can help us real quick?” Nick said, leaning in so they weren’t broadcasting to everyone.

“Uh, maybe. With what?”

“Finding a missing dancer.”

“Someone’s missing?” Renard asked, straightening.

“Possibly. I don’t know if she just left in a huff or was taken, but the fact she isn’t here raises some red flags,” Sloane said. She managed to get her phone out without embarrassing herself and looked at it. “I called Franco and he looked into it, sent me an update while I was dancing. Apparently Maria Bellomo hasn’t been back to her hotel since two nights ago. Thomas hasn’t seen her since then and the last place he did was here, at the practice rooms. We just want to see if she might be…stuck somewhere.”

“Sure, I can try and track her scent if it’s anywhere but this room in particular. Kind of too many other scents going on,” he pointed out.

“Let’s try starting in the practice area.”

“What about us?” Hank asked.

“Keep your eye out for Illya and Isaak Stepenov. We’re pretty sure it’s one of them. And I haven’t seen Isaak actually out here announcing things…” Nick said, casting a look around again. “Otherwise, stay here or it’ll look too suspicious.”

“Right, should we go?” Monroe said, pushing his chair back.

“Can’t. We’re first up on the solos.”

“We are?” Nick asked, looking at her in surprise.

“I may have snuck a look at the list and changed some things around, so no one wonders where we are,” she said, smiling.

“Sneaky,” Monroe said, nodding approvingly.

“Hey, we choreographed this dance and I drilled it into his feet, it’s getting danced,” she said, crossing her arms. Nick held up his hands, not arguing. “So, we have time for quick drink of water before we’re out there,” she said, patting Nick’s arm.

“Great,” he sighed, smoothing his hair back with the sweat.

 _Oooh, that should not turn me on,_ Sloane thought. She turned quickly, heading to grab a water at the bar with him before her flushed face looked suspicious.

“I’m going to run to the restroom before we’re up,” Nick said. Sloane nodded, sighing as she ordered the waters.

“You did well, _lapachka,_ ” a smooth voice said. She looked up to see Illya sipping some wine at the bar. He was wearing a grey suit instead of a blue like his brother.

“I’m not sure I like you calling me that,” Sloane said. _And where have you been hiding?_

He smiled. “Sorry. My father always called my mother that, so I tend to call the woman who get my interest.”

“The interest isn’t mutual.”

“Hey, no need to be so cold. I thought we danced pretty well together…”

“Nah, no emotion with you.” Illya frowned and looked up when Thomas walked over. “Face it, you’re not her partner hot stuff. Better go hunt somewhere else. Or do you want to keep getting rejected?” He huffed but turned to walk off. Thomas looked at her and smiled. “Sorry. I know you could’ve handled him, but that guy drives me nuts.”

Sloane smiled and sipped the water. “I’ll just say thanks then. But did you have to bring up the no emotion thing again?”

“Oh, sore spot?” He chuckled. She rolled her eyes and took another swig. “You know, I had a huge crush on you back in high school.” She coughed on her water and turned wide eyes to him. “Really, you didn’t know? I thought I was stupidly obvious,” he laughed.

“No! I mean…why?”

“Why? Sloane, we spent a lot of time together. I…knew you weren’t the cold, distant person you tried to show everyone else. I loved dancing with you. But even when you smiled it was because you were enjoying the dance…I wanted you to smile because you enjoyed dancing with _me._ And when you disappeared…”

“Please tell me you haven’t been carrying a torch for me all this time?” Sloane said, close to panic.

“I did for a while, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t date. And eventually I got married.” He held up his hand, showing a ring on his finger. “I keep it on a chain usually in case my hand gets too sweaty, before you ask.”

“I figured it was something innocent. You don’t strike me as a man to play the field…”

“I’m not,” he chuckled. “I love my wife. We started out as dance partners. Then she got pregnant and had our son and decided to retire. I wasn’t ready though and Maria wanted a partner…”

“Wanted you, you mean?”

“Figured that out now, yes. I never had any intention to cheat though, and Sarah always said she trusted me and understood. Now though…I kind of realized she must still be worried. So, I’m going to call it quits. I can still dance sometimes in Reno, but my family deserves my devotion.”

“Very sweet,” Sloane said, smiling honestly.

“Thanks…Anyway, I guess I just...wanted to say how I felt as closure. I know you don’t feel the same, and I don’t either anymore, but there was that annoying part of me that thought about it now and then. And I want to say—focus a bit more on your partner!” She jumped when he leveled a finger at her. “You don’t have to stay in love with him, but you should act like it if you want to stand out. You came close in that final dance.”

Sloane tried not to look more panicked but sighed. “It’s not that simple…”

“Out there it is. The emotional constipation isn’t flattering there.” Sloane pouted at him and he smiled. “Just loosen up, completely, this once. When will you get another chance?”

That was a question that stuck with her a little.

“I’m back!” Nick said, jogging over. “Hey, Thomas…”

“Hey. Good luck, I’ll be rooting for you two…any sign of Maria though?”

“Not yet,” Sloane shook her head. “We’re waiting for information and tools and we’ll jump right on it.”

He smiled and nodded, walking back to his table. Sloane handed Nick a water bottle and he drank it down while she thought a bit more about what Thomas had said.

Eventually, the lights signaled it was time to continue and they sighed and walked over. “This is the last hurdle for today, right?” Nick asked quietly.

“Yes, then we can go searching while everyone else is distracted,” she nodded.

“Ladies and gentleman, we will now continue on to the solo dances. First up is Sloane Larson and Nick Burkhardt, dancing the Waltz! These two are actually detectives from Portland’s own Precinct 83, making their dancing debut.”

“A waltz? Didn’t expect that,” Monroe said.

“Because it’s so slow?” Rosalee smiled.

“Yeah. I figured it be that Passo Doble thing where she gets to kick the guy around.” The others chuckled and Rosalee rolled her eyes and shushed them when the music started.

Sloane thought about what Thomas said again as Nick placed his hand around her back and took her other hand in his. _When will I get this chance again…Just let go._ Sloane smiled at Nick and they started dancing, moving as one around the dance floor.

The dance was nothing flashy. The music soft, sweet and simple piano. But Sloane smiled in a way she had never smiled before—dancing with Nick. Facing outward was more what she should be doing, but she hardly took her eyes away. Nick didn’t seem to notice but he smiled as well as he spun with her around the room, dipped her, supported her when she twirled. He didn’t understand the smile or the look in her eyes, if he even noticed them. And while Rosalee, Monroe, Hank, Wu and Renard felt there was something different about the dance and the feeling of it, they couldn’t place it.

Mim and Jean did though. Their eyes widened and they glanced at one another before their eyes locked back on their girl. They’d never seen that look on Sloane’s face, but they understood it in the same way they had seen Rebecca look at Charles, the way they looked at one another.

Unknown to the rest of them however, another audience member was watching and frowning deeply with a glass of wine in her hand. Juliette was on the fringes of the crowd but could still see them thanks to the raised seating. “This is their case? Seriously? Playing dress up and dancing?” she muttered to herself, disgusted. The smile on Nick’s face made her all the angrier. He really did miss her, didn’t he?

“That’s an odd look on such a pretty face.” She looked up and though she didn’t know it was Illya Stepenov, she knew his type. “You don’t like their dance?”

“No. I don’t,” she said. She took a deep drink of her wine.

“I hope it’s not dancing in general that makes you so upset. There’s a free dance later and I thought I’d invite you.”

She looked at him and the smirked and huffed. “You’re cute. But sorry, I’m not in the mood to dance.”

“Why come to a dancing competition then?” he asked, frowning.

“Just a glutton for punishment,” she snarked, moving back towards the bar. “Find another dance partner, big guy.” Illya sighed, throwing up his hands in frustration as he walked off.

As the music came to a close, the final move was Nick letting Sloane twirl away from him and for a moment she didn’t wan to. She wanted to stay close. To not end this, two minutes wasn’t enough. But she beat that feeling back into the depths where she’d let it out and schooled her face back into her normal, ingratiating smile as she curtsied to the applause while Nick bowed.

“Lovely!” Isaak said. “They may not be official pros, but you’d never know! That was our two dancing detectives! Thank you again, Sloane Larson and Nick Burkhardt.”

The crowd applauded again, and Nick and Sloane headed for the door at the side with a glance back at Monroe. He quickly got up to follow them out. “Hey! That was beautiful, you guys! Really beautiful!”

“Thanks…” Sloane said, trying to compose herself. She grabbed her phone from under her skirt and looked at it again. “No further updates…”

“Alright, we can focus on the case now. I’m worried Ms. Bellomo might be in real trouble considering she still hasn’t turned up…”

“You have something with her scent on it I take it?” Monroe asked.

“No, but I know where to find it,” Sloane said, hiking her skirt up to go up the stairs. “I kind of hope it’s not much of a fight right now, these shoes aren’t the best for that…”

“I think you could manage,” Nick said, a little amused.

She rolled her eyes with a smile but continued upstairs. Heading to a practice room, she smiled and headed to a corner, picking up the bright orange towel pinched in her fingers. “Thomas mentioned she left her things here and this is pretty distinctive of her.” She held it out to Monroe who leaned in and took a delicate whiff.

“Hmmm…I do get her scent in here.” He sniffed a bit more, heading out the door and into the hall. “Getting stronger out here actually…I think she might still be in the building.”

“If she is, that actually might be bad news…”

“Why?”

“Because it means she couldn’t come to compete wherever she is,” Sloane sighed. He kept sniffing, leading them back down another set of stairs. Then down to another, towards the basement. “Getting closer, but creepier too…”

Nick and Sloane agreed, and he wished he’d thought to grab a weapon before they headed over.

Monroe paused in front of one wall and frowned. “…Okay, gonna sound weird, but I swear her scent is _through_ this wall.”

Nick and Sloane looked at one another before motioning Monroe to step back. Nick leaned his ear against the wall, knocking at one of the sealed, white-washed bricks. “Hmmm…It does sound off.” Sloane was looking it over, moving her hands around the bricks.

“Wait, do you guys think there’s like a secret passage? Like in movies? I mean, wouldn’t that be odd?”

“There’s odd places like that all over the city,” Nick said. “Old Shanghai tunnels and the like.”

“In this case, I think this place was built by a bunch of creepy Phantänzchen. So, a secret passage seems like something they’d do.”

“Like the ones to the Grimm Libraries?” Nick pointed out.

“I never said those were normal either,” she smirked.

“…Can I just say, I am so glad you two are getting along again,” Monroe sighed happily. “You two being angry at each other was just…wrong.”

“Don’t spoil the moment, Scooby,” Sloane said. Monroe was about to snark back when she hit three bricks in a triangle close together and a large section of the wall about the size of a door swung back as if a knob was turned.

“…Jinkies,” Monroe said. Sloane smiled and was about to go through when Nick put a hand on her shoulder.

“Let me go first.”

“What about ladies first?”

He smiled. “I lead, remember?” She rolled her eyes but stepped aside and offered him to go in first.

Monroe followed and she brought up the rear. “Oh, her scent is strong here…but something’s wrong too…”

“It’s a secret passage, that probably goes without saying…” Sloane pointed out.

A short passage led into a hidden room. Nick and Sloane both summoned a bit of their Grimm abilities. All they could really see was boxes at the sides of the room, furniture with sheets over them…There was no windows or source of ambient light to give them anything else to work with. Monroe’s eyes were slightly woged as well and he looked around before finding a light switch on the wall and flicking it on. They blinked when light flooded the room from a crystal chandelier in the center of the room. What they thought was maybe a storage room was actually meant to be a secret dance room it seemed—with warmly painted and paneled walls in walnut and dark red, and a hardwood floor that hadn’t been refinished in a while but still looked very expensive.

In the center of the room was Maria Bellomo, propped in a chair like a marionette without strings. Her hands were almost black looking, with the veins running up her arms to her chest and head.

Nick cursed and rushed over to her. He moved her head carefully and she groaned softly, looking at him with dim, confused eyes. “She’s alive,” Nick breathed. “But she’s not doing well.”

“I’ll call 911,” Monroe said. He pulled out his phone but then frowned. “And there’s no signal down here, of course.”

They all froze when they heard footsteps echoing from the hall outside. “Hide her, she can’t get in the middle of a fight in this condition,” Sloane said. Nick and Monroe nodded and quickly got her arms around their shoulders, moving her to a corner where they would be hidden by boxes. Sloane was about to follow when the steps picked up and she instead stood her ground. Nick hissed her name but moved back to keep out of the way when she gestured him to settle down behind her back.

She was expecting one of the twins to come around the side—not their father. He slowed, holding onto his cane a little more tightly. “Detective Larson…I see you found our private room.”

“I did…”

“It seems you’re a better detective than I thought you would be.”

“I’d say thank you, but I’ve still got a few questions and concerns…”

“I’m sure you do,” Edmund said. “But what are you thinking?”

“Well…It’s not mold, I know that much. So, you’re not trying to hide an infection.”

“You know that?”

“I do. You’re not passing this off on spores this time,” she said, the finality making Edmund frown. “Maria Bellomo disappeared two days ago. I found her here—she’s on her way to get help with my partner. But why do you have this room at all? It’s not as old as the rest of the building…is this what you were building 15 years ago when you closed to take care of “mold”?” He inclined his head and she sighed. “I’ll take that as a yes. Which makes me think this must be a place for you and your family to…dance in secret. And that means it must be something you absolutely don’t want others knowing about. Probably because…what, you lead people down here to dance?”

He smiled and set his cane in the crook of his arm, clapping his hands sardonically. “Well done…But you must realize that means we want to keep it a secret.”

“…So, you’re one? A Phantänzchen?”

He paused slightly. “You know?”

“Oh, I know. It’s not the first time I’ve met your kind. But your leg…”

“Yes…my veins not working well. Ironic, isn’t it? But I have to keep dancing…I need to. It’s the only thing that makes it worthwhile to keep going. And the girls were so accommodating to an old man wanting to dance again…”

Sloane sneered a bit, the wistfully sweet tone setting her teeth on edge. “But you killed Katarina. You nearly killed Danica.”

“I was out of practice. I swear, I didn’t mean to take it that far...For years, my…my wife helped me. But it took a tole on her as well…” He walked over towards some of the items and opened a drawer. He pulled out an oval photo in a frame showing him younger, with a beautiful woman in a dancer’s gown. “I moved some of her things down here for safe keeping. No…so that I could stop thinking about it and blaming myself. I took too much from her. She gave me my sons, her love, and I kept taking…and then she was gone. An accident…that’s what I tell myself. Not an escape.”

“And then…what about these last few years?” She glanced at Nick and Monroe, who were inching around to try and find an opening to leave.

“Oh, I took a little from students…but starved myself mostly. I didn’t think I deserved it. But after the surgery, I needed it…I needed to dance or I would rather be dead…” Sloane felt like something was in the air, trying to relax her. “Won’t you let me dance one last time…”

“…Yeah, that’s not going to work on me,” she said.

He frowned. “What are you…?” He then looked down and shifted. His skin became translucent—not like Koschie with glowing green veins, no, this was as though his skin was turning into a mist with his bones visible through it. His eyes burned like two embers in blackness, and his hair turned to smoke at the top of his head. The cane fell to the floor and he took a step back. “Grimm!” He said, his voice raspy, like putting your ear up to a seashell and hearing the air buzzing inside but echoing in the room.

Sloane reached under her skirt and pulled out her knife and in one fluid motion rushed forward. He moved back and it was like her knife passed through a cloud where the skin and muscle of his chest should be. _Shit, I forgot how hard these guys are to fight!_ “Get her out of here!”

Nick and Monroe grabbed Maria and started rushing for the door. Edmund looked at then, then roared and moved, almost seeming to glide as he tried to grab them. Nick ducked out of the swipe at his head and kept moving while Sloane grabbed his jacket and tried to yank him back. His clothes and his bones were still solid, but his leg nearly buckled. He rounded on her and grabbed her hand and she grunted when she felt a stinging burn in her veins.

Out in the stairwell, Nick propped Maria up against the wall. “Stay with her!”

“Okay!” Monroe nodded.

Nick rushed back in and grabbed a candlestick nearby, using it to strike Edmund in the side. Apparently disturbing him enough made it hard to keep his grasp and Sloane was able to pull her arm out of his grip. He hissed and moved back, glaring at them.

Monroe looked up when he heard hurried footsteps. Illya was coming down and looked at him in shock and alarm. “What…who are you and what are you doing?”

“Uh…This woman collapsed and I’m just…waiting for paramedics!”

He frowned and then heard a crash and looked at the opening. “…Father!?” He rushed forward, and Monroe stood to try and stop him.

“Look, I don’t like getting in the middle of strangers’ family drama, but you can’t go in there—”

“Was she in that room?”

“Uh…yeah?”

He cursed out in Russian and actually picked Monroe up with a hand on either bicep and set him aside like a mannequin. It was surprising and Monroe didn’t snap out of it in time to stop him rushing to the door. “Father! Stop!”

The fight paused, Nick and Sloane on opposite sides of the room and Edmund in the middle. Edmund turned, still woged. “Illya…what are you doing here?”

“Father, I know you’re not the one that…that drained those girls,” he said.

His eyes widened and he changed back, stumbling a little as his body was human again. “What?”

“What?” Nick and Sloane asked together.

“You can’t keep protecting him, Father,” he said, desperate. “You have always tried to protect him, but this has gotten out of hand!”

“Be quiet!” Edmund ordered. “You don’t know anything! How could you? You’re not like him, like me! You can’t understand this pain!”

Illya looked hurt but then looked at Nick and Sloane. “The one you’re looking for is my brother, Isaak. He’s a Phantänzchen as well.”

“Illya!” his father cried out, voice cracking.

“He pushed you down the stairs, father! You think I didn’t see but I did! He killed that girl! We can’t keep on like this!”

“So that’s why you fell,” Sloane said, looking at Nick. They’d wondered and now it made sense. And his leg was too injured, despite what he said.

“No! I’m the one that did this! I…I…”

“Father, please…” Illya said quietly, walking forward. “This has already gotten too out of hand. Does another girl have to die?”

“…He didn’t mean to…he just…I put too much stress on him, to take over running the studio more…I made him stop dancing…it’s my fault…” Illya looked sad as he gently pulled his father close as he leaned forward, looking weak and frail now.

Sloane didn’t fully relax but looked at Illya in confusion. “So…your brother is a Phantänzchen…but not you?”

He sighed and shook his head. “No…Identical in all ways but one.”

“It’s not his fault…Please, don’t kill him…” Edmund said.

“Where is he now?” Nick asked.

“Upstairs still, I think…” Illya sighed.

Sloane sighed and re-sheathed her knife on her thigh before heading for the exit. “We’ll be calling an ambulance for Maria. I would contact your lawyers and anticipate an arrest for kidnapping, imprisonment, and likely wrongful death of some kind.”

“And if he doesn’t go to jail, we’ll be keeping an eye on all of you from now on,” Nick added, heading for the door as well. Edmund clung to his other son, crying in defeat.

Nick and Monroe helped get Maria up the stairs and set her in one of the side halls while Monroe called for an ambulance. Sloane and Nick headed back for the ballroom, walking in ready to make an arrest.

“There they are!” Isaak said. “Our third-place winners!”

They both blinked and looked at one another while the audience cheered. “What?”

“You won third!” Thomas said, next to them and pushing her and Nick towards the floor. “The judges thought you did pretty good in the group, but really liked your solo! They’ve been calling you for like five minutes.”

They were pushed more out onto the floor and Sloane felt her heart speed up a bit. She was given a small bouquet of coppery orange roses as they were set up with two other couples holding a bouquet of white and a bouquet of golden yellow roses as well as trophies and checks. Pictures were flashing and they tried to smile while keeping their eyes on Isaak. Monroe came back in through the door and waved at them, both in congratulations and motioning—in a very crude form of sign language—that the paramedics had arrived for Maria and were taking her to the hospital. Rosalee spotted him and was confused till he made his way through the crowd and started quickly explaining what happened. Renard gestured to Hank and Wu and the got up and quickly went to stand by the exits to the room.

“Looks like we got more back up,” Nick whispered in Sloane’s ear.

“We still have too many people here though...”

Nick hummed in agreement, scanning the crowd on instinct. He froze when he saw a familiar face he hadn’t seen earlier, staring at them in a bitter mix of confusion and anger. “Juliette?”

Sloane turned in shock, following his gaze. “She’s here? Why?”

“I-I don’t know…I haven’t talked to her in days…”

Sloane frowned. “I mentioned we were working a case at a dance competition…I didn’t think she’d come…” Nick hesitated but moved to go towards her. As he did though, she seemed to disappear into the crowd. He sighed, frustrated. Sloane sighed as well but then looked back and saw Isaak stepping down from the stage where the band was playing them out. “He’s on the move.” Nick followed her gaze and watched Isaak headed towards one exit.

Wu was there and walked forward. “Mr. Stepenov? We’d like to ask you some questions.”

“It’s really not a great time for reporters,” he said.

“I’m not a reporter. I’m an officer.”

Isaak froze a moment but tried to smile and not pull attention from those leaving. “Really? Well, I’m not sure what you would want to talk to me about at a time like this.”

“We’ve found Miss Bellomo. That raised a lot of questions,” he said dryly.

Isaak twitched then turned to try and go to the other exit. He recognized Hank however and paused before quickly making his way to the back of the ballroom.

“Rosalee, catch!” Sloane tossed the bouquet of roses to her and Rosalee caught them, while Monroe took the smaller trophy from Nick as they moved through the crowd after him. When they got to where he should be near the band stage though, he wasn’t there. “Where’d he go?”

The band members shrugged, not sure what was happening, and Sloane growled in frustration.

Nick closed his eyes and focused his hearing past the crowd and everything else going on. He could hear fading footsteps nearby and he quickly moved towards them, near the wall with a curtain draped over it. Moving it aside, he pushed at the paneling behind it and it moved inwards easily. “Seriously?”

“This place would be neat if it wasn’t creepy,” Sloane said.

“What is that?” the cellist asked, looking at the passage beyond in confusion.

She ignored him and quickly headed in with Nick. The passage was dark and a few steps ahead there was a staircase leading down. She was willing to bet that it led down to the secret room below. “Isaak!” Nick called. “Don’t run! We know the truth!”

They came down and saw the door open into the room—another secret panel, within the secret room, who designed this? —and came out to see Illya barring Isaak from leaving.

“Move, Illya!” he shouted.

“No! You can’t run from this anymore. You need help.”

“I’m fine!”

“You’re not,” Nick said, moving forward. He turned, looking at them with wide, fearful eyes. “We know what you are, Isaak.”

“What I am?”

“They’re Grimms, son,” Edmund said, standing behind Illya. Isaak looked even more afraid and then woged. He looked just like his father—wispy, ethereal, like a skeleton caught in dark mists. He looked ready to fight but Edmund banged his cane on the floor. “Enough!”

He turned, looking at him. “Father?”

“Enough, Isaak…I don’t want to lose you more than I already have.”

He woged back, confused. “Lose me? Father, I’m—”

“I put you in tough spots. I admit it. But why did you turn to this? I pushed you not to dance too much, but you chose to stop dancing all together…that wasn’t my intention…”

Isaak stared before looking away. “I thought it was the only way…I wanted to stop…but I couldn’t. I needed it…now more than ever, with all I had to do…I thought I could control it.”

“I told you, you were doing too much,” Illya said quietly. “Why couldn’t you let me help?”

“Because I thought I had to…because mother…I’m the one that pushed her over the edge…”

Edmund looked shocked and moved forward. “What?”

“I…wanted to dance again…I asked her for help. But it was too much for her…” He dropped down to his knees. “I killed mother…I still couldn’t control myself and took too much…I just wanted to feel good again…”

“Isaak, it was an accident,” Edmund said, but he sounded pained. “Her medication…it just couldn’t keep up. But she would’ve done anything for you.”

“I know. But then I killed that girl, with my own hands…I didn’t even realize until I stopped how far I took it…I just ran away…” He looked at his hands, then carded them through his hair. “It didn’t even help! The guilt, the stress—I need more to not feel like I was dying! I wanted more! I thought I could control it better, but it was too much again, and then not enough to keep up with the stress…it’s never enough…” He looked up at Illya, tears in his eyes. “Why couldn’t I have been human, like you?”

Illya looked torn and walked over, sitting with him. “I don’t know…but it has to stop, Isaak…you need help.” He looked at Nick and Sloane, pleading. “Please…don’t kill him. H-he’s still my brother, I know he’s still in there…”

Nick and Sloane looked at one another then down. “We don’t want to kill him,” Nick said gently. “But we have to do something about this…”

“I know…I know…I want to turn myself in…” Isaak said.

“Isaak,” Edmund said, wanting to stop him but also knowing he couldn’t fight them all.

“I need to get away…maybe I can stop the addiction…” He stood slowly, walking towards Nick and Sloane. Sloane moved to meet him, but then Isaak froze. “W…what’s happening…I can’t move…”

“That’s because I’ve got you.” Nick and Sloane whipped their gaze around to see Juliette in the doorway, her hand up.

“Juliette!” Nick said.

“Hi, Nick. You two had fun today it seems,” she said, fake cheerfully. “I thought you were working on a case.”

“We are! And we have it covered—what are you doing?” Sloane said.

“Getting the bad guy, obviously.”

“We have him, Juliette—he’s turning himself in. You don’t need to hold him with magic,” Nick said, trying to stay calm.

“You think you can trust him? A murderer?”

“Juliette, stop,” he ordered.

She looked at him, narrowing her eyes. “Do you trust him more than you trust me?”

Nick stared in shock, jaw working soundlessly for a moment before shaking his head. “Of course not!”

“Then why do you think I’m going to hurt him?” she asked, looking at him contemptuously.

Nick flinched but Sloane stepped forward. “That’s not what he said, Juliette. He said you don’t have to hold him with magic. He was coming with us willingly. So, let him go and we can finish this and then talk some more.”

“It’s funny, you playing peace maker here. You’re better at killing things but now you’re all dressed up in sparkles and you think what, your somehow different? How many wesen have you killed over the years? And you think this is going to make up for it, playing nice now and trying to be all noble?”

Sloane’s jaw tightened. Juliette was trying to hurt them, make them angry, and it was somewhat working. “That’s not the issue here. Let him go, we’ve already won, you came to help too late and we have it covered.”

Juliette glared fiercely, her hand tightening a little. “Without a fight?”

Isaak gasped a little. “I…can’t breathe…”

“Juliette, stop!” Nick ordered. “Please…we don’t have to hurt him or anyone else. His father and brother are here, let’s not make this worse for everyone.”

She frowned, hesitating a little. “You had this all done without me…?” she muttered.

“Let go of him!” Juliette turned, eyes wide when Edmund woged and moved for her, trying to get his hands around her wrists. She yelled, dropping Isaak who took a deep breath, and then let out a burst of force to send Edmund flying across the room and into the wall.

“Dad!” Illya yelled, rushing to him. “What have you done!?”

“Father!” Isaak skidded his feet under him as he rushed over.

At that moment Hank, Wu and Renard all arrived as well. “What just happened?”

“I…” Juliette started, hesitating as she watched the brothers looking over their father frantically.

Edmund gasped, shaking a little. “Isaak…you’re alright?”

“Yes, father, I’m alright…”

“Good…Illya…You dance with more passion than I ever did…I’m proud of you, I never meant to make it seem I wasn’t…”

“Don’t talk like you’re dying, dammit!” he choked out.

Juliette hesitated, then moved forward. She looked like she normally would—contrite, worried, wanting to do something. “I…Maybe I can help—”

“Get away!” Isaak shouted, woging again. It looked like tears were going down his face. “You’ve done enough, witch! You couldn’t just let me surrender, you hurt my father?! Your kind only bring pain and trouble to everything you touch!” Juliette backed up, looking stricken a moment before turning and rushing out past the others.

“Juliette!” Nick called.

\--------------

In the end, Mr. Stepenov did survive, but his health took a bad turn. Even in a semi-solid wesen form, hitting the wall had broken a couple of ribs and he would be laid up for a while with his age.

Isaak turned himself in, feigning that he’d mistakenly been giving the dancers pills he thought were to help with muscle pain and ended up being tampered with, and that he’d kidnapped Maria for fear of being found out. He would be going to jail for quite some time likely, though they had a good lawyer who was going to try to get the charges to manslaughter and wrongful detainment or the like. Illya would take over the studio, with his father helping from his bed as he got acclimated and brought in a new team for behind the scenes. Golden Grove’s future was a bit up in the air, but they were going to try.

The fact that the paper ran the story as _Dancing Detectives Solve Wrongful Deaths at the Ballroom_ , with a picture of them with their roses and trophy being awarded, was the delight of the station. Nick got a bit of good-natured ribbing, but they were wise enough not to test Sloane’s patience too hard.

“It was wonderful watching you dance,” Jean said.

“Is your work always this interesting though?” Mim asked as she loaded the suitcase into their car early the morning two days later.

“No, this was one of the more interesting cases, I promise,” she chuckled. “Most of the time it’s either straightforward murder, or we don’t have to dress up to go find the wesen that did it.”

“Well, glad it keeps you on your toes…” She looked at Jean, hesitating a little.

“…Sweety…You really were beautiful dancing out there…with Nick…Um…”

“…What?” she asked, looking between them.

“…Nothing, Girlie,” Mim said, patting her arm. “Just take it easy, okay. And keep dancing. I think it’s good for you. You slept a lot better compared to when we got here.”

Sloane rolled her eyes a little but smiled. “I got a lot that keeps me up, in case you forgot.”

“Well, don’t let Dierdre keep you awake at night. She’d love that,” Jean said. “You’ve got all your friends protected now. Just…take it easy for a little while.”

“I’ll try. You two do the same,” she sighed, hugging them both.

“We got a wedding to finish planning, in case you forgot,” Mim smirked.

“Never. I already know my embarrassing speech of you two by heart.”

They chuckled and hugged her again before climbing into the car to drive off. Sighing, she headed back inside. There really was a lot to worry about. Juliette had seemed close to being herself for a moment there, but then ran off. There must be a spark of the real her inside, below the hexenbiest influence. But how to bring it out?

Thinking a moment, she sighed and went to her laptop. This was something she rarely if ever did—find the Grimm Library message board. It wasn’t easy to find, being on the deep web. It was relatively new, an idea put forward by Grimms like Jacob who were embracing the modern age. It was great for sharing information. Too bad many Grimms still sucked at sharing anything outside of families or hunting circles in person. But Jacob had made her an account and sent her the information for it, including her screen name which she felt a little ire about. _Weißer_Ritter._ _White Knight._ A reference to her hair, he said. It felt a little forced. looked

 _Weißer_Ritter_ posted: _Searching for a copy of Abhandlung über die Hexenjagd (Treatise on Witch Hunting). Translated okay, but as original as possible. Sooner the better. Willing to negotiate. DM with details, will get back within 48 hours to any serious offers._

Sighing, she sent the message out into the ether. It wasn’t a guarantee, but it might help at least…

When her phone buzzed she looked at it and smiled a little. Tom had sent her a picture of him and his wife and son, and his parents who happy she was alive. They were incredibly nice she remembered—often treating her like a daughter. It felt strange seeing them all again and realizing as much as she tried to push her past behind her, it wasn’t all hunting and killing and horrible exes and even more horrible mothers. There was a moment or two she found a little light of her own, and she now that she had so much she wasn’t going to let Dierdre take it from her.

\-----------------

“Is it ready?”

“Hello to you too,” Morgan said, putting a box away on the shelf. She sighed at Dierdre’s impatient look and walked over. “I finished it a little while ago. You have the payment?”

“In full,” she said, holding out an envelope. “It’ll work?”

“I have no clue,” she laughed, picking up a small box. “It’s not as though I can test it. But I followed that recipe and managed to make the addition you requested. Whether they work correctly together is yet to be seen. It is possible it could kill someone instead.” Dierdre eyed the box a moment before moving to take it. It floated up out of her reach before she could, and Morgan shook her finger. “Nah uh, Cherie. Payment first.”

Dierdre sighed and held the envelope out. Morgan opened it, counting through the money quickly while the box made lazy circles around them above. “Satisfied?”

Morgan smiled and gestured, and the box dropped, Dierdre quickly catching it. “Well enough. Be careful now.”

“Hmph…Ther's one more thing I’d like to get. I know you can whip it up real fast.”

“I charge extra for whipping things up real fast.”

Dierdre just snorted. “You’re worse than a hexenbiest…”

Morgan smiled and her eyes seemed to glow a pale blue. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So slight filler while Dierdre prepares a plot for revenge :3 I'd planned this chapter a long time ago, when I first decided Sloane liked dancing, and this should be the last of Sloane's past coming back to her...for now. If you haven't guessed it's based on Twelve Dancing Princesses, which I always liked reading as a kid. You might also notice I put some stuff in here from the "episode" that should've been next, Hibernaculum. Well, because again I put more thought into a timeline than the show did apparently, I've deduced it's freaking March by now in the story and no snakes are hibernating then :| So, it will be moved (possibly skipped?) and the important bits put elsewhere. That might happen with some others too as we completely change some bits. So expect a lot of cannon divergence from here on out!


	25. Poisoned Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 25 of the Casebook of Sloane Larson
> 
> Sloane goes back to Wildred on her own to look through her grandmother's collection for anything to help against Juliette. Surprises abound in town and she enjoys catching up and meeting some familiar faces and some new ones. But someone has something planned for her...  
> Meanwhile, Nick and Hank deal with the cases of the Mishipeshu and the Iron Hans camp, before Dierdre returns to wreak havoc in Portland.

_**"Then her envious heart was at rest, as well as an envious heart can be at rest."** _

\-------------------------------

Poisoned Heart

\-------------------------------

It was only a couple of days after the competition when they met at Monroe and Rosalee’s for dinner—Nick, Hank and Sloane coming to the door at about the same time. It was immediately obvious Nick was back to being on edge. No one could blame him—after Juliette nearly killing a man in front of them and having to work around what happened at the ballroom, he’d hardly slept since. He’d been trying hard to find her.

“Guys, come on in,” Monroe said, opening the door when they knocked.

“Oh, Nick, come here,” Rosalee said, giving him a hug. Nick quirked a brow but tried to smile. He knew she was just trying to make him feel comforted. “I'm so happy you could come over.”

“Hey, Hank, Sloane,” Monroe said. They smiled and nodded back as they walked in. “Got a nice bottle of wine breathing over here all by its lonesome.”

“You have anything a little stronger?” Nick asked.

They glanced at one another at the morose tone, but Monroe nodded.

“Uh... sure.”

“Smells good,” Hank said, taking off his jacket to hang up. “It's gonna be nice to have a home-cooked meal for a change.”

“Yeah, most effort I put in lately is putting a frozen dinner in the microwave—or the oven if I’m feeling fancy,” Sloane smiled.

“Then here's to a home-cooked meal,” Monroe said, pouring out the glasses and handing them around.

“So... how are things after…um, the competition?”

Nick sighed, rubbing his temple. “Look, I don't want anybody to feel... awkward about me and Juliette.”

“Yeah, no, why would we?” Monroe asked.

“Not at all,” Rosalee said. Hank and Sloane looked at one another and sighed a bit.

“I know she tried to blame all of you…and you saw what she did at the ballroom.”

“We know that's not her talking, or doing those things,” Rosalee said.

“No, it's not. Not really. I mean, I wish she was talking. She's back to not answering the phone. She's not showing up to work. She... I don't even know where she is,” he groaned.

“You know, when something like this happens, it takes time to figure it out,” Hank said gently.

“This is a pretty unique situation,” Sloane said. “It’s been a week since Monroe and Rosalee found out and we were busy before. Now we can focus more on…fixing this.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like I'm running out of time,” he said a little waspishly. “I'm afraid of what she might do out there, after seeing what she did to Mr. Stepenov.”

“There must be something we can do,” Rosalee sighed.

“Like what? Tell me, am I missing something?” He asked a bit more desperately. “'Cause I'm out there every night, driving the streets trying to find her, hoping that there's some way that I can help her or talk some sense into her.”

“Dude, we totally get it,” Monroe said.

Nick shook his head, certain they didn’t get it. How could they? “I'm sorry; I can't... be here, pretending that she's not out there somewhere. I'm gonna have to take a rain check. I'm just...I'm really sorry.” He stood, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. Sloane almost stood to follow him but sighed and sat down again. She didn’t know what to say or do either. The door shutting felt a bit cutting though.

“Who's hungry?” Monroe said, smiling tightly. The others looked up at him and the smile fell into the same morose look as them.

“You know, just because this Henrietta, whom I've never met, says it's irreversible doesn't mean it is,” Rosalee said, putting the glass down.

“I want to believe that too, but she does seem pretty knowledgeable,” Sloane said. “She put together that protection spell really quickly.”

“Maybe…but I think we need to talk to Sean Renard. He's still got the book that Adalind used, and there might be something in there that could help Juliette.”

“Then we're gonna have to get that hat too,” Monroe sighed.

“We're gonna go through that book, through every spell backwards and forwards till we find something that works,” Rosalee said in determination.

“You're forgetting the main ingredient,” Hank pointed out.

“What's that?” Monroe asked.

“Juliette.”

They sighed, all knowing that was going to be the hardest part. “…I’m asking around for an _Abhandlung über die Hexenjagd._ ”

“A…what?” Monroe asked, trying to translate in his head.

“ _A Treatise on Witch Hunting._ It’s the Grimm’s _Malleus_ _Maleficarum_. Heinrich Kramer wrote the _Maleficarum_ after briefly seeing the _Hexenjagd_. So, the information in that isn’t all accurate. But it was more widespread, and a lot of Blind Hunters used it to root out “witches” over the years.”

“Like in Salem?” Hank asked.

“Exactly like Salem. In fact, definitely Salem. I guarantee none of those were actually witches, just a lot o hysteria and rumors. But the _Hexenjagd_ was written by Grimms specializing in hunting Hexenbiests. The Eisenkreis.”

“The Iron Circle?” Monroe asked, morbidly fascinated in this tidbit of Grimm history he had no idea about.

“Yeah, a group of Grimm who were devoted to studying Hexen and Zauberbiests back in the 13th century. Crude but effective studying likely. I don’t think they ever dealt with this either, but who knows? At least it might give us a lead I hope…but finding a copy or even a transcript is going to be tough.”

“Well…here’s hoping it gives us something then,” Hank sighed.

“I was hoping to talk about what you wanted to do for your birthday this year,” Rosalee said, looking at Sloane. “I know you don’t like making a big deal, but last year was nice and I didn’t want you to think we forgot with everything going on…”

“Though we sort of did considering it’s this Thursday,” Monroe muttered. Rosalee shot him a look and he smiled charmingly.

“I understand,” Sloane agreed. “But…I think I might actually head back to Wildred for a bit. Mim and Jean visiting made me realize I should go back more often.”

“We could come visit?” Hank asked.

“…That might be nice, but I think Nick is going to be really preoccupied for a while,” she sighed. “I’m also going to look through my grandmother’s collection. See if there’s anything there that could help Juliette. We can do a raincheck?”

“Sure,” Rosalee said, putting an arm around her.

“You guys still want to stay for dinner? We made plenty,” Monroe said.

“Yeah, I’m still up for it,” Hank nodded. They went to the dining room to sit and serve the food up and tried to find lighter conversation while they ate. Nick’s absence was hard not to feel though.

Sloane’s phone chimed and she picked it up to look at the number. “Gallin?”

“Uh oh, is that usually bad news?” Monroe said.

“That’s a bit mean,” Rosalee pouted.

“He’s not wrong though,” Sloane sighed, answering the call. “Cynthia?”

“Hey, Sloane…”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, noting the worried tone. Monroe looked at Rosalee as if to say “see?” and she rolled her eyes.

“Nothing, maybe…Look, I need to confess something. I…didn’t destroy all of Gwen’s research.”

“…Okay…” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Why?”

“There were some things I thought could help people! While her methods were disgusting, she did find a few cures and such. I wanted to pass the research on to an old family friend, but he’s been in Europe the last year and I wasn’t sure about mailing it—”

“Cynthia, I know you aren’t just calling about that, something happened didn’t it?” Sloane sighed.

“…I think the book was stolen.”

“What?” she asked, straightening.

“I swear I don’t know how anyone knew about it! It’s not like I advertised I had it. It was in a lock box under my bed. But when I got back from class a couple of days ago things felt off. So, I looked around and found the box and I couldn’t find the book. I’ve looked everywhere, just to be sure I didn’t put it somewhere and forgot!”

Sloane sighed. “Okay, okay, it’s alright…”

“It is?” she asked meekly.

“Maybe. We don’t know what someone would want with that stuff. But you’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, it was while I was out…”

“Then that’s good. Check some of the online forums, maybe someone stole it to sell. It happens.”

“Okay…I’ll see what I can find out. I just wanted to let you know,” she sighed.

“I appreciate that but there’s not much I can do from here. Just get some extra locks.”

“I will…I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, talk to you later.” She sighed and hanged up.

“Everything okay?” Rosalee asked.

Sloane looked at them and smiled. “It’s fine, really. Someone took some notes she still had from Gwendolyn Zima.”

“The crazy ice witch?” Monroe said, on edge immediately.

“Yes. But who knows why or what they wanted,” she shrugged. “She just wanted to make sure we knew.”

“Hopefully nothing bad comes from that,” Hank said, sipping his wine. They were all a bit doubtful it was an innocent science student, but what could they do?

\--------------------

Juliette had spent the last couple of days in a motel. The first night, she’s paced a lot, thinking over what happened. She’d gone to the dance competition after thinking over what Sloane said. Thinking on one hand she was unfortunately right—she’d had her powers for months and had hardly done anything with them. She told herself she was going to do great things and catch bad guys and all that but instead she was spending her time moping about Nick’s reaction. Then angry at him for it. Then angry at herself for moping or being angry about it. It all just continued to make her confused, but she had gone there with the idea she would help on the case.

Then seeing Sloane and Nick dance together…it made something in her twist. Something ugly. Sloane looked happy and so did Nick—despite all his claims about trying to help her, he was here dancing?! Even if it was a cover to try and figure out who the wesen was, it burned her to see them just going on like everything was fine. As if her not being in their lives was fine.

It hurt.

That hurt then turned to anger again as a voice in her head told her she was better than them anyway. And to prove it, she wanted to capture the wesen. Him giving up before she could take him down wasn’t part of the plan, but she figured shaking him around a little wasn’t going to hurt, right? But no, then his father had to try and stop her and really, she was acting in self-defense! Sending him that far was not on purpose!

_“Your kind only bring pain and trouble to everything you touch!”_

She gritted her teeth at the memory. What did he know? She could be powerful and still good, right? Right.

But who would decide what “good” was?

Sighing, she decided she needed to go out and stop staring at the walls of her motel. There were some bars in walking distance, so she headed out and over to one that looked lively. Maybe being around people would help settle her mood a bit. People were milling about, talking, laughing, flirting…so mundane really. None of them had any idea who she was or what she was. What she could do. She could probably kill all of them…

She shook her head a little, frowning at the thought. That wasn’t what she wanted to do. Of course, it wasn’t. Why did such dark thoughts keep coming to her?

“What can I get you?” She looked up at the bartender, realizing she’d walked over to one of the stools in the middle of the bar on autopilot.

“…Vodka, rocks. You pick it.” He nodded, going to pour the drink. She sighed, trying to center herself. Nick and the others were overreacting. She was in control of herself. She knew what she was doing. Just because no one saw the value in her powers and thought she was some kind of monster now didn’t make it true.

“You meeting someone?”

Juliette looked up to see a man about her age, wearing a blue jacket and a striped hat, smiling at her hopefully. Like a puppy.

“No…” She picked up the glass when the bartender set it down.

“Why don't you let me buy you that drink?”

She quirked her brow but smiled a little and downed the vodka in one go. “Why don't I let you buy me the next one too?”

He smiled, looking entranced, and chuckled. “Bring her another.” The Bartender nodded and he leaned into Juliette. “I'm Rick.”

She nodded. A perfectly ordinary name for a perfectly ordinary man. “You look like a Rick.”

“What's your name?”

She smiled a little more, accepting the drink but swirling it idly. “What do I look like?”

He laughed again. “What, is this a game?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, sipping.

He smiled and put on a playful thinking face. “You look like...A Jackie.”

Juliette snorted a laugh. “Wow. You are really good.”

“Really? That's... that's your name?” he asked, surprised.

“It is now.” She took a deeper drink, then noted the man Rick had left behind looking on his phone. He was relatively good looking as well, again in an average sort of way. “Who's your friend?”

“Hey, this is... between you and me,” he said, getting a little jealous.

She smirked again. “Yeah? You think you can handle me all by yourself?”

Rick smiled, getting a bit more serious. “You're kind of a... A wild girl?”

 _Wild…like an animal?_ “You really don't want to know,” she said, looking down into her glass pensively. That what they treated her like. A wild animal. More so than a lot of wesen they had met, they looked at her warily. Fearfully. As though any second she would try and rip their throats out. Admittedly she’d had that one dream about doing it to Rosalee, but it’d disgusted her then and disgusted her now. _Because why would you use your teeth when you can use your powers?_ She flinched at the question that popped into her head. A lot of those seemed to come lately. And they were starting to make a lot of sense.

Rick just smiled, moving in closer. “Yeah. I do.”

It took her a moment to remember her last comment and she shook her head. She could hurt this guy. She knew she could, and she didn’t want to. Not really. “Trust me. You don't.” She moved around him, intent to leave now.

Rick frowned, turning with her, a little affronted. “Jackie, I just bought you two drinks.”

The demanding tone gave Juliette pause. She turned, eyeing him. Had he been trying to buy her with alcohol? Was he that dense? “What do you expect for two drinks?”

He shrugged. “A little conversation, get to know each other. I... I want to find out who you are.” He was trying to be charming, maybe to smooth over his tone from before. Trying to play to her emotions.

 _Trying to play you. Like the others try to play you by pulling at your soft sides. Because he wants something from you. That’s all they ever did, was take from you. Your time, your heart, your devotion. And what did you get in return? Where are they?_ “You really mean that?”

“Yeah. I do. I find you very attractive.” And there was the infatuation again.

“You like my eyes?” she asked.

“Yes,” he smiled.

“Do you like my lips?”

“Yeah, I do. I like everything about you,” he said, almost eager.

“Everything?” He nodded, smiling. Because he had no idea what she was. The way Nick used to smile at her before she told him. “How about now?” She woged, and the flood of power that came from her caused the lights to short circuit. But Rick was close enough to see her change and he yelped and quickly stepped back while the others were all freaking out about the light. She then changed back. The same reaction. She wasn’t surprised. And it didn’t actually hurt this time either. Sighing, she turned to head out.

“Did you see that?” Rick was asking. “Did you see that? Hey!”

Juliette felt the hand on her arm spinning her and she raised her hand up against his stomach and pushed with her power at the same time. Rick was tossed back, crashing into a table and both going sprawling over the floor, glasses shattering as they fell. He stared up at her, eyes wide with fear. And she liked it. She liked it a lot.

People were murmuring, scared by the sudden show of power. The bartender was calling the police, but Juliette just smiled as they quickly got out of her way while she sauntered to the door. Screw other people. She was strong enough they did not matter. Strong enough no one could hurt her or use her anymore. Strong enough she didn’t need anyone else or their approval.

\-----------------

Sloane was finishing packing up when her phone rang, and she picked up. “Hey Wu.”

“Hey. Got a dead body at a high school.”

“Ah, guess you didn’t get the roster. I’m off for the next few days.”

“What? You? Did you break another bone? Or did another crazy relative come visit?” he asked, mildly surprised.

“Ha, no. I’m going to my old hometown for a visit and do some research in my grandmother’s collection. I was going to tell Nick last night, but he went looking for Juliette…”

“Is that what the research is for?” he asked subtly.

“Yes. A long shot but better to check than overlook it…”

“Okay. Let us know when you’re heading back then.”

“Will do. Actually, I do need to tell Nick…”

“I’ll let you handle that, he’s still kind of a bundle of nerves. Maybe you should take him dancing again.”

Sloane huffed a laugh and tried not to think how nice that would be. “I don’t think that’s going to help anymore, but thanks.”

“Right. Later.”

“Bye.”

They hanged up and she sighed and dialed Nick’s number as she finished packing one-handed and managed to zip the bag up. “Sloane? Hey, I’m on my way to the scene.” He sounded alright, back to business as usual.

“And I’m on my way to Wildred,” she sighed.

“What?”

“I told the others last night. I’m heading there to look through my grandmother’s books and try and find a lead for Juliette’s condition. I’ve got a couple of other sources looking too.”

“…Thanks,” Nick sighed. “I…I’m sorry about last night…”

“I’d say Monroe and Rosalee are more who you should apologize to. But they’ve already forgiven you too. We know this is kind of a rough time,” she said sympathetically.

“Thanks…Oh, actually, I have something for you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah, a package came it had my vambrace in it, the one we used for the Gelumcaedus?”

“What? Oh! Yeah, we sent that off…god, it’s been like a year and a half now…”

“Yeah, I’d honestly almost forgotten about it,” Nick chuckled.

“Well, the guy we sent it to, Leon, isn’t known for his timeliness or memory,” she smiled. “He’s like a mad scientist blacksmith.”

“So…a steampunk?”

“I’ve heard of that and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the original. I guess without the Library he had to send it via mail too and that can take a while when it’s the kind of stuff we send through the back channels.”

“Well, there’s another one in here for you along with a letter and some notes. Did he not have your address?”

“He’s not organized either…”

“You want me to hold on to it?”

“Hmmm…Actually, I still have that book of yours about the Excandesco. I finished copying it a while ago. I could come trade you.”

“I need to get out to the crime scene…” He sighed then paused. “Well, I can leave you a key.

“Oh, you don’t have to, I can do it when I get back,” she said quickly.

“Nah, let’s go ahead and do it. This letter might be important. I’ll leave the key in the mailbox, just lock up after and bring it back with you.”

She tried not to be a little excited, kicking herself mentally. _It’s not like that, stop it._ “If you’re sure…”

“Yeah, it’s fine. They're up in my room on the bed. Just let me know if you find anything in your grandmother’s collection.”

“Of course, I will. Rosalee talked about coming down for the weekend, since we all can’t get together on Thursday, but I understand if you’re not up to it…”

“I’ll think on it…what’s happening on Thursday?”

Sloane frowned, trying not to feel a little hurt. After all, he was busy. “Uh…nothing important, really…You should get going. I’ll be over soon.”

“Okay, later,” Nick agreed. They hanged up and Sloane sighed. Disappointment that someone didn’t remember her birthday hadn’t bothered her since she was a kid. Shaking her head, she went and grabbed the old book from her desk and then hoisted the bag onto her shoulder and headed to the door. She tapped the Hamsa at the door—the one Henrietta made to keep Dierdre out. She considered bringing it with her, but she decided to protect her house first and foremost. Heading to her car, she hopped in and headed out, having no idea someone was watching her and then following.

\----------------------

Nick and Hank meanwhile went to Carver High School, where a janitor named Larry Kilburn had been found dead. Deputy Farris was actually working with them on this case. Having not seen her since the Phansigar incident, she was doing well and ready for another weird case. They went to talk with the principal, who told them Larry mostly kept to himself and wasn’t liked but wasn’t hated as far as she knew. He was married but divorced and that was about what she knew.

The only other incident she currently knew of was some issues with racial discrimination in her students. The most egregious so far was the continuous vandalizing of a senior student’s locker, a native American boy named Simon George. They continued to clean the graffiti of slurs and racial epithets off his locker and they kept coming back. Disturbingly, Principal Wiley had come in early before anyone should’ve been there one morning and the graffiti was already in place. It brought in question who had access or could give access and Larry was the night custodian. But she’d never been able to prove who it was and in the end Simon dropped out recently after turning 18.

Leaving, they decided to research Kilburn further to see if maybe Simon had tried to seek revenge. Farris asked to come with because her ex-husband was actually part of the same tripe, the Ojibwe.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask, where’s your other partner? Larson?” Farris asked as they pulled up to the precinct and headed inside.

“Oh, she went to go visit where she grew up for a few days,” Hank said.

“Visiting family?”

“Eh, kind of. Plus, it’s her birthday coming up, so she wanted to visit.”

Nick stopped in his tracks as he was walking. “Birthday? …Oh, Thursday!” He groaned, covering his eyes. “I forgot!”

“Hey, no big deal,” Hank said.

“No, I forgot when I was talking to her…I asked what was important about Thursday…”

“Ouch,” Farris said, grimacing in sympathy.

“We’ve all had a lot going on,” Hank said gently. “Plus, she didn’t normally celebrate before. I’m sure she understands.”

“Yeah…still makes me feel like a jerk though,” he sighed, following them to their desks. Hank looked up their victim while Nick looked up Simon George and Farris sat with Hank to look over the records as they pulled them up.

“Looks like our victim, Lawrence Kilburn, has a bit of a history. Drunk and disorderly, couple of assault charges, nothing too outrageous, at least not on his record. Last few years, he's been pretty clean. Anything on the kid?” Hank asked.

Nick sighed because the file wasn’t exactly a feel-good story. “Simon George, entered foster care at age five when his father was murdered. Mother died in childbirth. He was in the system for a lot of years...”

Farris nodded. “I remember hearing something about his father's murder…His father's name was Gus George. Very formidable man, did a lot for the tribe.”

“What happened?” Hank asked.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Some kind of road rage. Gus was in his truck with his son, driving down Highway 26. He was pulled from the truck and beaten to death. His son Simon was five, witnessed the whole thing. He was so traumatized that he was never able to talk about it.” Both of them grimaced at the thought of a five-year-old witnessing such a thing. Sloane would probably be the most sympathetic if she were there and Nick decided not to tell her till she came back because she didn’t need to feel like she needed to rush back.

“Did they ever catch who did it?” Hank asked.

She shook her head. “No. They figure it was more than one man. It was a real tragedy.”

“And this is the same kid who had graffiti on his locker?” Nick asked. It was disgusting to do that anyway, but the kid had already been through so much.

“I think it is.”

“So, we need to find Simon George. You got a last known on him?” Hank asked, looking at Nick.

He glanced over the file again but shook his head. “Not on the record.”

“Maybe the tribe knows where he is,” Farris suggested.

“We have no jurisdiction with the tribes,” he pointed out.

“I know you don't. They know me over there. I'll make a call,” she smiled, waving her phone. He smiled and nodded while she walked off.

Wu took that opportunity to go over to Nick quickly and get his attention. “Nick. Just got a call from central precinct. They've got a Juliette Silverton in custody.”

Nick’s jaw dropped and it took him a moment to find just one word to come out. “What?”

“I didn't want to get into it without letting you know,” he said.

He looked at Hank, who was equally speechless before back at Wu. “Well, has she been charged?”

“They're holding her on assault,” he said meaningfully. “Not about what happened at the ballroom though, something downtown.”

Nick huffed out a breath before standing. “I…I got to go.” He stood but then quickly went into his bag at his desk. “Oh, but I was going to give this to you.”

“A present? You shouldn’t have. It’s Sloane’s birthday this week.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” He muttered. He pulled out a piece of paper and handed to him. “But it’s not exactly a present.” Wu took it and blinked in surprise. A fairly nice portrait was drawn on it, but the woman in it was intimidating. Her gaze was cold even in a lovely face and she had dark hair with a white streak in the front.

“Who’s this?”

“Dierdre. I drew it last night when it occurred to me it might work enough to put out there in case anyone sees her. I was going to show it to Sloane to make sure, but I think it’s pretty accurate.”

“After a couple of weeks?” Hank asked, looking at it.

“I’m sure I’m not going to forget her face,” Nick nodded. “I put a description on the back.”

He glanced at it but nodded. “Okay. I’ll get this to the printers, and we’ll see what we can find. You know, you’re pretty good though. Maybe you should branch out into a sketch artist too.”

Nick tried to smile. “Right now, I need to get to Juliette.”

Hank was nodding. “Yeah, don't worry. Farris and I can handle this.”

He nodded, getting his jacket on. “At least now I know where she is…” he quickly headed out, nodding to Farris as he passed, and she was hanging up on a call.

“Simon George moved out to the reservation six months ago.”

“All right, so they know where we can find him?” Hank asked.

“Not exactly. We need to go out there.”

He nodded, standing to head out as well. Things were rolling on all sides it seems.

\---------------------

Sloane reached into the black mailbox next to the door and pulled out the spare key Nick left her. He’d put it in sandwich back and opened it and the door up quickly. Closing it, she paused a bit and looked around. Before the house always felt very alive. It was where Nick and Juliette lived and felt a lot of good memories. But after death, blood, dark magic and more, it didn’t feel so warm anymore. With only Nick, it felt suddenly very cold and lonely.

Sighing, she set her back down by the door and headed up to the bedroom. She saw the box on the bed and smiled wryly. The inside was full of those little plastic peanuts, but they were all black and gold. Leon knew how to set a mood. Next to it was a large brace—Nick’s, which looked like it’d been cleaned and restored. Another was next to it, a little smaller. Smiling, she unwrapped the cloth around it and looked it over. It lacked the alligator skin Nick’s had, instead covered with a studded black leather. The part around the upper arm was brown leather and instead of a Gelumcaedus portrait there was a stamped “G” in it. Putting it on, she flexed her arm and noted it fit perfectly. But she also noted it was different than Nick’s and picking up a blueprint next to it, Leon’s scrawl was easy to read. She read the instructions and then looked at it again before flicking her wrist with her thumb on the palm. The ten-inch, double-edged blade snapped up smoothly. She smiled, moving it around. _I could get used to this…_ With another flick the blade retracted, and she undid the straps to wrap it back up. The letter Nick mentioned was next to it and she picked it up. Curious, she went ahead and opened it, sitting on the bed.

_Sloane,_

_Thank you so much for sending this to me! It is a marvel of our ancestor’s ingenuity. If a little outdated. I made some improvements to the new design and have drawn up several blueprints to begin production. Yours is of course free but I think this will be a new popular item for the other Grimms around the world. It’s not only effective against those crocodile bastards after all._

_The body is brass, and I used the finest leather…_

She sighed and skimmed the rest. She’d had the feeling nothing important would be in the letter. Leon was a chatty man in person and in writing. She went through the whole three-page letter and didn’t see anything that was really that important. At some point she’d ended up laying back in impatience. When she was done she remembered this wasn’t her bed, it was Nick and Juliette’s. Blushing, she quickly sat back up and put the letter away. _Make yourself at home, huh?_ She put the letter with the vambrace and stood but bumped the nightstand with her foot. She made sure everything was okay and paused when she saw a little box on the table. Hesitantly she picked it up. _A ring box…is this…?_

She bit her lip and sat again, looking at it uncertainly. Curiosity was coursing inside her though and she flipped the lid open. The ring was in a silver setting, with a diamond near the size of her pinky nail in it. _Wow…Go Nick._ She sighed a bit, feeling a lot of conflicting feelings look at it. She knew this ring was bought for Juliette. That Nick had bought this over three years ago in the hopes of asking her to marry him. That being a Grimm had continually put that hope off. And now it might be forever gone.

The fact that part of her was _happy_ about that made her feel awful. _He’s not going to want you. He loves Juliette, always has. He’s not going just decide you’re the better option._ The voice in her head was cruel in its directness but she knew it was right. She looked at the ring again. Even when he’d assumed they’d get married; Collin never bothered with a ring. She’d figured she’d never get one. That was fine, really it was…She didn’t want one. Marriage probably wasn’t in the cards for her even now. Who would she marry?

_Why is it on my finger?_

She started, not realizing she’d taken the ring out and slipped it onto her left ring finger. Her entire face heated up with a blush as she looked at the sparkly bauble on her finger. Her imagination went wild a moment of questions and rings and weddings and the face of the groom was so, so familiar. _What the hell are you doing?! This is pathetic! Take it off!_ She quickly moved to pull it off and cursed when it didn’t move. “Oh God no, please!” she muttered, trying to twist and pull. “Shit, shit, _shit!_ ” she gasped when it popped off and she hit her elbow on the headboard. Cursing a blue streak, she glared down at the ring. The guilt and the disappointment rolling back through her stomach made her sigh. “What am I doing…?”

Putting the ring back in the box, she quickly set it on the nightstand. Grabbing the vambrace and the letter, she went back down and put them in her bag before heading out. Locking the door behind her, she put the key on her keyring for safe keeping as she headed to the car. She didn’t notice anyone watching her as she climbed in and drove off.

\--------------------

Renard sighed as he pulled up to the spice shop. He stepped out with the hatbox in his hands and walked to the door. Monroe was alert and walked over to him immediately. “Thanks for coming,” he said, shutting the door behind Renard, flipping the sign and drawing the shade down. They didn’t really want to advertise that they were meeting with the chief of police to get magical hexenbiest items from him.

“You brought them,” Rosalee sighed, looking at the box as he set it on the counter.

“I did. I probably don't need to warn you, but I'm going to anyway. Be very careful with these.” He said. He opened the box and pulled out the conical hat and the open book to lay them down carefully.

“Right, and we can't close the book,” Rosalee said, looking at the open pages in relief.

“No. Nick know you're doing this?” he asked, looking between them uncertainly.

“No, not exactly…We don't want to give him false hope,” Rosalee sighed.

“Well, you realize there may not be any hope,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, well, we still got to try,” Monroe sighed. “I mean, we were all part of what happened to Juliette, so...”

“Have you talked to Juliette?” Rosalee asked.

He thought about her throwing him across the room, then before that seducing him into a rather heated night together. Guilt still rested on that one, though it was hard for him to resist her. Attraction to a powerful Hexenbiest was hardwired into him he was fairly sure. It’s what made resisting Catherine Schade so hard, when she played Mrs. Robinson. But he knew in the end he should’ve been in control of himself in both instances, even when they pushed him. “Yeah, she's... not the same.”

“We know…”

He nodded and sighed. “Well, be careful. You may do more harm than good.” Turning, he went to head back out. At the station, he was surprised to see the maid who had brought him a message from Adalind before waiting for him. “Ms. Flores…?”

“Hi, yes,” she said. She still seemed nervous but stood straight at attention. “I have another letter from Miss Schade.” She held it out and Renard took it as he went into his office. Opening it up, it was in German again.

_Sean,_

_I need to get out of here. Kenneth doesn’t care if I live or die and I think he’d prefer the latter. If you can help me, I can help you and we’ll find Diana together. If you don’t I’m either going to die or end up on the Royal’s most wanted list._

_I need to get out of here. Any suggestions are welcome at this point._

_Adalind_

He frowned but nodded and wrote a response. “Give this to her.”

“Alright…”

“You seem okay being our messenger.”

“I just…want to do what I can to help,” she said. “She’s a very lonely woman I think…”

“…Yes, I think you’re right. Thank you.”

Susanna nodded and took the letter, heading back out quickly. Sighing, Renard sat down and pursed his lips as he tried to think what their next move should actually be.

Nick meanwhile arrived at Central Holding—which was a lot starker than their cells at the 89th. The jailer led him to one of the cells, where he saw Juliette lounging back on the bed. “Thank you…” The jailer nodded with a flash of sympathy before leaving them to talk on either side of the bars. “What happened?” He was surprised by the lack of emotion in his voice. Maybe he’d expected this, deep down. That she’d do something and get arrested. He just didn’t want to admit it.

Juliette stayed lying down but turned to look at him. Her expression was bored rather than relieved. “Didn't you read my arrest report?”

“I did. I want to hear it from you.”

She sighed now, sitting up. “What do you want to hear, Nick? That I didn't do it? That it was all a mistake? That I'm still the same sweet gal you fell in love with?” She said the last with a painfully fake chipper smile.

Nick felt the frustration and guilt well up and he leaned into the barred door with his hands around them. It felt like he was the one trapped, walls closing in. “Why are you doing this?”

“I guess I'm just trying to be the best Hexenbiest I can,” she said dryly.

“You don't have to prove to me that this is my fault,” he said almost desperately.

She quirked a brow. “That's what you think I'm doing?”

“Juliette, you're not even giving us a chance to figure this out!”

“What do you want to figure out, Nick? How a Grimm and a Hexenbiest are just gonna live happily ever after?” she asked snidely, moving towards the bars.

“You don't scare me. And I'm not letting go,” he said. And his tone was unwavering.

“Aren't you scared of what you might do to me?” she asked lightly.

“I could never hurt you, Juliette,” he said softly, sincerely.

Juliette wavered a moment, feeling a bit like she did when she hurt Stepenov. The guilt, the confusion, wondering why she was so intent to be the tough girl. “I wish I could say the same…But I just don't know anymore, because deep down, I do blame you for what's happened to me, and part of me loves you for it, because I have never felt like this before.” She smiled a little as the guilt seemed to just evaporate, replaced by the elation of her power. Nick frowned again and she just smiled more. “It's ironic, isn't it? You've been the special one for so long. You're connected to a world that most people will never know or understand. You and Sloane. It’s brought you both so much pain, but you can’t leave it behind even when you have the chance.”

“Juliette—”

“I wondered why sometimes…why you would want to live in that world. It’s fun when you’re looking at pictures in a book but then you get face to face and it’s terrifying. But I tried. I tried for you to make the best of it. Even when it hurt, even when it scared me. And I felt that way before, just knowing you were a cop and a homicide detective. Seeing how it could affect you, wondering why you’d do it. Because you’re a noble, good man is what I told myself, but I wonder if that’s true. I wonder if it isn’t because you want that bit of power that comes from a hunt. If it’s a Grimm trait.”

“It’s not like that,” Nick said.

“Isn’t it? Sloane enjoys it too, even if she’s playing nice now. You both have powers we didn’t understand, and you acted like it’s a curse yet couldn’t leave it behind. And now I know, and I understand, and I don't want to give it up, just like you didn't want to give it up. And now I know why. Once you're in it and you've... seen it and tasted it and... lived it, you can't go back. Everyone else just seems blind.” Nick frowned but couldn’t deny there was a ring of truth. He had no idea how to live without his powers anymore when they were gone. He felt helpless, lost in the dark. Juliette smiled, knowing she’d hit the nail on the head. “I like being more than human. Better than human. You know what happened to my parents, what my mother went through, and I and now I don’t have to feel helpless ever again. I like this power, Nick, and I know you do too.”

“Stop it!” he shouted, slamming a hand against bars.

The smile faded. “I can't.” He took a breath, trying to calm down and she watched him. It was so easy to get under his skin like this. She reached up and gently placed her fingers over the back of his hand gripping one of the horizontal bars. “You really think that you can just... take off your clothes and crawl into bed with me again even if you did change me back?” He looked at her, entranced by the tenderness he remembered and wanted. Then she woged and he gasped as if burned and stumbled back. “And not see this when you close your eyes?” He stared and then looked away. She woged back. “You know, I let them arrest me. I just wanted to see if you'd come rescue me,” she said softly.

Nick steeled himself, collecting his resolve as he stepped back close to her. “I'm not letting you out, if that's what you mean by rescue you. It's safer for you in here.”

She arched her brow again, smiling in amusement. “And safer for you. You know Nick, I think you really might be jealous of me…”

“Jealous?” Nick asked, confused.

“You work so hard to fight wesen. Maybe you have those eyes, and a few nice physical buffs, but you Grimms still have human bodies. They can be cut, poisoned, burned…I mean, maybe I can be too, but I have real power now.”

“Yeah and look what you’re doing with it. Sloane said you wanted to help people, and you’re in here for assault. Assault on a guy talking to you at a bar.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess I did forget to mention that…He didn’t like my new face either,” she pouted.

“It’s not your new face!”

“It is. And you know, maybe I don’t want to help. Maybe I just want to do what I want. Whatever that is. Why do I need to use this power for other people?”

“Because you’re a good person.”

“No, I was a “good” person because I was weak. Now I’m not. And Now I don’t need you to save me all the time, and that just eats at you. Because you don’t get to play the hero anymore for the damsel in distress and I don’t just go along with the flow. Because it was that or be alone with the knowledge anyone could be a wesen who wanted to kill me,” she said.

“…That’s not why you stayed,” he said quietly.

“…No. It wasn’t the whole reason, but it was part of it. The other part was not wanting to lose you. But that ship’s sailed, huh? Because we want different things now.”

Nick frowned more, feeling his heart constrict. “Juliette, please…”

“I’m not going to make myself weak again. Not even for you,” she said. She turned and went back to the bed at the wall, laying down facing away from him. The words hurt a bit for her too, but it was the truth.

Nick watched her back for a few moments before turning to leave. He needed to think…but he wasn’t sure what trail to follow in his brain. Save her. Don’t save her. Stay. Let go. Nothing seemed right anymore…

\-------------------

The six-hour drive to Wildred gave Sloane maybe too much time to think as well. Even with music playing, she was still thinking about Nick. _Have I ever been this preoccupied by someone? No, never let myself be. Even with Collin I never felt a romantic spark…what is it about Nick? He’s kind…but not as much of a bleeding heart as I thought when we first met. He’s tough too. He makes me laugh…he makes me think…he makes me want to do better. I’ve never really had someone like that. I mean there’s Thomas, but…that was never romantic to me. Dancing with Thomas in high school I treated like a secret, like a different life alongside my real one. He couldn’t ever know about being a Grimm. But I didn’t have to worry about that—Nick is one too. He’s already in the life. But that’s not why I…I love him, it’s just part of it. If that was all, I could’ve made it work with Collin. It’s because Nick is…Nick…_

_Oh god, I am sounding so sappy…it’s not going anywhere._

**_Stupid girl, do you think we can ever actually be in love?_ **

She gripped the steering wheel tighter at Dierdre’s voice in her head. It often cropped up when she didn’t want it. It had been the strongest in her head for years telling her how to be a Grimm. It had gotten quieter, fainter, nearly gone before she showed up again. But seeing her made that voice bust through her defenses and try to beat her down as much as the woman herself did. It didn’t help she’d said those very words to her several times growing up when she’d accidentally even glanced at something romantic. Couples, valentines, flowers— ** _You can’t have that._** God forbid someone flirt with her. It was a lot of eye rolling and brush offs if she couldn’t’ use it to her advantage because what would be the point of starting anything?

And what about now?

**_What about now?_ **

Sighing, she tried to quiet her thoughts. She was about to be 30. Maybe it wasn’t too late if she wanted to find love, but did she want it? She was sure she could be happy without all that. When the infatuation died down it’d all go back to being just background radiation.

Getting into town mid-afternoon, she smiled as she drove through. The bigger name businesses were still there, but so were the small ones that had been struggling for a while. They seemed like new life actually got breathed into them. The Redline Diner still had its makeover she saw last time, but it had a sandwich board outside with chalk advertisements of reasonable prices and food compared to before. Including famous fries. But she’d stopped for lunch on the way and kept heading through to the wooded hills beyond the town.

Heading up the road in the woods, she got to the gate and got out to unlock it. She took a moment to look up at the house. A lot had changed once again since her last visit. Every time she came back it felt like she was a different person. But the house was still the same…

Driving back up to the detached garage, she headed inside, deactivated the alarm, and started opening windows to air it out. She didn’t need the heater since it was spring, but it was still stuffy after being closed up for over a year. She took the sheets off the furniture and took them to the laundry room. She was about to head to the basement to go ahead and start looking through her grandmother’s books when she paused. From the door down she could see the kitchen. She could see the spot where her grandmother had been killed. The blood had been expertly cleaned, but she knew it was there. In the Formica counter, there was still a mark of a claw. She reached up, not sure when she’d walked to it, and lined it up with her fingers. Twenty years, it had been there…

The choice didn’t feel conscious and yet it felt right when she gripped the counter tops and summoned her Grimm strength to wrench the counter from the cabinet. It splintered from age and her strength and she gasped as it pulled away and she stumbled back. She stared in shock for a few moments before taking a breath and hauling it across the floor to the back door, through the covered porch, and flung out the back door with roar of effort. It went spinning like a wonky, rectangular frisbee before falling with a thunk to the ground. Going back, she pulled another piece off with her bare hands and did the same. When all the countertops were wrecked she went to the garage and looked through it till she found the sledgehammer in the corner and dusted it off. It was rusty, but it didn’t need to be clean to do what she needed it to do.

As she was moving back towards the door, a jeep pulled up and Mim and Jean got out. “…Sloane? Sweety?”

“Hi,” she said, marching back inside. They quickly followed and their jaws dropped when they saw what she’d started.

“Sloane! What are you doing!?”

“Something I should’ve a long time ago,” she said, pulling the hammer back and smashing it through the door of one of the uppers.

“Honey, stop!” Mim said, quickly going over.

“It needs to go!” Sloane said. “I’ve left it long enough! I can’t…can’t be here and not think about it, but I don’t want to see it anymore.”

They paused, looking at one another before sighing. “We understand. We’ve wanted to redo it too but couldn’t since it was in your name. But...you gotta at least put on some goggles.” Sloane looked at them and they smiled before they all started laughing a little. The first time someone laughed in that kitchen in two decades.

So, the afternoon turned into an impromptu demo day. Mim and Jean got her some gloves and goggles, they unhooked the sink even though the water was already off since she hadn’t turned it back on, unhooked the stove and fridge and pushed them all out so they could swing hammers and rip the cabinets up. Jean also brought a heat gun she used in her jewelry and they worked at pulling up the old vinyl floors. Sloane had feared blood leaked to the plywood below, but it was thankfully clear. It was all cleared up by sundown and they laid in the living room next to the bare subfloor, panting.

“So…did you have like a plan in mind for this?” Mim asked.

“Not really…it just kind of happened,” Sloane sighed. “I guess I better start figuring out what to do about it…New cabinets, counters, floor…”

“Well, you can plug the fridge in still, and the microwave in here.”

“Or she can come eat at our house,” Jean said meaningfully.

“Or that.”

Sloane chuckled. “I’ll take you up on that tonight…But first I’m going to turn the water on and take a shower.”

“Oh, good idea, I worked up a sweat. And I smell like wet bear when I sweat.” Mim sighed.

“I like it,” Jean smiled. Mim smiled back with a blush.

“And before you two get gross, I’m out. I’ll see you at your place,” she said, standing and heading to turn the water on outside. She’d have to get something to haul all the broken bits of cabinets away too she realized. She wished she’d thought this through a bit more, but something just came over her…

 _The outside could use a little work too…But I mean, I’m not staying here, so why?_ She knew the answer deep down. Even with all the tragedy, this place was her home through some of the happiest years of her life. And Oma’s home. One day, maybe it’d be hers again. If not hers, someone’s home.

_Your children?_

Sloane grunted at the thought and shook her head. She was still having weird thoughts.

It took a little while for the water heater to fill after she kicked it on— _Put tankless water heater on list, might as well—_ and go take a shower. She paused in going into the bathroom and looked at the door that led to her bedroom. She hadn’t been back in since she was a child. _…Not yet._ Sighing, she went in to wash up and then out to drive to Mim and Jean’s for dinner.

\--------------------------

Adalind was pacing slightly. She was still pretty much locked up in her room. Not with locks, but with men at the doors. Kenneth wasn’t sharing anything with her, but she could listen in on occasion. He was focusing on Juliette and tracking her down. He apparently felt that she was going to be more useful with her connections to Nick and Kelly. Just earlier she’d overheard him and Rispoli talking. And one phrase made her realize how he viewed her.

_“Maybe we can trade her Adalind for her help. It might be the best thing Adalind can do for us.”_

It wasn’t a joke, even with the light tone. He was serious. Considering the gargoyle incident, she had no doubt Juliette would try and kill her. She might even succeed even with Adalind being ready. And the worst thing is, she couldn’t deny what Henrietta said was true. Going to the royals and doing what they asked, to get back a child they didn’t even have, brought her to a point where she was trapped like an animal to be slaughtered for convenience. Her actions brought her here. Put her in danger, put Renard in danger…put Diana in danger. She’d made choices in her desperation and grief that only made things worse. She kept thinking it would work out, that she was too smart to be pushed around by people. Even Royals. Now she knew that pushing wasn’t what they did—they steamrolled. And she’d be flattened before she could get away.

“Miss Schade?”

She looked up and smiled when Susanna stepped in. “Hey! How are you?”

“I’m doing well…” She set the sheets she brought down. “I’ve brought you some fresh sheets, like you asked.”

“Thank you. How’s your daughter?”

She smiled. “Doing well, thank you. I used the tip you gave me to get her some new shoes, and she loves them.”

“A little fashionista, huh?”

“Oh yes,” she laughed. “I help her make a lot of her clothes and she’s got her own style. Lots of bright colors and so forth. We don’t know how to make shoes though. I’d been trying to pick up extra shifts to get some nice ones for her for her birthday, but what you gave me let me do that and spend more time with her…I’m really grateful,” she said honestly.

Adalind felt a touch of jealousy that she got to be with her daughter. But she sympathized as well. Susanna was the maid for three floors, and over a dozen rooms on each, and the penthouse. She was a busy woman. They’d talked and Adalind felt chagrined she’d never really considered how much work a maid did. She smiled. “I’m glad…”

Susanna smiled and took the pillowcase off the top and Adalind saw the note resting there. She smiled and picked it up, reading the note from Renard.

_A,_

_I’ll look into what can be done to get you out of there. It’s not going to be simple as Kenneth is known to be paranoid as well as ruthless. I can’t go to Nick and the others for help so I’ll have to find someone else who can try and get you out. Keep your head down till then, I’ll find a way to contact you when we’re ready._

_S_

She sighed and pocketed the note. She’d hoped for a more concrete plan, but she believed Sean when he said he’d figure something out. “Thank you…”

Susanna just smiled and quickly remade the bed. Adalind then handed her another 100 bill and though she hesitated, Susanna took it with another smile and left.

\--------------

This was certainly one of the stranger cases Nick had been on. After meeting with Juliette, he’d gotten a call from Wu that another man was found dead with similar wounds. His name was Declan Henry Burke, an auto mechanic found dead in his shop. He called Hank and Deputy Farris and they all met at the scene to go over it. The mailman had found the body, throat torn out and blood all over the garage floor with the door wide open. It was fairly fresh, likely from that morning. The man had a very similar record to Kilburn they found, and they wondered if there were any other similarities. Wu went to print out contact pages from Burke’s computer so they could cross reference names to anyone who knew Kilburn.

Hank and Farris updated him on what they found: Farris’ contact was a man named Hector Ballou, a tribal spiritual guide and dream reader. He’d been a good friend of Simon’s father, Gus, but they’d only recently reconnected. Simon was out on a power quest to try and connect to his spirit guide, and to his heritage. Hector hoped it brought him some closure from witnessing his father’s death as well. It did mean that Simon was currently out in the woods with no cellphone, fasting and getting little sleep while he communed with the spirits of the natural world.

They began comparing names and after an hour of reading from both contact lists and Wu looking up records on the computer, they had one lead: Max McClay. Wu ran his name through the system and found that Kilburn was once arrested with Declan, and Declan was once arrested with McClay. He was either their killer, or their next victim they theorized.

After getting his information back, of course McClay also lived in the woods. The man had apparently become a paranoid survivalist. The sun set as they drove up to his house. They all drew their weapons, moving up towards the door slowly. “Police! McClay, are you in there? Come out with your hands—” Hank started. His words were cut short as McClay as they recognized him from his last mugshot was thrown through the window with a scream.

So…not the killer.

“I’m going in,” Hank said.

“I’ll cover the back,” Nick nodded, heading around.

“You stay with McClay,” Hank said to Farris. She nodded, going over to check over him while Hank kicked in the door and raced inside. He moved through carefully, gun at the ready. There was signs of a struggle and broken furniture everywhere, a very illegal looking gun being cleaned on the table and another on the floor. He heard something moving down the hall though and followed the sound. Then he heard the back door open and raced towards it.

Outside, Nick was waiting in view of the back door when it opened and something he’d never seen before stepped out. It reminded him slightly of the Phantänzchen he’d encountered last week—wispy, ethereal. But not humanoid. This creature was wearing a man’s clothes, a red flannel shirt and jeans. But was covered in translucent glowing white fir that reminded him of the moon. It’s face was like a big cat’s, a Lynx he was fairly sure, but two corkscrew horns rising from his head. He ran out the door just as Nick was running towards it and he raised his gun. “Stop!” It skidded to halt and growled low, its jowls pulling back to show sharp teeth. Nick didn’t flinch, eyeing it. “I'm a Grimm. I know you're Wesen. Get down on the ground. Put your hands behind your head.” The creature didn’t flinch, just snarling at him. His head whipped around when Hank came through the door. “Hank, I got him! He's Wesen…I think. He looked at me; he didn't react.”

It snarled, looking between them both. Hank was watching it, shocked. “I can see it too, but...”

It turned then and leapt with shocking height up onto the roof in a single bound, running over it to get away.

“What the hell?” Hank whispered. Nick was already running back around the house and Hank followed the other direction in their normal pincer maneuver. By the time they got around though, Farris was watching the woods intently.

“Did you see where he went?” Hank asked as they ran up.

She nodded, looking confused and on edge. “Yeah, that way, into the woods. Whatever that was, it's gone now.”

“How's McClay?” Nick asked.

“He's passed out. I called the paramedics. Something jumped off the roof!” she said, still in disbelief.

“What did you see?” Hank asked.

“I'm not sure. Looked like something I'd only heard about in stories.” Nick and Hank looked at one another, grimacing at the fact she must be in on it now. “I don't want to sound crazy…”

“You won't. We saw it too,” Hank said. Nick nodded. He wasn’t sure how to explain it away right now.

Farris took a breath, calming and looking determined. “I think we should talk to Hector again.”

\-------------

Sloane woke the next morning in her grandmother’s old room, where she usually slept. Heading down, she froze when she saw the kitchen before remembering. She still felt a little silly for suddenly just ripping it all out, but it was cathartic she supposed. Luckily Mim had sent her home with a plate of leftover homemade soft tacos to heat up and have for breakfast, kept safe in the living room fridge and heated in the microwave on the coffee table. It was kind of convenient… _No, can’t keep them there._

After finishing, she headed down to the basement to start going through more of the collection. They’d focused on the books about wesen and weapons last time. But there was another shelf full of books on other different things—poisons, potions, spells, etc. She’d decided not to scan them a year ago because she thought it wasn’t pressing. She should’ve realized that invited trouble. Taking a few up, she started going through them and scanning the most interesting bits with her travel scanner like Nick had done. There were definitely interesting bits, but after a full morning of work she didn’t find anything close to what Juliette was going through.

Sighing, she decided to get dressed and go get a few groceries and the like in town. Just as she was about to leave the phone rang. She felt her heart flutter at the _Nick_ that popped up and sighed at herself. Getting that under control, she answered. “Hey, Nick.”

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Uh…just started, technically. I confess I got a little distracted yesterday…”

“Distracted?” He asked, more curious than judging.

“Yeah, I uh…had an impromptu urge to renovate the kitchen. By tearing everything out.”

“…That’s…Wow,” he said, chuckling in amusement and confusion. “You managed that in one afternoon?”

“I was determined and it’s not a big kitchen. Mim and Jean helped too. But I’ve started through the books this morning, no luck yet…”

“Yeah…Not much here either. Juliette got arrested.”

“What?” she barked, shocked.

“Yeah. For assault. She threw a guy at a bar around a bit…Magically, though no one put it that way in the report.”

“…She’s getting worse,” Sloane said.

He heaved a great sigh. “Yeah, I know…I went and talked with her. She’s all over the place but she’s made it clear she wants to stay a hexenbiest…”

“…And what do you think about that?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t want to make choices for her…but I also don’t think she can stay like this. She’s not big on the “do good” idea anymore, now it’s more doing whatever she pleases. Even if it means hurting people.”

“Yeah…I’ll keep looking.” 

“And I’m going to let her stay locked up.”

“Really?”

“It hurts me too, but like I told Hank, at least I know where she is like this…”

“Yeah…I understand. There’s no real right answer to that right now.”

He hummed. “Oh, um, that case is going sideways too…”

“How so?”

“Well, another man ended up dead. We figured out they had a connection to a third and went to go check him out and managed to interrupt him also about to be killed by…something we haven’t seen before.”

“I mean, I’ve seen a lot…” she pointed out.

“Ever hear of a Mishipeshu?”

“…Okay, what is it?” she sighed.

“A Native American spirit.”

“Spirit?” she asked dubiously.

“Hey, be skeptical, but we saw it and it’s definitely not a normal wesen. Hank could see it, Deputy Farris could see it, it jumped up to the top of a house…”

“One or two story?”

“One.”

“Eh, s’okay I guess,” she said, shrugging.

Nick did manage a laugh. “I forgot how high your standards can be. But we talked with Hector Ballou—he’s the local tribal spiritual guide. Apparently this spirit is more common to the Ojibwe tribe, around Lake Superior.”

“Little far from home…”

“Well, the boy we think is at the center of this, Simon, is also part of that tribe. His father was Multnomah like Hector, and his mother was Ojibwe.”

“Well, can we ask them about it?”

“They’re both dead,” Nick sighed. “His mother died in childbirth and his father was murdered when he was five. Beaten to death in a road rage incident, no one was ever caught…though Hector thinks it was racially motivated. Gus was fairly outspoken about tribal issues, trying to make things better for them.”

“And some people don’t like that,” Sloane nodded, sighing in disappointment at the world.

“Yeah. Simon witnessed the attack, but he was only five.”

She grunted in sympathetic disgust. “So… you think then he summoned this spirit and started killing these men?”

“I’m not sure, but the Mishipeshu is definitely what we’re dealing with. Hector had a book with a picture of exactly what we saw. Like a big cat with these spiral horns...And Simon is the only like we have to the first victim—he went to the school the victim was a janitor at.”

“Huh…Man, kind of wish I was there.”

“Well, we’re about to go do something a bit weirder…”

“How much weirder?”

“Hector is going to guide us into the dream world so we can better understand Simon.”

“…Dream…world?”

“Hey, I’m willing to give it a try. I’ve done weirder things for a case.”

“Yeah, I did worry you would get an infection from that pierced ear,” she said teasingly.

“Don’t remind me, took forever to close back up…”

“I’m kind of miffed that I’m researching and renovating, and you get to go on a dream land adventure.”

“I’m not Little Nemo,” Nick laughed.

“Oh my god, _Little Nemo…_ Oma used to read that to me,” she sighed. She hadn’t thought about that in years. Memories that fell by the wayside growing up. “ _Tin Tin_ too…” She looked up the stairs. The hard back comic book collections were likely still in her room somewhere… _I think Oma had one singed by Hergé, actually._

“My mom used call me that when she put me to bed…” he said wistfully.

“…I can’t imagine Kelly doing that, but it sounds adorable.”

He chuckled. “I should get going, I just wanted to update you. Especially if this goes south…”

“Don’t jinx yourselves,” she said. “…Hey Nick? You know, whatever happens, whatever you decide with Juliette…I’ll support you.”

“…And if I make the wrong choice?” He asked quietly.

“Sometimes we don’t know what that is till later. You just gotta go with your gut at times when nothing else makes sense.”

“I don’t like what my gut is saying…but you might be right,” he sighed.

“I’ll keep looking. I’m just going to go get some food first.”

“Thanks…I’ll see you later.”

“Later.” She hanged up and sighed. She felt stupid in a way for saying that. Because honestly, there was a small, horrible part of her that hoped they didn’t work things out. But Nick didn’t need to know that.

Heading out, she went to town and had lunch at the Redline. Mr. Morrison’s family had returned and were running it, complete with his recipes. They kept the nice look that the Summer Bridge company had given it, though brought back some of the nostalgic bits as well such as the baskets with paper instead of the heavy plates. She smiled and hoped she could bring Nick back sometime, and the others as well if they did come to visit.

In town she headed to the store and had nearly been knocked over when a young girl ran over and hugged her. It made her tense but then she blinked when she realized she recognized her. “You’re…”

“Araceli!” Another woman came running up, her dark hair cut short now and wearing the apron of the Greeson’s Grocers she was about to walk into. She looked embarrassed and terrified as she rushed over to gently pull her daughter away. “What are you doing, don’t go hugging strangers—Oh!” She gasped but then smiled. “Miss Larson, hello!”

“Hello yourselves, Matie,” she smiled. She recognized the two Langen Ohren she’d helped rescue from a wendigo compound, and from her fellow Grimm. “Looks like you settled in well.”

“I love it here!” Araceli said. “I get to go to school, and I have a lot of friends! And I can walk to have lunch with mama sometimes! She’s a manager here!”

“I remember hearing that,” she smiled.

Matie smiled as well as she hugged her daughter. “It really is wonderful…I can’t thank you enough for sending us here. We’ve made a lot of good friends. It feels like we may have a future here.”

“I’m glad,” she said honestly.

“Is Miss Rubel with you?”

“Ah, no. She’s struck out on her own,” Sloane sighed. “But I’ll let her know you’re doing well. She’ll be happy to hear that I’m sure.”

They smiled and Matie then patted her daughter’s shoulder. “Well, I need to get you back to school.”

“But mama…”

“No buts, I don’t want you to lose your privilege for me to bring you here for lunch sometimes.”

“Go on. I’m going to be picking up some groceries.”

“You’re staying here?”

“For a little while. This is actually where I grew up too.”

“Yes, Mim and Jean have showed us pictures.”

Sloane flushed a bit and sighed. “I’m sure they have…”

Matie smile and they waved as she walked her daughter back to school. It was only a block away—though she’d never gone to it, she was sure that’s where the middle school still stood. It was strange seeing them, but nice as well. She’d forgotten sometimes how many people she pointed towards Wildred.

After collecting her groceries and Matie ensuring she got a discount, Sloane started driving back for home. As she did, lights flashed behind her as the Sheriff’s car came up behind her. She groaned, wondering what the problem was, but pulled over. The Sheriff got out and Sloane made sure her knife was well hidden and grabbed her insurance as she rolled down the window. The Sheriff came up to the side and she didn’t even look as she opened her wallet to get her license. “Is there a problem?” she asked.

“A slight one. I couldn’t let you go without saying hi.”

Sloane blinked and leaned over to look up. “…Frankie?!”

Frankie Gonzales smiled and leaned down a bit. She almost didn’t recognize her. The woman who had been a nervous wreck, unable to sleep because of her traumatic assault, looked well rested and healthy. She had on a Sheriff's jacket, the six-pointed star on her chest noting her as “Deputy Sheriff”. “Hey there, Detective Larson.”

Sloane smiled and got out of the car. “It’s good to see you!”

“You too.” The shook hands and Frankie smiled. “I obviously took your advice after the trial. Got promoted to deputy pretty quick.”

“I’m glad to see it. Is the new Sherriff good?” Sloane asked.

“Sheriff Vadaz is pretty out there…but good. Better than your last one according to your Aunts.”

“Pretty sure a damp sponge would’ve done more work to clean up this town than Grover,” Sloane said. Frankie laughed and Sloane smiled again. “You look good.”

She smiled and took a breath. “After the trial…well, vindication feels good. The fact McCabe is in jail on murder doesn’t hurt either. I'm waiting on word about a suit against the military. But finding a good job and a good councilor out here helped the most. Managing the PTSD a little better now…”

Sloane smiled. “I am really, really glad to hear that.”

“You look good too.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I don’t know, you seem in a good mood.”

Sloane shrugged slightly. “I guess…first time I’ve really gotten to see my old hometown again. How it should be.”

Frankie smiled and opened her mouth but paused when her radio crackled. “Gonzales? We got a 415 at Jackson park.”

“A fight?” Sloane said.

“Yeah, probably a couple of townies. Got a lot more visitors than you might’ve been used to, and they like to bring trouble.” She grabbed the radio. “10-4, in route.” She let go and smiled apologetically. “Well, I gotta take that.”

“That’s okay, I have groceries anyway. Maybe we’ll catch up later.”

Frankie smiled and nodded before heading back to her car. Sloane smiled as well and climbed back into hers to drive back home and put her groceries away. She’d gotten mostly microwave dinners and ready-made food since she couldn’t cook anything now. Enough for a few days to be safe. She was just finishing figuring what she wanted for that evening when her phone rang again. This time it was Mim’s number. “Hey Aunt Mim.”

“Hey, Girlie. Got some bad news.”

“What kind?” she asked, alert.

“A friend of ours in Eureka had an accident. Got hit by a car.”

“Oh geeze, that’s bad,” Sloane grimaced.

“Yeah. He’ll live, but his legs busted. He’s an old fart like us and his kids live halfway across the country, so we’re going to go check on him and get him settled back at home till they can get there. We’ll be gone a few days…”

“Ah, I see. That’s fine, really. I’m going to be cooped up inside reading most of the day.”

“I know, but we wanted to spend more time with you…”

She smiled. “We just spent a week together.”

“We’ll always want to spend time with you,” Jean said. “And with you’re birthday just days away…”

“I appreciate that, but it’s fine. We can celebrate another time; your friend comes first.”

“Thanks. We’ll keep in touch.”

“I’m going to email you cabinet ideas!”

“She’s going to email you more than that, trust me,” Mim added with a fake hushed whisper.

Sloane laughed a bit. “Sounds good. Drive safe.”

“We will.” They hanged up and Sloane sighed a bit. Eureka wasn’t too far, but it was kind of lonely now knowing they weren’t just going to be down the road. _I’ve gotten spoiled having friends just minutes away…_

\----------------------

The rest of the day and into the night was eventful to say the least. After preparing a sweat lodge and some sort of potion, Hector performed a ritual meant to get them connected to Simon. Hank and Farris both drank the potion, but Hector stopped Nick before he could. He knew, intuitively, there was something different about Nick, and that this might be dangerous for him unlike the others.

It ended up being more dangerous for Hank though. After receiving a necklace Simon’s father wore and had been passed to Simon after his death, he connected a little too fully. It was as though he really became Simon, but five-year-old Simon. In his father’s truck. Watching, as three men beat his father to death. Nick realized that was indeed the connection, that the Mishipeshu was killing the men who murdered Gus through Simon’s body. When Farris started having a bad reaction to the heat and the potion, Nick took her outside. He heard Hank screaming in anguish and agony— “They killed my dad!”—and before he could go in, Hank ran out and actually sent Nick sprawling to go through him.

Hector figured that Simon’s memories were still in control, so it made sense that he’d go to his father’s grave in a remote part of the mountain. All three of them set off to find it, arriving to find Simon sprawled on the ground with a hurt ankle. He must’ve hurt it jumping from the roof last night given the state it was in. But he had no memory of that, or anything else. He was confused. And next to a totem honoring Gus was a totem of the Mishipeshu.

From there, they set a minor trap. They went and got McClay at his home that night and had him wait in Farris’ car. He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t given a choice. Simon sat to wait with Hector nearby and Nick watching the front door. He saw Hank creeping, stalking like a cat, to the door and through. He was surprised and confused to see Simon in the house. Then further confused by Hector. Nick quickly went in to try and talk him down, but the Mishipeshu’s spirit was strong. The ensuing fight was hard, and Nick was reminded that Hank was no slouch when it came to hand to hand combat either. Though he was still fairly sure that the spirit was giving him a boost. They threw each other around the room a few times, before Hank had him pinned to the wall and was choking the life out of him.

Just before Nick blacked out, Hector came up and blew a powder into Hank’s face. It made him reel and he shuddered before the Mishpeshu’s spirit—tall, lanky, Lynx-faced with its horns standing tall and proud—left him. It hissed, looking confused before it moved through the wall and disappeared. Nick and Hank were both left panting from exhaustion. But more than that, there was still an anger in Hank. He’d witnessed Gus’s murder as if he were there—as if it were his own father murdered, and it felt that way. When they got out, he threatened McClay, but he knew as well as they did they had no evidence. Just hearsay and a teenager who even if he did remember, it had been 13 years. It left a hollow feeling in all of them as they left. But even if they investigated fully, it could lead to Simon being blamed for the murders of Kilburn and Burke. As much as it ate at both of them, Nick and Hank opted to drop it for now. Farris wasn’t as convinced but agreed that pulling Simon back into it wasn’t fair. Hector was going to take him in—something he’d wanted to do back when Gus first died but the state hadn’t allowed it. He felt Simon had a lot of potential as a future Spirit Guide and hoped to train him, after he’d had time to process it all.

More disturbing was that in the morning, McClay was found dead. The same way as the others. But Simon had been in the hospital getting his ankle x-rayed and cast. While he was technically a victim, Nick and Hank didn’t feel much of a pressing issue to really go in and try to solve it quickly. After all, killers got away plenty of times…until something caught up with them.

“Honestly, I think he’s lucky,” Nick said.

“Lucky?” Wu asked in surprise. They’d filled him in on what happened after the initial look at the scene.

“Yeah. If Sloane were here, I think she’d have done worst to him.”

Hank smirked a bit. “Hell yeah she would’ve…It won’t bring Gus back, but I’m still personally a bit more satisfied.”

“Can’t say I blame you. But also, kind of wish I’d seen this spirit…” Wu said.

“Sloane will be pretty miffed she missed it too,” Nick chuckled. It was a little strained. He’d visited Juliette last night. She’d been asleep when he came, and he watched her for a short time. She looked…normal as she slept. No hexenbiest, no change in her personality. But their visit earlier that day kept replaying in his mind like movie. Her words echoing, hurting and reverberating. His mind wouldn’t let them go and it was like touching a cut to feel the sting over and over. It cut deeper going home alone once again. He'd left without waking her up, not wanting to get back into it.

The next day he went to the shop to explain to Monroe and Rosalee what happened with her. They were horrified, but also worried.

“If Juliette is going to bars and beating people up and going to jail...Are you gonna leave her there?” Monroe asked.

“If I get her out, she could kill somebody,” Nick sighed.

“Did she say anything along the lines of, like, "Sorry, I didn't mean to beat up folks I'd never met before"?”

“No. She said she's having fun.” He let some of the annoyance and frustration into his voice and Rosalee gasped with a grimace while Monroe bit at his thumb.

“Oh, Nick, this is not looking good,” Rosalee said.

“You guys haven't found anything that can stop this?” Hank asked.

“This is a unique, like, once-in-a-lifetime, "doesn't ever seem to have happened before" kind of event... conundrum,” Monroe said awkwardly.

“We haven't found anything that works, and we've looked through everything,” Rosalee sighed.

“We're not giving up,” Monroe said quickly. “It's just, I mean, we have no idea where to go from here…”

“Except Adalind.” Everyone paused and looked at Rosalee in shock. “She might be the only one that knows something about this.”

Nick was already shaking his head, his jaw set. “No. If I see her again...”

“I really doubt she'd do anything to help Juliette anyway,” Rosalee agreed. “Juliette is paying the price for us taking Adalind's child…”

They looked at one another, knowing that was right on a certain level.

“Sloane’s looking through her grandmother’s books as well…” Nick said, trying to hold on to some hope.

“Again, if this hasn’t happened before, then who knows if there’s anything on it…We’re not quitting, but we just…don’t want to give you false hope. Or the rest of us…” Monroe said gently. Nick looked torn but nodded, understanding what he meant. Hope could be a dangerous thing…

They ended up with another call to a murder—this time, a hitchhiker out by the woods. The sign on his skateboard showed he’d been trying to make tit to Salem. Tracks by the body and the throat torn open pointed to a wesen more than likely. It also made getting Monroe’s help the best choice. Picking him up from the shop, he looked over the prints and then followed the scent of blood to a metal fence surrounding private property. It looked like someone had pulled the fence up at the bottom to sneak through though.

Following it back, they found _Iron Hans_ Ranch. Monroe recognized the name from the rumor mills and knew that it was owned by wesen. Apparently they specialized in a sort of father and son bonding time within the wesen community, involving hunting. They met the owner, Albert Bowden, his son Todd first. Albert was older, with graying temples and a well-kept beard. Todd looked like he at, slept, and drank hard work with but kept a clean shave and neat sandy blonde hair. They’d heard Monroe’s explanation and Monroe woged to show he was wesen—and they woged back as Lowens. They did not react kindly seeing Nick’s eyes.

“Hey, take it easy,” Nick said quickly, holding up a hand.

“I've heard about you,” Albert said, woging back and eyeing him.

“I am not afraid of any Grimm,” Todd said, looking ready for a fight.

“Todd,” his father warned.

“We're here on an investigation,” Hank said. “We needed to ask you a few questions. Is that going to be a problem?”

The two men looked hesitant, but a feminine voice broke their stare down. “Is everything all right?” A pretty young woman with reddish blonde hair like Albert’s walked over, dressed for working the fields as well.

“He's that Grimm that we heard about,” Todd said, calmer but still tense.

She looked up in surprise, tilting her head. “Wow…So this is what a Grimm looks like. I thought I heard it was a woman. You’re better half?”

“Ha, no, not like that. She’s also our partner and…on another investigation,” Nick said, smiling a little.

“This is my daughter, Maggie,” Albert said. “What do you need from us?”

“We just need to know where everyone was last night,” Nick said.

“Right here. All of us.” He looked at Monroe. “You say you've heard of these camps before?”

Monroe nodded. “Yeah. I went to an Iron Hans camp with my dad when I was a kid. It was great. Didn't know they were still doing 'em.”

“So, you've accepted who you are?” he asked, probing.

“You could say that…”

“Well, a lot of Blutbader can't.” He sounded like he knew more about it, which made Monroe frown a little.

“Yeah, it's not always easy.”

“What did you say your name was?”

“Monroe.”

He nodded, looking between him and Nick. “I've heard of you too.”

Nick sighed, not wanting to get Monroe singled out again. Hank stepped up with the question. “Anyone else here last night?”

“We host two camps most weekends,” Maggie said. “One Friday, another Saturday. Last night we had three fathers and their sons here.”

“You were with them all night?”

“Yeah. That's the point,” Todd said, still defensive. “We were camping out. Except for Maggie.”

Maggie rolled her eyes with a smile. “Boys only. I was here. It was nail night,” she said with a fake chipper smile, holding up her red painted nails.

“Maggie...” Todd sighed. This sounded like a common banter between them.

“How far is the camp?” Hank asked.

“Just a few miles in,” Albert replied.

“We'd like to take a look at it,” Nick said. It wasn’t a request.

Albert looked annoyed but sighed and nodded. “Certainly. We can take the van.”

\----------------

“Damerov is no longer in our employ. Sean and I came to an understanding. I made it very clear that any more interference on your son's part would be his last.”

Adalind frowned as she came around the corner. Kenneth was sitting in a chair with his phone to his ear. “Who are you talking to?”

He looked impatient and pulled it away to glance at her this his finger over the mic. “The King. You have something you'd like to say to him?” It was a taunt to see if she would dare. Adalind shook her head quickly and he smiled and returned to the call. “No, sir. Sean is well aware this comes from you. Thank you.” He hanged up, looking satisfied.

Adalind didn’t like that look. “Is the King gonna kill Sean?”

Kenneth looked at her with a bored expression. “Considering he's the father of your child, does that upset you?”

“Does anyone actually care what I think...” she asked, allowing a bit of attitude to her words.

“No. But I do have some information you might find interesting. I just found out your little Hexenbiest chum, Juliette, has gotten herself arrested.”

“She's in jail?” Adalind asked in surprise.

“She throttled a couple of people at a bar. Apparently, they _didn't_ have it coming.”

She frowned at the quip but frowned more at the implications. “And if that happened, that means she's starting to accept becoming a Hexenbiest. And things are gonna get worse before they get... really bad.”

“Including her desire to kill you?” he asked, fake conversationally.

“Yes.”

“Then this could be the opportunity we've been waiting for,” he said brightly.

“I'm sorry, but I don't see an opportunity anywhere near her,” she said, backing away slightly.

“Juliette knows just about everything about Mr. Burkhardt, about his mother, and therefore about where the child...Your child... Might be.”

Adalind frowned more. “Okay, she may have beat up a couple people in a bar...I mean, God knows we've all done that...But there is no way she's gonna betray Nick if that's where you're going.”

“It's surprising how quickly betrayal becomes a viable option, given the right circumstances,” he sighed, standing.

“Which "right circumstances"? The one where you use me as bait?” she asked testily.

“Bait is a rather unflattering term. Think of it more as a…sacrificed pawn.”

Adalind felt a jolt of fear go through her. He was being glib, but he was serious. “I'm the mother of the child you want!”

“It's surprising how quickly betrayal becomes a viable option…Shall I show you?”

Adalind frowned and watched him as he went to the door. Opening it, Rispoli walked in while ushering a very scared looking Susanna inside. She wasn’t dressed as a maid; she was in jeans and a blouse. Had they taken her off the street? Or from her home? Why? _Oh no…_

“Hello, Ms. Flores. Please, come in,” Kenneth said, that terrifyingly cordial smile on his face. She looked at Adalind but slowly stepped in. He put an arm on her back and lead her into the room to stand in front of Adalind. “Now then…I have a question for you, Ms. Flores. Have you been passing notes between Adalind and Sean Renard like they were in grade school?”

Susanna swallowed and Adalind felt a cold sweat go down her back. “I…don’t know what you’re talking about. Sir,” she added quickly. Adalind was surprised that she was playing dumb but let out the breath she was holding.

Kenneth frowned, but didn’t look actually upset. “Trying to be loyal, I can appreciate that. But I also don’t appreciate lying.”

“I’m not—”

“What if I offered you five thousand dollars to tell me the truth right now.” Susanna’s eyes widened and Adalind’s jaw dropped. “Or, let’s say ten thousand. Right now. You could do a lot with that I’m sure.”

“I…um…” she said. She looked at Adalind, who looked back trying very hard to hold back her fear. She couldn’t expect Susanna to decline that. It would be stupid for her to walk away from that much money for a stranger— “I’m sorry, but that is the truth, sir. I don’t know who this other person is. I just like to chat with Miss Schade sometimes…”

Adalind stared at her and suddenly felt very, very small. If the roles were reversed, she likely would’ve sung like a canary, grabbed the money and ran. And knowing that, she felt a small bubble of guilt. But also, confusion and frustration—she had a daughter! Why wouldn’t she put her needs first?

Kenneth did look a little more impatient and perhaps confused as well. “Really? For ten thousand dollars, that’s your answer?” She nodded and he sighed before suddenly reaching up and grabbing her face, making Susanna cry out and Adalind gasp. “And what if I told you you’re lying to a member of the royal family?”

Susanna stared in shock before woging suddenly into the bright, beautiful green plumage and orange beak—a parrot-like wesen.

“Lovely,” Kenneth said, that sickeningly sweet smile back. “Adalind, what do you know about Royals?”

“…Um…well, you’re very rich and…well contacted,” she said, looking at Susanna in shock still. She changed back and actually looked a bit more afraid in Kenneth’s grasp.

“Yes. But do you know _why_ we are that way? We’re not like you and other wesen after all.” Susanna looked at her as well and Adalind looked way.

“…I did hear something, once…about you being similar to Grimms…” she said quietly.

Kenneth smirked. “In a way. You see, true royals know of a…gift our king was given. One that commands the loyalty of wesen, whether they want to or not.”

Adalind remembered the feeling of wanting to please the king and shuddered a little. “…You don’t have that gift though?”

“Sadly no. It’s an actual gift—something the king keeps with him. But I do wish I had it at times like these, so I didn’t have to do this.” He let go of Susanna’s face and then back handed her hard enough she went sprawling with a shout. Adalind covered her mouth in shock and the creeping fear of what was happening. Susanna shouted again as Kenneth walked over and set his boot on her back, pushing her down. “You stay on the ground where you belong. Now tell me the truth and I won’t make this worse.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she cried. Kenneth glared and put his weight on his foot, making her gasp and clutch at the ground as her ribs creaked.

“You’re trying to protect a hexenbiest, you realize. One that doesn’t give a damn about you. She was using you, like she uses everyone else!” Susanna didn’t say anything, just bit her lip harder. Kenneth glared and lifted his foot only to bring it down harshly on her back again, making her shout. “The truth! Now!”

“Sir—” Rispoli started.

“Do not,” he held up a finger to him. “A stubborn bird-brained woman is not going to get the better of me. Talk!” He lifted his foot again.

“Stop it!” Adalind shouted, holding up her hand. Kenneth froze, looking shocked a moment that she was holding him in place with magic. Rispoli drew his gun but she shook her head. “She doesn’t know anything! You’re right, I was using her, but she doesn’t remember. I erased her memory.”

Kenneth looked at her, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Release me.”

“Stop hurting her and I will,” Adalind said, letting her eyes smolder a little in her anger.

“What do you care? She’s a maid, she’s no one!”

Adalind swallowed before nodding. “You’re right. That’s why I used her. But what good is it beating on her when she doesn’t know anything. She was too dumb to even say she did to get money out of you. Or to save herself. She’s honest to a fault, why should you keep this up and draw attention to yourself like this? It’s going to raise too many questions if she shows up hurt or dead.”

“She has a point, sir,” Rispoli said slowly. “Demerov is one thing, he was moving behind the scenes. A maid is going to be missed…”

“And she has a daughter,” Adalind said quickly. “She’s a single mom, she’ll be missed fast.”

Kenneth glared at him and her before sighing. “Fine. If she’s of no use, let her go. But I don’t want to see her around here again.”

Adalind hesitated but released him and looked at Susanna. She looked up at her hesitantly, unsure, before standing and running out past Rispoli to the door and out. Adalind watched her go, partly relieved and partly worried. She wasn’t sure what she would do now, but she was also sure she did the right thing. For once in her life, maybe. And a part of her felt good for it she had to admit.

When Kenneth rounded on her she stood firmly in place. “You better prepare yourself. Because as far as I’m concerned, you are now expendable.”

“I’m fairly sure I always was to you, let’s be _honest_ ,” she said, digging at the word.

He smiled humorlessly and grabbed his jacket before heading out. “Well…I rather look forward to see what Juliette will do to you now.” Rispoli looked back at her before following him out. Two men stayed behind and Adalind moved until she could flop back on the couch. Her options were fairly limited now. She had to find a way out before they returned, or her head was going to be offered to Juliette for a trophy. Her only ally just narrowly escaped with some bruised ribs and vertebrae. And she had no way to contact someone for help.

_Gotta think of something…Anything…_

\---------------------

Renard was looking pensively over a file Franco had brought him. He’d noticed lately he’d been having lapses in his memory. Moments he’d be one place, and then be somewhere else. Minutes, sometimes even hours later. In his home, then suddenly out of it with his hands in a fountain. It was worrying at first, but when he discovered another man’s wallet—a man he’d seen that morning with a lot of money in said wallet that was still there—he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d asked Franco to look up any assaults in the area and sure enough, the man had been found alive but beaten and robbed. There had been other assaults in the area too. He’d told Franco he’d thought he’d seen something, but the worry that he’d caused this was bubbling up. Every time he “lost time”, he’d felt a pain in his chest just before. But no blood like he’d been seeing.

His phone rang and he picked it up with a sigh. “This is Renard.”

“Captain,” a male voice said. “Adalind Schade is in danger. The prince seems intent to do her harm when he returns from an errand. She may be killed.”

Renard straightened immediately. “What? How do you know this?”

“That isn’t important. We will have her at the station within an hour. Please ensure she remains safe.” The line went dead, and Renard looked at the phone in confusion.

\--------------

Sloane sighed as she put another book on the shelf. Two days of going through the books and what she had, and nothing was giving her anything new on Hexenbiests. Though she found a few other interesting bits and pieces and even got a box together of things she wanted to take with her, nothing stood out as being useful to the Juliette situation. She’d even gone up to the attic to look through things up there, but Oma had kept her Grimm life and family life separated with both locations as much as possible.

Sighing, she went back down and folded up the attic steps. She was thinking perhaps it was time to give up and head back. Pausing at the bottom, she looked at her old bedroom door again. Taking a breath, she opened it slowly. The room was just how it was when she was 9. The same multicolored quilt, the same white bedframe, the same bookcases, desk and rug…though older and faded and dusty. She looked at the toys on the shelves with a mix of embarrassment and nostalgia. She wondered if they’d be worth anything now but didn’t feel like she could touch them still. It was like being in a museum in a way. One thing she did touch though was the stuffed rabbit on her bed. “Barnabus…” she muttered. The name had been a joke at first from her Grandmother, but it had stuck to the rabbit as hard as the dust in his fur. His once butter-yellow fur was dingy grey, and the orange in his ears, paws, and corduroy overalls wasn’t any better. Looking at the room, she wasn’t sure what to do with it. Ripping it up didn’t appeal to her. But it didn’t feel right to leave it like this the rest of her life. It felt…dead. Not a fresh bleeding wound, just a dead moment in her life. Like static on the radio. And like static, some might find it calming and others might find it annoying.

Sloane decided she was somewhere between. She stepped back out and downstairs and hesitated before putting the bunny into the box of things she would take with her. She’d clean him up later.

The knock on the door startled her. She paused, unsure who would be there, and quickly hid the box in the corner before going to the front hall. “Hello?” a voice called. “Is someone home? I’m really sorry, but my car broke down and my phone isn’t working!”

The voice sounded older and Sloane eased slightly as she walked to the door and looked out the peephole. An older woman, in her sixties or maybe even seventies, was standing nervously on the porch. She had on light, pastel colored clothes—a salmon jacket over a blue and white stripped shirt and beige pants and sandals—with silver hair. She had a mole on her cheek near her eye, like an old-fashioned beauty mark. She was looking around anxiously.

Sloane slowly unlocked at opened the door, looking at her. “Um, hi…”

The woman breathed out in relief, smiling. “Hello. Sorry, I really don’t mean to bother you, but my car broke down and this stupid phone is—honestly, this thing is more trouble than it’s worth,” she said, holding up the smart phone in her hand. “Do you have a landline I can use?”

“Uh, no, sorry. The phoneline hasn’t worked here in years,” Sloane said, easing slightly. Something about this woman put her a bit more at ease.

“Oh darn,” she frowned.

“I’ve got my cellphone though; I can call someone for you.”

“Oh, would you?” she sighed.

“Sure…though I’m curious, how’d you find me?”

“Oh, I’d heard there was a house up this way—most of the town says it’s haunted actually.”

Sloane felt a tight smile grace her lips. “And you thought coming to the haunted house was a good idea?”

“I thought I’d take my chances of starring in a horror movie over walking to town in these shoes,” she said, pointing at her sandals. “I’m dressed for a garden luncheon, not a hike.”

“Fair enough,” Sloane chuckled. “Come in and rest your feet then.”

“That’d be wonderful,” she sighed, walking in. Sloane went to grab her phone while the woman sat down on the couch. “My name’s Gayla Babic, by the way. I was passing through Wildred on my way back from an engagement party. My great niece, if you can believe it.”

“Congratulations,” Sloane said, listening idly as she walked back over with her phone. “Here you go.”

“Thanks. You know, I admit, it’s my fault my phone doesn’t work. I keep forgetting to charge the dang thing.” She took Sloane’s phone and used a primly manicured nailed finger to dial and put it to her ear. “…Ugh, voicemail. Sandra, it’s me, your mother. My car broke down and rather than say I told you so, please just call a tow truck to come and get me at FM 2112, near Larson Road. My phone’s dead so I’m imposing on a local. Please do it ASAP.” She hanged up and sighed. “My daughter rarely answers strange numbers…”

“It’s usually a good practice,” Sloane said, taking the phone. “If you want, you can wait here and charge your phone.”

“Really? It’s not a bother?” she asked hopefully. 

“No, it’s fine. I’m Sloane Larson by the way.” She held out her hand and Gayla smiled and shook it. She then opened her large purse and pulled out a charger to plug in.

“Nice to meet you. I didn’t honestly know anyone lived up this way still.”

“It’s…complicated,” Sloane said. She didn’t want to say she didn’t actually live there—it was hard enough to keep people from trying to break in some days.

She smiled and then leaned over a bit, looking in surprise at the kitchen. “Are you redecorating?”

“Uh, yeah. Still sort of figuring that part out,” Sloane said.

“Well, that should be fun!” she said, smiling brightly. Sloane smiled a bit as well and realized that Gayla reminded her a lot of her grandmother. She’d always been very cheerful and worked to see the good in life and in people. Though she had a scary streak if you crossed her.

“I hope so. I do still have my fridge hooked up, if you’d like something to drink. I’ve got water, lemonade, tea…”

“Water would be lovely, thank you,” she said sincerely.

Sloane nodded, going to pull out a couple bottles of water. “So, you don’t live in Wildred?”

“No, though it’s lovely. I’m from Weaverville.”

“Oh, I’ve been there. It’s nice,” Sloane said, handing her the water.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to know more about Wildred though. I heard there were some strange happenings not too long ago.”

 _You mean the murders?_ “I can tell you a little, but I don’t know everything…”

\----------

Adalind was pacing, trying to figure out what to do. Even if she managed to get by the guards left at the door, there were plenty of other people working for Kenneth in the hotel. She’d be captured again and would either be locked away completely, forced to deal with Kenneth personally, or have to face Juliette. And she had a feeling this would be to the death this time.

She heard the hotel phone ring and one of the men put it on speaker with a quirked brow. “What do you want?”

“It’s me, you idiot,” Rispoli panted out.

“Boss? Uh, sorry…”

“Keep your apologies and get down to the lobby!”

“The lobby?”

“Yes! We have a situation! Someone took a shot at Prince Kenneth!”

“What?!”

“You heard me! I’m having to do damage control down here and we have a gunman outside. Get down here now!”

“But what about the blonde?”

“Leave her! Where is she going to go?”

“We’ll be right there.” The man hanged up and got the other, rushing out the door. Adalind waited a few moments, surprised that this had happened and that anyone had the balls to shoot at Kenneth. Biting her lip, she went to the door to open it slowly. She jumped when she saw someone else there about to open it.

“Susanna?” she gasped. Susanna was in her maid’s uniform again, a cart next to her.

“We don’t have a lot of time. Put this on, quick,” she said, holding out a bag. Adalind blinked and took it, opening it to see another maid’s uniform. “Hurry! Grab what you need!”

Adalind didn’t ask more questions, quickly going to strip down and put the uniform on in her room. She had a feeling what was happening and quickly grabbed a few things to hide in the pockets and in the bag with her clothes—Diana’s picture first and foremost, some bits of jewelry she could hold on to or pawn if needed, a couple sets of clothes, things like that. She hadn’t brought much with her to Vienna to start with, so not much there was hers. The jewelry was a sort of middle-finger to Kenneth and Viktor—they’d thought the shiny things would distract her and she’d oohed and awed but kept them in reserve. Like a Victorian housewife who knew they might be useful one day if she needed to start her life over. Her overnight bag was still packed, and she grabbed it.

“Miss Schade, we need to go,” Susanna said a touch more urgently.

“Right, coming,” she said, quickly walking out.

Susanna then reached into the cart and pulled out a brunette wig. “Hold still.” Adalind didn’t argue, letting her twist and pin her hair up in a couple of places, then put the wig over it. Then she pulled out a pair of glasses and handed them to her. Adalind was surprised how prepared she was, but quickly put them on. It wasn’t perfect but it should do as long as no one looked too close at her. She hid Adalind’s bag and the clothes she’d been wearing in a laundry cart in the hall and then nodded to her. “Push this and keep your head down, okay? Just follow me.”

“Right,” Adalind said. Susanna moved the housekeeping cart around and Adalind followed her with the laundry cart to the service elevator. Adalind felt her heart moving down to her stomach and up to her throat like a carnival ride. More so when, as they got off the elevator at the bottom, she saw the two guards and some of the others coming back their way. But no Rispoli or Kenneth…Susanna didn’t pay them any mind as she wheeled the cart out and Adalind quickly tried to follow.

“Hold it.” Adalind froze, swallowing, and Susanna froze as well. “You’re that maid, aren’t you? The one that made friends with Miss Schade?”

“Yes…” She didn’t look at them.

“I thought we got you fired.”

“I begged to just be demoted…I’m working the other floors, not the penthouse now. Please, I-I just need this job, for my daughter,” she said, hunkering down more. Adalind frowned worriedly, but quickly ducked her head when he looked her way.

“Yeah? Well…we might got a job for you,” he said, smirking. “You can bring your friend too.”

“Andre don’t be a pig,” the other man bit out. “Just leave her alone, we have more important things to worry about. Or do you want to explain to Kenneth how we got fooled?”

The man quickly fell back in line. “Fine…”

They quickly continued on to the regular elevator while Adalind and Susanna continued on towards the back of the hotel. Once there, Susanna grabbed Adalind’s bag from the laundry cart and handed it to her as they ran for the back door. Outside she ushered her into a car and then quickly drove away.

“Oh my god…” Adalind gasped, leaning back in the seat. “It worked…” Susanna nodded, looking in the mirror now and then as she drove. “…They said someone shot at Kenneth…”

“I’m afraid that was a diversion,” Susanna sighed.

Adalind blinked, looking at her. She sounded more…confident than before. “…You did that?”

She smiled a little and spoke, in a perfect imitation of Rispoli’s voice. “I’m Penas Do Arco-íris. Imitating noises and voices perfectly is child’s play.”

“…And freaky, but cool,” Adalind said, smiling a little. But she was eyeing her as well. “Are you actually a maid?”

He smiled a bit more wryly and went back to her own voice. “Ha, no, not exactly. I work with the resistance. Meisner got me a job at the hotel with a fake background and I faked the rest.”

Adalind’s eyes widened and she straightened. “You…wait, were you there to spy on me?”

“Well…you and the royals in general. Nothing personal, but when Meisner heard what you’d done and that you were back with the royals he was…disappointed.”

Adalind flinched a little and looked away. “I…admit, it was a rash decision…I mean though, do you actually understand or was the whole “single mother” routine a ploy too?” she asked, turning suspicious.

“…Both,” she admitted, turning pensive. “My daughter, Kristen, was real…but she died because of a conflict between two royals a few years ago. An engineered “accident” that took her and several others too on a ferry in New York. Cars not secured, rolling back into the water. And I’d gotten out to get her a drink…”

Adalind looked at her in horror before looking down. “I…am so sorry…” she said honestly. Diana was alive, that much she knew at least. A strange feeling of guilt and relief were warring in her.

She nodded. “I found out the truth thanks to Meisner and the resistance and I’m working with them now. I understand why you did what you did, even if I don’t approve.”

“…Then why put your cover at risk to help me? Giving notes to Sean and…this?”

She sighed a bit. “Partially part of spying on you—we read the notes just in case. But…like I said, I understand. But you have the chance to get your daughter back. I didn’t think letting them kill you was fitting. Plus, you’re not that bad. You tried to save the poor maid you “used”. And Meisner spoke well of you.”

“He did?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes. And he’s a hard man to impress, trust me,” she smiled. “I made the case that you were worth more alive. He didn’t need much convincing and the other head honchos of our organization agreed…maybe a little after we already started the rescue,” she said with a smile.

“Well, I appreciate that,” she said honestly.

“Who was that person they said they were bringing in? “Juliette”?”

Adalind smiled wryly now. “A…problem of my own making,” she sighed. “Seems to be the story of my life the last few years.”

“…I had a few years like that,” she nodded. "Can you elaborate though?"

"...I did something to the local Grimm to take his powers, and took her form to do it. She's his girlfriend. To undo it, she had to reverse the spell. And now...she's a Hexenbiest."

"...wow," she said, shocked.

"Yeah. Like I said, my own fault...I got tricked by the royals into thinking they had Diana and would let me see her if I did that. I did what I thought I had to..."

Susanna sighed. “Honestly, sometimes you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t. Heck, this wasn’t the first time I got hit or threatened, though it’s the first time a royal did it directly.”

“…And you still do it?” she asked, unsure.

“I do it so that no one else goes through what I did, as much as I do it for vengeance. I can’t bring Kristen back, but I can do this. One day I’m hoping we find out what gives the royals their power and destroy it.” She looked at her. “Don’t suppose you know what it is?”

Adalind shook her head. “No, sorry…I didn’t even know till Kenneth mentioned it.”

Susanna sighed but nodded with a smile. “I figured, but worth a shot. We’ll keep going at it.” She pulled up to the police station. “We called Renard; he’s waiting for you inside.”

She sighed and nodded, unbuckling her seat belt. “How do I…thank you?”

“Don’t trust the royals again, first and foremost,” she said seriously. Adalind nodded. “Other than that…well, here.” She reached in and pulled out a card. “This is my private number. We could use someone with your talents in the resistance. You ever up for it, give me a call.”

“…I’ll be honest…I really just want to find my daughter,” she said, though she took it.

“But even when you do, it’ll be dangerous. Getting the Royals unseated is the only way you’ll both be safe again,” she pointed out.

“…Let me think on it,” Adalind sighed.

“Of course. Just be safe. And remember, you need more allies than enemies right now...”

Adalind nodded and climbed out with her bag to head up into the station. A few gave her a look, since she was in a maid’s uniform still, but she just made a B-line for Renard’s office. He looked up and then did a double take before standing and opening the door. “Adalind?”

“Yeah…it’s me,” she sighed, walking in.

“…You look interesting as a brunette.”

“What? Oh,” she sighed, reaching up to unpin the wig. “Yeah. Pretty mundane but it worked I’ll admit,” she chuckled, taking off the glasses as well.

“Was that your idea?”

“No, actually…” She hesitated, looking towards the office windows. “Is Nick…here?”

“Yes, but he’s interrogating some potential suspects right now. We should get you out of here before he sees you though.”

“Yeah…But before that you need to know, Kenneth is going to meet with Juliette right now.”

Renard cursed and walked over to his phone to call up the central precinct. Adalind meanwhile closed all the blinds in the office and started undressing. “…What are you doing?”

“Changing. This was good for sneaking through a hotel, but it stands out here.”

“Ah…”

She quirked her brow and smirked. “You’ve seen me naked before, Sean. Several times.”

“Yes, but not in my office.”

“Do you like it?” she tried to tease.

Renard sighed and rolled his eyes before the call connected. “This is Sean Renard, Captain of the 83rd precinct. I’d like to check on a person currently in custody. Juliette Silverton. …What? Can you tell me who? …I see. Thank you.” He hanged up while Juliette finished pulling on a pair of dark wash jeans and a black and gold designer top. “Juliette was released.”

“What?” she gasped.

“It seems her bail was paid, by a Ken Lyons…”

“Oh hell…” she muttered.

“We’ll get you somewhere safe. And then we are going to have a lot of serious talks…”

Adalind nodded. There was a lot of dread in that sentence, but she’d rather take her chances with Renard than Juliette at this point.

\---------------------

“I don’t know where that tow truck is…” Gayla said, looking at her phone in frustration. She’d tried to call on her own and call her daughter, but after a couple of hours there was still no one. Sloane was trying to be a good host—and not show her anything the woman shouldn’t see—but it was a little frustrating to not be able to continue her research. Even if it wasn’t going anywhere.

“You know, I know a little about cars. I can take a look if you like.”

“Oh, I don’t want to impose on you more…” she said, looking worried.

“It’s fine, really.” Sloane said, standing. “I can drive down in my car.”

Gayla smiled in relief, grabbing her phone and charger and followed her out. Sloane went ahead and locked the door. “I got a bag of tools in my car, follow me.”

She did so, climbing in the passenger seat. “…New car?”

“Pretty new, got it a few months ago.”

“It has that feel,” she smiled.

“Yeah. My old one was in a bad wreck unfortunately…I still kind of miss it, even if it was getting on in years.”

“Nostalgic?”

“Yeah, and…it was one of the few gifts I got from someone…Nevermind,” she sighed, starting the car up. She drove down to the gate, which she’d left open since yesterday, and down the road. At the side of the road just a ways down was a blue sedan with California plates. “Any idea why it stopped?”

“I think it might be the battery, to be honest…”

“Oh, that’s no problem at all then! We can try jumpstarting it.” She drove a little further ahead, doing a wide U on the country road since no one was coming and parking just in front. Stepping out, she grabbed the power cables from her bag and walking over. Popping the hood, Sloane hooked everything up and she let her car run to try and charge the battery for a good 10 minutes. Gayla tried it then and the engine turned over.

“Yes!” Gayla shouted, pumping her fists. “Oh, I should’ve learned to do that years ago, but it never came up before…Thank goodness you’re prepared.”

“I try,” Sloane said, winding the cables up. “You should keep heading on home before it gets too dark.”

“Right…Oh but let me give you something.” She quickly opened up the back and pulled out a tinfoil dish. “I had this left over from the party.”

“Oh, I can’t,” Sloane said, holding up a hand awkwardly.

“Nonsense, I insist. It’s apple cake.”

She paused, looking at the dish in surprise. “Apple…huh, my grandmother used to make that too…”

Gayla smiled and handed the dish to her. “Then all the more reason I want you to have it. You’ve been so nice today; I want to thank you.”

Sloane took the dish and smiled. “Thanks…drive safe.”

She nodded, climbing back into he car to drive away while she still had a charge. Sloane smiled at the cake and climbed in her car to head back up to the house. Pulling up, she took the container and opened it in the car curiously. Inside was a slice of dense, stout, almost pie-like cake. It was a golden brown with slices of apple cooked into the top, dusted with cinnamon and sugar. _Apfel Streuselkuchen …just like oma’s…_ She could almost imagine what the whole cake looked like, with radiating slices of apple. Her grandmother used to make them for special occasions, or when Sloane had a bad day. Smiling, she pulled the slice out and took a bite. The rich, buttery crust and sweet apple filling was just like she remembered. It brought back a lot of memories and she sighed and smiled as she got out and kept munching on it as she headed for the door.

As she reached for her keys, she felt the world suddenly tilt. Her legs gave out and she hit the door with a grunt as she was trying to figure out what was happening. It felt like her body was flooded with ice water, shards of ice scraping her veins. It concentrated up into her eyes and she gasped and fell onto the porch completely, her body barely able to move. It felt like a seizure of some kind, but her mind was still able to register what was happening.

She heard footsteps and a hand on her shoulder rolling her over. Gayla was looking down at her, but the sweet grandmotherly look was gone. Instead was a look she knew well, the cold calculating look that regarded her most of her formative years. “Well…I thought you might at least wait a bit. You really did become too trusting.” She reached up and pulled the beauty mark off her cheek, her face changing back to Dierdre’s real look.

“Y…you…” Sloane tried to speak, but it felt like she couldn’t pull in enough air through the pain.

“Yes, it’s me. Let’s go inside, hm?” She reached for the keys in Sloane’s hand. The ring with the key to her house, this house, and Nick’s house all still on there. With a surge of will, she pushed herself up and threw the keys as hard as she could through the window at the side with a crash. The alarm inside started going off.

“Oh goddammit! You have to make everything difficult,” she growled. Reaching down, she pulled Sloane over her shoulders and stepped down over to the car she must’ve stolen. She deposited Sloane into the passenger seat and buckled her in because by now she couldn’t move at all. Her mind felt like it was receding into the background—aware but not in control. Dierdre smiled as she started the car. “Now…just relax and let it do it’s work. Then you and I will go on a little trip, just like old times…”

\------------------------

Juliette spent a lot of time staring at the wall in the jail. There wasn’t much else to look at considering it was walls and bars. There was a simmering frustration there. She could probably break herself out, but then what? She couldn’t go back to Renard’s, she couldn’t go home, none of her old friends would understand what was happening. Too many questions on why she and Nick broke up.

Rosalee had visited earlier—and that had done neither of them any good. Rosalee talked about “curing” her as well. Why couldn’t they understand she didn’t want to be cured?!

 _Because they’re jealous and scared of me,_ she thought. Rosalee talked about giving up her power for Nick. That if it meant she could be with Monroe she’d give up being a Fuchsbau. A hypocritical notion in her opinion, given that Nick couldn’t given up his Grimm powers for her. They had Sloane. He could’ve given it up. In the moment of being scared and angry for the threats against Monroe and Rosalee she’d agreed, and that was how they ended up here. And now she was stronger than them and that was a problem.

On some level she knew why they were scared. Why they cringed. She wasn’t the prettiest wesen—no soft fur like Rosalee or pretty eyes like that Musai that tried to beguile Nick. And the power gave her confidence not to just roll over with their plans. But Nick had wanted to marry her. In sickness and health, for better or _worse_ were a big deal with that. Maybe it was good to know how flimsy his resolve really was when she wasn’t just the perfect, easy going girl Friday.

_If he wants you, he should want you no matter what. So, he’ll get in line with me if he knows what’s good for him because I’m not just doing what he wants! I should change for him for love—ha! He should accept me for love! I shouldn’t have to change…_

She was practicing with her powers by splatting bugs coming in through the window above when the jailer came back in. “Okay, time to go.”

She blinked and sat up a little. “Go where?”

“Your bail’s been paid,” she said, unlocking the door.

She felt a small bit of hope inside as she rose. “By who?”

“I don’t know, I’m just following orders,” she sighed. “C’mon.”

She followed her out and got her personal effects signed out before heading to the door. She’d hoped it was Nick—coming to his senses, coming apologize. Instead another man stood at the steps. She hadn’t met him before, but he gave off an aura that gave her pause. Like he expected her to do what he wanted.

“Juliette. My name's Kenneth. We've never met.”

She frowned, eyeing him more. “You bailed me out. Why?”

“We have something in common.”

She stared and then shook her head. “Am I supposed to ask what?”

“You're not curious?”

Rolling her eyes, she started down the stairs. “No.”

He watched for a moment before raising his voice. “He can't be much of a boyfriend if he left you to rot in jail.” She paused and then turned to look back at him. “Seems like we both have good reason to be upset: the Grimm.”

She sighed and crossed her arms. “What do you want?”

“What we've always wanted. Adalind's child. No surprise there, I suppose,” he shrugged.

“You're one of the Royals,” she said, realizing what he was and why he gave her such a sketchy vibe.

He smiled and mock bowed. “Yes. The one who's going to get the child back.”

She snorted. “Well, I don't know where she is.”

He nodded. “I believe that you don't, but I also believe that you could.”

She shook her head, moving to walk away again. “Sorry you wasted your bail money.”

Kenneth blinked and then laughed—a sharp, annoying sound to her, following her down. “My God. You're still loyal to the Grimm even after what he's done to you. You know, I admire loyalty when it's deserved, but this borders on tragic.”

She narrowed her eyes and turned. “You know, it might be more tragic for a Royal to die in Portland.”

He smirked. “For me, yes. Of course. But I wouldn’t recommend it. You may be powerful but killing me would bring the rest of the royal family against you. And we have eyes and ears everywhere. All your power will be used to fight for your life, day in and day out. Ask Renard’s mother how fun that was. But I’m not here to try and force you with threats.”

“And what did you want?”

“A trade. Help me, and I’ll give you what you want.”

“If you say a cure, I might take my chances with your manhunt,” she warned.

“Why on earth would you want a cure?” he laughed. “I mean granted, I’m not keen on Hexenbiests, but it’s better than being some powerless little nobody. I mean, you can do so much more now, I don’t blame you for wanting to keep it.”

Juliette eased a little. She’d said essentially the same and it was a surprise to have someone agree with her. The fact that it was a royal was slightly off-putting, but then he did know a thing or two about power. “Then what did you have in mind?”

He smiled a bit more wolfishly. “I heard that you want to…settle some things with Adalind. Though if you like the powers…”

“No, I still have things to settle with her,” she said, glaring automatically. “She started this; I will end it.”

“I like that attitude. Well, Miss Schade has been staying with us. I’m more than happy to arrange a meeting.”

“…One of us would probably end up dead,” she pointed out.

“Well, she’s been less than useful. Picking fights with you, hesitating when it comes to some of our more…unsavory methods. She actually has some talent but she’s too focused on her child and her pride to use it properly and she’s already shown how trustworthy she is. And honestly, I just find her to be a hindrance. You though, you have a lot of promise. Untrained and yet you can beat Adalind so well? I can put you in touch with the resources to really _learn_ what you’re capable of.”

“If I work for you?” she guessed.

“With, not for. Help me get the child the King wants so I can get back to my own life and once that’s done you’re free to go. Maybe even set up for life. Think of Adalind as a sign on bonus. After all, I actually want you to use your powers…not erase them.”

She hesitated, thinking it over. It was tempting, she knew. But this would be a line to cross that might be too much. After all, to get Diana she would have to cross Renard, Nick and Nick’s mother. She doubted Kelly would go down without a fight too. And there would be no coming back from that.

“…I need to think on it.”

“Fair enough,” he said, holding up his hands. “I’ll be at the Hotel Deluxe, and so will Adalind. Come find me when you’re ready.”

He slipped by her then and headed down to his car. Juliette watched and then sighed, heading away on her own.

\--------------

Nick sighed as they headed back to the station. They’d checked out the campground with Albert and his son. There was blood, but they’d admitted to hunting a rabbit. He said that was all they did—no big game. It wasn’t about embracing that part of their past, hurting humans and the like. It was about learning not to fear the more bestial parts of them, that they are in control and that there’s nothing to be ashamed of. He somehow could tell Monroe had been on hunts in the past and asked if he would talk to the kids about it. Monroe was hesitant though—after all, the hunts he was on before weren’t always controlled, or they were helping Nick. That might not sit will we them.

They brought the fathers in from that night to talk with them at the station, but they corroborated Albert’s story. The only thing they hunted was a rabbit. Monroe couldn’t smell anything suspect on them because they likely went home to take a shower. So, they were still at square one. Monroe decided to go back to the ranch and talk with Albert and the others and see if he could pick up anything else. Nick thanked him and they started back for their desks to keep looking things up. He was surprised when, of all people, Henrietta walked through towards Renard’s office. “Henrietta?”

She looked up and smiled that same composed smile. “Detective Burkhardt. It’s nice to see you.”

“Yeah…um, what are you…doing here?” he asked carefully.

She chuckled. “Renard asked for a favor, so I came down to give a friend a ride…”

“Okay…”

“Something troubling you?”

“…Juliette has…really gotten out of control.”

“Who’s control?”

“Her own,” Nick said, frowning. “Her…power is one thing, but she’s ending up hurting people with it. She’s assaulting people, hurting them, things she wouldn’t have done before!”

Henrietta frowned, the teasing smile fading. “That is concerning…The powers we have take years for us to master and learn to respect. She might be on a power high. It would be like getting a new, fast car and wanting to speed down the highway.”

He nodded a little. “I can get that, but how do we stop her?”

She sighed and shook her head. “I’m not sure how still. Nothing is going to make her human again to my knowledge. And even finding another way to suppress her power wouldn’t be permanent. It could even make things worse. The lengths Adalind went to in order to get her power back aren’t surprising. It’s like killing a Hexenbiest to take her powers away.”

“Well, maybe what’s dead should stay dead,” Nick muttered.

“Nice Stephen King reference,” she smirked. “But my point is, if she wants those powers back, what will you do? Lock her away for the rest of her life?”

Nick frowned and sighed. “I…don’t know. Just…I want her to be herself! But she’s getting more and more unstable and I’m really honestly scared she’s going to kill someone. And not in self-defense.”

Henrietta sighed and nodded. “I’m worried about that too…But in truth, I’m afraid she might be more powerful than me already. I don’t think I can take her in a fight. I’ll see if anything stands out though.”

Nick nodded slowly. “Thanks…I’d appreciate it.”

Henrietta smiled again. “Just be warned, I may ask the same price I asked Detective Larson. A favor.”

“…I’ll try not to be suspicious,” Nick said, though he relaxed just slightly. “I better get going, we’re still working a case.”

“Good luck,” she waved, heading for Renard’s office. He ushered her in, and she smiled when she saw Adalind. “Well…hello again.”

“Hello…” Adalind sighed, standing. “…Thanks, for this.”

“Adalind, it’s not a trouble.”

“After our last visit—” she started.

“You don’t have—”

“No, let me say it,” Adalind said quickly. “You…told me a lot of things that I probably needed to hear. I’m still going to do everything I can to get Diana back in my life, but…I understand some of what you meant now. That all this trouble I brought on myself, and her…is because of the rash decisions I made. And that there’s no way we could’ve had a good life after bringing the royals into this.” She glanced at Sean, but he nodded, agreeing. He knew full well what they were capable of. “And now Juliette…well, she’ll kill me if given the chance I’m pretty sure.”

“She is still angry with you,” Henrietta agreed.

“But I’ll find a way to fix that or make up for it…and make peace with Nick at least.” Renard and Henrietta were both surprised but Adalind put on a determined face. “I want Diana back, powers or no powers. If I have to suppress hers and mine, that’s fine. She’s my daughter…I just want to be with her. Watch her grow up. I’m lucky I still have that option if we find her…”

Henrietta was surprised before smiling and looking a bit proud. “Well said…For now, let’s go to my house and rest. We’ll figure out next steps then.”

Adalind nodded and picked up her bag. Henrietta took her scarf from around her neck and draped it over Adalind’s head, wrapping it around her and they headed for the back door. Nick caught a glance and frowned curiously but couldn’t see her face clearly enough.

They ended up getting a call about another body found on the same highway. This one had been there longer—maybe a week. He was certain now the camp had something to do with it. He called Monroe to tell him about it and got a shock. While at the camp to talk to the kids about his experiences, they’d gone to hunt another rabbit. Except Maggie was there—and she’d tried to entice Monroe into hunting a hitch hiker. While Albert and Todd didn’t want to belief it, they were setting off to find her. Nick, Hank, and Wu rushed over in hopes of apprehending Maggie. Unfortunately, for her at least, the hitch hiker she chose was armed. He’d ended up stabbing her in the abdomen thinking she was a wild animal. He wasn’t exactly wrong in one respect. Her philosophy of the strong eating the weak hadn’t taken tools and weapons into account it seemed. She died in her father’s arms, lamenting that she felt like they weren’t close. He insisted he loved her, but she faded quickly. It didn’t feel like a win…

As they were finishing with the scene, they had no idea that several members of a gang were loitering the streets after mugging a small group of men. One was laughing, counting the money out.

“Not bad, but I was hoping for better,” he said.

“Hey, we’re in the slums, what do you expect?” another pointed out.

“I thought they looked like guys coming to find some hookers for the night, thought they might have a bit more on them…I mean, they looked like the type that would have to pay.”

The others laughed but paused when they heard footsteps at the start of the alleyway. A woman’s voice said, echoing down the hall. “Klaustrike…Hundjager…Hahnenkamm…Grau Schreinen…”

They all were immediately alert and without thinking really woged in surprise—A cat, a dog, a rooster and a donkey like wesen altogether. At the edge of the alley were two silhouettes. Women they realized as one stepped a little further in. One was older, with eyes black as starless nights. The other was dressed in a hoodie, with a mask up from her neck to over her nose. They could see her eyes were black as well…but her pupils were like a full moon—pure white in the sea of black. And that was somehow much more terrifying.

“Amazing…” Dierdre murmured.

“Grimm!” The donkey-like wesen brayed. He looked ready to run, but the others bared their teeth.

“I knew we’d find some of you here…” Dierdre said. “But that you could spot them across the street without them woging…”

“What’s she talking about?” the Klaustrike asked.

“Who cares, just kill them!” the Hahnenkamm said, moving forward with the intent to peck those black eyes out.

“Sloane, kill them.”

Sloane had her knife out in a flash and rushed forward, bringing it through the Hahnenkamm’s neck. Following through, she tossed it effortlessly into the Hundjager before he could stop trying to run towards her. She kicked out, pushing it in deeper and making him buckle and collapse. The other two were about to run but Sloane was faster as she moved around the alley. Another kick had the donkey hitting the dumpster hard enough it dented, and he was down. The Klaustrike was backing away, looking scared.

“Please…please, we didn’t kill anyone!”

“Tonight, you mean. No mercy, Sloane. That’s an order,” Dierdre said.

Sloane was in front of him in only a few steps and grabbed his face to smash him into the wall headfirst. She released him, retrieved her knife and made sure they were all dead before returning to Dierdre. Dierdre smiled and reached up to wipe a bit of blood away from her cheek. “Good…that was very good. Let’s go rest up, you have a big day tomorrow. I can’t wait to show you off to your friends…” she chuckled. Sloane said nothing, only following her with a blank stare, her eyes not returning to normal.

\-------------------

Adalind and Henrietta arrived at Henrietta’s house after having dinner in town. “I know it’s not a penthouse, but I’ve got a nice guest bedroom.”

“I’ve stayed in castles, penthouses, shacks in the woods and dungeons the last year. A homey guest bedroom sounds nice…” _I stayed in one of those with Nick and Juliette too…_

Henrietta smiled and helped her upstairs. The bedroom was similar to the Victorian feel of the rest of the house, with a nice big bed and furniture in warm woods and blue and silver wallpaper. “Rest up for tonight. Tomorrow, we can think about how to approach Mr. Burkhardt. Because he’s going to be your best bet on finding your daughter. You just have to prove you aren’t…”

“Wicked, anymore?” she supplied, grimacing.

“It’ll be hard, but I think better in the long run,” Henrietta said wisely. “The good thing about having friends like them is they watch your back.”

“I think friendship is off the table entirely considering what I’ve done. Especially to Nick himself…I had to sleep with him, as Juliette, to take his power before.”

“Yes, that was extreme…”

“My only defense is hormones, anger and grief,” she sighed, flopping back. “I would’ve done _anything_ to get Diana back and I was stupid enough to believe Viktor…”

“Well, admitting you’re wrong is a good first step,” she said. “If you can master that, you’ll be a step ahead of your mother…But you know, it a twisted way, I still miss her too. Mostly I miss who she was when we were younger, before she thought power was the only thing she needed…”

Adalind looked at her from lying on the bed and nodded. “Yeah…I miss her too, despite how we left things…”

“That’s the thing about death. You never have the chance to make things better once it takes you or someone you love…” She shook her head and patted Adalind’s hand. “We’re alive though. We’ll make things better. Heck, I might make a white witch out of you.”

Adalind smiled wryly. “One thing at a time, okay?”

\---------------------

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Kenneth growled.

The men at the door ducked their heads. The braver of the two continued speaking quickly. “We received a call on the hotel line from Rispoli that someone shot at you in the lobby!”

“I made no such call,” Rispoli said immediately, looking at Kenneth.

“Of course you didn’t, I had my eyes on you the entire time,” he snapped.

“Then it was someone who could do a very good impression,” the man swallowed. “He wanted back-up, so we rushed down. When we realized nothing was wrong, we rushed back up and Miss Schade was gone.”

“So, let me get this straight. Someone contacted you on the hotel line, not your phones, to come downstairs and you do it?”

“We thought it was you and Rispoli,” the other man said.

“What you thought is that someone took a pot shot at me in a crowded hotel. I realize this is America, but no assassin is that stupid and no one insane enough to do that knows I’m here,” he said, his voice tight like a razor wire. “So, you left my bargaining chip alone and followed orders from an unconfirmed source because to your ears, it sounded like your boss. So, no confirmation needed?” They didn’t say anything, and Kenneth turned his gaze to the man in question. “You assured me you hired the best men for this.”

“They are. If they say it sounded like me, I believe them. This would mean someone planned this to get Miss Schade,” he said, trying to remain calm.

“Again, telling me things that a toddler could work out on their own,” he sneered. “I want these two gone. Now. Or they will be gone permanently.”

The men looked at Rispoli, but he sighed and motioned to them. Both quickly headed out the door. Kenneth began pacing, the calm façade he tried to present cracking. “That little witch actually managed to get away…I didn’t think she had the gall to do it.”

“With all due respect sir, she’s well known for being determined…” Rispoli said.

“Yes, I did underestimate her…” he muttered.

“Do you want us to track her down?”

Kenneth kept thinking but finally shook his head. “No…if she’s out there, she’s likely ingratiating herself to others she thinks will help her. Meaning getting her back would require a lot of effort and could draw more attention than I want right now.”

“Then what about Miss Silverton?”

“We’ll have to figure another way to get her to our side…” he grunted, sitting back. “…We need a way for her to despise Mr. Burkhardt. She’s still too attached to him. Have someone start looking into him more. I want a file by this time tomorrow of everyone and everything he knows and loves. We’ll find something we can use.”

\----------------------

Nick sighed as he entered the station. To save the hiker, they’d had to make Maggie out to be a serial killer. Which she was, technically. Her brother hadn’t been happy, but her father said that it was necessary. That he wasn’t going to let someone else suffer because of his family’s mistakes. The camp was going to be closed for quite a while too while he figured out what he needed to do. Maybe forever. Apparently it was quite eye opening to the other fathers that maybe their daughters might need some guidance as well when it came to their instincts.

Today would be a lot of report writing, and as with many of their cases the truth was going to have to be bent a little. Or a lot. Or crumpled up and thrown in the trashcan. He looked at his phone as he walked up. He’d tried to call Sloane the night before for an update and to see how she was, but he still had no reply to his message. He sighed and set it down on his desk as he booted up the PC and began work.

Hank walked up a little later, sighing as he sat down. “Man, this city is starting get bad…”

Nick looked up, frowning. “How so?”

“I talked to some of the other detectives at other departments this morning. The cases they got today are rough. One is a murdered prostitute—had her throat slashed and was just left in an alley.”

“Yeesh…” Nick agreed.

“Oh, it gets better. Lindley and Caswood, at the North Precinct, got a gang related one—four men, all dead in an alley near Bremen. Beaten and stabbed. Granted they weren’t exactly the pillars of society, but it’s a bit worrying when guys known for fighting end up dead all at once.”

“No kidding…” It reminded Nick of Juliette—and was that ever a twisted reminder—and he sighed and picked up his phone again while Hank got his computer ready. Standing, he walked a few paces away to call.

“Portland Central Holding,” the receptionist answered.

“Hi, this is Detective Nick Burkhardt. I’d like to arrange to see someone in your custody, Juliette Silverton, this afternoon.”

“Just a moment…Silverton, Silverton…Ah yes. I’m sorry, Detective, but Miss Silverton has already been released on bail.”

Nick’s eyes widened and he nearly fell over. “What? By who?”

“The note I have is Ken Lyon. That’s all there is.”

He took a breath, resisting cursing. He didn’t know who that was. “I see…thank you. Have a nice day.”

“You too.”

Nick hanged up and then quickly marched for Renard’s office.

Renard looked up, blinking as Nick came in. He was a bit tired, with circles under his eyes and everything. “Nick…what’s wrong?”

“…I think you probably know Juliette was arrested,” Nick said, eyeing him.

He sighed, leaning back. “Yes…and I know Sgt. Wu found out and told you so I didn’t bring it up.”

“Do you know she’s been released?”

“I found out late yesterday,” he confirmed. “I was trying to figure out how to tell you that part. And that I know who released her.”

“What? Who?” he asked, tension rising.

“Kenneth Alun Goderich Bowes-Lyon…one of my cousins, but also a prince.”

Nick’s jaw dropped. “I…What? How does that work?”

He sighed and spread his hands. “The royals are patrilineal. My father had 6 brothers who were all princes, and many of them have had sons who are also princes. But there is only one Royal Highness and one king,” Renard explained with a sigh.

“Okay…so your father is the king…”

“And my brother Eric was the Royal Highness. The next in line for the throne.”

“But he’s dead…so are you…?”

“Ha, no,” he said, sneering bitterly. “I had to give up my claim when I was young to keep them from killing me and my mother. If I tried, I’d be dead in a day if I’m lucky. However, because he has no other sons, he’ll have to choose from my cousins now. And that’s why they want to get Diana. Whoever brings Diana to my father will get a lot of points for the princely judgement. Kenneth managed to convince the King to let him replace Viktor, who I’m sure isn’t happy...”

“…Your family is…”

“Awful, I know,” He sighed.

“You okay?”

“…I’ve been dealing with aftereffects of my more than near death experience.”

Nick frowned. “No offense, but does all your mother’s spells come with aftereffects?”

“It’s spell work in general I’m told,” he sighed, not taking it personally. “My abilities were negligible, but I did study a little. You’ve seen it I’m sure. There’s never a straight path to what needs to be done—it’s give and take and prices and…sacrifices. Energy, work, ingredients, blood, pain…That’s how these powers work. You don’t actually get something for nothing.”

Nick frowned, not quite sure how to respond to that. He saw what he meant, but sometimes those prices seemed too steep.

Before he found the words, Wu and Hank rushed into the office with his laptop. “We have a problem!”

“Is it learning to knock,” Renard muttered, messaging his temple.

“No, it’s this.” Wu turned his laptop around and had them group up before playing the video on it. “I sent that sketch you made out to other precincts and they handed it out. A convenience store sent this in.”

They watched as the camera near the front register showed Dierdre enter. There was someone following her, in a hooded sweatshirt with the hood up and a neck gaiter-type face covering and dark glasses.

“Who’s that?” Renard asked, watching the footage as they bought some water and gas.

“No idea, she was alone before,” Nick said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, but I figured out this was only a block away from that quadruple homicide the North Precinct is dealing with. Around the time of death.”

“So, this might be her doing?” Renard sighed.

“Which means the victims might’ve been wesen too,” Hank said.

Nick pulled out his phone. “I’ll call Sloane, it might be best if she gets back here and we figure out how to take her down once and for all. And her new friend.”

Renard nodded, looking at the footage. “I’ll see if I can get the detectives from the North Precinct on a trail as far from her as possible. We don’t want them getting in the middle of things.”

“That’d probably be best. I don’t think they’d be ready without a Grimm of their own,” Hank sighed.

“We were barely ready with two,” Wu pointed out. He noted Nick looking at his phone in frustration. “What is it?”

“She’s not answering…Hey, Sloane, it’s Nick. Dierdre’s made a move back here in Portland, call me the moment you can and get back here soon. Be safe.” He hanged up after leaving the message but kept frowning. “I don’t like that she didn’t pick up…”

“You don’t think Dierdre…I mean, she’s her daughter,” Hank said.

“Didn’t seem to matter much to her last time,” Nick sighed. “I’ll try Mim and Jean—Dierdre can’t hurt them and they can check on Sloane.” They nodded while Renard instructed Wu on what to do with the footage while making notes on what to do to put the other detectives off the trail.

“Nick?” Jean asked when she answered the phone.

“Hey Jean.”

“Hey yourself. What’s going on?”

“Nothing good I’m afraid…Dierdre is here in Portland again and already has a body count.”

“Oh damn,” she muttered.

“Yeah. I tried to call Sloane and she didn’t pick up, is she with you?” he asked hopefully.

“What? No…we went to Eureka for a couple of days. An old friend of ours was in a hit and run. He luckily lived but his leg is busted up pretty-bad. Wait, what do you mean you can’t reach her?”

“She didn’t pick up the phone,” Nick said, getting a bit worried.

“…I’m going to make a call, have someone go check on her.”

“That’d be good. Dierdre’s here in Portland so it should be safe.”

“Right. I’ll-I’ll call you back.”

“Thanks,” Nick said. She hanged up and Nick frowned more.

“What’s wrong?” Hank asked.

“Mim and Jean had to leave town to help someone…”

“…Feels convenient?” Renard asked, looking troubled as well.

“Yeah…Maybe…I should’ve gone with her,” he sighed. “I knew Dierdre was still out there, I know Sloane doesn’t have the benefit of the protection…I’ve been so caught up with what’s happening to Juliette…”

“Hey man, we’re not going to play the blame game here,” Hanks said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t even know if she’s been hurt. We gotta have a little faith in Sloane.”

Nick sighed and nodded. He had a bad feeling though, one he couldn’t shake.

“While I send the detectives from the North Precinct on a goose chase, I want you to track down Dierdre,” Renard said. “Do you think Sloane will mind if we use force?”

“I think she’d understand better than most,” Nick said honestly.

“Good. Do what you have to do.”

\----------------

Juliette sighed as she walked up to the trailer. She’d parked a bit further up the way, just in case Nick or someone came. She didn’t really want them coming in ready to kill her. Going back to the house didn’t feel right, going to the shop didn’t feel right, or to Monroe and Rosalee’s, or Renard’s…nothing felt right. She’d been burning bridges left and right. Though she didn’t want to admit who started the fire.

Climbing out, she went to the trailer and unlocked it. She still had a key; she hadn’t taken it off the key ring. She remembered when Nick first brought her here. She’d fascinated with all of it. All the adventure stories she read when she was young felt like they were coming true…but she soon realized that Nick was the one they were coming true for. He was the special one. She was the sidekick—and not even a major one, Monroe and Rosalee were helping him more. She was the love interest.

_Guess that’s not true anymore. I’ve got more power than any of them…_

But she was alone. She couldn’t deny that.

Looking over the books, she picked up the rolodex Sloane and Nick were putting together. Flipping through, she found the H’s and several references to Hexenbiests. She picked out a few and sat down at the desk. They discussed known powers, a handful of known spells—though not how to perform them—some counter methods and the like. It felt strange now that she was one to read the descriptions on how to subdue and kill a hexenbiest. But it also cemented some of what she felt. That there was no way Nick would want her back. There was no information there that would help her master her powers either and show him she was fine as she was now.

_Well…so what? I don’t need him! I can stand on my own!_

She told herself that, but there was still a part of her that felt a twist of pain. She’d felt it when he’d left her in the cells, when he pulled his gun on her when she woged, when he’d turned away in disgust. She did still have feelings for him. And that made his disdain hurt all the more.

_He's not worth it! You just need to move on and get to figuring out what you want to do with your power now._

She laid back, unsure about that. Did she still want to be a vet? Maybe…did she want to do more? Definitely. She could travel for a while. Find a new place to settle down, make a new life. Maybe someplace big and more glamorous, like New York or L.A.? Leave all of Portland behind…leave Nick behind…

She groaned a bit and sat back on the bed. She put her arm over her eyes and tried to just focus on her thoughts. _Maybe I should just burn this place down and leave…that’ll make a lasting impression,_ she thought morosely.

\-------------------------

“What do you mean Sloane is missing?” Rosalee asked, on edge immediately.

“I didn’t say missing, I said she’s not answering her phone,” Nick said gently.

“She always answers for us, so she must be missing,” she said.

“Well, you know, things come up, maybe she wasn’t able to answer right away,” Monroe said soothingly. He looked worried as well though.

“Jean and Mim are in Eureka, so they’re having someone go check on her. She should be calling back soon.”

“We shouldn’t have let her go alone,” Rosalee sighed. “I knew we should’ve just all gone together…Could we fly down?”

“I looked; the closest commercial airport is still hours away from Wildred. Four-hour flight plus going through all the security and what not, it might actually be faster to drive…” Nick sighed.

“Clint is back in Montana too,” she sighed.

“Look, I’m worried too, but we should also worry about Dierdre. I mean, she can’t hurt us, but she’s already killing other wesen? And now she has a partner?” Monroe said worriedly.

“Yeah, we’re working on tracking her down. But she’s good at covering her tracks,” Nick nodded. His phone rang then, and he looked at it. “It’s Jean.”

“Answer it!” Rosalee said quickly.

Nick was already doing so, putting it up to his ear. “Hey, Jean, you hear from Sloane?”

“Nick, this is bad! Sloane is missing!”

He froze. “What do you mean she’s missing?!”

“I told you!” Rosalee said, trying not to panic. “Put it on speaker!”

Nick did so as Jean was speaking. “I asked Deputy Gonzales to go check on her. She told me she was already there because Sloane’s alarm went off! The house had a broken window where Sloane’s keys were tossed in, her car was still there, but she was gone!”

“When was this?” Nick asked, trying to go into detective mode instead of panicking friend mode.

“She got the alert yesterday. Mim’s phone buzzed but we didn’t realize it because we were at the hospital with our friend, Martin! It was in the afternoon…”

“Okay…We have footage of Dierdre being here late at night. She could’ve been there.”

“Did you see Sloane on the footage?”

“No, but we saw someone following Dierdre. Does she have any friends?” Monroe asked.

“We don’t exactly speak often, I’m not well versed in that woman’s social circle,” she said waspishly. She then sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap, I’m just worried…”

“We understand,” Rosalee said. “We’re going to track her down and figure out what’s going on, we promise.”

“Please…please find her. We can’t lose her again…” Jean said quietly.

“You won’t. We aren’t losing anyone,” Nick said. “Call us if you hear anything and we’ll keep you updated on our end.”

“Right…Thank you,” she sighed. She hanged up and Nick put his phone on the table.

“Is there anything I can do? Can I track her?” Monroe asked.

“It rained last night, and we don’t have anything of Dierdre’s anyway,” Nick sighed. His mind was whirring away. “I’m going to check Sloane’s house.”

“We’ll come too,” Rosalee said. “I want the chance to kick that woman’s ass when we find her.”

Monroe and Nick glanced at one another. Angry Rosalee was not a person to mess with they knew and considering Dierdre couldn’t hurt her that was going to be interesting.

\---------------

Dierdre drove up to Sloane’s house. It was quaint. Blue on the outside, white trim, nice windows…She noted it had a nice garden in front of it—similar to her mother’s before it’d wilted to nothing after her death. “Get out of the car.”

Sloane did so without speaking back. Dierdre had covered her mouth and given her a hoodie to be safe. After all, she was a local detective now apparently. Being recognized as a murderer would be interesting on one hand and uproot her life forever. But, it would also cause a manhunt for a killer cop. That was too much work to evade.

She got out as well. “Follow me.” Sloane did, and they went up to the door. “…You threw your keys,” she muttered, annoyed. Sighing, she reached a gloved hand to the doorknob. At her touch, she grunted when she felt like thousands of needles went through her hand. She let go and backed away. “What the hell?!” She glared and set a finger on the knob, the same sensation going through her. “…Sloane, touch the doorknob.”

Sloane did so and seemed completely fine.

“…Are you in pain?”

“No.”

“Did you do something to this door to keep me out?”

“Yes.”

“What?” she asked impatiently.

“Protection charm.”

Dierdre narrowed her eyes. “Honestly…you and your magic tricks…Pick the lock so we can go inside.”

Sloane opened the hoodie up and took her lock picking tools out of the pocket there, kneeling and getting to work on picking the lock. Dierdre looked around to make sure no neighbors jogging, or bored housewives saw them. The door popped open only a moment later and she smiled a bit. At least she remembered something. Sloane straightened and opened the door, stepping inside. When Diedre moved to follow though, she felt a whole wall of that needled, painful feeling. She tried to press on through but then it pushed her out and she growled. “Get rid of that—”

She paused when she heard a car coming up the street. Cursing, she looked back. “Close the door and get back in the car.” Sloane did so without question and Dierdre climbed in the car to drive further down. She watched in the mirror as Nick and drove up with two others—the Fuchsbau and the Blutbad. He went up with a key to open the door then looked panicked when it was open and went inside, the others following. “Well…seems they’re aware you’re not back in Wildred anymore,” she sighed. “This place won’t do as a base. The Library is out…What other Grimm areas are there in this damned city?”

“…The Trailer.”

She paused and looked at her. She hadn’t intended on an answer, but Sloane was much more forthcoming now. “Trailer? What trailer?”

“Marie Kessler’s Trailer.”

“Marie Kessler? …Ah, that’s right. Mr. Burkhardt’s Aunt…you know where that trailer is?”

“Yes.”

“Direct me then,” she smirked, putting the car in drive.

\--------------------

Juliette must’ve fallen asleep as her thoughts chased one another around because it was early evening when she opened her eyes and looked out the window. _Shit…I don’t know if I want to stay here for the night…Better clean up and head to a motel._ Sighing again, she put the books back. Stepping out, she was about to lock the door when she heard a car coming up. She turned and saw headlights through the trees and on instinct she quickly ducked around the corner. She wasn’t sure she was ready to confront Nick just yet. Not without a hell of a fight. Could she do that? Hurt him physically? She wasn’t so sure yet, even with her anger.

But it wasn’t Nick who climbed out of the car. A woman she hadn’t seen before did, tall and strong looking even in her fifties, with black hair and a white streak. Another figure got out the other side, wearing a hoodie and face scarf. “So…this is Marie Kessler’s trailer?” the older woman said, walking up to it.

“Yes.” The other person didn’t sound like they were feeling anything at that moment. It was just an answer to the question.

“Well…I suppose it is nice. A good idea on her part. The only one she had.” She walked over and tried the door. “Huh…Unlocked. Kelly’s son is careless, no surprise there.”

Juliette frowned, watching as she walked in. She looked at the other figure, who just stood there like a statue, staring at nothing. She heard the woman moving around inside, looking through things. Slowly she came out, looking at the other figure. Eyes flicked up to her and she tensed at the blackness—like Nick’s when he saw her woge, a color that sent a chill up her spine—but with a white pupil that seemed to glow in the dimming light.

“…Hexenbiest.”

Juliette froze. She hadn’t woged she was sure. But more than that, the voice was familiar. She frowned and moved closer. “Sloane?”

“And who is this?”

Juliette jumped and turned to see the woman in the doorway of the trailer. “Uh…I—”

“Juliette Silverton.” She whipped around to stare at Sloane in confusion.

“You know her?”

“She’s Nick’s girlfriend.”

“Oh, is she?” she asked, quirking a brow.

“Not anymore…” Juliette said slowly. She looked at Sloane again, wondering what was going on. She was definitely not herself.

“Oh? What a shame? But then it makes me wonder what you’re doing here.”

“Feeling sentimental,” she said, eyeing the woman. “What about you?”

She smiled and looked her over. “I heard Sloane say “Hexenbiest” …are you one?”

She remembered Sloane trying to warn her about her mentor returning. “…You’re Dierdre?”

“Answer the question.”

“Answer mine first,” she ordered back.

Dierdre smiled more. “You’re a feisty one, I’ll give you that…I suppose what you are doesn’t matter much in the end though. Sloane, kill her.”

Sloane reached up to unsheathe her knife in flash and Juliette just barely managed to get out of the way as she rushed to try and grab her. “What the hell!? Sloane?!” Sloane didn’t say anything back, moving to swing the knife into her. Juliette gasped when it nicked her collar bone despite moving back and then glared. _She’s really trying to kill you! Fight back!_ She woged, shrieking at her.

“Burkhardt really was dating a Hexenbiest…disgusting,” Dierdre said, sneering. “Take her head, I want to give it to him.”

Sloane moved to try and strike her neck again, but Juliette pushed back with her power. Sloane met the resistance head on, and Juliette gasped as she actually moved through it. Though she dodged the blade, Sloane’s foot kicked out and hit her in the stomach, making her gasp. It was with a cold sweat she realized that Sloane would have her beat in a hand to hand fight. She tried to stop her again, making her knife halt in the downward arch towards her. The position reminded her of the manticore that attacked her…if she turned Sloane’s hand inward…

_Do I really want to kill her?_

The second of hesitation was what Sloane needed to reach up her other hand and grab Juliette by the throat and lifted her up off her feet without strain. She gasped, woging back in shock at the hard grip. She changed her grip on the knife and Juliette felt a flash of fear. Then her grip slackened, and she groaned, moving back. Juliette gasped as she fell to her knees, coughing. She looked up, ready to woge and not hesitate this time but Sloane’s eyes were flashing between black and normal like strobe lights. “R…Run…Juliette, run…” she grunted, clawing at her face.

It was a surprise. She was fighting for control to save her. _Kill her! Before she kills you!_ The thought shocked her for a moment and instead she got to her feet quickly and ran for the trees.

“What are you doing?!” Dierdre shrieked. “Go after her!”

“N-No…” Sloane gasped when Dierdre grabbed the back of her head.

“You’re trying to fight this? I wouldn’t bother. I’ll see you kill them all one way or another…” She pulled a small vial from her pocket and put it to Sloane’s lips. “Drink up.” Though she tried to keep her lips closed they opened enough for the liquid to seep in. She yelled in pain and Dierdre let go as she collapsed to the ground, hands around her own throat now as if to stop swallowing. But it didn’t matter. The black veins ran up to her eyes again and they darkened once more.

Juliette meanwhile got to her car and started the engine, reversing and quickly getting out of the woods. She paused down the road, breathing deeply. _She fought to try and stop herself, but she could’ve killed me…Grimms are stronger than I thought…_ She hesitated for a moment before grabbing her phone and dialing Nick’s number.

\------------------------

“I don’t see any sign of her,” Nick sighed. They’d gotten to the house to find it unlocked and he’d entered first with his gun drawn. But no one was there. After that they spent nearly an hour looking around with nothing standing out, and even asking neighbors. No one saw anything.

“I don’t smell anything off either,” Monroe agreed.

“But then why was the door unlocked? She wouldn’t have left it unlocked before leaving, Sloane is way too careful…” Rosalee said.

“Dierdre might’ve tried something but we scared her off…” Nick said. “Nothing looks tampered with or taken.”

“Sloane still isn’t picking up though…” she said worriedly, looking at her phone.

Nick sighed, also feeling less comforted and more anxious by the fact there was no one there. He jumped when he felt is phone go off— _My Girl._ He was shocked but quickly fumbled it out and put it to his ear. “J-Juliette?”

“Nick, you need to get to the trailer.”

“What? Why?” he asked, confused.

“Because Dierdre is there right now.”

“What? How—did you see her? Did she see you? Are you okay?”

“It’s sweet you’re worried about me today,” she said snidely.

“I’m always worried about you—”

“You have a strange way of showing it.”

“Juliette—” he started, frustration edging his words.

“Just get to the trailer. Sloane needs your help more than I do.” She hanged up then. Nick was at first upset but then her words registered with him.

“…We need to get to the trailer, now!” Monroe and Rosalee were surprised but followed him to his car. Nick handed Monroe his phone. “Call Hank, we might need more back up.”

“Why?”

“Juliette said she met Dierdre at the trailer and Sloane needs help.” Monroe’s eyes widened and he quickly dialed Hank’s number to let him know. Nick used the siren and light through town till they got to the woods. When he got to where the trailer should be though, there was nothing but an empty clearing. “…No…” He got out quickly, looking around. He saw tire tracks leading away though. “No no no…”

“It’s gone?” Monroe asked dumbly, looking around as well. “We didn’t pass anyone hauling the trailer!”

“She must’ve gone the other way!” Nick said, pulling at his hair. Marie’s trailer was gone.

\------------------

Adalind sighed as she walked around the house. Henrietta had run out to get some dinner for them and she was left to putter around. The fact she was trusted that much was nice, but it also left her alone with her thoughts. And that was not something she enjoyed at the moment. She kept worrying she’d made the wrong choice again. That she’d just dug herself in deeper.

As she looked over the books downstairs, she paused at one marked “Photos”. Curious, she pulled it down and opened it up. It was full of pictures of Henrietta traveling the world with captions below—Germany, France, Egypt, Mozambique, India, China—places Adalind had never seen before. Some were touristy type photos of landmarks, others lovely landscape photos, and the rest looked like she was with friends in just random places. Smiling and having fun.

_I never saw any photos like these of mother…_

“I see you found one of my albums.” She jumped a little and looked up as Henrietta came into the room.

“I…yes, sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop…” _Except I kind of did…_

“It’s fine. They’re all happy memories,” she smiled. “I can tell you more about them over dinner.”

“Uh…sure,” she nodded, following her into the kitchen where some to go Italian food was waiting. “Are all these people your friends?”

“Yes. And a few clients.”

“Clients?”

“I make my living as a consultant on various…mystical arts,” she smiled. “If someone is worried about bad energy or spirits or curses or what have you, I go and try to figure out how to solve them. I make a lot of friends along the way. And a few enemies. After all, some people put curses down for a reason.”

“So, you really do use your powers to help people?”

“Well, it’s not completely unselfish. A girl’s gotta eat,” she smiled, plating up some food. “But as cheesy as it is, the memories and friends were almost worth it too. Plus, I like a challenge.”

“…Mother made her work as a lawyer. But it wasn’t ever really to help anyone…she used her powers to twist thoughts, words, evidence…”

“I’m aware,” Henrietta sighed. “She came to me for “help” once. She wanted a spell to make someone go crazy, get a case thrown out. I refused; said she could do it herself. She complained she was too busy.”

Adalind sighed as well, looking at the photos. “…I’m kind of realizing I never had anyone like this. Growing up, she pushed me to be competitive instead of social. Even at the firm, we were all so cutthroat I can’t even say we were friends. Viktor told me not to contact anyone when we came back here, and I realized…I had no one besides Sean to try and contact anyway.”

Henrietta looked at her sympathetically and set a hand on her shoulder. “Well, the nice thing about youth is you have time to correct your course.”

“…I want to find Diana first.”

“Well, we’ll work on that too. But no more shadowy plots to do it. That’s how you got into this mess.”

“No, I learned my lesson there,” she sighed. “I just don’t know how I’m going to convince Nick and the others to do it though…”

“Well, first don’t think about it in terms of what they’ll give you for it. Then work from there.”

“…Are you sure you’re a Hexenbiest,” she asked wryly.

Henrietta smiled. “Let me tell you about the time I squared off against a Zauberbiest trying to poison a whole town for a development company…”

\------------------

“This is bad,” Wu said. “I mean, she took the trailer? All your stuff?”

“Yeah,” Nick sighed. They’d tried to track the trailer but once it hit the tarmac road the tracks were gone. So, they called Hank who was on his way with Wu to turn and meet them at the shop. Despite not being terribly hungry he grabbed them some food to pick at while they discussed this latest development.

“How did Dierdre even know about it though?”

Everyone was quiet a moment because they were thinking similarly. Even Gallin didn’t know about the trailer. So, the obvious answer was that Sloane told her. Except they couldn’t accept that. Nick especially couldn’t accept that Sloane would tell her about it willingly. Which made him worry all the more about her being in Dierdre’s hands.

“We need to find them. I don’t think she’d have come to Portland just to get the trailer—Dierdre is angry we got the best of her. She wants to get revenge,” Nick said.

“She’s got help though. I don’t think our protection from her extends to them,” Hank points out.

“Then we gotta overwhelm them both with numbers,” Nick said. “We’re going to get Sloane and the trailer back.”

They tried to nod confidently, but it was hard when they had no idea how to do that. “I’ll put an APB out on the trailer,” Wu said, standing.

“Okay, but how do we explain the stuff _inside_ if they check?” Hank asked.

“…Renaissance fair,” Monroe said. “We just say Aunt Marie went to a lot of renaissance fairs.”

They paused for a moment before a few chuckles broke out. “That might work best,” Nick said, managing a smile. It was funny to imagine his aunt doing that. Then again, he couldn’t imagine her hunting wesen still either most days. _I have to get that trailer back…_

“But hey, Juliette calling you is good, right?” Monroe asked as Wu and Hank left. “I mean…it shows she cares still?”

“Yeah...I hope so,” he sighed. “Have you found anything?”

They looked at one another then shook their heads. “Nothing concrete…” Rosalee said gently. “I was hoping to talk to Renard’s mother, but he doesn’t know where she is…And the only other person we know who might be able to help is…”

“Adalind,” Monroe said, pursing his lips.

“…Adalind? You-you want to ask her for _help_?” Nick asked, galled.

“Nick, she cast this spell in the first place—” Rosalee started.

“Exactly! It’s her fault any of this is happening! After what she did to Juliette—what she did to _me_ , I am not asking her for anything! I don’t even want to talk to her! See her!”

“Okay!” Monroe said, throwing up his hands. “It was just a thought, we understand.”

Nick breathed out slight and eased down. “Sorry…I didn’t mean to just snap like that…”

“No, really, we understand,” Rosalee said gently. “It’s not something we wanted to do either. Not unless we were truly desperate.”

“But if Juliette keeps sliding to the dark side, we might be,” Monroe added under his breath.

Nick sighed, rubbing between his eyes where a tension headache was forming.

There was a knock at the back door and Monroe frowned. “We’re closed!” The knock came again, and he sighed, walking over. He looked out and frowned. “No one’s there…?” He opened the door a crack, looking around. Then there was a _thunk_ in the wood beside him that made him jump. “Holy shit!”

“What?” Rosalee asked, rushing over with Nick right behind.

“Uh…message for us?” He pointed at the door frame and the looked out. The light over the back door illuminated a black arrow stuck to the door with a note tied to it.

“Oh my God!” Rosalee gasped. “I thought Dierdre couldn’t hurt us?”

“She can’t. If it was her, she probably missed on purpose,” Nick said, pulling the arrow out. He brought it in, looking it over as he went to the table. Aside from the deep black color it seemed normal and not like something they’d have to worry about. The note on the other hand was more foreboding. He undid the string holding it tightly to the arrow and unfolded it carefully.

_Mr. Burkhardt and company,_

_I would like to invite you to Linnton Park to end this game of cat and mouse tonight. Sloane and I will be waiting._

_-D_

“…She’s calling us out.”

“Linnton Park isn’t far,” Rosalee said.

Nick stood up again and headed for the door. Monroe quickly got in front of him. “Whoa, dude, you’re just going? I mean, we should prepare, shouldn’t we?”

“With what?” Nick asked impatiently.

“…Point taken, but I mean, you’re just going to rush out there? Even if she can’t hurt you, she has someone else and obviously has a plan.”

“She has Sloane. I have to get her and the trailer back. Are you coming?”

Monroe pursed his lips again and looked at Rosalee. Her look said it all. “Hell yeah we’re coming!”

Nick smiled and moved past him to get outside. He froze when he saw a figure at the end of the back alley. It was the person from the footage. “Hey you!”

They turned and ran, and Nick growled and gave chase, Monroe and Rosalee close behind. They were fast, leading them through the alleys and all the way to Linnton Park on foot without losing speed or breath. Nick was fine as well, though Monroe and Rosalee needed to catch their breath as they came to the edge of the trees in the park. The trees were green and mossy for the spring, but in the dark night they looked almost like hundreds of spider’s legs reaching for the sky. The moon was in a waxing crescent, leaving barely enough light for them to see with their wesen and Grimm senses as they walked into the trees.

“Where’d that guy go?” Monroe asked quietly, trying to scent the air. He froze for a moment when the breeze picked up and then grabbed Rosalee, pulling her away just before the hunter struck her in the side with a fist. The strike hit the tree instead and actually splintered the wood. They jumped back before they could counter and moved back through the trees. “You little—!”

“Monroe, don’t! They’re trying to bait us,” Nick said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“He almost hit Rosalee with that punch!”

“I’m fine, sweety, you got me,” she smiled. He calmed slight but was still upset at they went back that direction. They finally found a small clearing where Diedre was waiting, sitting by some rocks, with her partner standing at attention nearby.

“Mr. Burkhardt…and his animal band,” she smiled. Monroe growled low and Rosalee glared as well.

“…Blutbad. Fuchsbau,” a muffled voice said. Monroe and Rosalee were surprised, looking at one another.

“Oh yes, she can see you without you even woging,” Dierdre laughed. “Such an interesting new ability for a Grimm…”

“You knew that already! Where’s Sloane?” she spat.

Dierdre blinked and then smiled. “Oh…this should be fun.” Standing, she walked over to the other person and whispered something in their ear. They looked at them and then rushed forward, trying to strike. Nick and the others had to scatter and Monroe woged and blocked a strike, then shouted when they ducked down and grabbed his shirt to throw him several feet. Nick tried to grab them back but they deflected his hands and he barely deflected a punch aimed at his throat. He managed to bring the deflection back into an elbow strike to the face and they staggered a moment before turning and kicking him in the stomach. Monroe was back then and moved to grab them—claws scratched through the hoodie but they moved out of the way before twisting and kicking at him. Rosalee tried to get into the fight but the flipped over her and in an impressive move brought her down with their moment and arms around her torso. Monroe snarled and tried to hit them on the ground but they rolled—except the hoodie came off as Rosalee tried to hold them. The neckgaiter and wrap-around sunglasses stayed on, but a familiar bob of platinum blonde waves were revealed as they skidded away.

“Oh, looks like we have the reveal,” Dierdre said. “Sloane, pause.” She stopped standing facing the three shocked faces.

“Sloane?” Nick asked, confused. She didn’t’ answer.

“What did you do to her?” Rosalee shouted, moving as if to rush Dierdre. Sloane did move now, getting between them and making her skid to a halt in shock.

“I ordered her to make sure to protect me. It’s not fair I can’t hurt you lot after all. I admit, I was a bit underhanded…but she now obeys me completely. Really, I don’t think we’ve ever been closer,” she smiled.

“Sloane, snap out of it!” Nick called. She didn’t seem to stir or change.

“She obeys _only_ me,” Dierdre said, the smile turning predatory. “I figured out how to order her to do that. Watch…Sloane, attack.”

Nick glared at her ordering Sloane like a dog, but he didn’t have time to contemplate it long when she dashed back over to them. Nick barely had time to block when she moved to punch him in the face. “Sloane!” Another blow came around hitting him hard in the shoulder and making him grunt. Monroe moved to try and push her away, more wary of his claws now, but she kicked out, making him oof and back away.

“Sloane!” Rosalee yelled, moving for her. She yelped when an elbow strike caught her in the shoulder, but she managed to reach up and pull the sunglasses away as Nick pulled them apart. Rosalee gasped when she saw her eyes. “Oh my God…Nick, th-that’s what your eyes looked like when you were like this…”

Nick stared then backed away when she tried to strike again. _Gwendolyn Zima’s “cure”? How?_

“Congratulations,” Diedre smiled. “You found me out. I stole that book from Cynthia Gallin. I’ve been all over the country preparing this. Because I can’t hurt you lot. I couldn’t even try. I considered a lot of options but remembered Gallin mentioning curing you of this. And then…well, I can’t hurt you, but she can. It’s perfect.”

“You’re insane!” Rosalee said.

“Maybe to you. But I can’t have so many people able to hurt me when I can’t hurt them. Especially wesen.”

“We could just agree not to meet anymore,” Monroe pointed out.

“No…I’d rather know you don’t exist anymore. Sloane, _kill_ them.”

Sloane reached up and unsheathed her knife. Nick had only a few seconds to back away before she swiped up in a move that could’ve cut his nose off.

“Nick!” Monroe said. He woged again rushed Sloane, slamming her hard enough to send her skidding. “Sorry, Sloane!” She recovered, not saying anything or looking distraught but moving her knife in a way it almost seemed like it was made of light as she came towards them. Monroe yelped as he tried to dodge but got a slash across his arm.

“Monroe!” Rosalee gasped. Sloane turned her head towards her and Rosalee felt her blood run cold as she moved towards her. It was so much like when they first met—when Sloane wanted to kill them at first sight. Before they were friends. Before she changed. But it was worse too because she wouldn’t even talk to them. “No, stop, Sloane, it’s us!”

Nick managed to get behind Sloane while she was focused on Rosalee and grabbed her hand with the knife in one hand and wrapped his arm around her waist with the other. Sloane bucked in the grip and he had to hold on tighter than he wanted to stop her from breaking free—this would hurt a normal person. “Sloane! Sloane, stop, it’s Rosalee!” She froze for just a moment, blinking, before trying to wrench out of his grip again.

“…Nick, can you keep them busy?” Rosalee asked quickly.

“I. Can. Try!” he said, trying to avoid her stabbing back at him.

“Good! Monroe, c’mon!” Rosalee turned and ran back through the woods.

“You’re so called friends left you behind,” Dierdre said, mock sympathetically. “I’d say I’m surprised, but what do you expect from a couple of wesen.”

“They didn’t leave me behind!” He gasped and finally threw Sloane to keep her from getting him.

“Really? Because you look alone to me. Stop, Sloane.” Sloane froze and Nick watched warily as Diedre stood. “You’re a Grimm. You’re a hunter in your heart. You can’t befriend your prey like that.”

“Your mother did,” Nick said. It felt close to saying _your mom._

Diedre glared. “My mother was a sentimental old fool! Her trying to “help” wesen got my father killed. Because they would rather see us dead than actually be our friends.”

“You’re wrong,” Nick said. “Monroe and Rosalee, and so many others, are my friends. They’re Sloane’s friends. I don’t deny some are bad, even evil, and some can’t help what they do to survive. You though, you did this to your own daughter of your own free will You raised her like a weapon. And now you poisoned her and control her, and you stole from me my family’s collection? What kind of Grimm are you?”

“You wouldn’t understand what’s necessary of us. You and Sloane never understood! You’re just children playing at some idealized notion of being ‘heroes’!” she snarled.

“No, you don’t understand. You’re more of a monster than any wesen I’ve met.”

She glared at him darkly. “You don’t deserve that collection. You don’t deserve to be a Grimm!”

“And you don’t deserve a daughter like Sloane!”

She laughed and it was harsh and cruel. “You’re right. But now she’s perfect for me. Sloane, kill him.”

Sloane moved for him again and Nick dodged the strike. “I’m sorry about this!” He slammed his hand into her shoulder hard enough it would dislocate. Sloane grunted and her fingers went numb just long enough he was able to kick the knife out of her hand and then across the clearing. Sloane elbowed him harder in the sternum, making him gasp and back away. Her arm was limp a moment but then with a snap it was back in place as she threw up her hand. She flexed it and moved her fingers to test it, perfectly fine.

“What?” he muttered.

“Oh, that’s interesting…this steroid has a lot of neat effects. I take it you didn’t get a chance to really explore it before?” Diedre chuckled, enjoying the show.

Nick didn’t get a chance to quip back as Sloane moved to strike him again.

\---------------

“Why’d we leave Nick?!” Monroe painted, holding on to the door jam of the shop. They’d ran all the way back and he was getting in quite a bit of cardio this evening.

“Because I know the cure to that, remember?” She said, moving fast to try and get all the ingredients together.

“You still have enough ingredients?” He asked, surprised.

“Yes, Lucretia and I keep in contact—she sent me more of the bleeding hearts so I could study them,” she was explaining, getting them together. “If I can make the cure, we can stop Sloane without hurting her more. Or vice versa. Get me the bowls!”

“But you think Nick will be okay on his own?” he asked, quickly going to get them.

“I saw it. She fought it for just a moment. I think she’s going to keep fighting it. I just have to hurry,” Rosalee said, grabbing her own notebook and flipping to the page.

“I’ll call Hank and Wu,” Monroe said, grabbing his phone.

“Yes, then come help me. I need to make this fast!”

\------------

Nick shouted as he hit a tree, then barely ducked when another splintering punch landed. Sloane wasn’t tiring and what hits he managed didn’t seem to do anything to slow her down. He kept apologizing in his head, but he was starting to want to actually hurt her just to make her stop. Conversely his lip was split, his cheek was bruised, and his eye was going to be a bit swollen he was sure.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been duking it out but Diedre finally sighed. “This is going on too long. I want to kill the rest of your friends sooner.” She pulled a handle from her jacket and with a flick a switch blade popped up. Small, but effective. She tossed it, letting it sink in the ground. “Get that and finish him.”

Sloane flipped backwards and he was amazed a moment before he saw her grab the handle on the flip and com up with the knife in her hand. He prepared himself for a running stab, but instead she ducked down at the last moment and kicked his feet out from under him, and a punch to get him squarely on the ground. The air was knocked out of him. When she stepped towards him, he managed to kick her in the stomach, and she stumbled back. He tried to sit up and gasped when she fell on top of him, her hand around his neck to keep him down.

“That’s it!” Dierdre said cheered. “Cut out the traitor’s heart!”

Nick’s eyes widened as the blade came down and he braced himself for the stab, shutting his eyes on instinct. But no pain came to him. After a second he cracked open his eyes…

Sloane’s hand was over her own chest. The blade buried just below her collarbone on her right side. Nick inhaled and felt like his soul dropped out of his body when her eyes—clear now, back to being green but wide in shock as well—caught his. “N…Nick…?” she gasped out…in relief. The hand left the blade and she began tipping to the side.

“SLOANE!!” he yelled, surging up but trying to carefully support her. “Sloane! Oh God, no-why?!”

“Had to…stop myself somehow…” she gasped out.

Dierdre stared, her face unreadable. “…You…what have you done, you stupid girl…?”

Nick’s head whipped up and he glared, rage filling him that she was still there and asking questions like that. Dierdre tensed from the look and quickly turned to run away back into the trees, only pausing to grab Sloane's hunting knife from where it fell and take it with her. Nick wanted to chase her badly, hunt her down for what she’d caused, but Sloane was starting to shake in his arms. _Is she going into shock? What do I do? Will she bleed out? Will she die here? What do I do?!_ He reached into his pocket and cursed when he saw his phone was cracked from their fight. It wouldn’t turn on.

“N-Nick, don’t let her get away…” Sloane gasped out.

“I’m not leaving you,” he said, looking at her askance.

“She took the trailer!”

“I know,” he said. “Juliette called to warn us…”

“You have to get it back…”

“Stop talking,” Nick said, though his tone was gentle. “Y-you gotta conserve your energy.”

“For what? I got a knife in my chest, what energy am I using?” she said, smiling wryly through the pain.

He tried to smile back, but he felt sick. “Don’t argue with me, dammit, I’m not losing you! Not like this!”

Sloane looked up at him, trying to breath and stay steady. She reached up to pull the neck gaiter down with a shaky hand to talk clearer. “…It’s my own fault…I got tricked…”

“Sloane—”

“Nick, I—”

“Nick?”

He breathed out when he heard Monroe’s voice. Sloane sighed and let the words die on her lips. “Over here! Hurry!” He could hear their running steps come closer and Rosalee’s horrified gasp.

“Sloane!” She rushed over, kneeling down. Monroe, Hank and Wu were right behind them and he was glad to see them.

“She…she stabbed herself to stop from stabbing me,” Nick said, feeling sick. “Hank, do you have a phone?”

He nodded, grabbing it out and dialing 911 quickly. “This is officer Griffin, I’m at Linnet park, we have an officer down!”

Hank’s urgent instructions faded into the background as they focused on Sloane. Nick reached for the thin blade but Rosalee quickly stopped him. “Don’t! We can’t pull it out!”

He swallowed, nodding but looked at Sloane. She was pale, sweating slightly and shaking. She cracked one eye open to look at Rosalee. “C…Cure me…”

“Sloane, I don’t know if I can move you—”

“The pain is the only thing keeping me in my own mind right now. You went to make the cure, right?” she bit out. Rosalee nodded, smiling a little at how well she figured that out. “Knew you would...Cure me before I lose control again…I might still try to hurt you otherwise…”

Rosalee frowned but quickly brought out a flask. Very carefully Nick helped support her head while she brought it to her lips. Sloane drank it quickly, grunting at the taste but choking it down. She shook more and Nick grabbed her hand and squeezed hard as he watched the black veins slowly recede.

“How do you feel?”

“Better,” she said, smiling wryly. "Now I'm just worried about the knife..."

“Sloane…”

“It’s okay, it’s not that deep…it was a small knife after all.”

“Yeah, you dropped the big one,” he smiled.

“Kind of glad I didn’t use that…now…” Sloane blinked slowly and Nick saw her eyes were unfocused and the whites were turning blue. “I…what’s…going on?” she slurred out.

“Sloane?” Rosalee asked quickly.

“I can’t…” Her eyes closed as if they were too heavy to keep open and her head lulled to the side.

“Sloane? Sloane!” Nick said. She didn’t stir. Pressing his fingers to her neck, he was shocked to feel her pulse was steady and slow, as if she were asleep. He called her name again, gently patting her cheek, scared it would go any slower. He could hear the sirens in the background, but Sloane wouldn’t open her eyes.


	26. Dream in Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casebook of Sloane Larson Part 26!
> 
> After Dierdre's attempt to control Sloane, she's in the hospital under a powerful spell. In her dreams, Sloane is in a perfect world and may not want to wake up. The only way to wake her up before it kills her is to go into her dreams to get her to wake up. But when Henrietta is attacked, their help comes from an unexpected source...  
> (goes over parts of You Don't Know Jack and Headache as well)

_**“If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended, that you have but slumber’d here, while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream.”** _

\-------------------------

**Dream in Color**

\------------------------

Sloane groaned softly, opening her eyes slowly. She expected to see stars and trees above her—instead, she saw her bedroom ceiling. Blinking, she sat up with a start. _What happened? Where am I?_ She looked around, confirming it was her room. But she didn’t remember getting there. Frowning, she put a hand over her chest. No pain…Wait, why was she expecting pain?

She heard something out in the kitchen and tensed before pushing the covers aside. She was in a T-shirt and shorts, her usual sleeping attire. Nothing seemed out of place as she padded out and down the hall. Turning the corner past the dining room, she frowned when she saw a man in her kitchen. He was cooking something on the stove, humming and moving, dancing in a shirt and pair of pajama bottoms. And she recognized him in a moment. “Nick?”

He turned and smiled. “Hey there! You didn’t need to get up, I was going to bring you breakfast in bed.”

Sloane blinked in confusion “You…were?”

“Yeah, birthday girl!”

“Birthday…it’s my birthday?” she asked.

“No, it’s tomorrow but it’s your birthday eve…” he was joking but then paused and set the pan down—making pancakes it seemed but she strangely couldn’t smell them—and walked over to her worriedly. “Hey, you okay?”

“I…don’t know, something seems off…” she said, rubbing her temple. She couldn’t remember how she got home. She couldn’t remember a lot it felt. The fact that Nick was here, in his pajamas, felt strange too.

He reached up gently and cupped her face, looking at her worriedly. “Did you have a bad dream again?”

“Bad dream…?”

“You don’t have to hide it from me. I get them too, remember? It’s the job. It feels real, I know, but it’s okay.”

His voice was soothing, deep, sweet. It made her relax slowly. “Right…it’s okay…I’m okay…”

He smiled and leaned in and Sloane’s eyes widened when his lips touched hers. She felt her face heat up in surprise and shock and confusion. Nick pulled back and then smiled in confusion. “What’s that look for?”

“…Kiss…you kissed me…” she said dumbly.

Nick laughed a little. “That must’ve been a bad dream if you think I wouldn’t kiss my girlfriend.”

“I…” Sloane felt a sudden wave go over her mind and she blinked as it cleared. She couldn’t remember suddenly why that didn’t sound right. It sounded so right. Why was she going to argue? “I…right, sorry,” she smiled. “I am really out of it.

Nick smiled and pulled her close, kissing her cheek. “Hey, no trouble.” She sighed and held him back, smiling at the warmth. “I love you.”

She held on tighter, burying her head in his shoulder. “I love you too…”

He smiled and pulled back to kiss her again. Sloane felt lighter, happier, like she was right where she belonged.

\--------------------

“29-year-old female, stab wound to the chest!” one ER nurse shouted as they pushed the gurney through the hospital. They moved her from the gurney onto the examination table. Cardiac monitors, blood pressure-cuff and oxygen saturation probes were attached to her quickly and efficiently. “Vital signs: Heart rate- 90/min, Blood Pressure- 130/70, Respiratory rate 25, Temperature- 97 F.”

“No active external bleeding,” another nurse said, cutting her shirt away to examine the wound. The knife was being held in place with a foam block the EMTs had put in place to keep it from shifting and causing more damage in transport.

“Is that a switch blade?” an intern asked in shock.

“Focus!” the doctor ordered. “Further statuses?”

“Clear on right, single stab wound to the left chest in the mid-axillary line in the 4th intercostal space, no crepitus, no bleeding.”

“Order an X-Ray over so we can see where the knife is. Was she conscious when she was picked up?”

“No, she was unconscious, unresponsive…”

Nick and the others were forced to stay in waiting room of the ER while they worked on Sloane. He was fidgeting, hands fisted together under his nose as his mind raced over the events of that night. Dierdre poisoning Sloane with the same “Obedience” drug he’d been, trying to make her kill them, fighting her for his life…watching her stab herself to stop from killing him.

“Nick?” He looked up at Hank who sat down with him. “…I know it’s dumb asking how you are but…”

“…She did that to save me. She…could die. Because I didn’t…” he said quietly, shaking a little.

“What? You know Dierdre wanted her to kill you, you had to fight back.”

“But I could’ve…I don’t know, knocked her out! Tied her up! Something! Instead she had to do that to herself…Why would she do that for me?”

“You know we’re all important to her, Nick,” Rosalee said softly, close to tears. “She was trying hard to fight it…It’s not your fault. It’s mine for not making the cure fast enough.”

“If we’re playing the blame game, Hank and I didn’t drive you to the woods fast enough,” Wu said.

“It’s none of our faults!” Monroe snapped, making them look at him. “None of ours. It’s Diedre’s. Dierdre did this to her, Dierdre put her in this situation. It’s not our fault.”

The looked at one another then smiled slightly. “Well, he has a point,” Hank said.

“We’ll hunt her down somehow…” Nick said darkly.

“Yeah, she has your trailer,” Monroe said.

“She has the trailer?” Hank asked, shocked.

“She stole it,” Nick said. “When I get ahold of that woman…”

“Later. When we know Sloane is okay. She’ll be going into surgery soon…” Rosalee said. She then bared her teeth. “And then when we find her, I’m ripping that bitch’s throat out!”

\-----------------------

Prince Kenneth was lounging in the penthouse living room, watching television. He didn’t have the look of enjoyment on his face as he watched housewives argue with one another. “Honestly…this passes for entertainment in this country?”

“People will watch anything when their bored,” Rispoli said.

“Obviously,” he murmured, taking a sip of his scotch. There was a knock at the door, and he glanced at his bodyguard who nodded and rose to answer it. A man stood there in a police uniform.

“Did you get some information?”

“A bit. He wanted daily updates, right?” Rispoli nodded patiently, stepping back to let him in. The man took off the hat with a sigh and bowed his head. “Your Highness.”

“Mr. Lighton,” he smiled, setting his drink down and muting the television. “Were you able to talk to Detective Burkhardt?”

“Unfortunately, no. Something happened last night it seems, he wasn’t at the station today.”

Kenneth frowned deeply. “I put you there to for a very specific reason…”

He quickly held up his hands. “I still gathered information, sir! Some very interesting information.”

“I’ll decide if it’s interesting. What do you have?”

Lighton reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. “There’s a second Grimm detective.”

Kenneth quirked his brow. “…I’m curious, I’ll admit.”

He smiled and pulled up the information he’d snuck in and photographed, handing it to him. “It’s a woman, Sloane Larson. She’s part of a three-person team with Mr. Burkhardt and his original partner, Hank Griffin. He’s Kehrseite. I looked through their case files and it’s obvious they deal primarily with wesen related cases.”

“But how do you know she’s a Grimm?”

“That took a little more digging on my partners’ parts. I had the whole team pause to research her. Though anyone doing simple background checks won’t see anything too strange, they dug deep and found all of her previous police records are both very basic, and very fake. Someone went to a lot of trouble to make sure she stayed as a detective here in Portland.”

“Sean, more than likely,” Kenneth was nodding. “And he wouldn’t do that unless she had some value.”

“The background they did find is a tragic one,” Lighton said, holding out a file. “She goes by her real name here, which is also surprising. After weeding out a few, we found Sloane Larson lived with her Grandmother in a small town in California. Age nine, said grandmother dies in a horrific home invasion. It looked to investigators, and I quote, “like she was mauled by a pack of animals.” Sloane herself talked about monsters killing her grandmother. She was put in an institution, where she stayed for three months before someone apparently broke her out and she disappeared for nearly 20 years, till two years ago.”

Kenneth was nodding. “All that does point to her likely being a Grimm…But I’m not sure how to use this.”

“Well, she and Mr. Burkhardt seem…close.”

He quirked a brow again. “Oh?”

He reached down and flipped a few pages to an article cut out about the Golden Grove dance competition. “My first inkling. They were posing as a dance couple to investigate some mysterious deaths. Now, I got my start in investigating a lot of infidelity cases.” He tapped a picture that was a snapshot of her and Nick dancing together, smiling. “This smile of hers isn’t the kind I saw given to a good chum.”

“You think they’re having an affair?” he asked, a bit shocked.

“Eh…to be honest, not a lot I’ve found yet points there. By all accounts, Burkhardt is deeply in love with a Juliette Silverton. And that Larson is a good friend of both of them. It might be one sided. I mean I’ve been there a day so who knows what else I’ll find.”

“No, no…this is good,” Kenneth smiled, looking at the file again.

“It is?”

“Yes. I see why you charge such a large fee when you get results like this so quickly.”

Lighton smiled. “I got a good team. You want me to keep going?”

“For now, yes. More information is always better. But I think I can move forward with this.” He smiled. “I needed something to put a real wedge between Juliette and her friends. This could be just the thing…where’s Larson now?”

“That’s the thing—The reason Burkhardt and the others weren’t there today is that Larson was attacked last night. Got stabbed through the chest. Details are fuzzy, but she’ll live I’ve heard. That’s where Burkhardt is right now.”

“Hmmm…well, that’ll leave us a little time to prepare. Go on and rest for tonight.”

“Yes sir.” He took his phone back and Rispoli showed him out.

When he returned, he looked unsure. “You really think this will be what you need to tip Juliette to our side, sir?”

“I do. As tough as she’s trying to act, there’s a vulnerability there when it comes to Mr. Burkhardt. If she thinks he’s ready to move on from her so soon, maybe was already willing…well, that puts things in a new perspective, doesn’t it? One where maybe a little revenge seems justified.”

\---------------------

Renard was dealing with a lot. He was waking up in odd places—pools, puddles of water, fountains…disheveled, confused, often bloody and with his supposedly healed wounds aching. Large gaps of time would be missing from his memories as well. Then the call about Sloane came as he was finishing changing his clothes. He headed to the hospital quickly.

“Captain,” Wu sighed. The group was still in the waiting room, looking haggard after spending the night there.

“I’m not here as your boss. Not completely at least. How is she?” he asked.

“She just got out of surgery a little while ago,” Rosalee said. “She had good aim. The knife slipped between her ribs and missed her heart. She had bleeding, but she’s going to be okay.”

“…Then why do you look worried?” he asked, eyeing them all.

Rosalee and Nick glanced at one another then back to him. “She…hasn’t woken up,” Nick said.

“Well, she might still be sedated from surgery?”

“No, she…she hasn’t woken up since she was brought here. Before, after we cured her, she just passed out and she didn’t make a sound or move since. Even being worked on by the EMTs. No sign of pain or anything. But nothing would’ve knocked her out at the time, and she’s stayed conscious through pain before…She walked on a broken leg and talked about triaging herself…”

“So, the fact she passed out worries you,” Renard surmised.

“Not just us. The doctors said even though her brain showed activity, she wasn’t showing any physical reactions,” Hank sighed. “Like she’s asleep and dreaming. She just won’t wake up.”

“She seemed surprised when she slipped into unconsciousness. Like she could feel it and was fighting it,” Rosalee said. “I thought it strange at the time too.”

“It was like Juliette passing out from Adalind’s curse,” Nick said, frowning at the memory.

Renard frowned as well, knowing that was impossible. Adalind didn’t even know about Sloane. And Dierdre wouldn’t have access to that sort of spell. Would she? “…Where is she now?”

“Still in the ICU,” Monroe said. “They’re monitoring her for a while there before she goes to a normal room. But they’re going to start running a lot of tests too when she doesn’t wake up…”

“Alright. I can make some calls, get her in a private secure room and get us in there to look her over and figure this out.”

“You can?” Wu asked.

“I’m a police captain, the son of a prominent Hexenbiest and no matter what they want to think, my father’s family does give me some status in the world. I can pull a few strings,” he smiled wryly.

“How long will that take?” Nick asked.

“A couple of hours at the most. So, in the meantime, and I mean this respectfully, you all need to go get some rest, shower and change. You look rough.”

“I don’t want to leave her,” Rosalee said, stubborn.

“I get that, but none of you will do her any favors tired,” he said more firmly. They looked at one another and sighed, standing.

Nick paused and glanced at him. “…Thanks.”

Renard quirked a brow but nodded and walked off.

\-------------------

Sloane looked in the mirror, tilting her head slightly. Something still felt off, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Her house seemed fine, she seemed fine, Nick seemed more than fine… _Am I just feeling off today? Is it because I’m turning 30? I always said I wouldn’t let that bother me…_

She knew it wasn’t that. It felt like her memories were all jumbled together. As though there were two events side by side. One was fading but it gave her a headache trying to work them out. She sat down on the bed as she sighed, wondering why she was letting this get to her. She reached over to where her phone should be on the bedside table and blinked when she didn’t feel it. Looking over, she frowned and then looked at the other side table. Not there. Turning back, she blinked again when it was suddenly there. “…Okay…” Picking it up, she looked it over before hitting the button. Her lock screen was a picture of her, and Nick and she felt her face heat up. _Never thought I’d have something like that…_ She unlocked the phone and went to her camera roll. Some pictures she remembered instantly; others felt like they came more slowly. Moments with friends, hikes in the woods, visits to Wildred, silly moments…a whole life.

_Nick and I met…two years ago? No, more…college? No, not there…what college did I go to? Oh, yeah, University of California…Then I was a police officer in Eureka…Then I got offered a job in Portland as a detective. That’s where I met Nick, we both just became detectives. He helped me settle in and make friends. Then we started dating. We’ve lived together for a couple of years now. Is that right though…?_

“Sloane? You ready for work?” Nick called.

“Coming!” She put her phone in her pocket, grabbed her badge for her belt and headed out to the front door. Nick was waiting by the door and smiled when he saw her. Sloane wondered where he got his clothes for a moment—then it was like a memory just popped into place that they _lived together, of course he had clothes in their closet._ She smiled back and finished pulling on her jacket while they headed to where their cars were parked in the driveway. “Together or separate?”

“Separate today if that’s alright. I gotta run an errand after work, before we meet Monroe and Rosalee.”

“Don’t need help?”

He smiled and leaned down slightly to kiss her again. Sloane smiled into the kiss and more when he pulled back. “I appreciate the offer, but it would ruin a big surprise for you so no.”

She smiled. “Alright, Mr. Mysterious…”

“Ah, you know my superhero name,” he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

She laughed and lightly pushed away. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s Captain Dork!”

Nick smiled back and they climbed into their cars to head to work. The precinct looked perfectly normal as well and the feeling something was wrong began to fade as they met back up at the doors to walk in. Hank was already seated at his desk to go through some documents and smiled. “Hey there, lovebirds.”

Nick just smiled as he sat down at his desk right across from Hank’s. “Good morning, Hank.”

Sloane paused and blinked. _Weren’t our desks all together…?_ For a moment it seemed like there was static, the desks flickering in arrangement, and she grunted at a little twinge between her eyes.

“Hey, Sloane? You okay?” She looked up again and saw her desk was where it should be.

“Yeah…I might need some more coffee.”

“I was grabbing some, sit on down and I’ll get it for you,” Hank said.

Sloane smiled and nodded, sitting down to work.

\---------

Another day passed and though Sloane was moved to a regular room she showed no sign of waking up. The doctors explained that she had brain activity according to MRIs and other tests. In fact, she seemed to be dreaming according to all the tests. But they couldn’t wake her up. No external stimulus like poking or prodding even got a reaction. Nothing seemed to be keeping her asleep—the pain medication shouldn’t do that, and her bloodwork looked clean. She just wouldn’t wake up.

“It really is like Juliette,” Nick muttered, rubbing his eyes. They had gone home to change and rest but had come right back when Sloane was moved and they could visit. They were gathered in her room and Rosalee was holding her hand. It was limp and lifeless, and it worried her more and more that she wouldn’t react to anything. She’d even pinched her, and nothing happened.

“Well…we know how to cure that,” Monroe said. He looked at Renard and Nick who both blushed a little and glanced at each other, then away awkwardly.

“I can’t…” _Kiss her._ Nick said, shaking his head a little. He would of course, if it meant saving her. But it felt wrong to do so when she couldn’t consent or didn’t want it. And of course, he still wanted Juliette back.

“I don’t think it is that spell,” Renard said. “That sort of curse is passed into the bloodstream directly.”

“Like when the cat that scratched Juliette?” Rosalee asked.

“Exactly. I don’t see any kind of wound like that and I doubt from the sound of it Dierdre would poison her own knife. I’m not sure but I’d hazard a guess Sloane ingested something and that curse wouldn’t work if she ate something with it. Likely this is some other form…”

“Are there a lot like this?” Monroe asked. He knew he’d put in a state of near death himself, but this was different, his wore off with time.

“There’s a few variations. Not to mention a few wesen that like to do things to sleeping people.”

“And that sounds worse,” Hank said, grimacing.

“Well, without knowing exactly what it is, I don’t know the counter,” Rosalee said, frustrated.

“I called someone for help,” Renard sighed.

Nick was going to ask who but looked up when the door opened. Henrietta stepped through, smiling demurely. “Hello everyone…It seems you all need my help again.”

Monroe looked at Nick in confusion, but Nick sighed. “Henrietta…”

“Hen…Oh! This is…” he said, looking at her with a bit of trepidation.

“No need to look so happy, Nicholas,” she smiled, walking in. She frowned when she saw Sloane. “Oh, you weren’t kidding…” She moved over and Hank got out of her way. His past with Hexenbiests wasn’t one of the worst of them after all. Henrietta looked at Sloane, reaching up to gently move her head side to side. She then reached up to open her eye. There was a what looked like a bright blue ring around her iris, her pupils blown wide and barely reaction to the light. “…You said she had an MRI and CAT scan?”

“Yes,” Renard nodded.

“I’d like to see them.”

“Are you like…a witch doctor?” Monroe asked, uncertain.

“No, but I know what to look for that a doctor doesn’t.”

“…Fair enough.”

“I’ll get those for you,” Renard said, standing to go out of the room. He grunted softly when he exited the room and rubbed over his chest. “Not now…” He muttered. The pain faded slightly, and he sighed and continued on.

Rosalee was eyeing Henrietta as she kept looking over Sloane. “So…you know a lot about this sort of thing? Curses and such? I mean, as a Hexenbiest I guess you would…”

“I’m Weiss Hexe, technically. A white witch. I work at breaking other people’s curses. That’s why Renard recommended your friend Juliette come to me. I’m afraid in that regard I’m rather out of my depth. When I’ve never even heard of something happening before, you generally don’t know how to reverse it,” she said, smiling calmly. “The protection spells are much easier for me.”

“We do appreciate that, by the way,” Monroe said.

“Well, Sloane still owes me a favor for that,” she smiled. She opened the woman in question’s mouth and paused. The smile faded and she looked intently at her throat.

“What is it?” Rosalee asked, alert.

“…I need to see the scans to be sure but…this might be more complicated than we hoped.”

Nick frowned worriedly. “How so?”

“I don’t want to scare you…”

“Too late,” Monroe said.

Henrietta smiled wryly and looked up when Renard returned with an envelope. Hank looked at it then at him. “They just let you take that?”

“I have many contacts,” Renard said breezily. He handed Henrietta the folder and she pulled it up to look through the printouts.

“…Damn,” she muttered. “This isn’t a curse, exactly…”

“Wesen?” Nicked guessed.

“Yes, but not in a normal way. This is because of a Japanese wesen called a Baku. A dream-eater.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Monroe grimaced.

“But you’ve heard of it. You can stop it?” Rosalee asked hopefully.

“I’ve met them in the past when I traveled around the world—they aren’t bad wesen. I don’t know all the details, but they feed on the chemicals released by the brain during dreaming. They do this by actually attaching to the person as they sleep and controlling their dreams. They usually make them good dreams, so they stay asleep. They can cause nightmares and the like as well though.”

“Uh…there’s nothing attached to Sloane,” Hank pointed out.

“Not on the inside. This is where it gets complicated.” She put one of the scans up on the light board in the room and pointed to a dark spot at the base of her skull. “I can see this inside her mouth. It’s like someone has taken a _piece_ of the Baku, a sort of stitched together version of the amygdala and hypothalamus if I had to guess and turned it into a parasite. It’s latched on to the pontine area of the brainstem from the _inside_.”

“Oh,” Rosalee gasped.

“Yes. Somehow, through some immensely powerful spell work, it’s actually working and keeping Sloane asleep and dreaming without the actual wesen controlling it.”

“But why?” Nick asked, confused. “Why would Dierdre do that?”

“I can’t answer that, I have no idea. Someone must’ve put this together for her though. A normal Baku attaches to the outside at the base of the skull and has sentience to pull away. This one is just bits and parts; it can’t detach itself I don’t think. But what I do know is surgically removing it would be not only dangerous but likely ineffective given how deeply rooted it must be.” She traced a spindly line from the base of her skull down to her throat. “She’s only just able to breath with this thing there…if it grows, it could block her airway. That would require surgery like a tracheotomy, or it could kill her by causing more pressure as it grows…there’s a lot of ways this could be damaging.”

“How long would that take?” Rosalee gasped.

“Hard to say. I don’t know its growth rate. But I doubt it’ll be long if she stays asleep like this.”

“So, if we can’t cut it out, what do we do?” Monroe asked.

Henrietta was quiet and began pacing and muttering to herself. “That…no, not enough time, I’m sure…Burning it? Mm mm, could cause brain damage…”

Rosalee frowned and looked at Sloane worriedly. “I can’t believe it…Dierdre trapped her in a place she can’t fight back…”

She paused then and then nodded slowly. “That…could work.”

“Huh?” Hank asked, quirking his brow.

“Baku create a sort of literal dream world for their target. Often they make it they’re ideal world, so they don’t want to wake up. But if they do, then the connection is automatically severed. It might still work.”

“But we can’t wake her up,” Nick said impatiently.

“Not from out here,” she smiled. “There’s a spell. It’s difficult but I can essentially merge two people’s minds in their dreams.”

“A Traumweber spell?” Renard asked in surprise. “Even my mother hesitates doing something that difficult…”

“Well, I won’t be able to do it on all of you. But I should be able to manage one of you.”

“It’s dangerous, isn’t it?” Nick asked. After all, it usually was in this case.

“In a way. Time moves different in there. It’s disorienting, to say the least, as she could be dreaming of the past. Her memories could be mixed in or you could even stumble on things she tried to lock away in her subconscious. The biggest danger would be losing the sense of self in her mind to the point even when we pull the person out they’ll be…fractured.”

“So, it’s like that movie with Leonardo DiCaprio?” Monroe asked. “I didn’t even understand that too well!”

“In a way. The best thing I can recommend is whoever goes is very close with her and has a strong sense of self. But it would likely be the option with the most chance she’ll wake up without any side-effects.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Nick muttered.

“I’ll go!” Rosalee said.

“Whoa, now hold on,” Monroe said. “I mean, I want Sloane back, but…”

“You don’t think I have a strong sense of self?” Rosalee asked, quirking her brow.

“No, you definitely do,” he said quickly. “Just…She mentioned her memories. I don’t know if you or Sloane want you to see those…”

“I don’t care. I already know what she did in the past,” Rosalee said.

“No, he does have a point. A Grimm might be different…it might be harder to merge you two,” Henrietta said thoughtfully.

“Then I’ll go,” Nick said. He looked at the others and nodded. “I’m also a Grimm. Whatever she’s seen or done, I would understand better I think.”

“Wait, didn’t Hector say dream seeing or whatever it was is dangerous for you?” Hank asked quickly. “I mean, it was rough on me and I’m just human. I thought my dad was killed in front of me and got possessed…”

“I have a few questions, but that sounds different. Merging two Grimms would probably work best,” Henrietta said. She looked at Nick. “Are you sure though? You might see things Sloane would prefer you not see.”

“Then she can get angry when she wakes up,” Nick said.

Henrietta smiled. “Alright then…I’ll need something from you for the spell.”

“What?”

“An object. Something that symbolizes a dream you once had—one that hasn’t come true.”

They were quiet a moment before Monroe gave a nervous last. “That is oddly specific…”

“Magic always requires a price,” Henrietta smiled. “If it’s not energy, it’s pain. If it’s not physical pain, it’s sacrifice. Whatever you give me will likely be destroyed I’m afraid as I’ll be using it as a conduit. But the more emotion tied to it, the better.”

Nick looked down then sighed. “I…have something in mind. I’ll go get it now.”

“Don’t rush. I have to get everything else ready first.”

“What are we going to owe you for this?” Hank asked.

“…I have one thing in mind. You won’t like it though.”

“Does anyone actually like a price for something?” Renard sighed.

“What is it?” Nick asked hesitantly.

“To not kill Adalind Schade.”

They all went quiet again, and Nick stood. There was a feeling, a scent of ozone in the air and Monroe and Rosalee both tensed. This was the kind of Grimm aura Sloane knew how to exude. The kind that was like a storm cloud around him. “Excuse me.”

Henrietta to her credit didn’t even flinch. “I’m not saying you can’t dislike or even hate her for everything she’s done to you. But don’t kill her.”

“Why do you care what happens to her?” he asked, still glaring.

“Because…Her mother was once a good friend. Before she went down a bad path. Catharine was a bad influence on her daughter. And grief and anger clouded her judgment further. I don’t condone any of what she did to you or the others…” She glanced at Renard who sighed and looked away. Henrietta knew on some level a lot of what happened was his fault. Hank’s curse, Juliette’s curse—all this was put into motion because of him. Adalind made her choices and so did he. “But she’s a talented witch and has it in her to be something better than her mother. I want to give her that chance, and part of that is going to be making sure she actually isn’t hunted down. I know Juliette won’t agree, but at least I hope I can get a promise from you she won’t die by your hand.”

Nick stared her down for a moment before he looked at Sloane. _We can find another option…but if she’s right, she might not have a lot of time…Do I risk her life for a chance at revenge?_ He already knew the answer and sighed. “Fine. Adalind won’t be killed by me.”

“Promise?” Henrietta said, holding out her hand.

Nick took it. “Yes.”

She smiled, then looked the others and nodded to their hands. “I’ll need an agreement from the rest of you too.”

Hank, Monroe and Rosalee huffed—maybe still planning to confront her one day—but they all put their hands on theirs when prompted again. They yelped when they felt a sting and pulled their hands back. A small rune of a circle with for stems radiating from it with a spade-like shape at the ends appeared and the disappeared. “What the heck was that?” Hank asked.

“Just a rune to seal our promise. An Akoma ntoso—the linked hearts. A symbol of understanding and agreement. Protection is one of my specialties after all,” she smiled, wiggling her fingers.

“You make it sound like you don’t trust us,” Nick said a bit sourly.

“Do you trust me?” she said breezily. Nick was quiet and she smiled knowingly. “I don’t blame you, but I promise I’m here to help. I’m going to go start preparing. We can use the spell tomorrow, so long as we can keep things private here in the hospital.”

“I’ll make sure of that,” Renard nodded. He looked at his watch and sighed. “I need to go do a press briefing regarding some of the recent killings…”

“Who’s dying now?” Monroe asked, sounding tired.

“Sex workers,” he said, shaking his head and rubbing over his eyes. “Someone is slitting their throats and then removing bits of their insides…”

“Sorry I asked…” he said.

“You think it’s wesen?” Nick asked.

“I think you have enough to worry about and getting Sloane back is more important. I’ll let you know what’s happening if I really need you on the case.”

Nick sighed. He wasn’t sure how he could prepare for this, but he knew this was what he needed to do.

\------------------

Juliette was trying to figure out how to make money now that she was a hexenbiest. Returning to the vet clinic didn’t seem like an option. She’d gotten several calls asking why she hadn’t been coming to work but had just ignored them. She had no idea how to explain this after all and didn’t really want to try. And despite her assurances to Nick and Sloane she could help people, she was learning that healing magic was harder than she thought. Even knowing basic anatomy didn’t help. She tried to heal a hurt stray dog and he’d yelped and limped off the moment she tried. When she caught him and tried again, the wound rippled but wouldn’t close and he just whined further. She tried harder and he howled with pain before she stopped. That was a sound she’d always hated, even as a vet and a hexenbiest. She ended up leaving him at another vet office but by then it was so scared of her that it just shook as it curled up, expecting her to kill him. And that brought more frustration.

But back to the issue of money. Her savings were alright still but she didn’t want to keep dipping into them without a way to build them back up. Kenneth’s promise of setting her up for life came to mind but she sighed. Adalind going to the royals for help started all this. And she was well aware they wouldn’t hesitate to turn on her as well.

As if summoned by her thoughts her phone rang and she frowned at the _Private Number_ on screen before answering.

“Juliette, good morning,” Kenneth said smoothly.

“I had a feeling this was you,” she sighed.

“I’ll try to take the disappointed sigh in stride,” he smiled. “Have you given any further thought to my offer?”

“It’s been a day, I’m still mulling it over,” she said.

“Really? I thought it rather tempting.”

“I’m sure you would.”

He chuckled. “Well…I’m afraid a bit of it has to change.”

“What?”

“Adalind escaped. Apparently she took the opportunity of my leaving to come get yet to run. Not a stupid woman at least.”

Juliette frowned. “So, you lost her. What makes you think I’m going to put any more consideration to your “offer”?”

“Well, really, I think it the best option for you still.”

“That’s adorable that you think that,” she said mock sweetly.

Kenneth just huffed out a laugh, though his amusement dimmed. “You know, I really do think your loyalty misplaced. I mean, would you consider Mr. Burkhardt to be this loyal to you? When he can’t even stand to look at you?”

Juliette narrowed her eyes a little. “And what, you wouldn’t? Considering how you talk about Adalind, not sure I want to be a part of an alliance with you.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. Hexenbiests are useful. Even fun. But Adalind ruffles me for different reasons. Gold digging, disloyal, uses her unborn child as a bargaining chip then runs away. Putting my family through all this drama, as if we don’t have our own to deal with. And my grandfather’s obsession with her child. I can own up to being a little bitter about having to deal with all that and taking it out on her. You though could be the answer I need to get this ball rolling and get home.”

“So, you want to use me?”

“Yes? But at least I’m upfront about it. I wouldn’t simply go off dancing while you were dealing with all this.”

“You’re trying to manipulate me.”

“A little. But I know what I see. He says he loves you, tries so hard to keep you close, but refuses to accept what you’ve become. Leaves you in jail because you’re “dangerous”. It’s hurtful and stifling I would imagine. But then he’s so good at compartmentalizing—still solving murders, hunting wesen, all that. And all through it he’s had such a good circle of friends around him. Who agree with _him_ , not you.”

“Laying it on a bit thick there, Kenny,” Juliette said, not amused.

“A bit…but also trying to warn you,” he said, losing a little patience.

“Warn me?”

“I saw the paper from last week. Mr. Burkhardt smiles very convincingly through supposed broken heart. And the look on Ms. Larson’s face…not to brag but I know a smitten woman when I see one.”

Juliette glared a little. “Sloane? You think Sloane is in love with Nick?”

“I’m fairly certain of it. Now I can’t be certain what he feels, but…well, with you gone, he seems to be getting closer and closer to her. Maybe she sees the opportunity. And they are both Grimms, yes? So much in common! More than you and he ever had maybe.” Juliette gripped her phone, breathing deeply. Kenneth smiled. “Say what you will, but Nick seems to have given up on you. Left you to rot in jail while he worked cases. Push you aside. Now he’s focused on a new girl. I’m just saying, maybe he’s decided you’re just not worth it. A foolish mistake obviously. But what will you do about it?”

He hanged up then and Juliette start at the comforter for a few moments while her mind raced around. When a white feather landed on her hand she turned and saw the pillows had exploded behind her from her thoughts twisting around and around. Thousands of white feathers were floating in the air and she glared, several going up in small licks of fire.

Meanwhile, Kenneth was smiling to himself. Rispoli didn’t look so sure as he cleaned one of his guns. “You think that’s enough, my lord?”

“Sometimes a seed of doubt is all you need to plant for it to spread and choke the life out of a pretty little garden.”

“…Poetic.”

“Shut up. Besides, she’s already unstable. She keeps flipping her emotions like cards. Tipping her over shouldn’t be hard.”

\------------------------

Sloane didn’t really remember working that day. That should worry her, but when it was time to go home she didn’t really mind as they rose to get ready and leave. “I gotta run that errand. I’ll meet you at Monroe and Rosalee’s for dinner?”

“We are? I mean, yeah, I’ll see you there,” she smiled. He smiled back and gave her another kiss before climbing into his car. Sloane sighed and climbed into her car as well, heading for Monroe and Rosalee’s house. Everything seemed like it should when she arrived and she sighed, wondering why she was so out of it.

Rosalee answered the door and smiled, giving her a hug. “Hey! Glad you made it.”

“Yeah, can never tell what’s going to crop up at your job,” Monroe chuckled, hugging her as well.

“It was a…quiet day, for once,” she smiled.

“Oh, that’s new,” Rosalee chuckled. “Dinner’s still cooking.”

“That’s fine, I know I’m early. Nick will be by in a bit, he said he had to do something.”

Rosalee looked excited for a moment before someone else from the kitchen called. “I got tea!” Sloane looked up and for a moment she felt frozen.

“…Juliette?”

She smiled, walking in and setting the tray of iced tea down. “Yeah, my flight got in early.”

“Flight? Flight from where?”

“From Sacramento?” She tilted her head, frowning worriedly. “Sloane, you okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”

“I…aren’t you angry with us?”

“Angry? Why would I be angry?” she laughed.

“Because of the Hexenbiest thing…”

“Hex…what?” she said.

“The Hexenbiest—you turned into one! A wesen?”

“Wesen?” Rosalee asked. Sloane looked at her, confused. Rosalee was looking at her equally confused.

“Wesen. You, you’re…a fox…the word…”

“Hey, I know she’s foxy but…” Monroe said. Rosalee rolled her eyes, nudging him a little.

“What’s the word…” Sloane grunted a bit and shook her head. Her thoughts were getting cloudy. “Wolf, fox…Juliette…I’m a…with Nick…” _What’s the word?_

Juliette looked more sympathetic and walked over, speaking quietly and reassuringly. “Hey, that was years ago…we’re past that, remember? I’m the one that left. We’re all good friends now.”

“Years…right…I’ve been weird all day, sorry,” she said, smiling.

“Hey, it’s understandable. I mean, I thought Nick would be the nervous one—” Monroe started, and oofed when Rosalee elbowed him a little harder. “I mean, uh…It’s your birthday tomorrow, it’s a big one too. You’re probably just excited.”

“I guess that’s true,” she smiled. She accepted a glass of tea from Juliette to drink, relaxing a little more as her head cleared. _What was I so worried about anyway?_

“Oh, but I gotta show you this! We went shopping and I found this really nice mantle clock—it needs a little work but you gotta see it,” Monroe said, leading her to his workspace. Rosalee smiled and followed and he showed her the clock. It was indeed very lovely—a marbled base with a bronze statuette of a winged man in repose on top of the clock itself, a beautiful woman looking longingly on him and holding his face. “Pretty neat, right? It’s Cupid and Psyche.”

Sloane blinked, her mind whirring. “Cupid and Psyche…where he’s asleep and she’s trying to wake him up…” She blinked and then started when the clock was different—now it was a chariot with a man in driving it, the clock face as the wheel. “What?”

“What? I said it’s a 19th century roman inspired piece. Needs some cleaning and repair, but I think it’ll go for a good price once I’m done.”

“I…yeah,” she nodded. “It’s cool.”

“What’s really cool is the history. I’m still tracking some of it, but I think it might’ve been owned by—”

“Ahem,” Rosalee said, waving her hand. Monroe paused, then looked at Sloane again.

“Uh…actually, I don’t want to bore you. Why don’t we go on a walk?”

Sloane arched her brow. “A walk?”

“Yeah, before dinner is ready. See the sunset. You know the park is just right out my back yard, it’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, dinner just needs to cool in the oven so lets just go out for a bit,” Rosalee agreed.

“Okay…” Sloane said, smiling indulgently. They smiled back and lead her out to the back and through the gate he had into the park. The sunset was indeed beautiful, with pink and blue clouds smeared over the orange and blue canvas. Sloane smiled as they walked because it did remind her a lot of walking in the woods as a kid around this time with her grandmother. “This is nice. Good idea. …Guys?” She paused, looking around. Monroe and Rosalee weren’t behind her. That made her nervous and she kept looking around before pausing. Even through the slowly fading light she could see something that looked like a lot of lights in the distance among the trees. Frowning, she moved a little further in and slowed when she came to a small clearing that was decorated with Christmas lights. They were hanging from the trees, twinkling like fireflies or stars that were floating around her. Under them was a large board set up on an easel with a bigger light on it like a spotlight, a circle of red flower petals around it. It reminded her of one of the link boards they’d make for a crime at a distance and she walked forward slowly. Indeed, it was like one of those boards, but instead of crime and clues it was pictures of Nick and Sloane happy together, places around Portland she had those vague memories of being with him, her family and friends. Red thread was woven around the pictures and she realized it was in the shape of a heart. She smiled a little, looking them all over. One photo right in the center, with clear space in the shape of a heart around it so it stood out. It was of the place they were in now—a polaroid of this scene taken just minutes ago. Curious, she reached up and picked it off the board and turned it over in her hands like a piece of evidence. There was something written in sharpie on the other side.

_Turn around_

She turned her head and dropped the picture in surprise when she saw Nick was there, down on one knee. Monroe and Rosalee were a little further behind, grinning as well from behind a couple of trees. Nick smiled brightly. “Hey…um…So I had a big speech planned but I can’t remember what it is now…”

“What…?” she asked, turning a bit more. “Are you…?”

He smiled and lifted up a hand, holding a ring box open with a beautiful, dazzling stone. “Sloane Larson, I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

Sloane stared and then felt something she hadn’t really felt before. Tears were welling up in her eyes but not from anger or sadness or anything like that. They were the first tears she could remember falling in joy. “Yes!”

“Yes? Yes!” He laughed and surged up, holding her close and spinning her around. There was cheering and she looked up to see Monroe, Rosalee, Hank, Juliette, Wu, Renard, Bud—all their friends were there with sparklers and Sloane couldn’t remember when she’d been this happy before.

\-----------------------

Henrietta sighed as she looked over the recipe one more time before putting a cauldron over the small fire in her fireplace. Checking as you brew was the best way to keep from making a mistake.

Adalind came down, sniffing the air and detecting a sweet, almost chilly scent in the air. “…Bog Myrtle? Are you having trouble sleeping?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, not me. I’ve made a deal with Mr. Burkhardt. I help a friend of his, he promises your safe from him.”

Adalind’s eyes widened and she walked over. “Really? I mean…There’s a lot of other things you could’ve asked for…”

“But I promised to make sure you’d be safe.” She woged and waved her hand over the pot. Despite not touching it, the mixture began turning with the movement of her hand and slowly turning from green to a dark blue. Adalind watched then looked at the prep table in her room. Ashwagandha, Chamomile, Bog Myrtle, Lemon balm, Mugwort, Passionflower, Silene capensis, Valerian, Skullcap, Vervain, Wild Asparagus, Wormwood…and a few rare ingredients only Hexenbiests would know. She looked at the book and her eyes widened as she read the description.

“Dream sharing? What does Nick need to do that for?”

She finished stirring, changing back to put a lid on the mixture, removing it from the fire. “Miss Larson is being afflicted by a sort of wesen condition.”

“…Sorry, who?”

Henrietta brought the pot over to the worktable and set it on a small square of black stone. “Sloane Larson? …Ooh, you haven’t met her,” Henrietta remembered. “She’s the other Grimm in town.”

Adalind’s jaw dropped. “A…another Grimm?!”

“Yes. She’s been here about two years I hear. Didn’t get a chance to meet you before. Good friends with Mr. Burkhardt and the others. Not a big fan of you after the body switching assault of Mr. Burkhardt however, or Juliette’s change…” She took the lid back off as she spoke and poured the concoction through a cheese cloth over a glass jar to strain it.

She swallowed. “Did she agree not to kill me too?”

“She can’t. Currently she’s been put into a coma because someone managed to use a part of a Baku to do it. But it’s not sentient, it’s…enchanted. Powerfully, if it’s still doing its job.”

“Baku?”

“A Japanese dream-eating wesen, so to speak.” She screwed on a lid and picked the jar up, shaking it vigorously. Like a bartender making a margarita.

“Oh…doesn’t sound fun…”

“Usually they’re harmless really, but as I said, no sentience makes this dangerous. It’s stuck at the back of her throat, digging into her brain from there. It’ll just keep going, keeping her in a coma and growing fat and possibly killing her. I’m making this potion so that Mr. Burkhardt can try to wake her up from the inside, so to speak. If she can wake up it’ll flood that thing with the sort of chemicals and hormones that should make it let go.”

“You can’t just use a potion or a spell?”

She set the jar down and it was now a bright turquoise blue and no longer liquid—it was now sand. “…I didn’t want to mention this to them, but the truth is the magic I sensed from that thing is something different. Something I haven’t felt from another hexenbiest. I don’t think it is a hexenbiest, but something older and more powerful. I don’t know if our sort of spell work could actually effect it or make things worse.”

Adalind realized she was serious before she could ask and swallowed. “That’s…kind of scary.”

“Indeed. But I’m ready for tomorrow. Hopefully he is as well…” There was a knock at the door and Adalind jumped and looked at it in fear. “Easy, don’t worry. I know who it is, he called earlier. But you can wait here, I don’t know if he’s ready to talk to you about this.”

She frowned and Henrietta closed the pocket doors enough that Adalind could listen in if she chose before heading to the front parlor. She opened the door to see a very flustered Sean there and frowned. This was worse than she thought. “Sean. What's wrong?”

“Something's happening to me,” he panted. He opened his shirt a little and she gasped when she saw the red circles on his shirt, dripping with blood.

“You were shot again? Come in, I’ll try and heal you!”

Renard shook his head but still walked in. “No. This is from when I was shot before. It's the same wounds. They were healed. Then they just started bleeding. It's happened over and over. It happened while I was trying to give a press conference—I’m lucky I finished talking and walked off the stage before anyone saw!”

Henrietta frowned deeply, looking at them, then up to his sweaty, pinched face. What he was feeling was painful and frightening obviously. “Has anyone else seen this?”

“I went to see a doctor. I had an MRI. I had a CAT scan. They say there's nothing wrong with me, but there is something wrong with me!”

“Okay. I need you to sit down,” she said gently, leading him to one of the chairs. Adalind frowned and moved to go a little further in. She knew Renard was experiencing side-effects after being shot and brought back, but they were still going on?

Henrietta set him in the chair in her sitting room and sat across from him. “Have there been any dreams?”

He sighed and nodded. “Yeah. I keep reliving the moment I was shot. And then I wake up and I... I have this dream that something is reaching for me. Something not human…or wesen, I don’t think…” He rubbed at his eyes. “And I've had blackouts.”

“And where are you when that happens?” she asked, wracking her brain.

“I don't know,” he shook his head. “I keep waking up in these strange places...In a pool, at a fountain, in my... my bathtub.”

“Always around water?” she asked, curiosity piqued.

“Yeah. I just... I just don't know how I got there!” he said, voice cracking and body shaking.

Adalind frowned, feeling her sympathy twist a little. She remembered feeling like she was losing her mind in the cell in the castle. The desperation, the fear, just wanting it to be over and have answers…

“Okay. I need you to calm down,” Henrietta said, taking his shoulders.

He shook his head again, looking at her. “Look, c-can you help me or not?”

She sighed, worried but unsure. “I don't know. It's gonna take some time.”

“No, I don't have time!” he barked, standing. Henrietta was surprised and stood as well. “I don't even know why I came here! This is a complete waste!” He strode towards the front door again.

“Sean! Sean don’t leave!” she said. But he was already gone, slamming the door behind him.

Adalind came out, worried. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s not good,” she sighed.

“Should we go after him?”

She smiled. “I’m worried too, but he’s still as stubborn as ever and very on edge.” She looked at the clock in her parlor and sighed. “I’ll be meeting them at the hospital in the morning, so I need to rest up. We can check on him afterwards.”

Adalind nodded but still looked at the door. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. “I can help you clean up?”

She smiled and nodded, accepting her help to dispose of all her unused bits of ingredients properly. “How do you want me to clean this?” she said, picking up the small cauldron.

“I have a solution of apple cider vinegar and olive oil under the sink in the kitchen. That and a cup of salt—”

“Scrub it with around and rinse with hot water and dry immediately?” She smiled. “My mother did the same thing…”

She smiled a little. “Well…It’s nice to know she remembered our old techniques.”

Adalind nodded and took the cauldron to the kitchen to work on it. She found a rubber glove and used her hands to scrub the salt mixture around before rinsing it three times with hot water and toweling it completely dry. She was just finishing when she heard a thud and the sound of something breaking. Frowning, she opened the door slightly—the house was still pretty original and didn’t have an open floorplan after all. So, she couldn’t see to the front door, just through the dining room to the living room. “Henrietta?”

There was no answer, but she heard footsteps rushing away. Adalind felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She walked further in. “Henrietta? Is everything oka-” When she got to the parlor, Henrietta was on the ground, choking around a bloody wound to her neck. A vase she kept on the table in the foyer was broken and the door was open, the attacker fleeing into the night before she came out. Adalind was shocked for a moment before rushing over. “No! Oh God, no, Henrietta!”

She was trying to heal the wound, Adalind could tell, but it was harder to heal yourself than others. Or so she’d been told. In all honesty, healing was never her strong suit. She was too selfish, she knew. Her mother more so and had never had the ability enough o teach her beyond tiny little imperfections. But seeing the fear in Henrietta’s eyes, the chill of death trying to creep in, Adalind ripped the rubber glove off and pressed her hand to bloody wound. “Heal…heal, _dammit!_ ” She woged and felt her power flowing into her hands, but different than when she attacked. It was warm and radiating, not the swift icy feeling she got when she’d hurt someone. The bleeding slowed to a trickle instead of a gush and Henrietta relaxed slightly in relief. But she still looked pretty bad. Feeling like they had more time, Adalind grabbed her phone from her pocket and with bloody fingers called 911. “I need an ambulance out to 118 Ol-” Her jaw worked soundlessly, and she cursed. Henrietta’s scrambling charm was still in effect.

The other witch looked ready to pass out but pointed shaking hand at her bookshelf. “T…turtle…” she half-rasped, half-gurgled.

Adalind quickly rushed over while the operator was trying to talk to her, scanning the shelves till she found an old turtle shell. Picking it up, she saw the charm engraved on the bottom. Rushing out, she threw it clear across the street so it’s power would stop working on the house. “118 Old Mill Rd! My friend’s been attacked, she’s bleeding badly, send help!”

\------------------------------

Nick arrived at the hospital early in the morning. He was ready, he told himself, to do whatever weird ritual thing he had to in order to save Sloane. Time, sweat, blood, sanity—he’d given them all before for his friends. Even what he had to give up, burning in his pocket, he knew was worth it despite the ache it gave him.

But after an hour Henrietta hadn’t shown up.

Part of him was angry, another betrayed, another terrified. He looked at Sloane’s prone form and growled as he stood and walked out to make a call. He didn’t have Henrietta’s number memorized but he knew who else to call.

Except Renard wasn’t answering his phone.

He growled under his breath, trying not to break his phone. He was about to head back inside when he saw Monroe and Rosalee walking up and waved.

“Hey, man, I thought you’d be in dreamland by now,” Monroe said.

“Henrietta hasn’t shown up,” he said.

“What? But it’s past 10…” Rosalee said.

“I know! And I don’t remember her number—unscrambled that is—and I can’t get ahold of Renard!”

“We can drive to her house?” Monroe said.

Nick sighed, nodding that that might be the best course of action, when he saw someone coming up the hallway. He did drop his phone, making Monroe and Rosalee pause in surprise. Thankfully it had a tough case, so it was fine. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care because Adalind Schade walked hesitantly up to them. Rosalee and Monroe were shocked a moment before looking ready for a fight. “You…”

She quickly held up her hands. “I’m sorry!”

They all froze. Monroe and Rosalee glanced at one another but Nick was still looking at her. He wanted badly to…he wasn’t sure, maybe kill her, maybe at least hit her. But his hand burned at the thought and he knew Henrietta’s promise was still in effect. “You’re sorry? _Sorry?_ ”

“I know…I know words aren’t enough for all I’ve done, but I need to say them. Yes, I am sorry. I did a lot of stupid, horrible things to you. I just…I wanted Diana back, but I did awful things and I can’t even excuse what I did to you, and then to Juliette and…” she took a deep breath. “I don’t expect forgiveness. But I at least need to say it.”

Nick actually calmed just slightly, looking at her in confusion. Was this really Adalind?

“Okay, are you actually Adalind?” Monroe asked, voicing his thought.

“…Yes?” she sighed. “I’m me, but I’m at least finally wiser. I’m not here to pick any fights or make things worse, I swear.”

“What are you doing here?” Rosalee asked. She wasn’t friendly, if anything she was suspicious.

“…Henrietta…she was attacked last night.”

“What?” Nick said, alert now.

“What did you do now?” Monroe growled.

“Not by me! I’m staying with her, after managing to escape the royals. I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“Then what did?” Nick asked.

“I’m not entirely sure…I was helping her clean up and I…I was in the kitchen and I heard something, and when I went out she…she was on the floor…her throat was cut,” she swallowed, rubbing at her own neck. She shook a little haunted at the memory. “I-I managed to heal her enough she didn’t’ die but she’s been recovering since late last night. Surgery and a lot of blood transfusions…”

“…Where is she?” Nick asked.

Adalind hesitated but motioned for him to follow. Nick picked up his phone as they did, going to the elevator and up a couple of floors. The room wasn’t far from Sloane’s they found out and she walked them in. Henrietta was resting, a bandage around her neck and more blood being put back into her. She cracked tired eyes open and smiled a little. Grabbing a piece of paper, she used a marker to write down _Hello, Detective_ on a pad by her side.

“Henrietta…what happened?” Nick asked, shocked.

She sighed and wrote quickly. _Not sure…blacked out there for a bit…Someone came in and tried to kill me._

“Could it be Dierdre?” Monroe asked.

_I’m under the same protective spell, not likely. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for Adalind._

Adalind ducked her head a little at the praise and Nick eyed her. “…I’m glad you’re alive.”

 _That’s sweet_ , she smiled. _I’m also in no condition to do the rest of the spell though._

“…Can it wait till your better?”

She started to shake her head and winced. Adalind put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. _No…I can’t tell how much time she has or when I’ll be back to normal. But I don’t think waiting is a good option_.

“Then what option do we have?” Rosalee asked.

Henrietta looked up at Adalind. Adalind blinked then her eyes widened. “Oh…I don’t…I mean, that spell is pretty difficult…”

 _You’ve done harder_ , Henrietta reminded her blandly.

“Yeah, with a body count,” she muttered.

_I already have the potion made. You have the conduit, Nick?_

He hesitated but nodded slowly.

“…I don’t think they want my help,” Adalind said more quietly, unable to look at Nick or the others.

 _Want, no. Need, yes._ She looked at Nick when he frowned. _You don’t have a lot of options._

Nick looked at war with himself a moment before looking at his phone. “…Let me try one more.”

Henrietta frowned but sighed as he quickly went to find a place he could make a call. The phone rang a couple of times and he paced, muttering _c’mon_ several times. Finally, it picked up.

“Nick?” Juliette asked, uncertain.

“Hey…”

“Hey…” she said back.

“…How are you?”

“Well…I’m free if you haven’t heard.”

“I heard,” he nodded. “…I heard it was a royal who did it.”

“Yes. But I’m not with them if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said.

Nick breathed out slightly. “I’m glad…you can’t trust them.”

“I realize that.”

“Good…”

“Nick, why did you call?” she asked, impatiently.

 _Why did you pick up?_ Was a tempting comeback but he just took a breath. “…We need your help.”

There was a long pause before she spoke again. “My help?”

“…As a Hexenbiest. With a spell.”

Another pause before she actually laughed a little. “Unbelievable…so now that it’s convenient for you, you’re actually asking for me to use magic?”

“Juliette,” he sighed.

“No, no, this is rich. You avoid me, leave me in jail, can’t even look at me since you found out about this and now you like that I’m a Hexenbiest because it means I can do something for you?” she went on, getting upset.

“It’s to help Sloane!” Nick nearly shouted.

Another pause. “Sloane? Why does she need help?”

“She’s under some kind of influence. Like what Adalind did to you.”

“Oh, is she going to be a Hexenbiest too?”

“No, like—the first time. When she cursed you to sleep. But it’s more complicated. We need help with a spell so I can help wake her up.”

“With a kiss?” she asked snidely.

“No, it’s more complicated than that. I have to see her dreams or go into them—look, I can explain more when you get down here.”

“When? Wow, that’s presumptuous.”

“Juliette, Sloane could die if we don’t do this!”

She sighed. “…What do you need me to do?”

“I…don’t know exactly, but Henrietta does. She’s just not able to do it right now. She has a potion and then I have to use a conduit I brought…” he trailed off, realizing what he’d have to admit to bringing.

“Conduit? What kind of conduit?” He was quiet and she pressed. “What conduit? What do you mean?”

“…Henrietta…said I had to bring a symbol of a dream I had that hasn’t come true,” he said haltingly.

“…Okay. What did you bring?”

Nick felt over his pocket on instinct then sighed. “…The ring I bought you,” he said quietly.

“…And what do you do with it?”

“I don’t know…”

“Will it be destroyed?”

“…I don’t know. But she said possibly.”

It was quiet again and he felt the wind pass by as it whipped past the roof.

“So…just like that, huh?”

“Juliette, I can get another ring—!” he started.

“If you think this about the ring, you really are an idiot,” she bit out. She then hanged up and Nick stared at the phone before sighing and putting it in his pocket. He leaned against the side of the building for a short time before turning to head back in and back to Henrietta’s room.

“You really expect us to believe you changed?” Monroe was asking Adalind when he returned, glaring at her.

“…You can believe what you want,” she sighed.

Rosalee frowned but then looked at Nick hopefully. “You tried Juliette?”

Adalind tensed, looking ready to run, but stopped when Nick sighed. “Yes. But she declined.”

“What?” Rosalee asked, surprised.

“She’s not thrilled that, after asking her to not be a Hexenbiest anymore, I want her to do a spell for us,” he said.

“…Well, that’s a little fair,” Monroe said, grimacing.

Nick didn’t argue but looked at Adalind. “…I promised not to hurt you. Henrietta sealed that promise.”

Adalind nodded. “She told me. So, I can understand why your hesitant, since I haven’t made a promise back. And other reasons, obviously,” she added. They gave her a blunt look and she sighed. “I don’t know the same kind of oath spells Henrietta does and she’s not in any condition to do it for us. The only ones I know need another hexenbiest too. The best I can do is promise that I’ll help and…let my actions speak for me.”

“Oh, they say a lot about you,” Monroe muttered.

Adalind glared a little. “I’m _trying_ to make amends and do better! I’m sorry I did awful things to Nick, but I was a bit desperate and not thinking clearly after you all and his mother _kidnapped my child._ Was I just supposed to be okay with her disappearing like that? Not do anything? Or be okay finding out you all had a hand in it?”

Monroe and Rosalee had the decency to look a little chagrinned at that. Nick though looked at her suspiciously. “Is this a way to try and find out where she is?”

“…I won’t lie, I want to know. I want her back. She is maybe the only good thing I’ve done in years. But I sort of had to face facts that you all were right not to trust me…I haven’t done anything to really win that trust, ever. The royals aren’t going to give up either. I should’ve realized they were using me and lying to me. And going along with what they wanted I…am not the sort of person, Hexenbiest or not, that should be influencing her. And furthermore, she’s not safe until we can stop the royals and that’s going to take a while. So, she is safer with your mother.” She looked at him, determined and hopeful. “If I can prove to you, by helping you here and other places, that I can change and make amends…Can you at least let me contact her?”

Nick stared at her for a moment, trying hard to see a hint of deception. But she looked sincere. “…Help us wake Sloane up. From there, we’ll see.”

“Nick?” Monroe asked, both and Rosalee surprised. Adalind was surprised to but looked close to crying with relief.

“She’s our best option right now. We don’t know any other Hexenbiests that are willing to help Sloane.”

“But this spell is going to like…knock you out, right?” Monroe asked quietly, next to him now.

“Which is why you’re going to watch the whole time,” he replied back equally quietly. Monroe nodded in realization and gave him a thumbs up.

“Do you need to go get the potion?” Rosalee asked.

“No, Henrietta made me grab it before we came here…”

“I had a feeling,” she rasped out.

“No talking, you heard the doctor, you need to rest. Your vocal chords were nearly cut…” Adalind said as she pulled a bottle out of her bag. It was an opalescent blue glass and the sand inside still a bright turquoise. Henrietta just hummed. “Are you okay alone?” She smiled and hummed again, waving a hand. Adalind nodded and walked to the door. “Where’s your friend?”

“This way,” Nick said, leading her down the hall. Sloane was still hooked up to machines for her heart rate, but she was looking paler he noted.

Adalind frowned and walked over, opening Sloane’s mouth. She could see a black spot at the back of her throat that was now a growth about the size of a small pea. “…I see what Henrietta was talking about. This is different than anything I’ve dealt with before.”

“This will work though, right?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know honestly, but Henrietta thought so and I trust her judgment on this.” She looked at him. “You’re sure you want to do this though? Because this spell is pretty…hardcore, honestly. You’re going to basically be in her head for a while. Time will feel different, places will feel different. It’ll feel very real. Plus, you’ll see a lot of things about her you might not want to. Things and thoughts she doesn’t want you to see. Heck, you might even get into her memories since they’re pretty linked. Even best-friends or lovers should really think this through.”

“…She can be mad at me when she’s awake,” he said.

Adalind sighed but nodded. She set the jar down and pulled out the spell book, flipping through it to the right page marked by the ribbon bookmark. “Okay…you have a conduit?”

“Getting tired of that word, but yes…” He pulled out the ring box and opened it up to take the ring out.

“Oh, Nick…” Rosalee said, frowning in sympathy.

“…It hasn’t come true _yet._ That was the stipulation,” he said. Monroe nodded, putting a hand on his shoulder. Adalind didn’t ask questions—she put it together fairly quick that was an engagement ring—and walked to the other bed in the room to push it over to the side of Sloane’s bed.

“You’ll want to lay down. This is going to put you into a deep sleep as well,” she said. Nick nodded and sat on the bed. He hesitated but handed the ring to Adalind when she held out her hand. She set the book on the bedside table and read through the spell again. “Okay…The rings pretty perfect for this, so that’s good. But I need a bit of your hair and a bit of hers.”

“…Cut or pluck?” Rosalee asked.

“Plucking works best…at least ten hairs.”

Rosalee sighed and went to Sloane’s side. “I’m sorry about this…” She plucked the hairs from Sloane’s head and she didn’t even stir.

Nick did his own, wincing at the sting but holding them out. Adalind took them between her fingers in each hand and walked back over to the table. She tied the hairs around the ring with her magic and then slipped it through a cord of lavender colored silk she also had in her bag. Walking over, she tied one end to Nick’s wrist. “Lay down…please.” Nick quirked a brow at the please but did so while she tied the other end around Sloane’s wrist. The ring was in the center, hanging between them. She then picked up the jar. “Okay…ready?”

Nick sighed. “As I’ll ever be…”

“Wait!” Rosalee said quickly. “When will he wake up?”

“Ah…” She looked at the book. “According to this, he’ll wake up either when she does, or if he’s pushed out of the dream, like you would be if you had a nightmare. …Or they could end up permanently linked and become a vegetable if he goes too deep into her mind that he can’t get out.”

“What?!” they all barked.

“Hey, this is Henrietta’s book!” she said quickly, blushing. “I’m doing my best, but my spell books were always…darker, honestly. Light magic is new for me.”

“That’s not dark?!” Monroe asked.

“Considering no blood or trimmed body parts are necessary, yes, it’s not.”

They all grimaced. Nick sighed but laid back. “Just…get it over with. I’ll wake Sloane and we’ll both be fine.”

Monroe and Rosalee both looked worried but sighed and sat back down. Adalind nodded and opened the jar before woging. Slowly she tipped the jar so that the sand began pouring out over the ring, chanting in Latin. “ _Mens et animus, et somniare somnia. Suscitat Usque ad unum: et duas confusa sint._ ” (Mind to soul, dream to dream. Until one awakes, the two be merged.) She chanted the phrase over and over and the sand began to float and weave in patterns around the link between them, then over their arms and up to their heads. Nick felt his eyes grow heavy, the changing growing fainter as his mind relaxed and then he was gone into the dark.

\----------------

Juliette had thrown her phone when she hanged up against the wall of the motel. It cracked, but she was too busy stewing to really care. Kenneth’s words were chasing what trust she had left for Nick around in her head, intent to snuff it out. _Am I overreacting? He said it had to be for a dream that didn’t come true. But does that mean he still wants to marry me, or the dream is dead? Could he have really moved on? To Sloane? Were they together before now? No…no, I would’ve known if he was having an affair. He was always home when he could be, even with tough cases and all the wesen things going on. He never seemed interested in her like that._

 ** _There was the Musai,_ **a voice in her head pointed out.

_That was the effect of a wesen, not a choice! Loving me broke that spell._

**_Adalind?_ **

_She was disguised as me! I…even if it felt like a betrayal, he thought it was me. I…could’ve handled that better._

**_It’s not your fault! What you felt was natural, the betrayal, the confusion! How could he not know it wasn’t you? No time for conversation, hm?_ **

She growled a little and stood, pacing. _I left after he found out I’m a hexenbiest. Maybe he and Sloane got closer then. She’s a Grimm. She understands this better than I do. Probably made sure he wouldn’t want me! The way she looked at him dancing was too happy! But…she tried to keep from attacking me when Dierdre was in control…if she’s still in trouble…_

Juliette hesitated just a moment before sighing and heading for the door.

\-------------------

When Nick was next aware of himself, he was in the woods. He blinked and sat up, looking around. The sun coming through the leaves, the heat, the feeling of his hand running through the grass. It felt…real. So real he wondered if something had happened. Had Adalind drugged him and brought him to the woods? Why?

“You gotta catch me!”

He jumped when he heard the voice and turned to see a little girl running through the woods, jumping over logs and rocks nimbly and giggling. She had on jeans and a stripped blue and white shirt and her dark hair was pulled back in a braid. She swung from a branch and landed close to him but didn’t seem to notice him as she kept moving.

“Hey…Hey!” He followed, hoping to ask where he was. The girl didn’t hear him, and he watched as she kept laughing and running without a care in the world…and suddenly they weren’t in the woods, they were at a school and she was playing tag with more children, dressed in overalls. He blinked and she was in a classroom. Then back in the woods with a couple of older women playing wither. Playing in the snow. Reading. Tea Parties. Swimming in the summer, playing in falling leaves, walking in the snow, planting flowers…It was making his head swim with how fast it was all going. Sometimes she was older, sometimes younger, but it was all centered on this girl.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried to will things to slow down before he got sick.

“Sloane…this is your mother.”

His eyes flew open and he looked up to see the girl, maybe seven, clinging to the legs of an older woman wearing high-waisted jeans and a button up green top. She had dark hair with fine lines of grey through it, and one streak of white down the side of her face. She had a round face, with laugh lines around her nose and mouth. She was lovely and looked warm and loving as she leaned over the girl. Nick realized she spoke with a faint German accent despite her perfect English.

Across from them in the entryway to their house was a beautiful woman, also with dark hair and a white forelock. She looked extremely uncomfortable, wearing dark greys and blues. “…Hello.”

The little girl shuffled out a little. She was wearing a lavender bathing suit with three rows of hearts over it and had her dark hair in pig-tails—and Nick almost felt like his brain was shorting to know this was Sloane. “My…mother?”

“Yes, Sunny,” her grandmother smiled. She looked at her daughter. “I was just about to take her to the lake…why don’t you walk down together while I finish getting things together.”

Dierdre frowned. “Mother…I’m not here to go down to the lake.”

“Didi…” She sighed and then looked at Sloane. “Go get your sandals.”

“Alright…” Sloane nodded and went to the mudroom at the back to get her sandals. Things remained focused around Sloane he noticed, the sound fading and the details getting fuzzy until she came back into range. She sat behind the door to the entryway to get her shoes on but also listen.

“…Your daughter, you should at least spend a little bit of time with her the rare times you come back,” Rebecca was saying.

“I didn’t come for a lecture on how to be a parent,” Dierdre said tersely. “I just need something from the basement.”

“Dierdre, just…an hour. Can’t you spend an hour with her? She asked about you not too long ago, about her mother. She can’t even remember you.”

“…Fine, one hour,” Dierdre sighed.

Rebecca smiled and hugged her. “Thank you, sweetheart. I promise if you stayed, got the feeling for it, you’d love to spend more time here.”

Dierdre sighed but didn’t say anything. “Sloane?”

Nick saw her quickly, excitedly, get up. “Y-yes?”

“I’m going to walk you down to the lake. C’mon.”

Sloane nodded and quickly followed her, waving to her grandmother as they left. Nick saw her reach up t take Dierdre’s hand and the woman tensed but allowed it as they walked to a path at the side of the house. _Did Dierdre try to be a mom?_ Nick wondered. His stomach lurched as time and space moved around him again and they were suddenly at a beautiful lake. _Come to think of it…Sloane said she doesn’t like water…_

“Will you teach me how to swim?” Sloane asked, looking up at Dierdre hopefully.

Dierdre looked back, confused. “You don’t know how yet?”

“Not well…Oma usually makes me wear this.” She held up a small life vest. “But the other kids make fun of me. I want to swim properly, and Elly’s mom taught her.”

Dierdre nodded slowly. “Alright…well, I’ve never tried to teach before. But I know there’s a way my mentor has me learn things.”

“What does mentor mean?”

“…teacher.”

“Oh! Okay, how?”

“By getting in and doing it.”

“…when you don’t know how?” she asked, confused.

“Learn by doing. That’s the best way.”

Sloane nodded and Nick felt a sudden cold lump in his stomach. She smiled brightly though. “Okay, mommy!”

Dierdre flinched a bit but smiled a bit. “Alright. So, don’t need this.” She put the life vest aside. “I’m going to toss you in and see how you do.”

“Okay!” She smiled, completely trusting, as Dierdre put her hands under her arms.

“No!” Nick shouted even as she picked her up and threw her into the water. He was ready to jump in after her but hit the deck instead when the world shifted again. Even though it wasn’t his physical body it still felt like the wind was knocked out of him. He sat up, looking around and saw Rebecca, soaking wet, cradling a waterlogged Sloane to her as she coughed. “What were you thinking?!” she asked.

“She said she wanted to learn how to swim!” Dierdre said. She was also wet he noticed.

“Yes, because she _doesn’t know how!_ You thought just tossing her in and she would magically figure it out?!”

“I didn’t think she was that clueless!”

“She’s a child!” Rebecca said almost desperately. “Dierdre, we taught you how to swim in the water with you, with a life-vest! Why did you think this would work!”

Dierdre glared back. “ _You_ didn’t teach me, papa taught me! You weren’t home!” she bit out. “I told you I didn’t know what I was doing, and you guilted me into going with her! How am I supposed to know what I’m doing!”

“Because she’s your daughter!” Rebecca said desperately.

“Well you treat her more like a daughter than you did me!”

“Didi—”

“Don’t call me that!” she shouted. She stood. “I am over thirty years old, I am a Grimm, I am feared throughout the world and I’m not going to let you make me feel like I’m a failure just because I don’t want to be Susy Homemaker and take care of a-a little runt that can’t even swim and sinks like a rock in the water!”

Rebecca looked at her in horror and Sloane curled up more against her grandmother, sniffing and tearing up at Dierdre. “…M’sorry…I’ll do better…” she said quietly, and Nick felt his heart break a little at the tiny voice.

Dierdre was quiet and Nick looked at her. Her face was fuzzy, hard to see, but…was that guilt? It couldn’t be. Rebecca shushed her gently and looked up at Dierdre. “Maybe it’s best you get what you need and go after all,” she said, her voice hard even as she blinked her eyes rapidly.

“…Agreed,” Dierdre said, turning to walk off.

“…Does she not like me?” Sloane asked.

“Shhh…she’s complicated, my sunshine,” Rebecca said gently. “One day she’ll get to know you…And I’m sure she’ll see the light.”

“…I don’t wanna swim anymore…” she said.

Rebecca’s lip quivered but she nodded and stood with her in her arms. “That’s fine. Maybe another day.” She patted her back and began humming as they walked, murmuring the worlds. “ _We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when…but I know we’ll be together some sunny day…”_

Nick sighed looking at the lake again. _Does she have any good memories of that woman?_ He blinked and suddenly he was looking at the woods from the porch.

“You’d be done by now, Sunny, if you came down earlier,” Rebecca’s voice said. He turned to see he was at the dining room window at the house now. Sloane was at the table, eating some cut up bits of sausage and veggies. She was older again, wearing a black sweater with bright, neon butterflies woven on it and a pair of jeans. Her hair was down, and Nick was surprised to see she had a tiny bit of white at the front, like her mother and grandmother, despite being so young.

“I was reading!” she pouted.

“You’re going to blow through all those books I got you at that fair in a weekend,” she smiled. It didn’t sound like she was upset, more that she was proud.

“Then you’ll get me more?” she asked innocently.

The woman laughed and kissed her forehead, making her wrinkle her nose but smile. “I’ll buy you a library!”

“Really?”

“One day.”

“You never say when that day is…” Sloane said, taking another bite of the sausage on her plate.

She smiled and turned to go back to washing the dishes. Nick had to smile a little. Then he heard something—a rustling in the in the woods nearby. Nick paused turned but the world beyond the house was out of focus. He could just barely make out shapes coming closer. _…Oh no…_

Nick looked back in and he saw Rebecca Larson was looking what felt like right at him, but she was more alerted to the movement outside. “You need to leave!” Nick said. She didn’t respond. “Hey! Listen to me!” He moved and gasped as he fell through the window. Pushing up, he looked to see his legs still lying through the wall. He moved them and they moved like the wall was just made of light. _I’m like a ghost?_

“…Sloane, come here.”

She looked up in confusion. “I just have a couple more bites—”

“Sloane, come here, _now!_ ” he ordered. Sloane looked shocked. It didn’t seem like Rebecca ever talked to her like that. She stood and quickly went over to her and they started for the basement door. Nick followed. Before she could unlock it though, there was a loud bang against the front door. It was hard enough it should’ve taken it off its hinges, but it was strong. A face appeared in the window, red eyes watching them.

Sloane didn’t scream, but she grabbed on tighter to her grandmother as they backed away around into the kitchen to hide from view. Another bang and her shaking. “O-Oma?” she whispered.

“It’s okay. You’re alright, dear, I’ve got you.”

“Is it the monsters?” Sloane whispered.

Rebecca was startled and looked down at her. “Monsters?”

“I saw one earlier…Elly’s uncle…he looked like a dog and then he chased me away…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered back.

Sloane flinched when another bang hit the door. “No one else saw! I thought it was bad I did!”

“Shhh, shh, it’s not bad…” She stood up straighter, her eyes following the sound of footsteps around the side of the house. “ _Verdammit!_ ” She looked around and her eyes fell to the side of the kitchen wall. She quickly rushed over, pushing at it and opening a panel. It was filled with hanging herbs and Nick recognized wolfsbane among them.

“Oma? What’s that?”

“Shhh,” she said again, pulling her over and then pushing her to crawl in. “Stay here, do not make a sound.”

“What? Oma—” She gasped and shuddered when another bang, now at the back door near the kitchen, echoed through the house. Nick looked at the door and then back at them, as Rebecca stroked her hair gently

“Stay. Here.”

“But what about you?” she whimpered.

“I’m going to try to get rid of our uninvited guests,” she smiled. “But no matter what, you stay in here till I get you or they’re gone. Promise me.”

“I…I promise…”

“Good girl,” she smiled, kissing her forehead again and then nudging her back. She closed the wall, then pulled a nearby rolling island over to it. She then grabbed a knife from a block on the counter just as the back door was kicked down. Things got fuzzy again, except for where Rebecca was standing. Nick looked and leaned down and saw that Sloane was peeking out from a crack in the door.

“Where’s your granddaughter?” Nick turned and swallowed. Five men had made their way inside. They shifted a bit in their hazy details, as though the world wasn’t sure exactly where they should be standing or what they looked like at that moment. But their leader was a big man with brown hair and broad shoulders.

“You don’t have to do this,” Rebecca said. “We’ve done nothing to you.”

“A Grimm, done nothing to us?” The man asked, his gravely voice dark and angry. “Your kind have hunted us for centuries and you have the nerve to say that?”

“We’re not hunting you! I’ve tried my best to bridge the gap between us. I want peace.”

“You expect me to believe that, holding that knife?”

“I want peace, but I’m not going to just let you break in and threaten me. Please, just leave and we can forget this ever happened.”

He laughed. “Oh, you’re serous! This is rich. The mighty hunter, pleading for her life.”

“Not mine. My granddaughter. She’s just a child! She doesn’t understand!”

“Then I’ll try to make things quick for her!” He woged into a blutbad and lunged. Nick moved without thinking, wanting to strike him. But he moved through him. He stood, terrified what he was about to see…but realized time was frozen. The blutbad was about to strike Rebecca but the knife was already in his shoulder, sending up a spray of blood that was suspended in the air like a frozen fountain. The other wesen were rushing forward and in various stages of transformation. It was fascinating and strange. He stood and tried to touch then but his hand still passed through.

Then he felt something cold at the back of his neck. “You don’t belong here.”

Nick took a breath and swallowed. “…I’m Nick Burkhardt…”

“And what are you doing in Sloane’s mind?”

Nick blinked at turned just slightly. He was shocked to see it was Rebecca speaking to him. The knife was still in her hands, with a little blood on it, and she was eyeing him suspiciously.

“…I’m trying to wake her up.”

She arche her brow before pulling the knife away. “You’re in the wrong part for that. This is her subconscious. Her memories. You need her conscious mind. This one is strong enough it pulled you in.”

Nick nodded slowly. “Okay, makes sense…how do I get there? And how are you talking to me?”

She smiled. “A lot of questions. I like you. All I can say is the mind is a strange place when you involve magic like this. And it’s not your mind, you don’t have any control. I can barely do anything, but I’ve been trying to wake her up too. The dream she’s in is very strong, and another part of her …well, doesn’t want to wake up. The signs I send keep getting covered up.”

“Wait, she wants to stay in the dream? Why?” Nick asked.

“She doesn’t know it’s a dream for one. This spell has given her a dream that feels like real life—her ideal real life. It’s hard to leave that behind…” she sighed. “The puppet master here doesn’t know about you yet though I think. So, I think I can sneak you in to where she is.”

“You can?” he asked hopefully.

“I’ve got a little leverage here, unlike you. The virtue of how I got here vs. how you got here.” Nick frowned but she was going on before he could ask what she meant. “I’ll get you there. But you’re going to have to essentially destroy the life that’s been built for her…it might mean hurting her.”

Nick frowned but then sighed. “If it means getting her back…”

She smiled. “Grimms always have the tough choices…Good luck then.” She gave him a push and Nick gasped when it felt like he was falling backward again.

\------------------

Hank finished some work at the station before standing from his desk. He was going to take a long lunch and go to the hospital to see how things were going. Wu was going to join him, so he waited a moment for him to join at the entrance. He was getting a little impatient even if it was only a couple of minutes, but finally he came jogging over. “Hey, sorry. I was chatting with some of the others about some cases.”

“And that distracted you from our friend having a spell put on him?” Hank asked, walking with him out to the car.

“Dude, this one is a bit nuts, even for us. Listen: Prostitutes are turning up dead. Throats slit.”

“Yeah, heard that yesterday from the captain.”

“No, here’s the other bit! The M.E.’s report said their uteruses…uteri? Well, they were removed with “surgical precision” for both girls.”

Hank stopped short, looking at him in shock. “Their uteruses?”

“Yeah. The kidneys too on one. And the killer might’ve been left-handed. Now I don’t know about you, but there was that special not to long ago I watched on—”

“Jack the Ripper,” Hank said dully. “I watched that too. But I mean…it couldn’t be.”

“Dude, like you said, we’re about to go watch our friend get a spell cast on him to go into the dreams of another friend to wake her up. Someone trying to be the next Jack the Ripper is kind of more normal.”

“Yeah…yeah, it’s probably some copycat killer,” Hank nodded. He then laughed at himself as they kept walking. “Man, I almost thought it _was_ Jack the Ripper.”

“It’ couldn’t be…could it?” They glanced at one another but then shook their heads and headed for the car.

Getting to the hospital, they headed up the third floor to Sloane’s room. There were no windows, so they opened the door to walk in. The first thing they saw was Nick lying in the other bed next to Sloane, connected by the silk scarves. Then Monroe and Rosalee sitting down near Sloane’s side. They were talking to…

“Oh shit!” Hank said. He’d left his gun behind at the station of course, but Adalind looked up and blanched when she saw him. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Hank, easy!” Rosalee said, standing and holding out her hands placatingly. “Adalind is the one that performed the spell.”

His jaw fell and he looked at them. “And you let her?!”

“I did it just how Henrietta would’ve done it,” Adalind said.

“And why didn’t she do it? That was the agreement,” he bit out, glaring at her.

“Henrietta was attacked,” Monroe said. “She’s recovering just down the hall actually. But she was in no condition to do this spell. And before you say anything, Adalind’s the one that kept her alive and got her help.”

Hank looked at her. “You did?”

She shrugged. “I managed…Healing magic is hard, but I got the bleeding to slow enough till the paramedics came. But her throat was slit so I had to do the spell, she can barely whisper…”

Wu held up a hand. “Hold up, her throat was slit?”

Adalind blinked and looked at him. “I…have we met?”

“Uh…briefly,” he said, awkwardly. “I’m Drew Wu, I work with Nick and Hank and Renard. And I’m in on the whole Grimm stuff too.”

“Oh, good,” she sighed. She looked at Hank again. “…I already apologized to Nick, but I should apologize to you too. For the whole…curse thing. I shouldn’t have put you in danger to get to Nick. Or at all, but…ugh, this is harder than I thought,” she sighed. “I mean in part because what I did was bad. Really bad. But I felt like it was the best thing to do at the time to do what Sean wanted…He’s changed too though,” she muttered.

“…I’ll think on that for now. But you should apologize to Wu too.”

“…What’d I do to you?” she asked hesitantly, not remembering.

“Uh, I took a cookie meant for Hank and then started eating anything and everything else. Including my carpet,” he said.

“Ohhh, yeah, it’ll do that if you’re not the intended target…I mean, you did take the cookie though…” Monroe and Rosalee frowned and she sighed. “But I’m sorry for that as well. Wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t do what I did in the first place.”

Wu nodded. “Okay…I mean I can’t speak for the others, but sure, apology accepted.”

“What?” they all asked, surprised.

Wu shrugged. “I mean, still doesn’t feel real for the most part to me because I didn’t see anything wrong at the time. I’m still alive, no lingering side-effects…Like I said, I can’t speak for Hank and Nick and anyone else, but I’m good.”

“Oh…Um…good,” Adalind nodded. She was surprised, but also relieved that someone said that. “I’m glad…”

“…You said Henrietta’s throat was slit?” Hank asked again.

She swallowed but nodded. “I was there, I’m staying with her. I came out just after it happened…”

“Did you see who did it?” he asked hopefully.

She shook her head. “No, I think he ran when he heard me…”

They sighed a bit, looking at one another before back at them. “We’re having a string of murders. Someone’s killing sex workers in the street by slitting their throats.”

“And then removing organs,” Wu added.

“Oh God,” Rosalee sighed, pulling at her face. “As if we don’t have enough on our plate…”

“Wait, this sounds familiar…this is like Jack the Ripper?” Monroe asked. “I watched that special the other month.”

“Us too!” Wu said.

“But it can’t be, right?” Hank asked. “Gotta be a copycat.”

“It can’t be the same guy either. I mean, Henrietta’s not a prostitute, and she was at home. The guy just walked right in…” she paused, frowning a little.

“What is it?”

“Uh…nothing…” she said.

“No, c’mon, you looked like you thought of something,” Rosalee said.

“…Sean came by earlier that evening. He seemed really upset.”

“The Captain?” Wu asked.

“Yeah. But I mean, I know he wouldn’t do this! He’s just the last person that came by that night and we forgot to lock the door.”

“Why was he there?” Hank asked.

“I heard him say he was still having some issues after being shot and Elizabeth bringing him back…”

Monroe and Rosalee looked at one another, frowning as well. “He came to us about that too,” Rosalee said. “We weren’t sure what it was…”

“We were going to check on him after this. But I have to stay here to make sure the spell keeps working right,” Adalind sighed.

Hank frowned and then pulled out his phone. Since they were in the room and no doctors were around he figured it wouldn’t hurt and pulled up Renard’s number. “I’ll give him a call, maybe he saw someone…”

“Nick said he couldn’t reach him earlier,” Monroe said.

They all frowned again but Hank pressed call and held it to his ear.

“Hello?”

He frowned at the voice on the phone—it was gruff, deep, and spoke with a British accent. “Who is this?”

“Well, you called me,” he said.

“Who is this? I'm looking for Sean Renard,” he said impatiently. The others looked at one another, not liking the conversation.

“You don't have 'im. But this is his phone.”

“Where is he?” he growled out.

“We're home. But I'm afraid he can't come to the phone right now. He's... resting. We had a bit of a rough night. This last one was a real fighter. We're quite fatigued, so if it's not a bother, call back at a more convenient time. Cheers.”

He hanged up and Hank looked at his phone in confusion. “…We need to get to the Captain’s house.”

“What?” Wu asked.

“Some British guy answered the phone, there is something really wrong!”

Adalind looked worried. “You don’t think this killer got him, do you?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll go check,” Wu said. “You keep doing whatever you’re doing here.” She nodded and the detectives quickly headed out. Adalind took a deep breath and looked at the link. The ring was glowing faintly as the spell and her power were weaving around it. She added a bit more power to it. The spell was a bit like tending a fire, you had to make sure it wasn’t burning too hot or going out.

“…Do you want something to eat or drink?” Rosalee asked.

Adalind looked up and nodded a little. “Yeah, if you don’t mind…Some coffee would be nice. I didn’t sleep after what happened to Henrietta…”

She nodded, looking at Monroe who was about to argue. He frowned but sighed and nodded and she left to get the coffee. “…So…”

“…We don’t need to make conversation if you don’t want,” she said, surprisingly gently.

“…That might be best,” He muttered.

It was awkward for a moment before there was a knock at the door. He thought maybe Rosalee had forgotten something and went to open it. He then froze. “O-oh…Juliette, what…?” Adalind stood immediately, eyes wide with panic.

\--------------------

Sloane opened her eyes and sighed at the sun streaming through her windows. She shifted a little and rubbing her cheek against the skin she was resting on. Looking up, she smiled when she saw she was resting on Nick’s bare chest. He was still asleep, looking peaceful. She reached up and softly traced down his nose, smiling when it wrinkled, and he huffed out and shifted a little. She then noticed the ring on her other hand and smiled more.

Nick then sighed and woke up, looking down at her and smiling. “Good morning…”

“Good morning,” she greeted back. Then paused. _Morning? When did we go to bed?_

“What does the birthday girl want for breakfast?” he asked, pulling her close and kissing her temple.

“…Is staying in bed an option?”

He grinned a bit kissed her again. “That’s doable…” She smiled as they started to kiss more. But then both their phones buzzed with the ringtone they use for work. Nick groaned and pulled back and grabbed his while Sloane grabbed hers to turn them off. “We really should’ve put in for today off…”

“We didn’t?”

“No, didn’t think it through that far…I just wanted to throw you off by doing it the day before.”

“Well played…” she smiled. They chuckled and got up to get ready to head to the station.

Renard was waiting for them when they arrived. “Larson, Burkhardt...Congratulations.”

“…I like that you’re playing it cool, like you weren’t there last night,” Sloane whispered.

Renard put a finger to his lips. “I have to remain somewhat professional as your boss. But I may have let it slip.”

Sloane tilted her head a little till he ushered them in and there was a big banner over their desks that read _Happy Birthday!_ And then a piece of computer paper with a very obvious Microsoft Word printed _And congrats!_ With clipart of diamond ring on it was taped under that. Everyone cheered and clapped, and they blushed but smiled as they came over to shake their hands.

“About time!”

“Oh, the ring is lovely! Good choice, Nick!”

“Can they technically be partners if their married?”

“Who cares!”

Nick and Sloane smiled through all of it before sitting down. The little paper sign fell as they did, fluttering onto her desk. They looked at one another over their computer screens and then broke into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, you two are going to be so much worse now,” Hank sighed.

“Worse?” Nick asked.

“The lovey-doveyness. It’s going to be like, maxed out, huh?”

“You weren’t before you were married?”

“Oh, no, I was. But I think you two are going to keep it up a lot longer. Probably forever,” he winked. Sloane blushed but then smiled again.

Meanwhile, the real Nick arrived in the unreal world. It was a strange feeling to get shoved through the layers of Sloane’s mind and into her dream. Even weirder was how it looked. The world was fuzzy and out of focus, things frozen around it. He was a bit concerned as he looked around until he saw things were in focus in the distance. He quickly walked that way and as he got closer things were moving and more in focus. _It’s like in a video game…only what she’s currently dreaming about is in focus and moving, everything else is like it’s waiting to load…_ And what she was currently dreaming about seemed to be the police station. The world seemed strangely grounded actually—no flying people or monsters or anything like that. It was…mundane, it felt.

“Hey, Burkhardt! Congrats!” One of his coworkers—Denver? Yeah, that was Denver—said, clapping him on the back.

 _Oh, they can see me here…Congratulations?_ “Uh, thanks!”

He smiled, then paused. “Wait…you should be inside already…” The hair on the back of his neck stood up when Denver’s eyes turned an eerie blue and he tilted his head, his voice going monotone. “Why aren’t you inside?”

“I…came out for some fresh air?” Nick tried.

“Liar…you do not belong here…” the others around him paused and turned to look at him, they’re eyes turning blue. Denver’s hands reached up and Nick quickly ducked out of the way and rushed inside. He had to duck and weave but managed to get to a hidden corner. He noted they looked around a bit but then seemed to relax and go back to what they should be doing. _What the hell was that?!_ He calmed himself down and sat back. _It’s like I’m a virus and they’re trying to get me…except they’re the virus in this case really. I gotta find Sloane and get her out of here, wake her up!_ Standing, he made his way quietly around the side toward the bullpen. He saw the back of Sloane’s head at the computer, Hank and…himself. _Oh, that is weird…_ He quickly ducked out of the way, unsure if the others would notice there being two of him. What would happen then? _Maybe I can just get her alone to talk…_

He looked around, trying to figure out how. It seemed like everyone was going through the motions, but he noted that the screens didn’t have any actual text on them. Neither did the files. This dream was just making it seem like her day to day job was still intact. _Is this what her dream is? To…keep things as they are?_

He sat thinking for a while before looking at her desk again. There was a cup of coffee at her side, precariously close to the edge. Looking around, he found a rubber band and box of paper clips. He set it up between his fingers and drew the paperclip back. _I may not be able to “control” things, but if they see me it means I can interact with things here…_ He let it fly after carefully aiming and hit the cup. It didn’t tip over, but Sloane didn’t notice it either. He quickly reloaded and tried again, ducking when he missed, and Hank blinked and looked around in confusion. He waited a few minutes before drying again and hitting the cup hard enough it tipped over.

“Ah!” Sloane yelped, trying to keep it from falling and ending up with coffee on her jacket. “Dammit!”

“You okay?” Other Nick asked quickly.

“Yeah, it was pretty cold,” she sighed. Real Nick blinked and looked up at the clock on the wall, shocked that half the day had passed. No one else seemed to bother him though, as if they didn’t realize it was strange he was there. _Adalind did say time might pass differently…_

“I’ll get some paper towels,” Hank said, standing.

“Thanks. I’m going to try and wash this out,” she sighed, standing to head to the women’s room. Real Nick watched her go to the door and waiting. She came out a few minutes later, blotting the wet spot on her sleeve. Biting his lip, he quickly made his move and quietly ran up behind her. Taking her shoulders, she gasped and looked up in surprise as he opened the door to the evidence room nearby. “Nick, what are you--?”

“Shhh!” He quickly pushed her inside, closing it behind him. He looked out the window and sighed. “Good, I don’t think anyone noticed…”

“What…Oh!” she laughed, and Nick jumped when she felt her arms go around him. “At work? Really?”

“Huh?” He turned, confused, and then felt his face flush at the smile she was giving him. Warm, sweet, radiant and not an expression he’d ever seen on her face before. “S-Sloane?” She smiled and moved her arms up to his neck, standing on her toes and pressing her lips against his. Nick’s eyes widened and he felt his pulse ratchet up a few beats per minute and the heat flush his face as if it were his own, real body. _Kissing…Sloane is kissing me? Kissing_ me _? Why?! What?!_ The best or worse part was it felt…good. This wasn’t a spell by a wesen, it was Sloane pouring her feelings into a kiss. He almost gave in but reminded himself quickly that this wasn’t right. _Juliette, remember, Juliette!_ She pulled back before he could do it, mainly because his brain was still short-circuiting, but giggled at him. And giggling was different too, but not unpleasant either.

“I like the initiative, but I’m not doing anything in evidence lock up, handsome,” she said, smiling teasingly.

“I…huh?” he asked, blushing up to his hair line it felt.

She smiled. “Playing innocent is cute, but it’s still no. But later at home, I’m more than happy to see what you have in mind.” She kissed his cheek and his hair should really be on fire now with how hot it was under his skin. “I know it’s my birthday but let me cook tonight, okay? I’ve got a recipe in mind.”

“I—wait, this isn’t—Sloane—” he said, trying to collect his thoughts.

She frowned and then lifted her hands to his face. She was looking at him with a sincere expression of worry, but also intimacy that made his stomach flip. “Nick? Is something wrong?”

“I…Um…N-No?”

“Okay…I’ll get back to work then.” She smiled and headed out the door again and Nick leaned against the wall. His fingers went to his lips and his mind was racing. _Sloane kissed me. She acted like we were together…why would she…? I-is it part of the dream? Why does she dream of that?_ He remembered then when, being so tired after performing the protection spell against Dierdre, Sloane said “I love you” to him. He’d taken it to be a friendly endearment, but what if she meant it as more than that? He’d never even thought…

He shook his head a bit. It was shocking and it was confusing, but it didn’t change what he came here to do. _I have to do something to wake her up…If I just talk to her I’m sure I can make her see what’s going on._ Nodding to himself, he quickly went out the door to find her. If someone tried to stop him again he could use it as proof or fightback—it’s not as though they were the actual people. _And even if some things aren’t…like they are here, it’s better for her to wake up!_

He was rounding the corner when he heard Sloane exclaim, “Oma!” He jerked to a stop and stared as Sloane went to meet an older woman with silver hair, hugging her tightly. “Aunt Mim, Aunt Jean, you’re all here!”

“Of course, we are,” the older Rebecca said with a happy laugh. “We wouldn’t miss this birthday.”

“And some other big news, hm?” Mim said, Jean bouncing with excitement.

Sloane smiled and pulled back and Nick quickly ducked behind a wall before she saw him. _Her grandmother is alive…that…that does seem like something she’d dream about…This is a world where she didn’t die…But she still ended up here in Portland? We’re that important?_ He peeked again and saw Sloane talking with a huge smile on her face to her grandmother and Aunts, the other him there now with his arm around her shoulders. He honestly had never seen Sloane so…effortlessly happy. Even though she’d lightened up living in Portland, there was often a reserved feeling to her. As if she tried her best to keep her cards close to her chest. But here, she didn’t have the cruel upbringing. She’d likely lived with her grandmother all those years she lived with Dierdre, raised with love instead of cold indifference. _This is her dream…No, I have to wake her up…_

“You shouldn’t be here.” He looked up and froze when there was a group of officers around him, all with those inhumanly blue eyes

“How can you know that?”

Each of them smiled the same smile, and it was honestly the creepiest smile he’d ever seen as it didn’t reach those eyes. “I put a bit of myself in this spell to make sure she stays asleep. I know the difference between the actors, or puppets, I made for her and an interloper.” Each one spoke a different part, in the same monotone voice. Nick gasped as they all grabbed him at once and began dragging him away.

“What the—What?! Dierdre did this, didn’t she?”

“Oh please, you thought Dierdre did this? That woman dislikes cooking if it has more than three ingredients.”

Nick was struggling, but the dozen or so hands on him kept pulling him along and grabbing him. “Th-then who are you? Why do this? It could kill her!”

“Dierdre paid me to. Simple as that.” They opened another door and Nick was brought around to see a rather than the supply closet that should be there, it was now a steep cliff at the edge of a mountain. He grabbed the frame before he could be pushed through. “Now now, don’t fight. It won’t kill you. It’ll just wake you up.”

Nick braced himself more as they all tried to push. “Not…without…SLOANE!!” He managed to kick back and send one flying, then pushed back and end up in a sprawling pile.

Sloane jumped and turned to look towards the other side of the station, beyond one of the walls. “What was that…?”

“What was what, dear?” Jean asked.

Sloane looked at the Nick next to her, who smiled in confusion. “I thought I heard…Never mind, must be my imagination.”

The real Nick meanwhile was running back through the halls while a small mob was chasing him. _Okay, so whoever did this is here, can control this place, and is trying to keep me from waking her up…didn’t expect that. I need to find a place to hide out and then get Sloane alone!_

\---------------------

Hank and Wu arrived at Renard’s house and searched the front perimeter first. They didn’t see anything amiss, so they tried the front door and found it was unlocked. That raised some eyebrows and concern, but they quickly went inside and began searching the house. Nothing seemed out of place aside from the back door being wide open. Wu nodded to it and Hank nodded to the stairs, so they split up. Hank went up stairs while Wu searched the backyard.

After checking the bathroom and a couple of other rooms, Hank found Renard, sleeping on his bed. He frowned but walked over, setting a hand on his shoulder. “Captain? Captain, you okay?”

Renard started awake and blinked at him in confusion before sitting up. “Hank? What the heck?” he asked groggily.

“Sir, are you okay?”

He looked down at himself, making sure his old wounds weren’t bleeding again before back up at Hank. “Yes? Why are you in my house?”

Wu came up then, sighing in relief when he saw the Renard. “Oh, good, he’s okay. No sign of anyone out back or downstairs.”

“Why would there be?” Renard asked, losing some patience.

“We called you, sir, and a strange man picked up the phone. One with a British accent.”

Renard blinked and then looked around. “Uh…my phone…It’s probably downstairs in the living room.” He stood and headed down with them following, picking it up. He went a little pale as he read through it. “…I have a missed call from Nick, and then apparently one from you that someone answered…” he said.

“Did you remember leaving your doors unlocked?” Wu asked.

“No, no I usually lock them,” he said. “Why were you trying to call me anyway? What’s happened?”

“A lot,” Hank sighed.

“Henrietta was attacked last night,” Wu said.

“What?” he gasped.

“She’s alive. But was almost killed. The guy that’s been walking around slitting women’s throats paid her a visit we think.”

“What? Why, she doesn’t fit the victim profile,” he said, shaking his head.

“We don’t know. It’s just a theory because slitting throats isn’t exactly popular nowadays,” Hank said.

“I-But I just saw her last night!”

“Adalind mentioned that. It’s part of why we wanted to check with you, find out if you saw anything.”

“No, I didn’t…wait, you met with Adalind?” he said, alert again.

“Yeah, she uh…is the one doing that dream spell on Nick and Sloane,” Wu said.

“…Nick agreed to that?” he asked, maybe the most shocked now.

“Nick didn’t have a lot of choice,” Hank sighed. “Look, the man answered your phone, let’s focus on that. You were alone here?”

“Yes, of course…I was just resting after last night, and no one else should’ve been here…”

“The man on the phone said “we” a lot. “We’re” home, “we” had a rough night…”

Renard looked greatly disturbed and sat down, shaking his head. “I was alone…I was alone since coming home last night, no one should’ve been here, and the doors should’ve been locked…”

Wu and Hank looked at one another. “Okay…we’ll figure out what’s going on, don’t worry.”

\----------------------

“…I came to see how Sloane is doing. Can I come in?” Juliette asked, eying Monroe.

“Uh, well…” He glanced back and motioned to Adalind quickly behind his back. Adalind gave him a look of _WTF do you want me to do?!_ Before quickly climbing under the bed Sloane was in. “…I mean…they’re kind of out of it…”

“What?” Juliette pushed him a little to look in and slowed when she saw the set up. “…So…the spell is working?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Who did it? I thought Henrietta wasn’t able to,” she asked, walking around it to look it over.

“Uh, a friend of hers came by to help. Since she’d already promised to do it she had her come.”

“I see…” she said. She looked at the ring and sighed a little. “Guess I should’ve known he’d do what he wanted…”

“Huh?” Monroe asked.

“Nothing…” She turned away then paused and walked over where the book was laid out. “Is this the spell?”

“Uh, yeah. She’d already made the powdery stuff, and then Ad-another Hexenbiest did the rest.”

“…I haven’t actually tried something like this before…Guess I missed the opportunity,” she said, looking it over and then flipping the pages a little.

“Uh, maybe we shouldn’t play around with that?” Monroe asked gently.

“It’s a book, Monroe, it’s not going to bite me,” she said breezily.

“No, but I mean…we might need something in on that page later.”

“I’m not taking the book, calm down,” she sighed. She noticed another spell on a later page and paused.

“I didn’t say you were but—”

“Hey, I’m back with the coffee,” Rosalee said, coming through door.

Juliette used the distraction to pull out her phone and put it behind her back. “Oh, good. The gang’s almost all here.”

Rosalee’s eyes widened and she froze. “O-Oh, Juliette…I didn’t know you’d be coming by.”

She quirked a brow while blindly bringing her camera app up. “Really? Because you have three coffees.”

“Ah, that’s…for um…”

“The Hexenbiest who helped us. But she had to go run another errand. She’ll be back later,” Monroe said quickly. His wife sighed in relief.

“Well, maybe I’ll stick around and meet her. A Hexenbiest you all actually trust must be special.” She let go of her phone, and it floated up slightly to record the page she’d turned to as a video.

“Juliette,” Rosalee sighed, setting the coffee down on the table near Nick. Glancing up, her eyes widened when she saw Adalind under Sloane’s bed. She put a finger to her lips, looking worried as she tried to keep from being seen.

“What? Am I being too dramatic?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Monroe said, wincing. “I just…we’re all worried and on edge. With Dierdre and her attack here, and what she did to Sloane, and she stole the trailer—”

“She stole the trailer?” Juliette asked. She got her phone back into her hand and ended the recording.

“Yeah…and now he’s gone all _Inception_ into Sloane’s dreams and we’re just worried.”

“It’s been a hectic few days,” Rosalee sighed.

“Yeah…worried enough to ask me for help too.”

“…We thought you would want to,” she said, not quite looking at her.

“Maybe…but maybe I was a little angry that you all treated this like it was such a huge, awful thing until you _needed_ someone to do a spell.”

“That’s…fair,” he nodded, awkward. “Said so to Nick too…”

“It’s more than fair. None of you listen to me. You all assume the worst, that I have to be a monster now. None of you think I’m in control or making the right choice!” she said, becoming angrier.

“Hey, I am all about a woman’s right to choose—that’s going on a different topic, hold on,” he started, then fumbled awkwardly. Rosalee smiled a little. “Look, we’re realizing not all Hexenbiests are evil. But after everything we’ve dealt with, can you blame us for being a bit…nervous when we first found out?”

“Yes. I can. Because it’s still me. Just more confident now.”

“Juliette, is it confidence or is it a power rush?” Rosalee asked, more serious now.

“Yeah, we get that too when we woge—feeling like I’m invincible. But we’re not, and neither are you. Power isn’t everything—”

“Yeah, see, that’s what people without power say,” she cut him off. “Because they want to feel safer and better about themselves. That’s what I told myself when I found out what a Grimm is, and realized that I had to be very wily and lucky to stay with Nick. And even then there could be a time my luck ran out and I’d be backed into a corner…”

“We’d protect you,” Rosalee said.

She laughed and they flinched at how harsh it sounded. “You weren’t there when that bounty hunter was at the house. Neither was Nick or anyone else. I’d be dead now if I wasn’t a Hexenbiest, more than once actually.”

“We’re…glad you could defend yourself then,” Rosalee said. “But since then it just feels like you’re pulling away.”

“He pulled away first!” Juliette snapped, making them both jump.

“Didn’t…you start pulling away when you found out?” Rosalee asked.

Juliette narrowed her eyes. “…A bit. I mean, I was a bit worried what his reaction would be. And I was right, wasn’t I? Because if I’m not some damsel who has to be protected and a prize for Nick at the end, I’m not worth anything.”

“That’s not what we said, and you know it,” Monroe snapped. “Look, you can’t expect us to just be okay with this!”

“I can. Because I thought you were all my friends too. But I guess it’s obvious where your loyalties lie.” She looked over at the beds. “And I guess where Nick’s lie too…”

“What do you mean?” Rosalee asked.

She walked over slowly, eying the connection between them. Rosalee tensed but Adalind was curled up under the bed enough she wasn’t noticeable. “Nick was willing to look past needing a hexenbiest for Sloane…”

“…Because she’s his friend too,” Monroe said. “He asked for help from Renard’s mother when he lost his powers.”

“Yes, and that went so well for us,” she sneered. “But I have to wonder, is that all? They looked pretty happy at that dance competition…I don’t think I’d have gotten him to do something like that” she said.

“I-what? Juliette, I know you’re insinuating anything like…Nick loves you!” Rosalee said.

“And that’s never stopped someone before?” she asked dryly.

“Wait, she thinks Nick and Sloane…?” Monroe asked, clearly not having thought that at all.

“It’s not like that,” Rosalee said again. “Spells and wesen charms aside, Nick isn’t the kind of man to cheat on anyone. And as far as he’s still concerned, you and he are still in love.”

“Well maybe that’s what he thinks,” She bit out. “But if that was true, he sure as hell was ready to us _this_ for another woman.” She flicked the ring and there was a flash as the spell seemed to shake around them, almost like shards of glass cracking in the air before fading from their shocked audience’s view.

“Don’t do that!”

Juliette had been surprised by the reaction, but expression at the voice she heard made Monroe’s blood freeze. “No…No, he wouldn’t have…” she muttered.

Adalind sighed and climbed out from under the bed to stand between them, in front of Juliette, with spell binding between them. “…Hello, Juliette.”

“You,” she spit out. “You dare show up here—”

“Juliette, calm down,” Rosalee said, going to put a calming hand on her shoulder, then gasped as she was rebuffed with a bit of power. Not enough to send her flying but it made her shout and back up. Monroe quickly pulled her away.

“You want me to be calm with this-this underhanded _slut_ here.”

“Excuse you?” Adalind said. She then paused and took a breath. “Look, I…am sorry. For what I did. I made a mistake—”

“You’re mistake was coming here and thinking you’d leave in once piece!” Juliette said, raising a hand.

“Wait!” Adalind held up her own. “You can’t disturb the spell! If you do, Nick and this woman could end up vegetables or trapped in one mind together or who knows what else!”

“You expect me to believe you!?” she snarled.

“I’m not lying,” Adalind said, a touch desperate. “I’m trying to help! To make up for what I’ve done!”

“Nothing is going to make up for that!”

“…Maybe so, but I’m going to try,” she said, determined.

Juliette frowned, thrown a moment by the sincerity there. Then she glared. “Make it up to me by dropping dead!” She moved to dear the spell down to get to her, making that glass like effect in the air again, and Adalind threw up her hands to push her back.

“I said don’t!”

“Juliette!” Rosalee shouted, making her look at her. “I get you hate her, but she is helping! She’s the only help we have right now because you didn’t want to come!”

She glared at her and Monroe pulled her back. “You want to blame me?”

“No! I’m just saying…”

“No, I get it. I don’t come running and I’m selfish.” She walked over to Nick’s bedside. “I don’t like Nick being so close with other girls, I’m just crazy and jealous.”

“That’s not—”

“I don’t like my friends acting like I’m a problem that needs to be fixed— _until_ , they need me that is—and that’s just me being power hungry?” she reached up and took a bit of Nick’s hair in her fingers. “Maybe I want Nick’s opinion on this.”

“Juliette!” Monroe warned.

She pulled and the hair came out and they all held their breath. But Nick remained asleep. She glared. “Well, guess he’s having fun where he is…Or maybe you did something?” she eyed Adalind.

“I didn’t! The spell is just how Henrietta did it, but the sleep is magical. Something has to wake him up in the dream,” she said, looking at Monroe and Rosalee to be sure they knew she was telling the truth.

They nodded, looking at Juliette with more trepidation. ““Juliette, please, just…calm down,” Rosalee said, trying to keep her tone gentle. “We can work this out later, but right now Nick and Sloane are depending on her and if you disrupt the spell we’ll…we’ll fight you back and call the doctors in here if we have to.”

She looked at them, then looked at Adalind. “…Fine. Good luck then.” She turned and headed out the door and Rosalee let out the breath she was holding.

Adalind breathed out as well and looked over the connection quickly.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Yes and no…I don’t think they’ll get stuck together, but it might make both spells a little unstable…”

“Is that bad?” Monroe asked.

“I don’t know! It’s like crossing wires—it could short, it could still work, or it could catch on fire. I’m trying to avoid the last one.”

“Yes, keep doing that,” he said.

Rosalee sighed and handed her the cup of coffee she brought. “Here…we might have to stay alert for a while…” Adalind smiled and took it, thinking the same thing. She was still shaking and Rosalee put a hand on her shoulder gently. “You’re okay…”

“She wants me dead. And she’s willing to do it, you saw.”

“Yeah…that’s what worries me,” she sighed.

“…I might…know away to suppress her powers.”

Rosalee looked up quickly. “You do?”

“I _might_ ,” she stressed. “It’s going to be almost as involved as this spell…and considerably darker.”

“Well, she’s getting considerably darker so it might be best to do it…” Monroe sighed.

“We’ll have to wait till this is over though,” she gestured and Nick and Sloane.

“Hopefully that’s soon…” Rosalee said.

\-----------------------

As Nick was trying to figure out how to get out of the station, there was what felt like an earthquake. The world around them flickered like TV static, buildings nearly falling but quickly rebuilding themselves again, details shifting and changing like they weren’t sure where they went—flowers going from roses to daffodils, paint going through blue, green, back to tan, people switching positions or features as they walked down the street, etc. The officers after him suddenly froze as if the system was rebooting and then seemed to forget about him and walk away. He breathed out and quickly made his way out of the station, sticking to the backways and away from the “people” around him to get across the street. He winced when he felt a sharp pain in his scalp and felt the area, but nothing seemed out of place.

Sloane meanwhile gasped as the room shook. “W…what was that?” she asked.

“What was what?” Mim asked.

“That shaking!”

“What shaking? Are you alright, honey?” Jean asked.

“I…you didn’t feel that?” she asked, confused.

“Maybe you should sit…”

“I…n-no, I’m fine,” she said. She could swear she felt like the world was shaking a moment ago…She looked around, frowning when she saw someone was missing. “Oma?”

“Right here,” she smiled, stepping back into he room. “I went to go ask if you could have the afternoon off.”

“What? You didn’t have to do that,” she said.

“Oh, but your captain was so nice! He said he could spare you for an afternoon…but not both of you.” She looked at Nick apologetically.

He seemed to pause a moment but smiled. “That’s fine, really. I get to spend a lot more time with her than you all do.”

“I knew you’d understand,” she smiled. “I was thinking we could have some lunch, do a little shopping, etc.”

“That does sound nice…I can get some things to fix dinner too.” She smiled at Nick. “I was serious when I said I wanted to cook.”

Nick blinked, looking confused, but smiled all the same. “If you’re sure, I’m more than happy to let you cook.”

She smiled and Rebecca put her hands on her shoulders as she led her to the door. From there, they started walking to a café for lunch.

“So, how have you been?” Oma asked.

“How’ve I been? We talk almost every day in some form, Oma,” she laughed.

“Humor me.”

Sloane chuckled and started talking about this and that as they walked together, Mim and Jean joining in as they did. Rebecca asked questions about her friends, about Nick, about things in general and though Sloane knew she should already know this, she enjoyed talking through the walks and lunch and shopping.

“Should we look at wedding dresses?” Jean asked, eying a boutique nearby.

“It’s been less than a day, hon, let the girl adjust a little more,” Mim said.

“…Mine is probably still in the attic,” Rebecca murmured.

“What?” Sloane asked.

“Oh, just thinking that mine is probably still in the attic at the house. I…haven’t looked in a while.”

“Your wedding dress? What’s it like?”

“Oh, it was all the rage back in the forties,” she laughed. “It came to about here on my shins. Ivory and lace, a nice little swing skirt…It was a small ceremony because your father’s parents were…”

“Bigots.” She didn’t mince words, she knew.

“Well…yes,” she sighed. “But I loved the dress all the same. I saved a…a designer, during the war, and he made it for me as a thank you. We married in the woods with our friends, then danced the night away at the lake house.”

“That’s sounds romantic…” Sloane said. She remembered the story for the journals…why did she read her grandmother’s journals?

“Yes. When I was younger, I’d wanted to wear your grandmother’s dress though, from the twenties. It was a beautiful drapey, almost Grecian looking dress. I always thought she looked beautiful in photos…but the dress and the photos were burned in the bombing,” she sighed.

“…I didn’t know that. I’m sorry, Oma.”

Rebecca smiled and hugged her. “It’s alright, sunshine. Just remember, keep what’s really important safe.” Sloane nodded, smiling more.

Mim and Jean were looking at Rebecca curiously before looking at a clock. “Oh, Sloane, you wanted to make Dinner for Nick, didn’t you?”

“Oh! Yeah, I should hit the store real quick. I’m going to try your rib roast recipe,” Sloane said, smiling.

“Well, you’ll need plenty of time for that. Go on, we’ll visit later,” she smiled, kissing her forehead. Sloane smiled and headed back to get her car.

“…You don’t belong here,” Jean said, her voice that monotone and both she and Mim having unearthly blue eyes.

“…You know…I try to be a very good person, even now…but there are things I cannot forgive.” She turned and the two women backed up. “You’re going to tell me everything you know about what _Dierdre_ has done. I don’t care if you’re a fragment of the real culprit. I’ll make you tell me.”

Nick meanwhile was hiding across the street and watch Sloane leave. The world literally came more alive around her, as if they were waiting for her to start being alive and seem natural. _This spell is trying to make it seem like real life, but it can’t keep everything going at once…_ He looked at the police station and slowly walked forward. Inside it was like a wax museum—everyone was frozen in place, their eyes glassy, their poses stiff. It was creepy, especially given he knew these people so well. Hank and Him were frozen by their desks as if talking. That was even more strange, staring at himself. He waved a hand in front of the other-him’s eyes, ready for a fight. But he didn’t even flinch. “Freaky…I don’t know if this will work but…” He reached into his desk and pulled out his cuffs, cuffing his double to the desk by the wrist. “I need you to stay here for a bit.”

He then turned and headed out. _Okay, gotta get to Sloane…_ As he stepped out into the world, he was shocked to find it was already nearly sunset. “What? When…?”

“Time is a bit strange here.” Nick jumped and looked to his side to see Rebecca waiting for him.

“You…aren’t you one of them?”

“No,” she chuckled. “I switched places with the one this spell made. I spent a lovely afternoon with Sloane. Lunch, shopping, talking…things I never got to do with this older Sloane. It felt like hours to me, longer than it should’ve been and then she said she’d be heading home. I came back to find you.”

“I was only in there a couple of minutes…” he said.

“I think the time is focusing on her too, like the rest of this world…” She looked up at him. “You need to wake her up soon though. That shaking earlier isn’t a good sign I’m sure.”

“R-right…Where?”

“Her house. Well, here it’s your house too…” Nick blushed, and Rebecca tilted her head before smiling sadly. “You’re not together…”

“N-No! I mean, I had no idea she even…felt that way,” he said, blushing.

“I see…and you never thought about her that way?”

“No…” he said, honestly.

She nodded slowly and sighed. “Then I’m afraid you may have to break her heart for this…”

Nick was quiet, then looked at her. “Why…do you talk like you’re an outsider? I thought…”

She smiled and then put a hand on his shoulder, and it was like the world sped by under their feet till they were outside of Sloane’s house. Nick was shocked, looking around and then back at her. “It’s a bit complicated, but I manage to figure a few things out…go help her figure things out too.”

Nick nodded slowly and turned. He swallowed and took a deep breath before walking to the door. It was unlocked when he tried it and he stepped inside. He heard the sound of cooking and looked to the left to the kitchen. Sloane was moving around, cutting things up and following a recipe as she went. She was dressed in a nice black dress with a green apron over the front, the table was already nicely set with candles, and she was dancing just slightly. She looked happy. Nick felt guilt boil up in his stomach, but he took a breath as he started towards her. “Sloane?”

She paused and looked up before smiling. “Hey! You’re home early. I’m almost done though, I just gotta finish up this salad. I’m making Oma’s rib roast; I know you’ll love—”

“Sloane!” She jumped and looked at him, eyes wide. “I…we need to talk.”

She blinked but nodded. “Okay…” She wiped her hands down the front of her apron and took it off, hanging it up on a peg. Nick gestured at the dining table and she walked over and sat down in a chair. Nick didn’t sit, instead pacing slightly. She frowned, watching him. “Nick, what’s wrong?”

He paused and looked at her before taking another breath. “…You and I…we’re together here?”

She smiled in confusion. “Yyyyes? I mean, this is our house. Our bedroom is over there.”

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long have we been together?”

“…We’ve been together since a couple of years ago—”

“Exactly how long,” he pressed.

“I…um…Four years, I came here four years ago—”

“I’ve only known you two years. You’ve only been in Portland for two years.”

“What?” She laughed.

“You came to Portland two years ago on a hunt.”

“A hunt? I…I don’t hunt,” she said, shaking her head.

“…A hunt for wesen,” he clarified. “A Wolkenkratzer.”

Sloane looked like she was trying to remember something and winced, rubbing over her forehead. “I…what?”

“You…don’t remember being a Grimm?” he asked, honestly surprised.

“Grimm…I…No,” she shook her head. “Nick what are you talking about?”

“Sloane, you’re a Grimm!” Nick said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I am too. We…we see things others don’t. Wesen. How some people have a-a different form.”

“What…?” She flinched, rubbing over her forehead. “You…you’re not making any sense…”

“You’re under a curse! None of this is real! You’re in a dream…”

Sloane stared before shaking her head again, putting her hands on his. “No…no, that’s not possible. That’s crazy! Nick why are you saying this?” her voice cracked as she spoke, shaking a little.

Nick grimaced and then squeezed her shoulders. “…We aren’t together, Sloane…not in the real world.”

“…What?” she asked, face falling.

He looked her hard in the eyes, even as he tried to find the words. “I don’t…I’m not _in_ love with you. You’re my friend.”

“Nick—”

“I love Juliette,” he said, a bit more forcefully than he intended.

Sloane’s eyes widened a lot of color seemed to drain out of her. “…You…what?”

“I love Juliette,” he said, honestly even though it hurt to see as she slowly deflated in shock and grief. “I…I’m sorry…”

“But…” she put a hand over her left, hiding the ring, her mind racing.

“Sloane, don’t listen to him!” They both jumped and she was out of her chair. The other Nick was in the archway to the hall. Neither had seen or heard him come in and really, he couldn’t have from that direction. He just appeared. “He’s lying!”

“What the hell?” she gasped, looking between them.

“Sloane, he’s not real,” Nick said quickly.

“No, he’s the fake! He’s trying to confuse you!” he moved towards them and Nick got between them.

“Stop it! Sloane, I know it’s not what you want to hear, but you have to wake up! If you don’t, you could die! Adalind used a spell so I could get to you!”

Sloane was looking between them, confused. “I, who-what?”

“Sloane!” They said at once and she backed away, looking frightened.

“I don’t understand…I thought…” She grunted, holding her head as it felt like it was going to split. The world began shaking a bit.

“Oh no, not yet,” the other Nick said, eyes turning blue. The world around them was suddenly dark, like a blackness that that felt like the world fell away.

“Sloane?!” Nick said.

“Nick!” She looked around, trying to find him in the dark. Then the world lit up again.

\-------------------------

Juliette should’ve felt more guilt for breaking the Spice Shop’s window. But she didn’t. She didn’t even use magic, just an old rod from a nearby dumpster. Unlocking the back door, she stepped through and pulled up the video she took of the book, pausing it on a clean shot. She started going around, pulling some ingredients down. She rummaged through Rosalee’s tools until she finally found what she needed: a large but shallow bowl made out of glass. She set it down in the back room, confident Monroe and Rosalee wouldn’t be back anytime soon. Looking over the picture on her phone, she started adding in the ingredients. She growled when she messed up once and dumped it out before starting again. The last thing she added to the pile was the bit of hair she’d taken from Nick.

Once the herbs were measured out, she filled a pitcher with water. She looked at the instructions again and took a breath before she woged and began pouring the water in. “Falling water, as you dance, give me now the secret glance. As you settle and you steep, look to the one who is fast asleep. Visions that were once hidden to me, reflect his dreams that I may see.”

She watched as the herbs clouded over and turned red as she poured the water in. As they settled though, the water looked almost like liquid mercury in how shiny it was, before clouding over again and showing her a vision of Nick in the woods. She realized she couldn’t hear anything and clicked her tongue but could tell he was calling for Sloane and running through the woods.

\-------------------------

Sloane cleared her eyes after the sudden shift from the darkness. Blinking, she saw she was now in the woods, and was dressed in her normal clothes.

“Sloane!” She looked up and saw Rosalee, Monroe, Nick and the others ahead of her, on a wooded path. “C’mon, we gotta get going! They’re getting away!”

“Who? What?”

“The killer! We need to find out what wesen they are!”

“Wesen…” She grunted as it felt like a flood of memories came back to her. Of books, and wesen, and training and fighting and hunting. _I…what is going on?_ “Right…I’m a Grimm…but why…”

“You don’t need to ask questions,” Nick said.

She frowned. “I…think I do. What are we hunting again?”

“We don’t know,” Rosalee said.

“We should have some idea. What did it do?”

They all paused and looked at one another, they’re eyes turning blue. “…Burning.”

“Like and Excandesco? A damonfeur? We should be able to figure that out. Did we go to the trailer? My house?”

“Ugh, why are you making this so hard,” Hank asked, his eyes still blue. “We have to come up with a whole damn plot for you? Use your imagination!”

“…Like this?”

They gasped when an Excandesco appeared in the middle of them, on fire. “Sloane!” Rosalee shouted. She gasped and quickly held up a hand and he disappeared again.

“…It really is a dream…” she muttered.

“Of course, it is,” Hank sighed. “Guess I should’ve known Dierdre’s daughter would figure that out and how to control it…”

“Why…why though? Why did she do this?” Even though she was already feeling betrayed by everything that woman had done, this hurt on another level. “Why does she want to trap me in a goddamn dream?!”

“I don’t know,” Nick said, holding up his hands and dropping them. “Why does she do anything? To be stronger. Maybe she saw you as a threat. Maybe this was the nicest way she had to get rid of you. But I mean hell, even in your perfect world, you couldn’t imagine her there, being nice to you, could you?”

Sloane didn’t answer but knew it was true. She couldn’t imagine Dierdre being warm and loving. She could hardly imagine her smile when it didn’t involve a hunt. “…Who are you?”

“I’m a lot of things, honey,” Rosalee said, those eerie blue eyes looking her over. “You can call me Morgan, I suppose. But that’s all your getting.”

“You have a face with a name?”

She smiled, and it was much too predatory for Rosalee’s face. “Of course. But you don’t need to see it.”

“You don’t need to see anything you don’t actually want to. We can erase all those bad memories. We can make it so you never have to be scared again. Or alone,” Hank went on.

“What…?” she asked, confusion and trepidation growing.

“We tried to give you a perfect world,” Rosalee said. “But you started trying to remember.”

“So now we’re here,” Nick said. “We’re hunting again. Putting ourselves in danger…” She blinked and then gasped, backing away when suddenly they were all dead, in bloody heaps on the ground. “Things go wrong on hunts though,” his voice echoed.

“No…no no no…” she whispered, feeling her legs shake as she saw their dead eyes staring at her. She then froze and looked at her hands, which were covered in blood.

 _“Assuming you didn’t do it yourself,”_ they all said.

“No!” Sloane screamed, her mind going wild. An arm them came around her and pulled her close, the other hand coming up to cover her eyes.

“It’s not real!” Nick yelled, having found her after crashing around the woods. He had trouble looking at the scene as well but focused on keeping her close.

_“You can go back to that beautiful dream, Sloane…just relax and go back.”_

“No, Sloane, you have to wake up!” Nick said, squeezing her.

_“He doesn’t love you, Sloane. We can make him love you. You’ll have a real life. You’ll be happy here. No more fighting, no more death…”_

“It’s not real,” Nick said again, softer. “I’m sorry…but it’s not real. Don’t listen to them.”

“…I knew…”

Nick froze a bit and then looked at her. “What?” They gasped when the world went dark again. Nick felt invisible hands grab him and pull him away. “Sloane!”

“Nick?” She turned, but she was faced with a door. “Nick, where are you?!”

“I’m right here.” She turned and blinked in confusion. Nick was in front of her, but he was dressed in a military uniform. An old Military uniform, from the 1940s. Behind him was what looked like a party, and everyone was dressed as though it was the end of WII. She was confused then looked down to see she was in a green A-Line dress that went to her knees. Her hair was styled more into a Victory roll style—the kind she’d seen in old photos of her grandmother.

“What the hell?” she said, feeling over a longer lock of hair. It was not that long a second ago.

“C’mon, don’t I get a dance with my girl?” Nick said

She looked around, seeing the others also dressed like it was the 40s. The men in suits and waist coats with ties, the girls in similar A-Line dresses in different colors and prints, with their hair done up. But they were standing like mannequins, watching them. This wasn’t right. “W…what is going on?”

“You wanted to feel like how your grandmother felt in her diaries, didn’t you? You want to live that kind of life? Adventurous and sweet at the same time? Loved? Not alone?” he asked, taking her hand. The band started to play _Some Sunny Day_ and he tugged on her hand again to tug her to the dance floor. She hesitated but he pulled her in close, swaying with her in his arms. It wasn’t like how they danced before, grand and showy. It was close, intimate, and just as passionate with the smallest of moves. “We can do anything here, Sloane. Any fantasy, any life you want is yours. And we can change it any time. You can live a hundred different lives, all of them how you want without any of the bad. If you don’t want Nick anymore, I could bring back someone else…” He changed suddenly into a woman—she was Japanese, with beautiful dark eyes and a heart shaped face. “Someone you miss?”

“…Here I thought you’d try Collin,” she said, her mouth feeling dry and her heart a little pinched.

“I know better than to bring up the painful parts of your past…”

“You say that wearing that face…” she said, squeezing the shoulder almost painfully.

“Right…” They changed back into Nick on another turn around the room. He pressed his thumb to the ring on her hand. “You really want to give this up though?”

She hesitated, feeling that fuzzy feeling trying to push into her mind. “Stop it…”

“Sloane, please,” he said, looking more pleading. The door opened again, and Nick managed to push his way through, shutting it on the hands trying to drag him away at him. He looked confused at the change in scenery a moment, but Sloane looked at him and then back at the other Nick.

“I knew something was wrong from the start…” she said quietly.

“That’s impossible, this spell is perfect,” he said. This creator’s pride was leaking back through.

“Maybe…but there was a part of me that knew no matter how much I wanted it to be real, it wasn’t…” she said. He frowned more as started slowly disappearing as if made of dust.

“Sloane?” the real Nick asked. She winced at his voice but turned to him.

“I…love you, Nick. I really do. I’m not sure when it happened exactly, but I realized it a while ago…”

“…I had no idea…” he said honestly.

“Of course, that was obvious. Even dancing,” she said, laughing a little through the tightness in her chest. “…Screw it…It’s already out there…” She turned to him and smiled. “I am…so, so glad we met. Meeting you is when I started to really live.”

“Sloane— “

“Let me finish!” she ordered, shutting him up. She took a shuddering breath and continued. “You ask if I want more? I know I do. But you’ve already given me so much. When things were hard and confusing, you were there to show me that struggling with what we do isn’t a bad thing. That there can be more than one answer. That having a life outside of what we are is possible. Before I knew it, I was always aware of you. I’d look to you for your opinions and insights. It made me feel happy when I could help you. It even made me happy sharing your frustrations. I enjoyed talking about anything with you. I wanted to make you laugh when things got rough. Make things better and carry that burden with you. I was proud of the moments you were strong, scared when you were in danger…Even when I was angry with you, I felt bad for it because I didn’t want that. Trying to stay mad at you before was because I wanted to stop feeling what I did before, but staying away from you was hard…Working together with you made me want to work even harder at being not just a Grimm, but a better person…I mean, Rosalee and Monroe and Hank and everyone do to, but I think yours is the example I started trying to follow. Ironic, huh, considering how we started out? So…thank you for making me the person I am today.”

Nick’s eyes were wide, and he felt something in his chest knot up into a lump that made it hard to breathe. “Sloane…”

“I know,” she said again. “I know you still love Juliette…That’s okay. I told myself already you aren’t mine. I just wanted to…not feel this deeply before you ever found out…”

Nick swallowed but walked up and wrapped his arms around her. “I…I’m sorry…”

Sloane’s hands tightened and she leaned her head into his chest. “I know…because you’re so damn good…” she said quietly. She reached up and put a hand on his chest. “It was nice to pretend for a little while though…” She looked up and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. Nick was surprised but closed his eyes and kissed back softly.

\--------------------------

Juliette grabbed the bowl and threw it against the wall as she saw the kiss. Watching the liquid turn back to water and herbs, it boiled slightly in her rage as it dripped to the shattered glass below. She panted, digging her nails into the table as she felt rage over come her. Jars shook around her, and she paused and took a deep breath. Wrecking the shop was tempting, but more jbroken glass everywhere wasn’t going to help her. Looking at her phone she grabbed it and pulled up her recent calls and redialed the most recent.

“Juliette?” Kenneth asked.

“…I’m ready to discuss working together,” she said.

“…Wonderful,” he smiled. “Can you meet at the hotel?”

“I’m on my way,” she said, heading for the door. She didn’t bother cleaning or locking up as she stalked down the street. _If he’s ready to move on, so am I…But I’ll make sure he never forgets me._

\-----------------

Sloane pulled back just as quickly, looking a bit shamefaced at the sudden kiss but trying to smile. “Thank you…And sorry…”

“Y-you don’t have to apologize …”

“I do…because I don’t…want you to see me like this…even in a dream. So, you have to wake up first,” she said, tears coming to her eyes. She pushed him suddenly and Nick gasped as the ground gave away under him and he was falling.

Sloane closed the hole up again and she wiped at her eyes as she started crying in earnest. She could feel the ring on her finger disappear into dust like the other fake Nick. “Dammit…dammit…so stupid…”

“Are you that surprised?”

Sloane winced at the voice. She didn’t need to look to see Dierdre behind her. “Stop…”

“You stupid girl,” she said. “Did you really think you’d get some sort of happy ending? You’re a Grimm! There is no happy ending for us!”

“Stop it,” she muttered again, trying to wipe at the tears more. The words had been spoken to her before in the past, after a boy had done nothing but give her a flower on valentines. But it’d just been a joke, giving the “weird girl” a gift. She’d been 12 and it had still hurt but telling Dierdre had only made things worse. The tears were running down her cheeks in a steady stream, but she could see black water forming around her feet, rising up. She couldn’t move. She was frozen, paralyzed. It felt like dozens of hands were holding her to the ground, still trying to keep her there. _I need…I need to wake up…_

“You’re a weak, stupid girl!” The water was rising to her waist. The juke box playing music fizzled and it stopped, and she was left with the silence and Diedre’s voice echoing in the now empty room as it moved up to her chin. “Love isn’t something to want, I told you this over, and over, and over! If you want to live in dreams, you should just _stay here._ ”

“That’s enough!” Sloane fell forward onto her knees at the voice and the feeling of pressure around her that blew the water and Diedre away. Looking up, she saw her Grandmother in front of her now. She looked at her sadly. “Oh Sloane…You’re not stupid, you never were…”

“…Y-you’re not real…” she said, shaking her head. “You’re here because I want you here and the dream brought you to…to try and keep me here.”

“…In dreams, the veil between worlds is very thin, Sunny,” she said gently, reaching up to wipe at her face with gentle, familiar hands. Sloane blinked, looking at her in confusion. “Diedre wasn’t really here…that’s how she is in your mind. And I’m sorry she was never the mother you needed…I wish I’d been there for you. Seen you grow…Well, I guess I still get to comfort you after your first broken heart…well, not first maybe…” she said gently. Sloane looked at her, uncertain, but her arms went around her slowly and suddenly she was a child again, in her grandmother’s arms. Small, weak, but protected. Rebecca hugged her close and rocked her gently. “You’ll need to wake up soon…but just a moment longer…give me just a moment, because I missed you too…” she said. She hummed the rest of _Some Sunny Day,_ just like she did when she was young and the feeling around her was too much like then to be something she conjured up on her own. She closed her eyes, leaning into her as the world turned white.

\---------------------

Nick woke with a start, gasping after falling through the gap in the dream. The ring broke like it was made of chalk, severing the connection between them. Nick looked at it, the burned bits on the ground and the diamond now black, but then turned his eyes up to Sloane, still asleep.

“Nick?” Monroe asked. His head whipped to him, realizing how disoriented he was when he forgot he was in a hospital room. “Nick, what happened?”

“I…Um…” Where did he start? Where did he finish?

“Why isn’t she awake?” Rosalee asked, squeezing Sloane’s hand worriedly. She looked at Adalind, who was looking her over.

“I-I’m not sure, unless Nick wasn’t able to wake her up.”

“I tried…” he said faintly, looking at her prone form. Reaching out, he set a hand on hers. It twitched when he touched it and he looked at her face. “Sloane?”

She slowly opened her eyes, blinking dazedly. “What…?” she rasped.

“Sloane!” Rosalee gasped, leaning over to awkwardly hug her as she was laying down. “You’re awake! Thank God!!”

Sloane grunted. “…Move…”

“Huh?”

“Move!” she suddenly lurched up and leaned over the side of the bed away from them, vomiting up a black blob that splat to the ground. It was about the size of a golf ball but had the consistency of dried rubber cement. She coughed, spitting up a little blood and fluid and shuddering. Rosalee was rubbing and pounding over her back furiously both in comfort and trying to loosen up any other bits.

Adalind looked around and grabbed the bottle that the dream spell had been in and scooped the black ball up and screwed the lid on tight. “Okay…so that’s disgusting…”

“Try coughing it up,” Sloane groaned. Rosalee helped her sit back and she groaned at the pain in her chest. Monroe was using the remote to help her sit up and she sighed. She looked up and blinked, a little black ooze still running from her mouth as she stared at Adalind. “…Sorry, do I know you?”

“Uh…” She hesitated and set the jar down before quickly pouring a glass of water and handing it to her. “Here, rinse your mouth out.”

Sloane narrowed her eyes but took the glass and swished the water around before spitting it back into the glass. Adalind took it to dump in the nearby bathroom. “…What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Rosalee asked.

“I remember…Diedre taking control of me. And I…” She looked down, pulling the hospital gown front down enough to see the bandage stuck to her chest. Nick blushed a little, but also felt the guilt twist him. “Huh…yeah, that explains the pain…ow…” she groaned, leaning back again.

“There was a curse under that too,” Adalind said. “It put you into a dream state…”

“Do you not remember?” Nick asked.

“Uh…no…” she shook her head, frowning as she tried to think. “Trying to stop myself killing you is the last thing I kind of remember…are you okay?”

Nick stared a moment before nodding. “Y-yeah, I’m fine…”

“Good,” she sighed, then grunted again.

“Should we get a nurse? Get you some pain killers?” Monroe asked.

“Maybe…how did I sleep through this…?”

Adalind hesitated before stepping up. “Um…pardon me, let me try something…” Sloane arched her brow and watched her hand as it went over the bandage. She held it there for more than a couple of minutes.

“…Y’know, I appreciate you still want to try something after seeing me barf, but you could at least wait till—Oh!” She jumped a little.

“Sloane?” Nick asked, alert immediately.

“Tingles…” she muttered.

“I’m just trying to help that healing along,” Adalind gritted out, as if pushing something heavy. She kept working for several minutes and everyone was quiet until she then gasped and took her hand away. “Ugh…it’s a lot harder than I thought…”

Sloane blinked and breathed deeply. “…It feels better though…” She reached up and pulled the bandage away. To see the wound was nearly healed—it was still pink and tender, but since it was stitched the edges were closed. It was as if she’d healed ten days in a matter of minutes

“Whoa,” Monroe said, looking at it in surprise.

“That’s amazing…” She looked at Adalind and frowned worriedly as she leaned against the bed. “You okay, Adalind?”

“Adalind?” Sloane asked, alert.

“Yes…hi,” she said, smiling worriedly. “Um…I’m Adalind Schade…”

“…” She looked at Nick. She was uncertain but he could tell, even now, she would fight her.

“…She helped us,” Nick sighed. “She saved you, in a way.”

“In a way? You wouldn’t have been able to without me!” she pointed out. She paused and took a deep breath. “But…Yes. I’m trying the whole…making amends thing.”

She looked at Nick and the others again and they nodded. “Okay…”

“I’m going to try and help with Juliette too,” she said. “But I’m going to need a day to rest…Healing was worse than that dream spell without something to work it through, like a potion…”

“That’s fine. We can meet at the shop later,” Rosalee said. “I should still get a doctor though.”

“Uh…how are we going to explain…” He gestured at his own chest. “I mean, they’ll notice that it’s not like a fresh wound anymore…”

“Ah…”

Sloane grunted and looked around. “Ah…shit, my phone and wallet are back in Wildred…” She looked at Nick. “You have your library card?”

“Yeah, I have it,” he nodded.

She nodded and motioned to a pen and paper on a nearby table that Monroe handed her, and she wrote down a number. “Call this, give them the number on your card, they’ll give you a doctor’s name and page him for you.”

“Okay,” Nick nodded, taking the number.

“I should, uh…get this somewhere safe,” Adalind said, holding up the jar. The little glob inside jiggled like a mound of blackberry jelly. “I don’t know what to do with it, but Henrietta might, when she’s feeling better…”

“Right,” Rosalee nodded. “I’m going to get you something to eat.”

“…Yeah, I’m hungry now that you mentioned it.”

“I’ll come with you and get enough we can all eat together,” Monroe said.

“Oh, but…” She looked at Sloane.

“It’s fine,” she held up a hand. “I can be alone for a couple of minutes, get my head on straight. I’m safe in a hospital.”

“You’d think that…” He looked at Adalind, remembering when she dressed as a nurse to try and kill Marie.

“…Right, yes, I’m sorry for that too,” she said awkwardly. “I’m just gonna…” She quickly shuffled out the door with the jar in her arms.

“You sure you can trust her?” Sloane asked.

“Honestly…maybe. She did actually help and seems sincere, I think. But I’m fine making her squirm a little first.” Sloane and the others smiled a little and Rosalee gave her another hug before heading out with Monroe. Nick was heading for the door as well but paused a moment. “Hey…do you really not remember anything from your dream?”

“Uh…no. Why?” she asked, looking worried.

“…No reason,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

She nodded, sighing as he left. She looked around a little before turning to gaze out the window, she began humming _Some Sunny Day_ softy to herself with a wistful tap of her fingers on her lap.

\-----------------------

Juliette headed up to the penthouse without any resistance. They were expecting her it seemed and the big man at the door opened it for her to come inside. Kenneth was sitting a table near the window and smiled as she came in. A bottle of champagne was chilling in an ice bucket on the table and two glasses were waiting with him. “Good evening.”

Juliette arched her brow but sighed and walked over to sit with him. “Good evening…”

“Now, no need to be quite so morose,” he said, taking the bottle out and pouring them a glass each. “I mean I understand, it’s not a _cheerful_ reason you’re here. But it could still be a good thing.”

“…What exactly do I get out of this again?” she asked, taking the champagne.

“Well, if this goes well, I’m on the fast track to be the new crown prince after my cousin’s…unfortunate death,” he smiled. Juliette wondered, idly, if Kenneth was responsible for that, but didn’t really care. “If that happens, I will have even more power than I do now. Power enough I can get you a new life anywhere in the world. Money, prestige…Tutors in your powers, if you desire, or I can see about procuring the materials you need for self-study. And if this works out as well as I hope, perhaps it could lead to us doing business more often. For extra pay, of course.”

“…Being King is that important?” she asked, sipping the champagne. It was good, she had to admit. “I mean…I’ll be honest, the Royal family doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.”

“It is complicated, I’ll admit,” he sighed.

“Explain it to me. Because right now, you’re making promises on _if_ you become king,” she said.

Kenneth pursed his lips but nodded and set his glass down, leaning forward. “Very well…Once upon a time—”

“Really?” she asked blandly.

“Let me continue. Once upon a time, there was a King with six sons, and a King with a single daughter. The two kings wanted to join their kingdoms, but the first king was unsure which of his sons would be the best choice as a betrothed. So he set for them a quest: to bring him a powerful weapon. The sons all set out to find the best sword, strongest bow, or most advanced piece of weaponry they could find. The last son returned however with a man. The man had with him a single, small box in the palm of his hand. Everyone laughed until he held the box up to the court and said one word… “Woge”.”

“A Grimm?” Juliette asked, engrossed despite herself.

“Indeed. Several of the court woged then, shocking many others and nearly causing a panic. ‘Kneel’, he ordered, and they did so, though many looked scared and flustered. “Kill each other.” And they did, turning the hall into a field of carnage until only one was left, and the shocked king sat on his throne. He held the box out to the king. ‘Use this and you may order the true beasts of this world as you see fit to protect your kingdom. What I want in return is your permission to hunt those you don’t need without any reprecussions.’ I know, charming,” he said, taking a sip at her frown. “But those are Grimms for you.”

“…What happened? With the king?”

“Ah. Well, power is alluring. He awarded the prize to his youngest and sent him to be married. The Verrat was created, and every new member took an oath before the king to protect any member of the royal family, be they crowned or not. And it's an oath they must follow to the death, whether they want to or not.” He smiled at Rispoli who only nodded.

"Why would they join?" she aksed, eyeing him.

"Wonderful benefits. Health and monetary. Rispoli here has a large family, many siblings and only his father. He joined young and rose through the ranks. We're very proud of him," he said. It sounded more like he was talking about a dog.

"Thank you, your highness," he said, not making any indication he minded.

"But, back to the story. The king began ordering the wesen of the kingdom to do as he wished and built a great kingdom…but with greatness comes a target on your back. Another kingdom waged war, hoping to get that power for themselves. They destroyed the youngest son and his family as they tried to stop the invaders, spreading to their borders. The war raged for a long time and even whatever power he had couldn’t save the kingdom. To protect his family, he swore them to secrecy and gave whatever the power was to his eldest son and sent them out to another kingdom. From then on, we are royalty without a true kingdom—we’re found in Austria, Bavaria, England, France…we have our titles, but our kingdom has been lost for nearly a millennium.”

Juliette tilted her head a little. “…You want that kingdom.”

He smiled. “I do. I’m rather tired of being in the shadows. The King and Viktor are too, but we all have different ideas on how to go about it. Frederick thinks this “prophecy” Adalind’s child might be part of is the key. Viktor thinks of it like a business, all trades and information gathering and all that.”

“And you?”

“Me? I think we have a goddamn talisman that makes half the world do as we say, and we should damn well use it!” he laughed. “Just order them to take it back for us. Downside is you can’t broadcast it; they have to be in a room with the bloody thing. Haven’t figured a way around that yet.”

“What’s this object?”

“No idea,” he sighed, though didn’t seem to care. “Can fit in the palm of a hand, that’s all I know. But dear Uncle Frederick keeps it pretty close and secret.”

“So…you get to be king, you get this powerful knickknack, and then you can do whatever you want?”

“That’s the goal,” he said. “And you will then be an instrumental part of my new court, if you wish.”

Juliette thought about it before nodding slowly. “Hard to say no I suppose to near ultimate power…”

“That’s the spirit,” he smiled, clinking their glasses together.

“What do you need me to do though?”

“Well, we need Diana. She’s with Kelly Burkhardt. I’m guessing he can contact her. Can you get in touch with her?”

“…Yes,” she nodded.

“Then it’s really fairly simple! Get her to come to Portland. We set a trap, we have our prize.”

“You think that’s simple?” she said, laughing a little.

“I think with the right push it is. Wouldn't it be wonderful if Nick was in mortal danger and needed Mummy's help?” he said, using an overly saccharine sweet tone despite the malicious glint in his eye. “I do hope she's the heroic type.”

\-----------------

“Well, you seem to be alright,” the doctor said, shining a light in Sloane’s eyes.

“Is that your medical diagnoses?” she asked.

“You sound just fine too,” she said. “I haven’t seen miraculous healing like this before though…”

“Maybe it’s part of the spell?” Nick said.

“Maybe…and you were able to wake her up?” the doctor asked, eyeing him.

“Um…there was a counter measure in a book.” _Mostly true, it was in a book._ They couldn’t let on that they got help from a hexenbiest, who knows who that would get back to if they did.

The doctor didn’t look convinced but sighed and starting writing on her clipboard. “I’m retiring soon, I don’t really care. You people are just too weird.”

Sloane and Nick glanced at one another and then shrugged. “Yeah?”

The doctor rolled her eyes and finished writing on her clipboard. “I’d like to keep you for tonight and release you in the morning, just to be sure. But I’ll go ahead and take those stitches out and move your medical files around to avoid suspicion.”

“Thank you,” Sloane said.

She nodded and looked at Nick. “I’d like to ask you to leave while I take the stitches out.”

“Ah, right,” he said, nodding to them and heading to the door to give them privacy, blushing just a little. He was doing his best to stay calm and act normal around Sloane, but it was hard when he kept remembering how real things felt in the dream world.

“Nick!” He looked up and smiled as he saw Mim and Jean rushing up—not quite running since they were probably called out on it earlier, but definitely not a walk. “How is she?” Jean asked, panting a little.

“She’s doing alright. Getting the stitches out now.”

The breathed out in relief. “I’m so glad…”

“Any sign of Dierdre,” Mim asked. The scowl on her face made it clear what she planned to do when she found her.”

“Not yet, no,” he sighed. “I don’t know what kind of car she was driving, so the best I can do is have them look out for her and the trailer she stole from me…”

“Can’t believe she did that either. Stealing another Grimm’s collection while they’re alive—I mean, even traditional Grimm have honor!” Jean said.

“That’s not even the least honorable thing she’s done. I swear I’m going to…to…Ugh! I don’t know what because I just don’t want to hurt Rebecca’s memory too, but I have to do something to that woman!”

“Well, I could offer to take her powers away, but I don’t think it’s going to work very well if she’s not attracted to me...” They looked up when Adalind walked over. “Uh, hey…”

“Hi,” Nick said. It wasn’t as curt as it could’ve been, and she took that as a good sign. “Mim, Jean, this is Adalind Schade. She’s the one that performed the spell that let me go in to wake Sloane up.”

“She is?” They looked at her and Adalind tensed as they suddenly pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you!”

“Yes, thank you!” Jean said.

“Y…You’re welcome,” she said, patting their backs. She looked almost panicked at being thanked and Nick smiled just a little.

The doctor came out of the room and looked at them all before sighing again. “If you want to visit with her you can, just try to keep in mind she’s not _completely_ healed. You have twenty minutes.”

“We will, thank you,” Mim said quickly, ushering Jean and the others in before the doctor could ask questions.

“Sloane!” Jean said, going over to hug her.

“Aunt Mim, Aunt Jean,” she sighed, hugging them back.

“Aunt?” Adalind whispered to Nick.

“Adoptive. Mim’s a Jaegerbar, Jean’s a Lowen. They’re getting married soon.”

“To who?”

“Each other,” Nick chuckled.

“Oh! …wait…Jaegerbar, Lowen…she’s a Grimm…” Adalind shook her head. “Should’ve guessed you’d find another Grimm like you somewhere in the world.”

Nick blushed a little on reflex and cleared his throat. “…Kind of, yeah…Didn’t start out that way though.”

Mim was getting done with her hug when she reached into her pocket. “We towed your car up, got the keys here for you. And your phone and wallet.”

“Your bag and that box of things we figured you were bringing with you is in your car as well,” Jean added.

“Thank you,” Sloane smiled, looking them all over. “I’m glad I didn’t take them with me when Dierdre tricked me…”

“How did she do that anyway?” Nick asked.

“Posed as an unassuming woman with car trouble. She reminded me of Oma…right down to giving me a slice of apple cake she had “leftover from a party”,” she said with an irritated curl of her lip. “The extra ingredient was not appreciated…”

“She used your grandmothers apple cake for evil?” Jean gasped.

“Oh, add another to the sin list,” Mim said, completely serious.

"She took your knife too," Nick said.

"...Well, she had it originally...and Oma before her. And several other ancestors," Sloane sighed. "Again though, glad I didn't have that in my hand..."

"Don't even joke," Jean said, shuddering.

Sloane smiled apologetically and patted her arm. "Sorry...but as much as it's gonna be missed in a way...maybe it's best that it's out of my life now. I can get my own that doesn't have such a _colorful_ history."

"Well, I still need the trailer back..."

"No, yeah, we're getting that back, don't worry," Sloane said. Sloane smiled a little then looked at Adalind. “…Hi again…”

“Hi…um, just thought I’d let you know Henrietta is actually getting released tonight. She has to take it easy for a while, but she’ll make a full recovery with time. I’m going to drive her home and tomorrow I’m going to help Monroe and Rosalee figure out how to suppress Juliette’s Hexenbiest side.”

Sloane nodded a little. “Okay, sounds like a plan…” Adalind hesitated, looking like she wanted to say something. Sloane eyed her but then sighed. “I will…tell Kelly all you’ve done and are doing. If you can help us figure out how to stop the royals, we’ll make sure you’re reunited with Diana. Till then…I dunno, we can set up a video call maybe, till prince asshole is out of the city.”

Adalind lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah. I owe you that much at least, all things considered.”

“Thank you,” she sighed. “And don’t worry, I’m more than determined to take the royals down. They’re all insane, honestly…Sean’s probably the most levelheaded of them and even he’s not without his moments.”

“Speaking of which, I haven’t heard from Wu and Hank…” Nick realized. “Monroe said they went to check on him, right?”

“Yeah…” Adalind said, growing worried.

“Go check in then. It’s about time for visitation to be over,” Sloane sighed. She looked at Mim and Jean. “I’ll talk with you two later…for now, don’t go to my house though, I don’t know if Dierdre is watching it and while she can’t enter or hurt you…she’s resourceful.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Mim said derisively. They kissed Sloane’s temples. “We’ll see you tomorrow then, Girlie, and bring you home.”

“Rest up.”

“I’m a little scared to sleep,” Sloane said, smiling wryly. Nick was going to say something but hesitated.

“You should be okay,” Adalind said. “Just take it easy while that wound heals the rest of the way.”

She nodded and they all waved as they left the room. He sighed and pulled out his phone as they headed down and out, waving bye to Mim and Jean before calling Hank up.

“Nick? You’re awake?”

“Yeah…yeah, been up for a couple of hours. Sloane’s up too.”

“Oh, thank God,” Hank sighed. “Sorry we weren’t there…”

“No, it’s okay. You didn’t miss much till we woke up; I mean we were just…asleep. Nothing else.” He wanted to smack himself. “Um, anyway, they said you went to check on Renard?”

“Yeah, he’d visited Henrietta last night. We thought he may have seen something or know something. We tried calling him and some weird British guy answered. Found the captain upstairs asleep but his doors were unlocked, and his phone was downstairs.”

“…That’s weird,” he said, mind turning. “Did he know anything useful?”

“No, he said he’d gone to talk to Henrietta about some side-effects from his nearly dying. He said he’s having nightmares, black outs, his wounds start bleeding like they’re open again.”

“Even weirder,” Nick sighed.

“Yeah…Wu and I got kind of a theory…And it’s the weirdest.”

“What is it?”

“Well, there was that recent TV program about Jack the Ripper. The killer we heard about has a similar MO: Slit the throats, take the organs from local ladies of the night. Henrietta was kind of the odd one out in victim typing though.”

“You think it’s the same guy?” Nick asked.

“Well, see…we asked the Captain when he started noticing the black outs and stuff. And around the time it started getting worse was when the killings started…”

“…Wait…you think _Renard_ is the killer?” Nick asked, hushing his voice as he quickly headed to the car.

“Not _Renard,_ just…Look, the Mishipeshu possessed me, right? And I nearly killed a man because of it. What if Jack the Ripper…possessed him?”

Nick was quiet for a moment as he unlocked his car and climbed in. “…I want to say that’s crazy, but…”

“We don’t have the trailer to see if your ancestors ever ran into this,” Hank sighed. “But I will say, the guy that answered the phone said, “ _we_ had a long night”. I definitely don’t think the captain did anything willingly, he thinks someone is targeting him, but we got the techs in here and they haven’t found any unknown prints. The only ones on his phone are his.”

Nick sighed. “It’s just one thing after another…”

“I know, man,” he sighed. “I’ve got Franco watching him tonight, see if he does anything. Maybe we can research some other way.”

“Yeah…I need to eat something though. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later.” They hanged up and he sat for a bit, thinking on what Hank said. After a moment he quickly got out of the car and headed for the hospital again. He headed up to Henrietta’s room, but she was already gone. He quickly headed back but paused and went to Sloane’s room instead. Opening it slightly, he was surprised to see Adalind and Henrietta were there, Henrietta in a wheelchair with her bag over the side, about to head home.

“…Fine, I think,” Sloane was saying.

“We’ll look at what that thing is a little closer. Whatever magic made it is really powerful,” Adalind was saying. They looked up when they realized the door was open more and she straightened. “Uh, hey,” Adalind said, surprised. “We’re just heading out.”

“I know…I have a question for you two though.”

“Sure…what about?”

“It’s about the captain.”

“What about him?” Sloane asked, her brow pinched.

“Right, you weren’t here for this…” he sighed. “There’s been a string of murders. Women with their throats…slit.” He looked at Henrietta who nodded, looking tried and pained. “Renard was the last guy to visit you yesterday, so Hank called, and it sounded like someone else answered the phone. So, they went to check on him and found him asleep, but his doors were unlocked.”

“That’s not like him,” Adalind said immediately.

“Yeah. But they can’t find any evidence of another person. Hank has a theory though…” he hesitated but took a deep breath. “Could it be that he’s…possessed?” He expected Sloane to resist the idea, but she didn’t, looking more fascinated than anything.

“…Possessed?” Adalind looked at Henrietta, who was looking worried.

“Yeah. Hank heard a British voice on the phone, the killings are…reminiscent of Jack the Ripper. Renard said he’s having black outs and waking up in odd places. And bleeding?”

Henrietta nodded slightly and pulled out her phone, using that now to type something out and show it to Adalind. “‘Piggyback’? …Wait, you mean…”

“What?” Nick asked, alert.

She looked at Henrietta but then back at him. “When he was shot, at the hospital, was he ever pronounced dead?”

“I don't know…I know they didn't expect him to survive,” he said honestly.

“Was anybody there with him?”

“Well, his mother. She did something to help him, I know.”

“Then he did die, and she brought him back. That must have been what opened the portal.” She looked at Henrietta who nodded with a sigh.

“What are you talking about?” Nick asked impatiently.

“When he died. Sean was dead just long enough for something to hitch a ride, and when his mother brought him back, Sean brought that something back with him. That's why he's bleeding. It's taking control of him. Does he know?”

“Oh, he knows there's something wrong, but he can't remember anything,” Nick sighed.

“That's good, 'cause when he does, it'll be too late.”

“Too late for what?” Sloane asked.

“Whatever he brought back with him will have taken over…” Henrietta was quiet before typing something out and holding it up to Adalind. Adalind paled as she read it.

“What, what is it?”

“Henrietta says… “It happened fast, and he had a hat low over his face, but I think it might’ve been Sean.””

“So, it’s true…Spirit possession,” Sloane said. She looked at Nick. “Guess I owe you an apology for saying ghosts weren’t real…”

He thought about seeing Rebecca in the dream world—how he’d thought by the end it must be the real her, in spirit. And that Sloane wouldn’t remember it. “Yeah…”

“That's how usually how it happens,” Adalind nodded, looking worried.

“So how do we get it out of him?” Sloane asked.

“You can't unless you open the portal again.”

“Then how do we do that?” Nick asked, already knowing the answer would probably not be good.

Adalind looked worried and uncomfortable, glancing at Henrietta who nodded a little. “…You have to kill him.”

\------------------------

Juliette pulled up what was once her house slowly. She’d requested a car to use from Kenneth to avoid being immediately and he’d obliged with a nice black SUV. She still had her key and opened the door. Nothing seemed different and for some reason that made her a little more upset. Nick still had their photos up, still had the things they bought together out. Like she was still in his life.

Shaking her head, she walked over and sat down at the computer, logging in and pulling up the email Nick used. He found the address _behedr@toomail.net_ Kelly used and typed out the message.

_Kelly,_

_Nick’s in trouble. If you don’t come, he may be killed. The house is safe._

_Juliette_

She read it over again, hesitating a moment but then hitting send. Standing, she paced for a little while before going and pouring a drink from the liquor cabinet in the kitchen to steady her nerves.

Then she heard the computer chime and headed over to check it. It was a reply from Kelly already.

_ON MY WAY. 2 DAYS._

Juliette nodded, deleted both messages from all folders and then finished the drink before rinsing the glass and putting it away to leave and go back to the penthouse. Things were in motion now. There was no going back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo...got the ball rolling on a lot of the big stuff :3 PREPARE FOR A LOT OF CHANGES!! But not everything is going to change I'm afraid...  
> Hopefully Juliette's motivation seems okay here--I think it's at least clearer than in the show up to this point tbh... Biggest change right now is that Henrietta will NOT be dying. Because she deserved better.
> 
> Also a recent comment got me thinking...I've done some art type stuff around Sloane and never really posted it anywhere. I could make a document here on AO3 for that? Or a side tumblr if anyone is interested in checking them out. Thoughts? (thanks for inspiration, FairyTailWizard!)


	27. More Bitter than Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rewrites of You Don't Know Jack, Headache, and Cry Havoc!
> 
> The time has come for the gang to face off against the royals and Juliette! After helping Renard exorcise his demons, Juliette and Kenneth's plan comes to light. To save Kelly and Diana, they need to work fast--but the Royals seem steps ahead at every turn thanks to Juliette! The final confrontation shows she's ready to cut out her past life completely, and ready to kill to do it. Sloane may bear the brunt of her wrath if she wants to save Nick and the others.

**_To hell, allegiance! Vows, to the blackest devil!  
Conscience, and grace, to the profoundest pit!  
I dare damnation: To this point I stand,--  
That both the worlds I give to negligence,  
Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd._ **

\--------------------------

**More Bitter than Death**

\-------------------------

“If we kill him, he's kind of dead, isn't he?” Monroe said. They were at Sloane’s house, getting it ready for her to come home the day she was released. Mim and Jean had gone to get her but Rosalee had cooked up some easy home dishes the night before so she didn’t have to worry about food, and they were making sure things were clean and had brought her car back after unhitching it from Mim and Jean’s truck.

“We were thinking maybe there's a way to do this and not actually kill him. Like the Dead Faint, the same one we used on Monroe when they hired Angelina to kill him,” Hank said. “The only way to prove she had done it was to show them his dead body.”

Rosalee sighed as she put away the last of the food. “The tetrodotoxin…It slows down bodily functions, but it's very dangerous,” she said, looking unsure.

“I'll say. It almost killed me!” Monroe said.

“Well, if we don't figure out a way to get rid of it, we will end up killing him and he’ll keep killing other people,” Nick said.

“Are you sure he's involved in all of this?” Rosalee said. “I mean, you have Adalind and Henrietta’s word for this, I know, but I'd like to be real certain before we do it.”

“We haven't been able to tie him to the crime scenes yet. We're going back to recheck surveillance footage, see if there's something that we missed,” Hank said.

“We know it’s kind of out there as far as a theory, but Hank and Wu also found out the girls involved may have been wesen.”

“What?” she asked, surprised.

“We aren’t sure obviously, without Nick or Sloane there, but we did talk to one of the girls, Heidi McDunnah. I’ve gotten real good at noticing how you guys…move, even if I don’t see you woge. She just gave me that feeling. So, I jumped out on a limb and asked. She got really uncomfortable, but I told her we’re there to find her friend’s killer and she admitted she’s a klaustrike. But she didn’t know what happened to her friend or who did it.”

“You’re sure?”

“No…because she ended up being the next victim,” Hank said, sighing. “I saw her photo on the board the yesterday for the guys working the case. It was the night before Henrietta was attacked.”

“Oh…” Rosalee said, looking more worried.

They heard the car drive up then and though they nodded to one another in silent agreement to continue the planning later.

“I can carry that, Aunt Mim.”

“Absolutely not! You’re supposed to be taking it easy. Even if you are mostly healed, you’re skin and muscle and all that gotta finish healing.”

“She’s right, honey, you don’t want to pull on that scar tissue just yet…”

Sloane sighed and unlocked her door, walking in with her aunts close behind. She smiled when she saw them. “Hey, you guys came?”

“Of course,” Rosalee said, walking over to hug her. “I brought you some meals.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Sloane said, hugging her back.

“I know, but I wanted to make it a little easier on you.”

There was a sniffle and they looked over to see Jean looking teary eyed. “I’m so glad Sloane has such good friends…”

“But we still don’t mind sticking around,” Mim said.

“I’m going to be alright. My anti-Dierdre charm is up, I’m going to be off work for a while, and honestly I’ve got like six people who are mother hens like you.” They smiled and waved when she gestured at them.

“Yeah…Oh my god, your birthday!” she gasped.

“It’s already passed,” she sighed. “It’s fine. We’ll do a raincheck when we’re all feeling up to it.”

“Okay…” Mim sighed. “You know, I wonder if Dierdre caused that accident in Eureka. She knows Maurice was a friend of ours and Rebecca’s…”

Jean frowned as well. “I wouldn’t put it past her…He should be alright now though since his daughter came in though, so we can—”

“Go back to Wildred,” Sloane said patiently. “I love you, and I’m grateful you drove up here to bring my stuff and bring me home. And normally a visit would be great. But I would prefer you watching over Oma’s house. I’m already worried Dierdre would go there to try and steal the rest of the stuff there, and I need you guys to get the repairs started. I’ll choose and buy cabinets and all that stuff and I’m going to trust you guys to make sure everything gets done.”

They looked at one another and sighed. “You promise to just rest?”

“Yes,” she said. Jean frowned but then gently had her lean over and kissed her forehead, and Mim did the same.

“Alright…But call us if you need anything.” 

“I will,” she smiled.

They sighed and waved to the others as they headed back to the car to head back home. Sloane sighed and walked over to sit down. “So…Did you discuss this whole “Jack the Ripper” situation?”

“Sloane, you really don’t have to worry about that—” Rosalee started.

She held up a hand with a smile as she sat down. “I’m really alright, I promise. Talking isn’t going to hurt me.”

She hesitated but sighed and nodded. “Nick ran it down for us.”

“And I suggested we use the Dead Faint. It’s that concoction we told you about, the one Monroe took that one time to make him seem dead,” Hank said.

“You think playing possum will…fool the spirit into leaving?” she asked, arching her brow.

“I mean, if he seems dead, I don’t think Jack will want to stick around,” he shrugged.

Sloane nodded a bit. “Sounds like a possibility.”

“My problem is it’s dangerous. It could actually kill him if we aren’t careful,” Rosalee said.

“I’m sure you’d do it perfectly,” Sloane smiled.

Rosalee laughed, though she looked a little strained. “I appreciate the faith in me, but I don’t want to go with that option unless we know for sure that Renard is possessed.”

“So, we watch him?”

“That’s what we gotta do for now…” 

She sighed but nodded. “What about Dierdre?”

“Still in the wind…with the trailer,” Hank sighed.

“Shit,” she sighed.

“Is there anywhere she might’ve gone with it?” Monroe asked.

“…Probably not back to Oma’s, since the Sherriff is still watching it. I can ask the Libraries to keep an eye out for her, but some are…loyal to her. Loyal and afraid.”

“Anything helps…Right Nick?”

Nick started a bit but nodded. “Y-yeah, whatever you can do…”

“You okay?” Sloane asked, looking at him in concern.

Nick blushed a little at her focusing on him. He was still thinking about the dream world. Her “ideal” world the spell made for her made her, where she was happiest, had them in love. Living together. Kissing…How do I look at her when she doesn’t know I know that she loves me like that? Add to that the confession she gave him before they woke up and he honestly didn’t know what to think or do.

Hank’s phone going off saved him and he quickly pulled it out and answered. “Griffin…Okay, good. Stay with him. We're on our way.” He hanged up and looked at them. “That was Officer Franco. Captain's on his way into the precinct.”

He looked at Rosalee who sighed. “Alright. We'll start working on it, but I’m not giving it to him till we know for sure.”

Hank nodded but set a hand on Sloane’s shoulder as she made to stand. “Whoa, where do you think you’re going?”

“The precinct?” she asked, looking at them all.

“Nope, you just promised to take it easy and take your days off,” Nick said, letting his worry about her override the awkwardness.

“But—”

“No buts,” he said more firmly. “If you want to help, do the library thing and then check through your books for anything else.”

“…Okay,” she sighed.

“Did you want us to stay for a while?” Rosalee asked.

“No, go ahead and go to the shop. I’ll call you if anything turns up.” They nodded, all of them giving her a hug before heading out the door. Nick lingered slightly, unsure, but she patted his back. “I’m okay, really,” she said quietly.

He knew she thought he was just worried about her, and he was. But he was also worried about himself. He nodded and pulled back to follow Hank out.

After they left, Sloane sighed and stood to go into the spare room at the end of the hall to look through her books.

\-------------------

When she walked into the Spice Shop, Rosalee paused and scented the air. Something didn’t smell right. Monroe smelled it too and followed it to the back room, where they found a pile of glass and soggy herbs. “What the heck?” he said, going over to check it out.

“Oh no, that’s my grandmother’s old milk glass bowl…We used to use it for displays,” she said, frowning as she moved to pick up a shattered piece. Monroe stopped her.

“This…doesn’t feel right,” he said. “Why is it here like that?”

Rosalee realized he was right and quickly backed away. Looking around, she saw the back door had a hole in its glass. Someone had broken in. She quickly checked the safe where she kept cash and other valuables, but nothing was out of place or missing there. Monroe checked around but other than a few jars being out nothing was out of place on the shop floor either.

“I’m going to let Nick know someone broke in,” Monroe sighed, grabbing his phone.

“…I’m…going to call Adalind.”

“What? Why? You have her number?” he asked, pausing.

“I got it at the hospital. Because of the suppressant she talked about.”

“Oh, right…”

“But this feels like something a hexenbiest might know about,” she said, gesturing at the pile. “Might as well get started.”

“You sure that and the Dead Faint isn’t too much?” he asked, worried.

“Not sure, but I feel like the Juliette one might be more pressing considering what happened at the hospital,” she sighed. “I mean, they have their eyes on Renard now. So, if he’s a murderer, they’ll find out soon enough and stop him.”

“Fair enough…” He went to call Nick and she took out her own phone and dialed the number.

“Hello?” Adalind asked, hesitant.

“Hey, um…it’s me, Rosalee.”

“Oh, hey…is this about the suppressant?” she guessed.

“Yeah. And something else happened I’d like to ask about.”

“With Renard?”

“No, not exactly. We have a sort of plan for that. It’ll be easier to explain here, you know where my shop is?”

“Yeah, I do. Henrietta should be alright; she just has to rest up…how’s um…Sloane?”

“She’s doing alright,” Rosalee said, relaxing slightly. “She also has to rest.”

“Right. I’ll see you soon then.”

“Right.” They hanged up and Rosalee sighed.

“Nick asked if we wanted anyone to come take a look but since nothing super valuable was taken we’d just focus on the brewing today and that’s a no witnesses kind of a thing…” Monroe said, coming back.

“That’s fine…honestly, if I have to replace another window this year though,” she said, letting her frustration leak out.

“Hey, at least no one threw a brick at us,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “It was probably some dumb kids.”

“Maybe…but after everything we’ve been through I’m not taking a chance.”

\-------------------

The house was too quiet. Usually, Sloane liked quiet. It was restful and meditative. But this wasn’t that kind of quiet. It was the kind that made her realize she was alone in that house. Going through her books, her notes, just made her feel more alone with no one to discuss them with. _The me from two years ago would be disgusted,_ she thought with a rueful laugh.

She spent a little time online picking out things for the kitchen. She went ahead and bought new appliances, sending the info to Mim and Jean for when they would be delivered. Then flooring options…backsplash…light…It seemed like a lot, but she made her decisions fairly quickly since she wasn’t looking to make it anything super fancy.

And then nothing was left to distract her.

The quiet was getting to her. It made every sound make her think Dierdre was right outside. Her house was safe, she knew, but then she’d also known her grandmother’s house was safe. That didn’t stop Dierdre.

_Wherever she’s gone, I hope it’s away from here…but she still has the trailer…_

The rustling near the window had her jumping and grabbing a cross bow to load and aim. A very surprised squirrel on the branch outside ran for it as fast as it could. She sighed, rubbing over her face. “…Maybe I really shouldn’t be alone right now…” she mumbled.

\--------------------

“There's nothing in this one. Maybe we missed it,” Hank sighed, watching the play back on another security tape they got from one of the businesses near the murders.

“Maybe we're wrong,” Nick pointed out. He’d just finished his own play through and was trying to take a break and rest his eyes.

“Maybe we're just too damn tired,” he said. Nick smiled a bit in agreement. They had definitely been burning the candle at both ends lately with everything that was happening. Even his foray into the dreamworld hadn’t been restful, he’d woken up as tired as if he’d really spent hours awake. “What do we got left?”

He sighed and looked at the file folder. “Bank footage on Alder. Looking at it now.”

“There's more footage from West Burnside. I'll pull it up. All these cars are starting to look the same to me…” Hank added.

Nick was focused on the footage however and the SUV that rolled into frame with a familiar driver. “Whoa, wait. I got something.” Hank didn’t look terribly hopeful but stood and walked over to look. Nick pointed at the car. “Is that the captain's?”

Hank frowned and used the mouse to zoom in enough they could see the driver more clearly. It was definitely Renard. “It's him…”

Nick was double checking the time stamp and crime report he got from the other precinct. “It puts him in the area within one hour of the first killing…”

Hank looked up and nodded as the man in question rounded the corner after going to a meeting. “He's here.”

Renard saw them as well and looked a bit grim as he walked by their desk. “I need to see you both... now.” He continued on to his office without a second glance at anyone else.

They rose but Hank set a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Hold on. Before we go in there, if he's dealing with what we think he's dealing with, who the hell are we gonna be talking to?”

“Or what?” Nick said, raising his eyebrows before walking towards the door.

“Okay, that didn't help at all!”

Renard hanged his coat up on the rack in the corner of the room, having to catch and adjust it quickly because his hands were shaking. He looked out the window as Nick and Hank walked in, Hank closing the door behind them. He tried to center his mind, but it was still racing. “There's something very wrong with me…I'm starting to think I'm losing my mind.”

“What happened?” Nick asked, alert.

He licked his lips nervously but turned to face them. “Last night, I thought I was bleeding again. I saw it. I felt it. It was real. Then I remember falling…Then I woke up, and I was in bed, as though nothing happened. And there was a voice. I heard... I heard this voice. I don't know,” he sighed.

“What did it say?” he asked, glancing at Hank who looked disturbed.

“…It said I’ve been bad. And that things were going to get worse.”

“Was it British?”

“I…what? Um…yes, I-I think…”

Hank felt a bit of dread in his stomach, walking forward to look at him squarely. “Then blacked out again?”

He nodded, looking worried. “Yeah…Yeah, I guess I did, after it spoke…How do you know this?”

“Do you remember driving about 11:30 three nights ago?” Nick asked quickly.

He blinked, looking confused but also trying to think. “What? Why?”

“We have some surveillance that puts your car at Northwest Couch and Second about that time,” Hank clarified.

“No, that... that wasn't me,” he shook his head, swallowing. “I was at home, asleep.”

“Your car was a couple of blocks away from where the first victim's body was found the same night, within an hour of the estimated time of death,” Nick said, pressing slightly.

He was shaking his head, pacing. “No…no, no, no, no. No, I would... I would remember something like that.”

“During a blackout?” Hank asked, unsure.

“I would remember something!” he nearly shouted. He quickly tried to regain his composure and they glanced at one another. They had never seen the captain this close to a break down.

Nick spoke again, calmly as possible. “We talked to Adalind. She said that when you died, a portal opened up. And when your mother did whatever she did to bring you back... you didn't come alone.”

Renard stared at him, a look of dawning horror coming to his face, but also resistance to the idea. “Are you saying that I'm possessed?”

“You're blacking out, waking up in places you don't remember, bleeding from where you were shot.”

“You know you went to see Henrietta, but you have no idea when you left,” Hank continued.

“Are you suggesting that I killed those women? Tried to-to kill Henrietta?” he asked, looking sick.

“We're suggesting you may no longer be in control of what you're doing,” Nick said.

“But it’s still me!”

“You told me once that it wasn’t my fault when I killed someone when I wasn’t in control. My case was self-defense—yours is you being used. It wouldn’t have been Sloane’s fault if one of us was hurt when she wasn’t in control either.” Man, this happens to us a lot…

“…Alright. But if that's true, what should I do? Lock myself up?”

“Monroe and Rosalee are working on something,” Hank said. “But until we figure it out, it may be a good idea for you to stay at home.”

“Under surveillance,” Nick added.

“No, no, no, no, no! I want to know what the hell is happening to me!” he shouted, losing his famous composure.

Hank’s hand went to his gun at his hip, eyeing him. “I know you’re scared…but you need to give us your gun, Captain,” he ordered.

Nick held out his hand, determined as well. Renard looked at them both and then closed his eyes, trying to calm down. “…All right.” He reached to his own hip and unclipped his gun. He looked at it a moment, thoughtful, before ejecting the clip and handing them both over to him. “Okay…But you have to know, whatever happened, it wasn't me.” He looked at them, desperate to be understood.

“We know. I remember,” Nick nodded, taking them and putting them in his jacket.

He nodded, breathing deeply as he thought about what to do next. “…I want someone watching me who understands.”

They glanced at one another, then out into the bullpen, knowing who that would mean. Renard watched them exit and pull Wu aside to explain what was going on. He looked shocked and a bit nervous but nodded readily enough. Then the Captain’s eyes followed Nick and Hank as they left the station to continue on their own work. A cold glint came to his eyes and the voice that came from him had a distinct accent. “Well, this should be a jolly good romp…”

\---------------------- 

“We’re going to have to do something about your old neighbors,” Kenneth said. He and Juliette were preparing, anticipating Kelly’s arrival for the next night.

“How do you mean?” She asked.

“Well, this may cause a lot of noise and disturbance. And it would be awkward if the police were called.”

“I think killing the neighbors might raise suspicion too,” she pointed out sarcastically.

“True…So I thought you might like to try your hand at this.” He held out a small book.

Juliette quirked her brow but took it, looking it over. It was about the size of yearly planner, with green dyed leather and parchment pages. She opened it and was surprised to find it was a small spell book. “Where’d this come from?”

“You can find many things with my connections. Granted it’s not much—Hexenbiests aren’t known for just giving away their books. But someone managed to copy a few spells from a few. Then got caught. Not sure what happened to him, but the book survived. I thought you might like it to practice with it. Call it my first repayment…or an investment,” he smiled.

Juliette hummed and flipped through it. “And you think something in here might be useful?”

“I may have marked one as a suggestion…non-lethal, if that matters to you.”

She flipped through more slowly and came to a bookmark, opening it up. “A knockout…fog?” She quirked a brow and read through it. ““Used to knock out a small group of people at a time, no adverse effects, lasts for three hours…do not use around open flames as it can ignite(?)’ Yeah, this could work. Seems pretty easy too.”

“That’s the spirit,” He smiled. “My other idea was the poison version, but you make a good point about the police. A sudden gas leak being investigated could get dicey. Make enough for four houses, that should hopefully keep us from being noticed.”

“I’ll need ingredients,” she reminded him.

“True, True, and your friends aren’t going to be willing to supply you of course. I’ll have someone go out and fetch everything.” He signaled to Rispoli who went to get one of his men.

Juliette hummed, flipping through the book again and paused at one near the end when something caught her eye. This was…not a harmless spell by any means. She glanced at Kenneth, wondering if he’d seen it, but then back to it. “…There’s another I’d like to try in here. I’ll need a few things for it.”

“What piqued your interest?” he asked curiously.

“Just something else I think Nick would find interesting…” she said. She showed him the page and he read it before his eyebrows rose.

“My…much more ambitious but if you use that on him…that could be quite interesting,” he smiled.

“Well I figure he could use another point of view…”

“And it’ll be interesting to see the other Grimm’s reaction too,” he chuckled. “Maybe you should find something for her in there.”

“Maybe I will. Or I’ll just kill her in front of him,” Juliette said, glaring at the thought.

“One thing after another. First Kelly. I doubt the fog will work on her…so things might get more violent. That alright with you?”

“Would I be here if it wasn’t?

He smiled and nodded, satisfied with the answer.

\--------------------------------

Adalind was looking through the mess left by the broken bowl in the corner, frowning. “…This…is the remains of a spell.”

“A spell?” Monroe asked in surprise.

“Yeah. I’m not certain what kind, but generally water, herbs, a glass bowl…they’re used for scrying.”

“Scrying? Like looking for something?” Rosalee asked.

“Yes, or looking at something. Hexenbiests and Zauberbiest can do rudimentary scrying without any help—basically if we’re familiar with an object or a person, we can use something to point us to it. A compass, a piece of wood, even just a feeling if we’re particularly attuned to the object or have a talent for it. It’s like…whistling. Some are good, some are okay, and some can’t do it. But it comes in handy if you can for finding things.”

“Like missing keys?” Monroe guessed.

“Exactly,” she nodded. “But this used herbs and likely a specific incantation to draw out their power and look at something or someone in particular. For that they’d need something similar too or from what they want to find. Blood, fibers, hair…and it’s not necessarily to find someone. It’s used for spying too.”

“So, someone broke into the shop to do a spell to find something or spy on someone…?” Rosalee asked, looking disturbed.

“Seems like it. But it wasn’t me,” she said quickly.

“No, we know. You were with us or Henrietta when it would’ve happened I’m pretty sure…” Rosalee sighed.

“What should we do with that?”

“The best thing to do is burn the herbs because they’re tainted by someone’s magic now. Then I’m afraid we have to get rid of the glass too. I can cleanse it but it’s pretty well broken…”

“That’s fine…Oh, the cameras!” Rosalee said.

“Right! I forget they’re there sometimes,” he said, going to grab the laptop from the safe. “We can look at the footage, see who our magical mystery guest is...”

Rosalee nodded and looked at Adalind as she was gathering things with a dustpan. “Oh, I can do that…”

“No, it’s better I do, we don’t know if there’s residual magic in it.” She dumped it into a nearby solid metal wastebasket. “If you can get me some salt and matches, that’ll work best for this.”

Rosalee nodded, going to grab them from the back. On the way back, she noted Monroe was frowning deeply at the screen. “What’s wrong?”

“I…found our culprit…” He turned the computer for her to see and her eyes widened.

“Juliette? Why is she…?”

“Juliette did it?” Adalind asked, walking over.

“Yeah, but I don’t see what she was scrying for…” Monroe said.

“It probably wouldn’t show up on camera…”

“But why would she break in to do it,” Rosalee asked, looking worried and frustrated.

“This would’ve been after she visited the hospital according to the time stamp, so I’m not sure…” Monroe sighed.

Adalind held her hands out and took the salt and matches. “I’m going to burn them all the same. I’m not taking any chances with her.” Rosalee nodded and watched her go burn them. “…On a related note, I am ready to do the suppressant I talked about.”

“Oh…? That’s good,” Rosalee said. “You have what you need?”

“Almost…the last ingredient I’m having delivered here, if that’s alright.”

“Uh…I suppose so. What is it?”

“I’m…hesitant to say.”

“…Why?” Monroe said suspiciously. There was a knock then and he sighed but walked over to open the door. “Sloane?”

“Hey…”

“Sloane! What are you doing here? You should be resting!” Rosalee said, coming around to her.

Sloane sighed, holding up her hands. “Rosalee, I just drove over, I didn’t overexert myself.”

“But why are you here? No offense,” Monroe said.

“…Just…bored,” Sloane said. Rosalee frowned at her more worriedly and she sighed. “I didn’t want to be alone, okay. The house is too…quiet.”

“I thought quiet would be nice after the last few days?” Adalind asked.

“Not when you’re alone with your thoughts about the last few days…” she pointed out dryly.

“Ah…I think I understand,” she nodded.

“Yeah,” Rosalee sighed, going over to put an arm around her and lead her to a seat in the work room. “You could’ve called…”

“I knew you’d probably be doing something. Thought I could help, keep my mind of a few things…” she smiled, patting her arm. “So, are we doing the Dead Faint?”

“Not yet,” Monroe sighed. “We’re thinking to do the suppressant for Juliette first.”

“As long as Nick and the others can keep an eye on the captain, things should be safer. But she’s…” She glanced at the laptop then back at Sloane. “She’s getting a little worrying.”

Sloane nodded a bit, unable to disagree. “Fair enough…”

“We’re waiting on an ingredient to be delivered,” Monroe went on. “Adalind won’t say what it is though.”

“Because none of you will like it…” she muttered.

“Oh, that’s not foreboding as hell,” Sloane said.

They sighed and looked up when the bell rang. “Guys?” Nick called.

“In here!” Monroe answered.

Nick and Hank came in and Nick stopped short when he saw Sloane. “What are you doing here?” he asked, immediately anxious.

“Guys, I’m not an invalid! I’m okay! Can’t I come help or talk without everyone worrying I’m going to keel over?” she said, looking at them all pleadingly.

“Okay, okay,” Hank said, putting a hand on her back. Between Renard and Sloane, it felt like the members of their circle that kept their cool the best were starting to crumble.

Sloane breathed deep. “Sorry…”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Nick said. “We’re all feeling a little run down…but you’re right, we should be sticking together.”

Sloane smiled, relaxing. “Thanks…I just really wanted to not be alone right now.” Nick blushed slightly and looked away, making her blink curiously.

“Did you find anything in your books about being possessed or someone like Jack the Ripper?” Hank asked.

Sloane shook her head with a sigh. “No. I looked through my quick references and absolutely nothing involving psychos cutting up bodies for no known reason was mentioned…”

Nick sighed as well. “We talked with Renard and we’re pretty sure he is possessed.”

“He’s having blackouts. Waking up places he can’t remember getting to. And he mentioned the bleeding…but also hearing voices. British voices,” Hank sighed.

“Oh, that is not good,” Monroe said, grimacing. “Maybe we should work on the Dead Faint first…”

“I don’t think we’ll have time, or space here in a few minutes,” Adalind said, coming out from the side of the room she’d hanged around when Nick came in.

Nick was surprised to see her then looked at the others. “What’s this about?”

“…I have a way to suppress Juliette’s powers,” she said.

“What?” He looked at Monroe and Rosalee in shock.

“We were going to tell you,” Monroe said, looking awkward. “But then whole “Jack the Ripper” thing kind of caught our attention.”

“So, there’s a cure?” he asked hopefully.

“No, not a cure. A suppressant,” Adalind said. “Basically, sealing her powers away so she can’t use them anymore.”

Nick frowned as he thought that over. “You’re sure suppressing it is all you can do?” Nick asked, feeling a little bitterness. “I mean, she’ll still be one. What good does suppressing it do?”

“Well, a lot, if it works,” she said, looking put out.

“If it works?”

“It’s not like I’ve done this before!” she said defensively. “I’m not going around suppressing wesen abilities like you all, even for good reasons.”

They looked at one another and he sighed. “What kind of side effects this time?”

“I’m not sure. Again, not something I’ve done personally,” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “This isn't about changing her. This is so that she can live a normal... life. So, it should be like just pushing her hexenbiest side down and making her human side the dominant one. Unable to shift. That’s what you want, right?”

“…I don’t know what I want right now. But I don’t think we can leave her as she is,” Nick sighed.

“I fully agree. Especially if Kenneth has been in contact with her…”

“Kenneth?”

“The Royal currently trying to get Diana,” she sighed. “I’ve been meaning to bring you all up to date on that too…way too much going on.”

“This is pretty normal for us,” Sloane said. “But what’s this about the royals?”

“He’s one of the princes. He wants to use Juliette to get Diana. He was going to use me for a bargaining chip. I don’t know what he’ll use now but he’s not going to give up. Him having Juliette on his side could be big trouble…But he thinks she’ll be able to figure out where your mother is.”

Nick frowned deeply at the thought.

“We've been through the book that you used,” Rosalee said, changing the subject. “There's nothing about what you're saying.”

“It's not in the book, specifically,” she said delicately. “My mother's aunt told me about this when my mother was going through a very tough time…”

“Tough enough to want to suppress her?” Sloane asked.

She sighed and nodded. “When I was in high school, my mother was accused of sleeping with a judge to get a verdict. They suspended her cases, started looking into things, and she was pissed. I mean, she may use magic on occasion, but she never slept with someone to get her way. She was an actually talented lawyer. She was determined to find out who told the bar and she was going to make them pay. Things that honestly made us both worried she was going to go off the deep end and go full Beldam. Uh, that’s what we call truly evil witches who usually hang out in woods and kill people for spells and just generally cause chaos for the hell of it,” she clarified.

“So white witches—” Hank started.

“Weisse Hexe,” she corrected.

“Yeah, they’re like…good witches who help people. And Beldam are the opposite.”

“Yes. Most Hexe and Zauber fall somewhere in the middle—we’re not saints, but we can unlearn it or at least learn how to better deal with it without becoming so selfish we just kill anything that gets in our way. Or for fun. My great aunt didn't end up doing it, but she explained the process to me. I couldn’t forget it because it’s…intense. And it's not easy, and there is one ingredient that's almost impossible to get…” She looked at her watch. “But it should be here any minute now…”

“What is it?” Monroe asked again.

She hesitated, and before she said anything there was a knock at the back door. She quickly went over and opened it and there was a small group of men in work coveralls and a gurney waiting at the door. “Ah, right on time…come this way.” She led them to the work room and the others got out of the way as the wheeled the gurney in—and froze when they saw the long, black bag resting on it. The men lifted the bag and set it on the table where she directed, and then just as blasely left with the gurney and without the bag.

“…Is that…” Monroe started.

“A body bag?!” Rosalee finished, jaw dropping.

“Yes. Because the most important ingredient to this is a dead hexenbiest.”

They all paused, looking at one another then back at her. “Shit…” Sloane said.

“Yeah. That’s why this is considered one of the darker spells too. But lucky for you, it just so happened that I knew where a dead Hexenbiest is buried.”

“You did?” Hank asked, eyeing the bag as if thinking it would suddenly sit up.

“Yeah. That would be my mother. Your mother killed her. Remember?” she said, looking at Nick.

“…She said it was an accident. She was trying to find out how to help Juliette at the time,” he explained, not looking at her. There wasn’t a sorry in there, since there was still some bitterness and blame to go around, but the tone wasn’t blameless.

“…Yeah. Well, as long as we're digging up the past, we may as well dig up my mother. I managed to get Sean to sign off on it this morning before you had him on house arrest.”

“That’s…good. But you had it delivered here?” Rosalee said.

“Where else were we going to do this?”

“…Well…I guess we’ll get started,” she sighed.

“Uh…We’ll let you do what you need to do, since we’re not going to do the dead faint today,” Hank said.

“Yeah, we’re going to keep figuring out what’s going on with Renard, make sure he doesn’t get into trouble,” Nick agreed, both of them backing away.

“Do you guys need help?” Monroe called hopefully as they were going out the door.

“I have everything else we need in my car…I’ll get it and we can get started,” Adalind said.

\-----------------

Juliette put a pinch of wormwood into the pot and smiled as it turned a bright green as it bubbled around. The first batch she’d had to dump when it boiled over. She took the rest of the morning to very carefully measure out and brew the next. She walked over and looked out at Kenneth. “It’s done.”

He smiled and walked in, looking at it. “I’m afraid I can’t tell it is…”

“You want to test it?” she guessed.

He smiled and gestured to a man nearby. He looked a bit unsure but walked over. “Don’t worry, it’ll just let you take a little nap.”

“Yes…your highness,” he sighed, walking over.

Juliette waved her hand and the mist simmering around the top swirled up into almost a cyclone. It twisted through the air and to the man, who breathed in a gasp when it went up to his nostrils. After a moment his eyes closed, and he looked completely relaxed. Kenneth arched a brow and subtly pushed at his shoulder and he went down like tower of cards. He was still breathing though, and even began to snore. Kenneth grinned. “Well! I am impressed. I knew you could do it, of course, but you learn incredibly quickly.”

Juliette smiled. “I’ll bottle it up for later. Now I want to work on my spell for Nick.”

“Already?”

“He might show up. I need to be ready,” she smiled.

“Point taken. You have everything you need.”

“Almost. Think your man will miss a little blood?” she asked, eyeing the sleeping guard.

Kenneth quirked a brow but smiled as he turned to leave. “Try not to kill him. Bodies are hard to get rid of this high up.”

\------------------

“Captain’s still at the precinct,” Wu said into the phone. “He seems normal…A little tense, but normal.”

“Well, maybe we’re wrong,” Hank sighed. He didn’t sound convinced though, given the captain’s breakdown that morning.

“I’d like it if that were true, but I’m not holding my breath,” Nick sighed as well.

“I’ll keep watch on him tonight I guess, provided I can sleep tomorrow…”

“I think we’ll work that out,” Nick agreed. “Keep us posted.”

“Will do,” he hanged up and Nick sighed.

“…How’re you doing?” Hank asked.

“…That’s a loaded question,” Nick sighed.

“Like a gun?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Getting worried about pulling the trigger.”

“That’s a metaphor, right?”

“Yeah,” Nick said, smiling at the worried tone. “I’m just…a lot keeps happening and it’s not slowing down. At least even when we had cases we’d get a breather. Now I just keep worrying what’s around the corner.”

“Yeah…I feel that way too. But I know it’s gotta be worse for you, and for Sloane, so I wasn’t sure I should say it,” he said. “Like, can I complain given what’s happen to you guys?”

Nick shrugged. “As long as I can complain more.” Hank chuckled and took a sip of his soda. Nick sighed, looking thoughtful, before looking at Hank. “Hey, um…can I ask your advice?”

“Always. Can’t guarantee the quality though. Especially if it’s wesen related.”

“It’s not…um…So, someone…confessed their love to me.”

Hank choked on his soda, coughing in surprise. “Whoa, what?!”

“…Do I take that personally?” Nick asked coolly.

Hank smiled, wiping his mouth. “Sorry, just wasn’t expecting that…but for real? Like actually just told you they were in love with you?”

“Yeah…really…eloquently, too.”

“Creepy eloquently?”

“No, not creepy, I…honestly was kind of touched,” he admitted.

“…Was this a girl?”

“I-yes?” he asked, thrown for a moment.

“Hey, no shame if it wasn’t man. I’ve met plenty of men who made me wonder if I was straight.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah. Honestly, still not always sure, but I know what I like in a woman at least. But back to you, it was a girl? Do I know her?”

Nick inwardly panicked but schooled his face into just looking mildly nervous. “Yes…but I don’t want to say who it is. She was already really embarrassed saying it to me, I don’t want to…make it worse.”

Hank pouted a moment but nodded. “Fair enough…So what did you say back?”

“…“I’m sorry”…” Nick said, looking away.

“…You didn’t,” Hank said, looking at him askance.

“I didn’t know what else to say!” Nick groaned. “She already knew I love Juliette.”

“And she still told you?” he asked, surprised now.

“I…found out kind of awkwardly,” Nick said. “And she just owned it.”

“Wow…that’s and interesting lady.”

“Yeah…” he sighed in agreement.

Hank eyed him. “Are you…interested in her?”

“No…I…” He sighed heavily. “I like her. A lot. She’s a really good friend. But I never thought of her like that before then. And I do still love Juliette. But…I can’t forget what she said,” he muttered. “Or her face when she said it. How she said she wanted me not to know till she could get over me, knowing I love Juliette and didn’t want to make things awkward and…Now I don’t know how to act around her.”

“…Well, she doesn’t want things to be awkward. So, I guess, until you know what you want or what’s going to happen with Juliette…just keep trying to act normal.”

“You make it sound easy…”

“Well, she acted normal around you before, right?”

“…Yeah…”

“Then you can be normal around her. If you and Juliette can figure something out after all this, great. If not…well, that’s going to be up to you and her. If you don’t want to, she’ll understand if she understood before. If you miss your chance, well, that’s just how it is sometimes. Move on, try to keep being friends, do what you gotta do.”

“…You sound so wise when it comes to this,” Nick said, smiling a little.

“Hey, I may be divorced twice, but I learned from both,” he smiled.

Nick smiled and tipped his soda to him when he gestured and sipped on it. He thought on Hank’s words and knew he was right. But ‘miss your chance’ stuck out to him. Would Sloane move on before he knew what he wanted? Would that be a relief or a disappointment? He wasn’t sure.

\-----------------

The cauldron was boiling with the initial ingredients on a small wood burning travel stove, a few feet away from the worktable where the body bag still rested. Adalind knew it was time and took a deep breath before reaching up to pull the zipper. As expected, inside was a desiccated corpse, at least a year dead, a little more. The skin was mottled brown, purple and yellow with age and decay. Cheeks sallow, lips curled back over straight, still white teeth. Hair blonde, but dull rather than shiny. Adalind winced a bit when she could still recognize her mother. Then they all winced at the stench and Rosalee quickly lit a few candles to try and make it more bearable. Inadvertently, it set an even eerier ambiance given they had the windows all tightly covered by curtains or shutters.

“Is this strictly healthy?” Sloane asked.

“As long as you’re not calling the health inspector on us right now, it should be fine,” Monroe said. “I mean, we’re going to clean really well after this. Promise.”

“You better, I’ve heard horror stories like this about the kind of stuff you can catch off dead bodies…no offense.”

“None taken,” Adalind sighed.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Rosalee asked.

“No, but we gotta do it,” she said. “I had a complicated relationship with my mother when she was alive…dead doesn’t make it easier.”

Sloane nodded a bit. “Yeah, I can understand that better than you might think…though mine is still alive.”

“Not for much longer when I get ahold of her…” Rosalee said darkly. Sloane didn’t argue but huffed a breath. Rosalee looked at Adalind. “So…ready?”

“Yes, I think I remember where everything is…” Adalind said slowly, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves.

Sloane tilted her head, then noted it was an anatomy book she was reading from. _Oh…yikes…_

Adalind picked up a scalpel nearby and moved to make an incision. She hesitated, moved again, but then groaned and set it down. “I can’t! I’m sorry, I know I have to, but I can’t…Whatever she’s done, however much I resent her…I still love her,” she said quietly. “I can’t cut her up…”

Rosalee frowned in sympathy and looked to her husband. “Monroe?”

“Me?” he asked, taken aback. “I…I’m vegan.”

Rosalee rolled her eyes in frustration.

“…I’ll do it.”

They looked at Sloane and she shrugged. “What? Not the first dead body I’ve handled or cut up. I’ve dealt with several nests of Geiers in the past. Though usually they’re fresher…But I know the gist.” Adalind nodded gratefully, taking off the gloves and handing them to her. Sloane slipped them on and accepted the scalpel as well. “What do we need?”

“Tongue, liver, gallbladder…and four ribs,” Adalind said, stepping back.

“Right…okay,” she sighed, rolling up her sleeves and then pulling her shirt up over her nose. They were confused till she pressed the scalpel in and made the incision. The stench of rotting meat and the chemicals that delayed it for a time filled the air even thicker and they all backed up and coughed as they tried to get it out of their senses. Once the incision was large enough she set the scalpel aside and pushed her hand in. “Alright…got the liver. And this is the gallbladder…” She pulled them both out and the others all swallowed bile. “Where do you want them?”

“Uh…here,” Monroe sighed, taking them in his own gloved hand and quickly going to the cauldron. He plopped them in, gagging a little.

“Alright…next is the tongue. Uh, gonna need someone to open her mouth…” Sloane said, looking at them. Monroe grimaced but reached up and pinched the corpse’s jaw in his hands, pulling it open. The crack made them all wince, but Sloane picked up a pair of tongs and the scalpel. “How much do we need? Am I going to the root?”

Adalind shook her head, closing her eyes. “N-No, just the main part…”

She nodded and started work. Monroe was looking up at the ceiling to try and avoid seeing what she was doing, his own mouth working in sympathy.

“So…how long does this have to cook?” he asked.

Adalind cleared her throat, also trying not to look. “Um, I’m not sure, but I think we’ll know when it’s ready…”

Monroe nodded and Sloane finished sawing through the tongue and pulling it out. “Okay, got it.”

Rosalee took it in her gloved hand, racing over to throw it in and backing away at the slight splash. “Great…last is the ribs. I have a hammer and chisel over there.”

Sloane wrinkled her nose. “That’s a bit too messy…I’ll be right back.” She went out the side door and they all looked at one another in confusion. Moments later she returned, smiling a little. “I keep these in my car for emergencies.” She snipped a pair of bolt cutters for emphasis and they all jumped at their size.

“What kind of emergencies, break ins?” Adalind asked.

“Yes,” she said as if it were obvious.

“…Okay, now I feel silly for asking.”

“The point is, this will get them a lot quicker and easier. It’s what heart surgeons often use. Guess I lucked out I didn’t need them…”

“Don’t even joke,” Rosalee said, shuddering at the thought.

Sloane smiled wanly, then looked at Adalind. “…Look, if you want to go in the next room till we’re done…”

She sighed but nodded. “Yeah…Yeah, I’d appreciate that.”

“There’s a mini fridge in the back with some drinks,” Rosalee said. Adalind smiled gratefully and headed to go there.

It took a little time, what with having to butterfly her skin off, but Sloane got the ribs with a few cracks of the bolt cutters.

“Where’d you learn this stuff?” Monroe asked, putting the ribs in a pile. He then helped her close the body back up and zip her into the body bag.

“I had to hunt sometimes for food. I learned how to dress down dear, rabbits, boars…”

“Boars?” Rosalee asked in surprise. She was pulling a large machine out from a cabinet in the corner and setting it up while they got the body put back away.

“Yeah, or wild hogs I guess sometimes technically. You don’t stay kosher long when you’re hungry. Plus, it was good practice with a polearm.”

“…Oh God, this was when you were a kid again?” Rosalee asked, knowing the pattern.

“Teen mostly…What’s that?” She asked, looking at the machine curiously while she zipped the body bag back up. The machine was large, tall, and had a funnel on one end.

“This is…”

“A grinder. For the ribs,” Adalind said, coming back inside. “I found these in the back…we probably should wear them.” She held up paper masks and some safety goggles and Rosalee nodded in thanks as she took them and put them on, the others following suit.

“So, after this, how long until after this it’s ready?” Monroe asked.

“It’ll have to brew for a while to get down to where we need it…” Adalind sighed. “But we’ll know when it’s ready.”

“And what do we do with…?” Rosalee looked at the body bag.

“Ah…grab my phone. I need to keep stirring but you can call to have her picked up, it’ll be the top number in history.”

Rosalee nodded and went to go call.

It was a couple of hours and close to sundown before Nick and Hank arrived back. The men had come in that time to take Catharine back to her final resting place as well and the smell was starting to finally leave the shop. “Hey…how’s it going?” Nick asked.

“Just waiting for the sign…” Adalind said. Nick quirked a brow and looked at the others, who just shrugged in response. “Sign?”

“Yeah, it’s—ah, there we go!” He looked in at the green concoction simmering in the small cauldron. He felt a little chill when he saw a skull form in the bubbles rising to the surface. “The skull means it’s ready.”

“The what now?” Monroe asked. He leaned over and grimaced. “Oh, that’s…encouraging.”

“It actually is. Now we just have to strain it.”

“I’ve got a colander, or a mesh strainer, which would be better?” Rosalee said, starting for her equipment.

“Neither. We use this,” she said, picking up the witch’s hat from the sideboard. “Good thing Renard left it here…”

“The…hat?” Sloane asked dubiously.

“It’s a magic hat, remember? Here, get that jar, it should be big enough.” Rosalee grabbed a large mason jar for her and set it on the table. Adalind held the hat over it with the pointed end facing the jar, then nodded to Monroe. He grabbed the cauldron with the industrial oven mitts and tipped it to pour into the large end. Like a funnel the green liquid went in the large opening, and then ran out the other end clear as bottled water. Sloane, Hank and Nick looked at one another in surprise but watched as it filled up the jar.

“I think that's all of it,” Monroe said, making sure the last drop fell in.

“It looks like water,” Rosalee said.

Adalind examined it and nodded, though her expression didn’t look like she was entirely happy. “Won't taste like it…” She sniffed it and then recoiled, twisting her lip. “Yep, it's pure now.”

“Now all we have to do is get Juliette to take it,” Rosalee sighed.

“Oh, that'll be a snap, 'cause, you know, the last time she took something we gave her, boy, that worked out like gangbusters,” Monroe snarked.

“And if she thinks Adalind had anything to do with it, she'll never take it,” Nick sighed.

“Let’s be honest, she might not want to take it anyway,” Sloane sighed. “She likes the power. Plus, and no offense, how do we know it would work? Didn’t Henrietta say Grimm blood wouldn’t work on Juliette? Will this?”

“It should work on any hexenbiest, regardless of what they’ve gone through in the past or how they became one. But there’s one way to find out…” Adalind sighed.

“What’s that?”

“I’ll take it first. Give it a test. If it works me, it'll work on her.”

They were all shocked a moment, looking at one another and then back at Adalind. “I…you’d do that?” Nick asked.

“I don't have a choice. If she stays a Hexenbiest, I'm dead. Plus, if it does work…A small dose might work on Diana. Keep her safe for a while. Then we’d just be normal and…” She looked at Sloane and Sloane looked back before nodding.

“I can’t promise anything…but that would be a good way to work that out.”

“Then I’ll take a chance.” She took a deep breath and brough the jar up to her lips before they could say anything else. She took several sips—almost like she was trying to get rid of the hiccups—until about a quarter of the potion was gone. She sat down and shook herself, gagging and shuddering and gasping “Ugh! God!”

“How do you feel?” Nick asked, eyeing her a little worriedly.

“Like I just drank my mother…” she said, sneering a little at the question.

They all winced but watched her for a moment as she swayed and tried to keep the potion down. “How long before we know if stuff is, you know, doing anything?” Monroe asked.

“Mm…Not too long.” She urped and looked nauseated as she screwed the jar’s lid on. “I think I want to sit down. Mm…” She walked over to the day bed and sat down, trying to breathe deeply.

“Is everything okay?” Sloane asked, uncertain.

“Mm…You better hold me down.”

They all blinked. “What?” Nick asked, unsure if he heard her right.

“All of you, just hold me down,” she ordered more forcefully. They got up as she laid down and each took a limb—Nick and Rosalee at her arms, Monroe and Hank at her feet. Sloane moved to help but Nick shook his head. She frowned but stood back.

“Okay…we got you,” he said.

She nodded then gripped his shirt. “Oh, God…Here it comes!” She woged and began to wail—a sound that scraped down their spines like a razor. She began shaking as if being thrown around and the four had to put their weight on her to keep her from flipping off the bed. “Don't let go!” Adalind screamed. She opened her mouth wide and it was like her hexenbiest form tore away from her. It screamed again, the room shaking as it writhed in the air above her, clawing as if trying to grab hold of something and anchor itself to the world.

The room was shaking so hard they heard glasses clattering. Rosalee looked towards the table in time to see the jar dancing to the edge. “Sloane, the jar!”

Sloane jolted and looked at the table. She dove just as it tipped and caught it, breathing out in relief. “Got it!” The relief was short lived when the sound of cracking glass echoed through the room. She looked at the jar, scared she’d broken it, but it was fine. Then another crack and she looked up in time to see the skylight above the worktable breaking apart. She quickly curled up, covering her face as glass rained down on her.

“Sloane!” Nick yelled.

“I’m fine!” she yelled back.

The hexenbiest spirit then was finally sucked back into Adalind’s body and the shaking stopped. Adalind’s face rippled back to her human one and her head lulled to the side, exhausted. Rosalee pressed her fingers to her neck. “…I have a pulse.”

Nick nodded, relieved, and then let go of her arm to go help Sloane. She was shaking her head, trying to get the glass out of her hair. He swept the biggest pieces out of the way with his foot and then reached down. “Give me your hand.”

Sloane looked up with an unreadable expression for a moment but then did so and he pulled her to her feet. “Thanks…”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just surprised me more than anything…Can we please limit our exorcisms to once a month in the future,” She asked wryly. Nick snorted and nodded with an agreeing smile. He then suddenly fitted his arms around her. Sloane blushed, then gasp as he lifted her up, swing her around and set her on her feet away from the glass. Sloane was tempted to point out this wasn’t necessary as she was wearing her boots, but just managed a nod. “…Thank you.”

“You’re welcome…”

They heard Adalind groan and stepped carefully back over to her. Her eyes fluttered open and she grunted. “What happened?”

“Well…things got a little intense,” Nick said, looking at the glass and a few other things that toppled over.

“Mm. Yeah, they did,” she agreed, looking as well while still lying down. “Did I hear somebody scream?”

“Yeah. That would be you,” Monroe said.

“Oh…That's why it sounded so close,” she grunted. She moved to push herself up and they all tried to tell her not to, but she shook her head a little. “No, I need to sit up…” She managed to get to a sitting position, wiping the sweat from her face. Breathing a moment, she looked up at them. “Well, I guess we should see if it worked.”

“I think you should just lie down,” Rosalee said.

“No, I need to know if this made a difference,” Adalind said, determined. She took a breath then looked at them. “You all better stand back. Just in case.” They quickly did so, Monroe taking Rosalee’s hand as they grouped together. Adalind sighed and her head did the tilting motion Nick and Sloane often saw when someone woged. Her face rippled just slightly…but remained human. She looked curious and did it again, with even less rippling. A third time and there was no outward sign. Nodding, she then looked around and pointed to a bottle of amber liquid on a nearby table. Crooking her finger, the bottle moved forward, but slowed and stopped inches from the edge. She tried again and nothing happened. She sighed, looking conflicted but nodding. “Well, I...I guess I'm…suppressed.” There was a slight crack in her voice, as if she were about to cry. It was hard not to remember how this felt before—like a part of her had died inside her. It wasn’t quite as dramatic as that—it felt more like a limb falling asleep. Numb, staticky. There but useless. But she felt powerless too all over again. Nick frowned a bit. He’d felt a little bad for taking her powers before, when she’d left looking so lost and inconsolable. He knew how this must be for her. But to know she had willingly done it, to prove to them she could help… “Now all you need is Juliette,” Adalind said, forcing a smile.

“That might be the hardest part,” Sloane sighed, setting the jar on the table now that they were out of the danger zone.

“Could we shoot it into her?” Monroe asked. “Like, with a tranq gun?”

“It has to be taken orally. At least three tablespoons,” Adalind sighed. “And I doubt we can trick her because she’s going to notice that smell, trust me…”

“…Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Nick sighed, pulling out his phone.

\----------------

Juliette finished clamping down the jar lid. The liquid inside was a black, brackish red. She eyed it, both critical and unsure.

“All done?” Kenneth asked.

“Yes…it needs to rest for a night.”

“So, do we. Kelly will be here tomorrow night if she’s sticking to her word.”

“I’m sure she is. No reason to lie to me that she knows of.” She heard her phone ring and frowned, going over to it. “Nick’s calling me again.

Kenneth chuckled. “The man doesn’t know when to give up,” he laughed. Then he paused. “Answer it. We need to keep him occupied.”

Juliette looked unsure but he motioned for her to hurry and she sighed and accepted the call. “Nick?”

“Juliette…you picked up,” he sighed.

“I did. What do you want?” she asked, impatient.

“Can’t we just…talk?” he asked hopefully.

“If that’s all you called to do, you’re out of your mind. But I doubt that’s the case. What do you want?” she said.

“…We found a way to help you.”

“Help me?” she asked snidely.

“Yes. We have a suppressant.”

“A suppressant?” she parroted again, this time in surprise. Kenneth looked surprised as well.

“We tested it, and it will work,” Nick said, hopeful since she hadn’t just hung up on him.

“I thought you said there wasn't a cure…Rosalee and Henrietta both said...”

“It wasn’t easy to find or make, but we did it. This can help. Juliette, this will work.” He took a deep breath and Kenneth looked close to laughing when it sounded like he was tearing up. “I get that I handled this badly…I get that I hurt you. And I’m sorry, I really am. But what you’re doing…if you keep doing this, you’ll leave us all behind. Us, your family, your friends, your life…you won’t be able to go back. And even…even if you don’t want all of it back…If you don’t’ want me back, this is for the best. You can move on, find someone…be happy. But I know there’s still the part of you, the realest part, that doesn’t want to hurt us. And if you give that up, there’s no going back.”

“…When?” Kenneth’s brows rose when she asked the question, but Nick shuddered out a breath of surprise and relief.

“Now? At the Spice Shop?” he asked hopefully.

“Okay.” She hanged up before he said anything else.

“…May I ask what you’re doing?” Kenneth said, eyeing her critically.

“Call me curious,” she said. “And also tired. I want them to stop trying to take my power away from me. So, I’ll show them I’m not letting them.”

Kenneth smiled and nodded. “Very well…have fun.”

“Oh, I will,” she smiled, walking to the door.

\-----------

“She’s on her way here,” Nick said, looking surprised as he walked back in.

“Now?” They all asked.

“Uh, yeah…?”

“I have to go,” Adalind said, standing. “She’ll kill me if she sees me.”

“Are you okay to drive?” Hank asked uncertainly.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m feeling…okay.”

Nick nodded. “Thank you…”

She smiled. “Gotta clean up my messes somehow…Let me know how it goes.” She headed out the side and to her car to head back to Henrietta’s house. She picked up food on the way, including a small chocolate cake she may very well eat on her own on the way.

“Adalind? You’re back?”

“Yeah…” she said, feeling sudden trepidation. How her mother reacted to her coming home without her powers came to mind.

Henrietta smiled from reading in the study and then paused and rose. “Oh…Adalind, what…?” Just like her mother, she could tell that her powers were gone.

“…Had to test the suppressant…” she said quietly. “And this way…maybe they’ll really trust me.”

“Oh dear…” she sighed and walked over, hugging her slightly. “Honey, I understand what you’re trying to do, but you shouldn’t keep torturing yourself to gain their trust…”

“It’s not as bad as before…I’ll be okay,” she sighed. But she was also a little relieved at how Henrietta handled things.

“It’s been a long day, huh?” she asked knowingly. “With what you had to do…”

“Yeah…Mom’s body is going back to the cemetery…I just need to rest.”

She nodded, helping her into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Nick was pacing with agitation, waiting for Juliette to arrive. They were gathered in the main shop floor—Hank leaning against the counter Sloane was sitting on, Monroe at the door waiting, and Rosalee holding the jar nervously between the counter and the door.

Eventually Monroe perked up and took a breath. “She's here…” Nick paused, and Monroe opened the door. He tried to smile, but it was awkward at best, nervous at medium, and downright scared at least. “Juliette…”

Juliette just smiled and actually looked like she enjoyed the expression and the way he couldn’t meet her eyes. “Hey, Monroe. Rosalee. Hank…” She paused, looking Sloane over a moment. “Sloane. Nick.” She glanced around, mock curious. “Anybody else? I mean, this is an intervention, right?”

“Basically…” Sloane said, eyeing her back. She had a bad feeling, especially with the look she received. _What did I do to piss her off that bad? The fight at the trailer? I fought to not kill you, ingrate!_

“Juliette, we all know this is... It's a little bit awkward, but, really, it's for the right reason,” Rosalee said, adjusting her grip on the jar.

“Fixing me?”

Nick sighed but didn’t bother sugar coating it. “Yes.”

“Such good friends,” she sneered. “But how did this happen, this special medicine? How did you suddenly figure it out?”

“The books,” Hank said.

“From the trailer? Oh, wait…Sloane’s mother stole that, didn’t she?” She turned her gaze to her, and Sloane frowned.

“I got books too.”

“Hmm, that is true…but then, I already know who helped you before. I got a chance to see her. When she connected you two together,” she said, gesturing between Nick and Sloane.

“What?” Nick asked. He looked at Monroe and Rosalee who winced.

“We…weren’t sure how to tell you,” Monroe said. “She came and…wasn’t happy.”

“She almost ruined the spell,” Rosalee said, not looking at Juliette.

“That’s putting it mildly. I could’ve trapped you two together in your little dream world. Bet you’d love that,” Juliette laughed. “Oh, but me, I was pretty livid…getting Adalind’s help. After all she did. It was that easy?”

“You didn’t want to help,” Nick said, trying not to sound accusatory.

“No, I didn’t want to be convenient,” she spat back. “But hey, it worked out, huh? And that must’ve been fun, right? I mean, you two, alone, in your own little world…”

Sloane flushed on reflex and Nick tried to keep his face schooled. “Juliette, that…doesn’t matter now. What matters is you taking this. It will work and then you don’t have to worry about this anymore,” he said.

“And come back to you?” she asked.

“…That’s up to you. Regardless of how you feel. But if you can’t forgive me, you at least have to take this because your powers are dangerous,” he said, not looking at her.

“…You claim it works. So, that means you've tried it on, what, a Fuchsbau?” she said, looking at Rosalee who looked away. “No. A Blutbad? I doubt it.” Monroe looked away as well. “Wouldn't that mean you'd have to try it on a Hexenbiest to make sure it works? And if it was Adalind…well, that makes things fun. For me.”

“Juliette, take it. And we can...” he tried again.

“Oh, it's "we" again?” she bit out.

“Look, Juliette, we're just trying to help you get back what you lost,” Monroe said.

She looked at him, narrowing her eyes. “And what have I “lost”? Because it seems like I’ve just gained things since then. Power. Clarity. A new life.”

“What about morals? Your job? Your friends?” Sloane said, losing patience.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” she laughed. “How many did you kill over the years? And what, you suddenly want to be “good” and you think that erases that?”

Sloane flushed but then glared. “When did this become about me? Whatever I did, I’m trying to make up for. You on the other hand are spiraling down so far you’re going to get someone killed-”

“Sloane!” Nick bit out. Sloane frowned at him but huffed and looked away. Nick sighed and took the potion from Rosalee, holding it out to Juliette. “Take it. Please. This needs to end, and even if you don’t come back to me, I can’t…let you keep going down this path.”

She eyed him before sighing and taking the jar. “Well, all right. Let's just get this over with.” She stared at the potion for a long moment, looking pensive. Then the shop began to shake as though there was an earthquake. Rosalee looked around in shock and Sloane hopped off the counter while the men braced themselves.

“Juliette, stop!” Nick shouted.

It did stop but she looked at him. “You’re right about one thing…I’m not coming back to you.” She sent the jar rocketing skywards.

“No, Juliette! It's all we've got!” Rosalee shouted, moving to stop her. With a simple wave of her hand, Juliette sent her flying back into the upper shelves behind her, breaking them and several jars before she fell hard to the floor.

“Rosalee!” Sloane and Monroe shouted, Sloane moving to her.

Monroe woged, snarling at Juliette. She moved her hand and sent him sprawling as well and the jar crashed to the ground, the hard-won potion splattering across the floorboards. Hank drew his gun, but she sent it flying across the room before he could take the safety off. Monroe crawled over to his wife and Sloane stood and grabbed a jar nearby but gasped as she felt her whole body seize before she could throw it. “When are you all gonna learn that I like who I am?” she asked darkly.

Nick drew his gun then and pointed it at her. “Well, we don't.”

She glared and then woged, her eyes burning for him as her rotted teeth clattered out a hiss. “Well, that's just too damn bad. You made me. Now get used to it.” She raised her hand and Nick’s eyes widened as he felt like invisible hands were all over him. The pushed and pulled, making him twist around to face Monroe and Rosalee.

“Nick?”

“Oh, my God,” they said, holding each other.

“She's doing it!” Nick yelled, his body still moving on its own. “I've got no control!”

Monroe pushed Rosalee away and she gasped as she stumbled back, and Hank pulled her further away.

“You know…I think let’s make this richer,” Juliette hissed. She crooked her other hand and Sloane took a jerky step forward, then another until she was side by side with Monroe. She was trying to fight it, but it felt like she was wrapped in coiled rope and forced to move. “Choose, Nick. Which one dies?”

Nick’s eyes widened and both Monroe and Sloane looked at him with a touch of fear as they were lined up, overlapping, no clear shot between them.

“Let go of the gun!” Monroe shouted.

“I can't stop it!” Nick shouted.

“Go on! Grimm’s best friend or your new girl!” Juliette taunted.

Sloane gritted her teeth, closing her eyes as she tried to move. As she did, her skin paled and opening her eyes, they were black with a white pupil burning at Juliette. Juliette froze a moment, remembering that day at the trailer when Sloane came close to killing her. “Let us go,” she said out, her voice reverberating at the back of Juliette’s skull. It made her hair stand on end and her powers flinched, as though sensing a predator in the room, but then she growled and clenched her hand.

Hank was thankfully faster and tacked both Monroe and Sloane to the ground as the gun fired, striking the shelf just where their shoulders and been. Juliette smiled, hiding the moment of fear she’d experienced. “Whoo! That was close!” They all looked at her in shock and disgust, but most importantly fear. She just smiled wider. This was how it was supposed to be, they feared her, not the other way around. She was a stronger hexenbiest than even those born as one, she had nothing to fear, not even from the Grimms. “Well, that was fun. But I’ve got some stuff I’m working on and need to get back to. But this was really informative. Because if you really did test your little concoction on Miss Adalind and she's useless, then I suppose you did me a great big favor. Thanks for doing the heavy lifting.” She turned and laughed as she walked out the door.

Sloane made a move to follow but shuddered, grabbing the shelf with a gasp. Nick jolted out of the paralyzing haze of shock, adrenaline winding down, and betrayal and turned. “Sloane?” He quickly went over, and she breathed deeply as if nauseous.

“I…I’m okay…just…feel a little dizzy…” She looked up, her eyes back to normal, but her nose was bleeding and she looked like her eyes were pinning and widening rapidly.

“Shit,” Nick said, quickly holstering his gun and bringing her over to a chair.

“Whoever that was, I am done trying to help it,” Monroe bit out, standing with Hank.

“I’m out too,” Hank agreed.

“Me too. That bitch could have killed Monroe!” Rosalee said, looking haggard. “And Sloane—oh god, Sloane,” she said, quickly going over to her.

“I’m okay,” she sighed again, though she looked pretty out of it. “Not sure what I did just now…”

“It was a lot like how you were before, when ordering animals, but you looked like when you were under Dierdre’s control,” Nick said slowly. “But also…like how I get. When I go pale.”

“Does yours also feel like you had an aneurysm?” she asked, her eyes calming down as she breathed deeply.

“Don’t joke,” Rosalee said, grabbing tissues to put on her nose. “Maybe you should lie down for a bit…”

Sloane looked like she’d argue but Nick set a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe you should...”

She sighed and stood, Rosalee helping steady her as she took her to the side room. Monroe looked at Nick. “What are we going to do now?”

“…I don’t know,” he sighed, looking at the potion on the ground. “But she’s out of control…I hoped…” he sighed, and Hank patted his shoulder sympathetically.

Rosalee meanwhile got Sloane to lay down and got her some water and aspirin. She took them and sighed. “I’m feeling better, really…”

“Good, but just rest for a bit…” She hesitated, looking at the main room, but then back to her. “…Juliette said…she called you Nick’s “new girl”?”

Sloane’s eyes snapped open and she looked at her. “…No idea what she’s talking about.”

“…Really?” she asked, uncertain.

“…It’s nothing that matters,” Sloane said.

“…I won’t press…but if you need to talk, I’m always here,” she said.

Sloane couldn’t help a small smile. “I know…but I really just want to forget. I mean really forget…” she muttered.

Rosalee was curious but just let her keep resting while the guys started cleaning.

Juliette meanwhile was smiling still. _Maybe that finally got through to them that I’m serious and they can’t just think I’m going to go along with whatever they want_.

\---------------

Renard looked deep into the mirror. Deep into his eyes. As if he could see someone else hiding there. “…If you’re in there, you bastard, I’m going to find a way to stop you.”

He tensed when he heard laughter and whipped around, but he was alone. He swallowed and turned back and gasped when he saw what looked like a face without skin staring at him with empty sockets. He screamed and fell backward, but when he blinked the face was gone.

“Let’s see you try, Seany. I’m with you, true till death,” his voice said. He clapped a hand over his mouth and groaned.

Glaring then, he stood and quickly grabbed his handcuffs from his bag. Climbing into bed, he handcuffed himself to the post, then threw his key far across the room. “Not tonight.”

“Maybe…but you can’t do this every night. Sweet dreams, Seany,” he laughed.

\---------------------------

“I found him handcuffed to the bed this morning,” Wu said, looking tired. “He yelled for me to get the key. Apparently he heard Jack last night and thought this might help. But he’s not sure if he can keep this up. And I’m not sure I can either.”

Nick and Hank looked at one another and sighed. “Thanks Wu…think you can do it again tonight?”

“Let me get a little shut eye and I’ll be able to. You guys should think about it too, I know last night was probably even harder on you,” he yawned. “Even the captain’s gonna try and take it easy today, but it’s your turn to keep your eyes on him. You guys sure he didn’t just…have a breakdown?” he asked delicately.

“It’s too much of a coincidence with what he’s been going through and those girls ending up dead…” Hank said. “Even if he’s not killing someone, something is really wrong with him. We gotta do something.”

Wu nodded, sighing. “I’ll go rest up for later then…” He walked off and Nick sat back, looking tired as well.

“…How you doing?”

“…Not great,” he sighed. “Just…I never thought Juliette would do what she did last night. I almost…”

“She made you almost. Look, man, whatever she’s going on…it’s on her. Adalind’s trying to do better, Henrietta’s helped us, Sean’s mother helped us…being a Hexenbiest isn’t an excuse. Maybe this freed something in Juliette she didn’t even know was there. Everyone has a dark side.”

Nick nodded and realized his idealized version of Juliette was fading. He’d been so sure—or maybe hopeful—that taking her powers would bring the old Juliette back. That maybe after some time, things might work out. But he had to face it, Juliette had changed. He had too over the last couple of years, since inheriting his Grimm abilities. He’d been so scared of dragging her down that dangerous path and before he knew it, she’d followed him and then taken a hard turn into even more dangerous territory. And was reveling in it. “I couldn’t save her…so hopefully we can save the captain.”

Later that afternoon, Rosalee was setting part of the Dead Faint to boiling in what looked like a mad scientist chemistry set. Adalind and Sloane were also there, and Sloane caught Adalind up on the events of the night before. “…I’m not that surprised to be honest,” Adalind sighed. “I sort of thought that might be how that went.”

“I’m sorry your hard work went to waste,” Rosalee said.

“Not completely.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a smaller jar. “I did save a little…just to be safe.”

“Smart,” Sloane nodded. “Do we want try and force her to take it?”

“If you know a way how, I’m all ears,” Adalind said. “Otherwise, I’d like to keep it for Diana.”

“Fair enough,” Monroe sighed. “Let’s focus on helping Renard for now I guess…”

“Trying to,” Rosalee nodded, continuing to tweak the beakers and flames and pipets.

Adalind came over to watch. “…You sure you’re not a hexenbiest…?” Rosalee arched her brow and Adalind held up a hand. “I just mean, you’re making this potion that makes someone appear dead, you regularly figure out cures for wesen poisons and ailments and even figured out how to cure my curses…I’m legitimately impressed. Most Hexe I know have a hard-enough time doing that with magic and that you do it without is kind of amazing.”

“…Thank you,” Rosalee said, honestly a little proud from the compliment.

“Yeah, she’s pretty awesome,” Monroe smiled dreamily.

“Saved our asses enough times, that’s for sure,” Sloane agreed.

“Okay, I love the compliments, but I am trying to concentrate. It’s going well I think, but it’s delicate work.”

“I hope it’s going well; I don’t really want to kill Sean…” Adalind said.

“None of us do, but if it’s him being possessed he can’t keep killing people. Who knows who he’ll go after next?” Monroe said. “Plus, the sun is setting now…”

“I was still too angry to work on it earlier after last night,” Rosalee sighed.

“Don’t blame you,” Sloane sighed.

The bell dinged and they looked up, except Rosalee who didn’t even flinch. Nick and Hank walked in and then to the side room. “Hey…how’s it going?”

“I’m almost done, but it’d go a lot faster if I could concentrate,” Rosalee said patiently.

Monroe nodded and then motioned for them all to go to the shop floor, locking the door again once there. “It’s going fine,” he said.

“That’s good. Wu’s gone to watch the captain again tonight,” Hank said. “I think we’d all like to get this over with.”

“Hopefully it goes better than last night from the sound of things…” Adalind said. Monroe shot her a look and she winced. “Sorry, I meant…”

“Yeah…no, I get it,” Nick said. “We’ll think of some other way to deal with Juliette…”

“And the royals she’s with,” Adalind reminded him.

He nodded, sighing again. They looked up when Rosalee came into the room, examining a pea green liquid in a volumetric glass. She swirled it a bit, nodding. “The Dead Faint is done. I think it'll work, but Sean can't know what he's taking. We have to assume whatever Sean knows, Jack knows.”

“Right, I mean, the dilemma here is, if that thing inside him knows he's not really dying, then he's probably not gonna cross back over,” Monroe sighed.

Nick nodded, thinking that over as well. “I think they both have to believe they're dying.”

“Oh, so traumatize him again, great…” Sloane muttered.

“Gotta do something…” Hank sighed.

“What if the captain thought he was taking something that would help him remember what he was doing during the blackouts, some kind of memory reboot?” Nick suggested.

Rosalee pursed her lips, combing through her inner files quickly. “There's something called Gedaechtnishilfe, which sort of does that…”

“Well, so we tell him that's what we're giving him,” Hank said.

She shook her head a little. “It's pretty tame stuff. It wouldn't kill him, and he might know that. I think we have to do something that makes it look like he's really dying. We have to convince Jack that this is the end and it's time to move out.” She wiped her hands as if pushing him away.

“Hit the road, Jack,” Monroe agreed, slapping the glove he used to handle hot bakers onto the table after shutting them down.

“Falling asleep might not be enough to do that,” she sighed.

“We're gonna have to put on a show.”

Nick was looking at the concoction thoughtfully. “We may just have to shoot him.”

Sloane looked up at him in surprise. “Uh…I know some people fantasize about killing their boss, but…”

Nick opened his mouth, but his phone rang, and he quickly set the beaker carefully down and pulled it out. “It’s Wu.” He answered and walked off a few feet to talk to him.

Sloane sighed a bit and noticed Monroe, Rosalee and even Adalind breaking down the science set. “Here, let me help too.” She carried a few things over to the sink to clean.

“Oh, you should probably wear some gloves,” Adalind said, handing her a pair. “This stuff might not like your skin, to say the least.”

“Thanks.” Sloane pulled one on, but then the other slipped down onto the floor. She didn’t think much of bending down to get it using the sink as a support, but when she tensed to push herself back up a sharp pain ran right down her sternum. She barked out a surprised yelp and went to her knees, clutching at her shirt.

“Sloane?!” Rosalee said, rushing over. Nick had come back in quickly as well and the others moved towards her.

“I…I’m okay,” she gasped out. “I guess I pulled at the cut a bit…”

Adalind was helping her up and over to a chair. “I healed the top layer first; your muscles are probably still damaged…”

“Good to know,” she grunted, rubbing lightly at the wound.

“I can call up some people from the physical therapy center—they can maybe recommend some exercises,” Hank said.

She sighed but nodded. “Thanks…I thought I’d at least be able to clean okay…”

“It’s okay,” Rosalee said, rubbing her back gently. “Take time to heal.”

She didn’t look happy but nodded again. She looked up at Nick as he calmed. “Wu had some news?”

He hesitated but nodded. “Yeah. The Captains’ back home, in his house. So far so good, but he hasn’t handcuffed himself to anything...”

“Well, it’d be the first time I’d be happy my hard work went to waste if he didn’t change…but I won’t hold my breath,” Rosalee sighed. She went to go finishing cleaning up with Adalind.

Sloane sighed again, rubbing idly over her chest. Nick sat down next to her, watching. “…you okay?”

“…yeah, fine. Really. Just don’t like being on the sidelines, you know?” Her phone started ringing and she pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the number. She didn’t recognize it and set it aside to ring out.

“I understand that, really…but even before you had to take time to recover from some things, right?”

“That was before I was in a city, with a job that brought me wesen cases every other day,” she pointed out with a smile. “I could take a break since I had to find the next hunt, it didn’t find me. Now trouble finds us.”

“Fair enough,” he said, smiling back. “But we want to keep you around.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she said, but smiled as well.

“Y’know, I wonder if that Geda…whatever could help you remember your dream time,” Hank said.

Nick froze and looked at him. “I…why would she want to do that?”

“I don’t know, it’s supposed to be her “ideal world”? I’m curious what that was. Are you?” he asked Sloane.

“…Not really. Ideal means it’s not real, right? I mean, I don’t want to be disappointed. I like the life I have.” Her eyes darted to Nick for a brief moment and he felt his heart ratchet up a bit. Did she remember? Or was that because she knew what she’d want?

“Heh, I guess that’s a good point. Guess I was just curious if it was like my ideal world,” he smiled.

“And that would be…?”

“Beaches and babes,” he smiled.

She snorted and laughed and both of them smiled. Sloane’s phone rang again, and she looked at it to see the same number. She very nearly ignored it again but then paused, looking at it more closely. She quickly accepted the call and held it to her ear as she stood and went to the other room. Nick and Hank looked at one another but stayed put. “Hello?”

“Sloane? It’s me,” a familiar voice said.

“Kelly? What’s going on, it’s not the normal check in time…”

“I’m almost into Portland and I realized I should call you, get the full story if you’re able.”

“…Full story of what?” she asked, frowning. “Why are you coming to Portland?”

“To help Nick.”

“…With what?” she asked, unsure when he asked her for help or how.

“He’s in danger, isn’t he?” she asked, now confused as well.

She blinked and looked around the corner where Nick was sitting. He looked back, quirking his brow. “Uh…no more than usual? I mean, a lot’s been going on.”

“Juliette emailed me saying he was in mortal danger!” she said.

Sloane went still. “…She did?”

“Yes! Now is he or not?”

“…” Sloane held the phone away, her mind whirring quickly. She could hear Kelly call her name and looked at him again before waving him over. He rose and strode to her and she handed the phone to him. “Nick, say hi to your mother, she’s freaking out.”

“I am not-Nick?” she asked, now confused as well.

“Mom?” Nick said, taking the phone. “What’s going on?”

“You’re okay?” she asked. She was trying to keep her composure but there was a tinge of urgency in her voice.

“Yeah. I mean, there’s been a lot going on lately…Sloane’s mother came and caused trouble again.”

She sighed, sounding relieved. “Well…Diedre does that. So, you’re already okay?”

“Already?”

“Juliette emailed me two nights ago you were in trouble and could possibly be killed. I’ve been driving since then to get to Portland. I figured Sloane was the best to call—she hadn’t mentioned her, but I hoped she was alright too.”

Nick looked at Sloane, shocked, but she was nodding slowly. “…I’m not in danger. Not right now anyway.”

“Then why did she tell me that?” He was quiet and Kelly’s tone turned a little more worried. “Nick?”

“…How much did Sloane tell you about the last few months?”

“…She mentioned there was an incident that you lost your powers for a time. That’s what stood out to me the most. But it was reversed.”

He looked at her and she shrugged. “I wasn’t sure how much you would want me to tell her,” she said quietly.

Nick sighed, a little relieved and a little anxious. “Yeah, that’s the basics…but in reversing it…Because a hexenbiest did it to me posing as Juliette, Juliette had to be the one to undo it. And it…turned her into a Hexenbiest.” It was quiet again for a while. “Mom?”

“I…I pulled over. She’s a hexenbiest you said?”

“Yeah…”

“…I would ask if your joking, but I know you wouldn’t joke about that,” she said, somber. “I’m so sorry, Nicky…”

Nick took a breath and nodded. “Yeah…Well, I didn’t take finding out well. But she hasn’t taken any of it well.”

“Put it on speaker,” Sloane said. Nick hesitated but did so. “You’re on speaker, Kelly. We’re at the spice shop but it’s just me and Nick in the room. Juliette asked you two nights ago to come?”

“Yes… She said to come because Nick needed me, and that the house was safe. The emails will have been deleted by now though.”

“That’s not my concern. My concern is _why_ she would do that.”

“Yes, why would she?” Kelly asked, picking up on Sloane’s tone.

“Adalind…is here,” Nick said slowly.

“You said you weren’t in danger,” she accused.

“We aren’t. She’s…we have a truce,” Nick said. “She’s in the other room. Yesterday, she helped us try to find a way to suppress Juliette’s powers. Juliette refused and destroyed it, but she tried. She already helped save Sloane’s life. Even healed her a little from a bad wound.”

“…I’ll want more details on that later, but alright…”

“She said that the Royals were in contact with her. With Juliette, I mean,” Sloane said. “There’s a Prince here in Portland, Kenneth. He wants to use Juliette to find you, and by extension Diana.”

“…You think Juliette tried to lure me there?” she asked, putting things together.

“I don’t want to believe it, that she’d go that far, but there’s no reason for her to contact you and lie to you otherwise, and no way the royals would be able to figure out how to pose as her on that email platform given the security measures you take…” She looked at Nick hesitantly.

“…She’s been acting out a lot. Last night…she almost made me shoot Monroe with her powers,” he said.

“What? I…Alright. So, Juliette is now on the Royals’ side,” she said, trying to come to grips with that quickly. “And they want me in Portland to take Diana.”

“…It makes the most sense,” He sighed, rubbing over his eyes. “Which means—”

“They can’t come here.” Both of them jumped and looked up to see Adalind in the archway. She sighed and walked over. “Kelly?”

“…Adalind.”

“Yes…Look, I…am still angry. For all of this,” she said honestly, breathing deep.

“…I know. I knew you would be, and I don’t blame you. I’d have probably done worse to get Nick back in your shoes.” Nick looked a little unsure about what she meant but didn’t say anything.

Adalind nodded, pursing her lips as well. “I believe that…But…As much as I want to see Diana…she can’t be here,” she choked out. “The royals absolutely cannot get to her.”

It was quiet for a moment, the others now peeking around the corner. “I agree.” Kelly finally said. “But I don’t think I can keep moving with her, to be honest. She’ll be a year old soon…”

“Trust me, I realize that too,” she said, voice cracking.

“But that means she’s a bit more prone to wanting to not be in the car for hours at a time. I just entered the Portland city limits a little while ago. I was going to find a place to feed Diana before heading to your house, where she said it’s safe.”

“Then it isn’t,” Sloane said.

“I’ve been driving all day. I’m not sure how much more Diana can take…” Kelly sighed.

“…I’ll text you an address. Wait for us there.”

“Alright—”

“Let me come too! Please. If she’s already here,” Adalind said, looking at her.

“Adalind…”

“My powers are gone. I’m not a threat. Please, I just want to see my daughter,” she asked desperately.

“Her powers are gone?”

“She tested that suppressant for us,” Nick said. “She’s serious about turning over a new leaf.”

“You believe her?” Kelly asked, uncertain.

Nick looked at Adalind, who looked back at him with pleading, desperate eyes, close to tears. “…I do,” he sighed. She looked close to hugging him and he held up a hand. “It’s not forgiveness…but I at least believe she’s trying very hard to do better.”

“…Alright,” Kelly sighed. “Text me that address, I’ll meet you there.”

“Right. Stay safe.” Sloane hanged up and immediately began texting. “I’m sending her to my house.”

“Is that safe?” Nick asked.

“Safer than yours,” she said.

“I’ll go with you—”

“Not yet,” she said, looking at him. “Take care of Renard first. I’m not up to snuff yet to help with that and we can’t let Jack keep doing what he pleases. I’ll meet Kelly.”

“And me,” Adalind said.

“And you,” Sloane agreed, finishing the text.

Nick looked hesitant but finally sighed. “Alright. Keep me posted.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

He nodded and looked up at the others poking their heads around the entryway. “…You guys got all of that?”

“The gist of it, yes,” Monroe nodded, only slightly abashed to be caught. “Juliette really tried to lure your mom into a trap?”

Nick was hesitant to admit that, but Sloane nodded. “Sounds like it. So, she’s willing to kill now to help her new friends.”

“We don’t know if they’d kill her,” Nick said.

“Nick, she tried to make you shoot me last night!”

“And me,” Sloane added, and he nodded and gestured at her.

“Plus, it’s the royals! The Verrat! They weren’t going to let your mom just leave peacefully,” Monroe said.

“…They might’ve told her they wouldn’t hurt her,” he said quietly.

“…Nick, I get you don’t want to admit this,” Sloane said as gently as she could. “But Juliette isn’t some naïve doll. She’d have figured that out too.”

Nick sighed, pulling at his face as he tried to both think and not think. “Let’s…deal with Jack for now. Whatever Juliette is doing we can figure out later.”

Sloane nodded and she and Adalind headed out to her car while Nick and Hank headed to the other just as night began to fall.

\---------------------

Renard was looking for his handcuffs again. “Where are they? Where are they?” He froze when he felt a tightness in his chest. He looked over, seeing the floor mirror in his room. “…You moved them?”

“Aye, I did.”

“Stop this…you’re not real!” he shouted, going to the mirror.

“I’m as real as you, gov’nor,” he laughed.

“No, it's not right. I would have remembered something! The place... if it was cold, if it was raining,” he said, holding his head.

“Their screams... you never forget something like that,” the voice said, echoing through his mind.

“Oh, God, no. Oh, no. No, no, no. No!” he yelled, pulling at his hair. He gasped as he felt the searing pain his chest and looked down to see his old wounds bleeding again. The world was growing hazy. “Stop, stop. Stop! Stop!”

Wu was waiting the car, yawning a little. It’d been a long night before and probably would be a long night now. He was sipping coffee when he heard yelling and looked up to see the captain rushing out the door. His shirt was open and there was blood all over his chest. The sight had Wu quickly putting his coffee down and rushing out. “Captain? Captain, what is it?!” He's inside!

“He's inside!” Sean shouted.

Wu drew his gun, heading towards the door. “Inside where?”

“Inside 'ere.”

He froze at the change in accent and felt his blood run cold. He turned his head just in time to see the fist coming for him and he went down from the blow. It was strong enough he could feel the world dimming. Just before he blacked out, he could hear the voice again as the captain loomed over him. “Now... what say you and I have a bloody good time?”

\-------------------------------

Getting to Sloane’s house felt long but was actually fairly quick for the two of them. But then that left them waiting for Kelly, and Adalind began pacing.

“You’re going to wear a hole in my floor,” Sloane said.

“Sorry, I just…shouldn’t they be here by now?”

“We just got here ten minutes ago, relax—”

“I can’t relax! This is the first time I’ll see my daughter in almost a year! What if…what if she doesn’t remember me? Or like me? What if she hates me now?”

“She’s like a year old, do babies really have a firm grasp on that stuff?” she asked, unsure.

“The first year is an incredibly important time for babies! She…probably calls Kelly mom…or thinks of her as mom…” there was a hint of jealousy in her voice.

Sloane eyed her and sighed, standing to go over. “Okay…I have no experience with this. But all I can say is I was raised by my grandmother because my mother is a psychotic bitch.” Adalind arched her brow but Sloane shrugged. “It’s true, I realize it now. But I’ve come to realize that’s fine if she is. Your mother isn’t a defining factor in your life.”

“Not feeling reassured…”

“But, your feelings are,” she went on. “You love your daughter. My grandmother and aunts love me. Kelly I’m sure has done the best she can, but that doesn’t mean she’s the only person in her life that can be like a mother to her. Just show her that. One day she’ll be able to understand if she doesn’t now and you can talk all this out and have a big _Lifetime_ movie moment over it. But right now, just show her you missed her and take everything else one step at a time.”

“…Okay…Okay, that actually does help,” she sighed. “Thanks…” There was a knock at the door and she almost jumped out of her skin. But Sloane just patted her shoulder and walked over and opened the door.

“Sloane…this is your house?” Kelly asked, looking at it in a mix of admiration and surprise.

“Yep. Come on in.” She backed away, gesturing for Kelly to come inside. In her arms was a beautiful one-year-old girl. She had soft, downy hair the color of honey and bright blue eyes. She was wearing a pink dress, purple leggings, and a lightweight white jacket. In her hands was a small stuffed dog. Sloane was reminded of those Precious Moments figurines she’d seen in the store growing up, with big doe eyes and innocent features. Adorable and creepy to be honest. Diana looked at her warily and she tried to smile. “Um…so…” She stepped aside and Adalind was there.

Kelly looked hesitant but nodded to her. “Adalind…”

“…Kelly,” she said, equally hesitant. Her eyes were on Diana, who was looking at her curiously. “H…hey Diana…It’s me, mommy…”

She blinked, looked at Kelly, then back at her. Kelly was nodding, walking slowly over. “Yes, that’s your mommy honey.”

“…Ma?” She looked at Kelly again and Adalind’s heart sank.

“No…no, I’m not your mother,” she said quietly. She walked over. “This is your mother…she missed you a lot. Did some not nice things to get to you,” she added, eying Adalind. Adalind flushed and looked down. “…But she’s making up for it.” She looked up again, hopeful. “Why don’t you two sit on the couch and get reacquainted while I warm her food up.”

“O-Okay…” She reached up, hoping that Diana would let her hold her. The young girl was hesitant, but Kelly moved her to the other woman’s arms. Adalind took a deep breath and felt the tears began to roll down her cheeks. “Diana…I missed you so much…” she said quietly. Diana looked at her with those eerily intelligent eyes again, then reached up and wiped at her cheeks with the stuff dog in her hand. Adalind laughed a little, sniffling. “Thank you…” She said it and then looked at Kelly. “Thank you…”

Kelly smiled and walked to the kitchen while Adalind sat down on the couch and sat her daughter on her lap. She was looking her over, touching her hair, smiling lovingly and happily. The sight was actually a little hard for Sloane to watch and she turned away and headed to the kitchen.

“So,” Kelly said, opening the packet of food. “Do I get the full story now?”

“…It’s kind of long…”

“Try me,” she said.

“…You know what, why don’t you tell her, Adalind?” she said, looking to the living room.

“Me?” she asked, looking up in surprise.

“Yeah. I want to go…take care of something.”

“What kind of something?” Kelly asked, suspicious.

“Just…want to go check Nick’s house.”

“Sloane, if they were planning to attack me, there’s probably way too many Verrat swarming that place,” Kelly said.

“I’m not planning to fight; I just want to see for myself what they’re doing…confirm if Juliette really helped them. For Nick.” _And for me. I don’t want to believe she would, but if I see it…maybe I can start thinking on how to deal with her better._

Kelly hesitated and then looked at Adalind. She was hesitant too but nodded slowly. “Okay…just be careful.”

“Always am. You two catch up and figure out some stuff,” she said, heading for the door.

\-----------------------

The fog worked well. All she had to do was set the small bowl near the door and using her magic, she made it go under the door and into the house, and around to the residents. They could see, using night vision and binoculars, the residents breathe it in. Those that were awake, watching late night television and the like, near instantly fell asleep. One man drove up on his motorcycle however and called out to them. Juliette recognized him; it was Tim Margulis. He’d helped them with yardwork in the past. Yet she didn’t feel much when one of the Hundjagers tackled him into the garage, sinking his teeth into his throat as they closed the door to use as a vantage point.

“Was that really necessary?” she asked.

“No witnesses,” Kenneth smiled. “Even with your spell, I’m not keen on dealing with anyone. You honestly saved everyone else from dying because I was perfectly fine sending them in to tear their throats out. Does that bother you?”

“Not really, but this is less to explain. One-man dead isn’t going to stand out as much as a bunch of people all in the same neighborhood,” she said, heading for the front door.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page. Plus, it was a nice test of how useful you’ll be in the future,” he smiled, following her. She quirked a brow but unlocked the door and headed inside. She looked around, cataloging everything. “Home sweet home,” Kenneth said lightly.

“He took down all our pictures,” Juliette said, noting the absences on the walls and tables.

“Painful memories,” Kenneth said. She frowned slightly as she remembered the good times they’d had in the past—flowers, kisses, cuddles, just sitting and talking…She sighed, and he quirked his heads. “Not having second thoughts, are you?”

She roused herself and shook her head. “Of course not.”

“Good…how many ways are there in and out of here?”

“Front door, side door, back door…back door’s in the kitchen,” she said.

“And this is the computer you used to email his mother?” he asked, looking at the mac desktop on the desk near one of the windows.

“Yes…”

He nodded, looking around. “Weston Steward was killed here…Sean was shot here…how many times were you attacked here?” She eyed him, and he smiled. “I’m just reminding you part of why we’re doing this. You’re never going to be a target or a victim again. I’m going to give you that freedom.”

She remembered the instances and nodded a little. “Right. I remember, don’t worry.”

He nodded and glanced at the stairs. “And what’s upstairs?”

“Two bedrooms, two baths,” she said.

He smiled. “Well, let’s see how the Grimm lives.” He headed to the stairs and Juliette followed.

She showed him the guest room and bath, then opened the door to the master. “And this…was our bedroom.” She looked at the blue dresser across from the bed, running her hand over it. Nick’s guitar was in the corner—he hadn’t played in months. Too much going on. The other dresser was near the bathroom, and their bed was made. It all looked innocent, and she remembered how much effort she put into decorating.

Kenneth smiled and ran a hand over the bedspread. “And this would be where Adalind took Nick’s powers, hm?” Juliette frowned and he shrugged. “I mean, it must be. Then where you got them back for him. I wonder though if anyone else has been on it…Miss Larson never came up here, did she?”

“You know I’m helping you, you can stop with the manipulation tactics,” Juliette said, losing patience.

He smiled. “Forgive me. I’m used to playing mind games with everyone, including my allies.”

“Sounds like it would get annoying kind of fast…And a good way to lose your allies.”

“Perhaps, but it’s so much fun finding their breaking point. It’s like a puzzle. Everyone assumes I’m a meathead who likes to go charging in, but there’s an art to getting into people’s heads. And all royals are taught it. Just in case we get to be the chosen one.” He sardonically held up his hands as if receiving a blessing from above. The huffed a laugh and dropped them. “But do forgive the teasing. I’ll stop. I don’t want to make you angry; I know that.

“Good,” she said, eying him.

“So, anything else I should know?”

“Yes.” She walked up and set her hands on his chest. He allowed it, eying her with an idea of what she might be doing. “If I’m going to be working for the royal family…” She pushed and he sat on the bed willingly. “…You need to have a very clear understanding…” She pushed on his chest again, making him lay down while she crawled on top of him. He smiled a little, maybe enjoying her being forceful. “…Of just how valuable I can be.” She leaned down to kiss him, and Kenneth kissed back eagerly, rolling them so he could up the passion.

Sloane, meanwhile, was watching much of what was happening from the roof of the house next door. She frowned as she watched the men in suits filing into the house. She took video on her cellphone since Juliette had gotten out of the car to fog the other houses. The attack on the neighbor happened too fast for her to stop it and she cursed under her breath with a silent apology to the man. When Juliette and Kenneth walked into the house with more of the men, she stopped recording and climbed back down using the drainpipe. Her chest was twinging but she breathed through the pain—until she was about halfway down, and the pain strummed all the way to her shoulders and her fingers slipped. She landed on her back, hissing and clutching at her chest.

“What was that?” she heard a gruff voice asked.

“Possum?” another answered.

“Hmmm…I could use a snack.”

“Ugh, your taste in food is disgusting as ever…”

He just laughed and she heard his footsteps coming towards the back gate. Sloane swung to her feet and made her way quickly and quietly around the other side and over the fence there, rolling with the tightness of her chest again at pushing herself over. She pushed herself up and crawled to the corner of the fence, breathing slow and steady to get control of her body again. She waited for a while as she heard the man shuffling around and sniffing. Peeking through a knot hole, she saw he woged into an Abartige Aasfresser—a Hyena wesen she knew well for their delight in picking off the helpless. _Bone crushing jaws and teeth. Relies on sense of smell because they aren’t the best with their eyes…_

She heard him get to the fence, sniffing along it curiously. Reaching into her jacket, Sloane pulled out a small spray canister and sprayed it discreetly near her side before he got there. The combination of extracts and herbs would hide her scent for a short while—a trick she’d learned long ago similar to how her Grandmother had saved her by placing her in the herb cupboard before. The sniffing was getting closer and she held her breath.

“Hey, what are you doing?” the first voice called.

“Hmmm…I can’t find anything,” he grunted.

“Then leave it and get over here! We’re supposed to be keeping a look out from the house and we got the door open.”

“Fine…” he said, woging back and headed back for the front. Sloane breathed out slowly and rose. But she ducked back down when another man in a suit passed by _. Shit…gonna have to wait a bit before I make a break for it._

She waited fifteen minutes before she heard a little bit of a commotion. She pulled her hood up to hide her hair and looked over the edge. Kenneth came out, looking more rumpled than before and adjusting his clothes. Sloane arched her brow, but he was heading for the house across the street with the guys in suits. She waited another handful of minutes after they went inside before deciding it was time. She was about to try and hop the fence when she paused and sighed, knowing she’d have to pull too much at her chest to get over it unless she got a running start. And that could draw too much attention. So, she had to hope this gate was well oiled. The creaking seemed loud as she pushed it open, but no one came rushing out, so she breathed and quickly made her way to the front and the side in the shadows. She eyed Nick’s house and considered going in to confront Juliette. But in her condition she wasn’t sure how many she could fight off alone. So, she started heading up the street by keeping to the shadows.

She paused on the way however when she saw another figure coming up the street. She quickly hid against the side of a house while she watched them make their way to Nick’s house. _It can’t be Kelly…_ She watched them go up to look into Nick’s windows. They were about to knock on the door when they paused and instead turned to head down and back up the street. One of the men in suits came out to follow them and Sloane moved around the side of the house to follow them both down the street and around the corner a couple of blocks away. She got around the side around the same time as the man in the suit and saw his confusion when the hooded figure was gone. But she already knew where the figure was—they jumped near silently down from a tree and with one swing took the man’s head off with a machete.

Sloane equally soundlessly came up behind them as they were pushing the dead man’s hand open to see the Verrat tattoo. “I hope you aren’t planning to just leave him in the street…” They swung around but Sloane blocked the hand. Her eyes widened when she saw who it was though. “Trubel…?”

“Sloane!” She turned and they both smiled, hugging each other.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were still in Philadelphia?”

“No, I…Monroe and Rosalee called me. I was traveling,” she said, a little hesitant.

Sloane pulled back and looked at her. “Traveling?”

“Yeah…A little hunting, on and off. but I’m being safe. And I’m not just killing everything! …Well…” she looked at the Verrat on the ground.

“I’ll give you a pass for him. Verrat need to be weeded out,” she sighed.

“Yeah, I agree there…”

She looked at her, arching her brow. “I…don’t remember going over them a lot with you.”

“…I’ve got a lot I need to talk to you and Nick about. I came to find him—why are there Verrat agents everywhere?”

Sloane sighed, glancing back behind them before grabbing the man’s ankles. “Help me move this guy out of the way and then we’ll go meet with Nick. There’s a lot we need to go over between all of us.”

\-----------

When they got to Renard’s house, Wu’s car was gone, and so was Wu. But Wu’s gun was left behind in the grass. Nick tried to call Wu’s phone, but he didn’t pick up. Nick quickly called in for a trace on the car as they broke into Renard’s house. No one was home, so Renard was also gone, but on the mirror in the bathroom upstairs was a message. _Welcome Back Jack_ was written in blood across the glass, giving them all chills.

They got word back Wu’s car was tracked to downtown, back to the area a lot of prostitutes frequented. Despite recommendations to stay inside, he knew some would still be out to make money. They found Wu’s car and found Wu inside, tied up but trying break out by smashing his feet against the back window.

“Wu!” Nick yelled, running up to him.

“Where's the captain?” Hank asked, opening the door.

Wu scrambled out with his hands still cuffed behind him, talking fast as Hank helped unlock them. “He's got another woman! He's got another woman! He's down the street!” He grabbed his gun when Nick offered it to him and started running across the street. “This guy is crazy! He's not the captain! You're right; he's possessed! He's gonna kill her!”

They came around the corner to an empty street. Wu cursed, looking around for any sign they were in the area with Hank. Nick took a breath though and closed his eyes, concentrating. Dimly he heard a voice speaking with a British accent, “I love your hair…It smells so good.”

“Kissing's extra, honey,” a female voice answered.

Nick honed in on the sound and looked to an alcove just up the street. Nodding to the other two, he quickly but quietly ran towards it.

“No, darling,” Jack said, wearing Renard’s face with a cloth cap on top. He reached to his back, pulling a scalpel from a hidden pocket on his belt. “There won't be any kissing.” He raised it, and Nick lunged the last few feet to grab his arm and pull him back.

“What's going on? I wasn't doing anything!” the woman said—long blonde hair, short, short mini-dress and high, high heels. She had no idea what was just about to happen to her.

“Get out of here!” Hank yelled. She skittered away while Nick pushed the man down onto the sidewalk and wrangled his arms around behind him to cuff him.

“What's going on? What are you doing? Ah!” Renard said, feeling the cuffs go on. “Nick? How'd I get here? What happened?”

“We’ll explain on the way,” Nick sighed, taking him to the car. He wasn’t convinced it was Renard, but he played along quickly. Despite saying he’d explain, the drive back to the spice shop was too quick to do it well and they pulled him out and to the door. Monroe was waiting for them, opening the door for them to pull him in.

“You got it?” Nick asked.

“We're ready,” he nodded, Rosalee coming in with the glass full of green potion.

Renard eyed them all, still looking panicky. “What are you giving me?”

“You said you can't remember what happened. This is gonna help you remember what happened,” Rosalee said. Nick and Hank pulled him into the other room to sit him down.

“I took it once. I just went to sleep, woke up feeling fine, remembered everything,” Monroe said, smiling as convincingly as he could. It wasn’t a lie after all.

He looked at the glass, then down, swallowing dryly as he considered that. “What if I remember killing those women?” he finally asked.

Monroe looked at them uncertainly, but Hank nodded. “We know it wasn't you. Just like you said to Nick before.”

“But we have to know what we're dealing with. Any clues you can give us to what he is and how to deal with him could be a huge help,” Nick said.

Renard sighed deeply but nodded. “Okay…” Nick came around him to unlock the cuffs—they couldn’t leave them on because depending on how long he was out it could cut off circulation, or cause damage.

Wu pulled out his gun and Renard looked to him. “This is just in case, sir,” he said.

He nodded, understanding. Rosalee handed the glass to Monroe, who passed it to Renard with an encouraging smile. Renard took it, eyeing it with a mix of dread and nausea. “Maybe it's best I do remember…” He tipped the glass back, swallowing it all down. He smacked his lips when he was done, unsure about the taste, but sighing. “So, what now?”

“We wait,” Rosalee said, trying to smile chipperly. “You might want to lie down…”

He glanced at the day bed they sat him on and sighed, turning to lay down across the quilts laid out on top. A few minutes passed in tense silence before Renard’s eyes started to flutter. “I'm getting sleepy…Is that supposed to happen? Uh, I'm not remembering anything.”

“If you feel like you're going to fall asleep, that's fine. Just means it's working,” Rosalee said gently.

“Yeah, I'm just so tired…” he sighed. He closed his eyes, his breathing slowing till they couldn’t tell if his chest was rising and falling.

“It's working,” Monroe whispered.

Rosalee nodded, walking softly up to him. “Yeah. Let me check his pulse.” She reached up and pressed her fingers to his neck. “His pulse is slowing down…We'll only have a few seconds. Getting slower. Slower…Almost…”

She wasn’t prepared for the sudden hand around her throat as Renard’s eyes snapped open. She choked and grabbed it, trying to keep from closing completely around her windpipe. The others moved to help but a harsh, distinctly British voice barked at them. “One step closer, and I'll snap her pretty neck!” Nick pulled Monroe back and the three police drew their guns as he stood up, holding Rosalee close as a shield as he glared at them. “Trying to kill me. Is that it?”

“Nick, shoot him!” Monroe said, panicking at the look of fear and pain on his wife’s face as he dragged her back towards the shop.

“It's still the captain!” Nick said.

“Shoot him!”

“We've got to do it, Nick! We've got to take him down!” Hank shouted, trying to target Renard over Rosalee’s head.

“We don't have a choice, Nick!” Wu said.

“You shoot me, we both die,” Jack growled, nestling into Rosalee’s hair. “Don't want that, now, do we?”

“You got to kill him, Nick, now!” Monroe shouted desperately.

“He's the captain!”

“He's strangling her!”

“I could hit Rosalee!”

“Tell me what you gave to him!” Jack roared. He didn’t have his mind on Rosalee though, so she woged and then sank her teeth into his arm. He screamed, letting go on reflex and she rushed around him. Nick, Hank and Wu opened fire and he screamed again as he was forced back. He crashed into a shelf, sending a jar shattering to the ground, and then collapsed.

There was no blood though. Just dozens of rubber capsules scattered around after bouncing off of his body. Painful on their own, but none of them penetrated.

“Oh, my God. Are you okay?” Monroe gasped, rushing over to Rosalee. She was panting, rubbing over her neck, but nodded.

“I hope Jack bought it,” Hank said.

Wu nodded, ejecting his cartridge and putting the safety on. “He may not be dead, but he's not gonna be feeling so good after that many rubber bullets.”

“Shh!” Rosalee hissed. They were all watching him, waiting for a sign.

“How much longer do we have to wait?” Nick asked.

“Not very,” Rosalee said.

“Will you just make sure he's dead or not?” Monroe said testily.

Nick knelt down and pressed his fingers to Renard’s neck while Wu reloaded with a real bullet clip and aimed it at Renard. “I'm not getting a pulse…” As he said the words, a small puff of black smoke exited Renard’s mouth and they all backed up slightly.

“Whoa. Was that it?” Wu asked.

Rosalee moved towards him but Monroe halted her. “No, wait…”

“What if Jack's not gone?” Hank asked, voicing everyone’s concern.

“Then shoot him for real,” Rosalee said, looking angry and put out.

“Ready,” Wu said, clicking the safety back off.

Rosalee knelt, taking a syringe Monroe grabbed from its hiding place in the other room. She uncapped it and glared down at him. “If you’re still in there, I hope this hurts.” She jabbed it into his neck and pressed down on the plunger. Hank, Nick and Wu all prepared their guns just in case.

And nothing happened.

“Uh…He's not coming back,” Monroe said, worry in his voice.

They all gasped as the door opened. They relaxed when it was Sloane, striding in quickly. “Nick, there’s a problem-whoa!” She froze, looking at Renard prone on the floor. “…Oh shit, you killed him? You killed him for real?” she asked, shocked and looking dismayed that it didn’t work.

“No!” Nick said. “I mean…”

“He might be faking, because Jack woke up and tried to strangle Rosalee a second ago!” Monroe said. Sloane looked to her quickly and she nodded, rubbing her throat.

“Then we shot him,” Wu said, motioning to the rubber bullets.

“…Shoot him again.”

“Sloane, he’s down.”

“We gave him the reversal, he’s just…” Rosalee looked down worriedly.

“He might need CPR,” Hank said.

They all looked unsure at that, since that meant they’d have to get close to him again. Just as they were debating how to do it, Renard gasped and made them all jump. He coughed, then groaned, looking pained.

“Captain?” Nick asked cautiously.

“Yeah?” he groaned weakly.

“It's really you?” Monroe asked, still keeping Rosalee behind him.

“What happened? I feel like I got hit by a truck…” he wheezed. They all looked at one another again before nodding and holstering their weapons. Nick helped him up and he grunted as he stood, leaning against the shelf for support. “Oh God…” he groaned, gingerly touching his chest.

“What do you remember?” Rosalee asked.

He smacked his lips a bit, frowning as he thought. “I remember...I remember coming here, and... you gave me something.”

She nodded. “Yeah, to help you remember.”

“I... I don't think it worked,” he said, looking disappointed. Then he shouted, doubling over. “Oh, my God, no, I can't be bleeding again!” He tore his shirt open, expecting to see blood dripping from the closed bullet wounds. Instead they watched as the small circular scars seemed to swirl and then fade into his skin, as if nothing had ever happened. They all stared in shock and then up to Renard who was equally confused. He looked at Rosalee with a bit of awe. “What'd you do to me?”

She smiled, looking relieved. “I think we cured you.”

“Jack's gone,” Nick said, smiling as well.

Renard sighed, looking close to crying in relief. “Thank you…”

They smiled, then jumped when someone was rapidly knocking on the door.

“What now?” Monroe asked. He moved to go to the door, but Sloane beat him to it, opening it.

“Did you run into any trouble on your route?” she said.

“No, you?”

“No. They don’t seem to be watching the shop. Come in, I haven’t gone over anything yet.”

“What? Isn’t time kind of crucial?”

“They were performing an exorcism. Captain Renard was possessed by Jack the Ripper.”

“…You’re making me wish I’d stuck around,” Trubel said as she walked in.

“Oh my God,” Monroe gasped. “You made it!”

“Trubel?” Nick said, smiling a little more as he went over to her. “You’re here?” He gave her a hug and she smiled a bit and hugged him back.

“Yeah, I’m here…But we have a problem. Your house is swarming with Verrat!”

Nick paused and pulled back. “What?”

“It’s true,” Sloane sighed, pulling out her phone. “I went to check it out…because I knew if Juliette was trying to get Kelly to go to your house there was a reason. And it probably had to do with the royals. There were maybe thirty men there—enough that would even overwhelm her.”

“I…but…” Nick said.

She pulled up the video and showed him. “She did something to your neighbors…and stood by while they killed one of them. It happened to fast for me to stop…”

“…Tim…” Nick muttered, watching them tackle him and tear into his throat like animals. Juliette was outside in frame and really didn’t say or do anything to stop them, just walked into the house with the other man.

Renard walked over, still stiff and sore, to look at the next video she played, of the man leaving the house. “…Pause it.” She did and Renard zoomed in. “…That’s Prince Kenneth. The one that came here to get Diana and wanted Juliette’s help.”

“Juliette’s helping the royals?” Trubel asked, looking at all of them in confusion.

“There’s a lot you missed,” Sloane sighed. She looked at them. “Trubel came to talk to you and nearly walked into the house. It’s probably lucky she realized something was wrong and left.”

“But they had a hundjager follow me. I ended up killing him,” she said.

“That’s when we met up and we hid the body. Then we took different routes here just in case we were still being followed.”

“Slow down!” Nick said. “I just…she really set a trap for my mother? With the royals? They would’ve…”

Sloane looked at him sympathetically and set a hand on his shoulder. “Go sit…I’ll bring Trubel up to speed and we’ll talk more in a second.”

He hesitated but nodded, walking to the other room.

“…I’m going to call Adalind at your house and let her know what happened,” Rosalee sighed, heading to the other room as well.

“Adalind? At your house?” Trubel said, on alert.

“It’s part of that long story…” Sloane sighed.

\--------------------

It was past midnight when Kenneth called Juliette. “Where is she?”

“I…don’t know,” she admitted, looking out the window of the bedroom to the street below. She’d been looking at a few old photos of her and Nick, finding them in the closet. But there was no sign of Kelly.

“You said she was coming.”

“And last I heard she was,” she said, growing impatient at his impatient tone.

“Then find out why she isn’t here.” He hanged up and she glared a little but sighed and headed down to the computer. The men who were waiting looked up at her curiously but didn’t open their mouths when they saw the expression on her face.

She logged in and typed in a message to Kelly—but got an alert almost immediately she had been blocked by that address. “What?” She tried again and got the same message. “Shit!” She pounded her hand on the desk before sighing and grabbing her phone again, dialing Kenneth.

“Well?”

“She’s blocked me.”

“What?”

“She’s blocked my email. She must’ve found out you’re here.”

“How?” he growled.

“I don’t know! I…Sloane,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Kelly contacts Sloane more regularly. I’m the second on the contact list.”

“Well…you neglected to mention that,” he said snidely.

“Because I didn’t think she’d take the time to contact her if I was asking for help and saying Nick was in danger! I should’ve said she was dead…” she added bitterly.

“I guess you overestimated your importance. Maybe I did as well.”

Juliette dug her fingers into the desk, her hand woging enough to leave deep scratch marks. The men all looked at one another, backing away slightly. “Maybe I overestimated you if one setback makes you this irritable,” she said, her voice cool despite her anger.

“And what do you recommend?”

“Well, if she called Sloane or vice versa, Sloane would be the last person she talked to. So, she might know where she is. Or better yet, might’ve offered her a safe place to stay.”

“…A valid point. Lighton! Go check Sloane Larson’s residence.”

“Yessir!” the detective said, quickly getting up to go to his car.

“You don’t want to just go right now?” Juliette asked.

“I’d like to make sure before we go bungling into another neighborhood. This time I’m not taking time to worry about the neighbors.”

“Well, they’re probably all grouped together now,” she sighed. “And again, the more bodies we leave behind, the more problems we’re going to have.”

“You sure you’re not just feeling a bit hesitant to get rid of your old chums?” he said.

“You should keep in mind I’m not sworn to follow you. If I wanted to do this on my own, I could, and see what your Uncle thinks of that when you tell him someone else got Adalind’s brat.”

She was a bit surprised when Kenneth chuckled. “Well…I have to admit you do challenge me. Meet me outside.”

“We’re just leaving? Now?”

“There’s no point in hanging around if Kelly isn’t coming. I doubt Nick will be coming either if you were hoping to confront him.”

Juliette huffed but sighed. “Fine.” She hanged up and sighed as she stood and headed for the door. Rispoli radioed his men to head out as well.

They didn’t see Nick, Trubel and Sloane stationed in a car Sloane popped the lock to nearby, watching as they left.

“She really is with them…” Nick muttered, watching them with binoculars. He sounded lost and a little defeated, putting the binoculars down.

“I’m sorry, Nick,” Sloane said honestly.

“Its…yeah,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“Shouldn’t we take care of them now?” Trubel asked, watching them.

“There’s about thirty of them that we can see,” Sloane sighed. “Ten each, with a neighborhood full of potential collateral damages isn’t going to do us any favors. They already killed one neighbor, who knows what else they’d do…and I’m not in the shape I usually am,” she added, patting over her chest with a sigh.

She sighed but nodded, knowing she was right. “They were really going to have thirty men gang up on Nick’s mom though?”

“It would take that many to overwhelm her on her own. You don’t get to be her age as a Grimm without being skilled and strong,” she said. She looked at Nick. “I’m not sure you should go back there tonight…”

“…Yeah,” he nodded.

“You come back to my house. Visit with your mom,” she said, patting his shoulder. Nick smiled faintly, knowing she was trying to cheer him up. “You too, Trubel.”

“I’ve already got a place to stay and I should probably get back to rest. Maybe tomorrow.” Sloane looked at her in surprise. “What? I didn’t come here without a plan, I promise. Plus, it sounds like you have a full house and I…don’t know how to handle that?”

“That’s…fine, I understand. But we better catch up more later.” Trubel smiled and nodded before heading off on her own. Sloane looked at Nick. “Ready to head back?”

Nick nodded slowly. “Yeah…let them clear out first.” They ducked down as the caravan of SUVs passed by them and waited till they rounded the corner. “…Let’s go now.” They all got out of the car, Sloane locking it back up from the driver’s side before closing the door.

“I’ll head out too…I’ll call you guys later to figure out what to do,” Trubel said, waving as started up the street.

Nick nodded and they split up to go back to Sloane’s car since she drove him over. “…What are you thinking?” Sloane asked softly.

“…That…I just can’t believe Juliette would go this far,” Nick said. “I mean, those men…they would’ve killed my mom…”

“…As much as I want to say she’s one of the toughest of us, thirty against one would’ve been too much for her,” Sloane nodded. “She’d have to worry about Diana too.”

Nick nodded. “…What we do about Juliette?”

Sloane took a deep breath as she tried to think how to answer that. “I…don’t know. I don’t want to believe the Juliette we knew is gone, but…I don’t see her in their anymore. In her eyes I mean…” Nick nodded, knowing what she meant. The rest of the drive was quiet till she pulled up to her house and they got out. They went inside and Sloane locked the door behind them with the two deadbolts she had installed.

“Hey, you’re back.”

“Mom, you waited up?” Nick asked. She smiled and stood, walking over to hug him.

“Of course. I was hoping you’d come with Sloane…but I also wanted to know what she saw.”

“Nothing good,” Sloane sighed. “Thirty Verrat at least. Seemed like they got into the neighbor’s house. One civilian dead. They were determined to get Diana.”

“Over my dead body…That was probably the idea though,” she sighed. Nick winced at the thought.

“Good thing you called Sloane, huh?” Nick said, smiling tightly.

“Yeah…”

“Nick’s going to stay here tonight…where’s Adalind and Diana?” Sloane asked.

“In the back room,” she said, smiling. “I’m not sure how, but it seems like after a little while Diana recognized her mother. Cuddled up to her and everything.”

“Really? At that age?” Nick asked, confused.

“She’s very special…But now they’re sleeping on your daybed. She said she felt safer where your weapons were.”

“…I guess I can see that,” she nodded slowly.

“I’m going to get a blanket and sleep in there too. You both look tired. Fill me more in in the morning.”

“Okay…” Nick said. “…I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” she smiled, running hand through his hair. She then turned around to grab a blanket and pillow from the couch. Nick sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“…Stupid question, but how are you doing?” Sloane finally asked.

“…Bad…” he sighed. “I kept telling myself she would come back around. That she was just…scared and confused and angry, but eventually she’d realize what she was doing was wrong. That…I could win her back. Or at least help her…But she tried to kill you and Monroe…with me as the weapon. She just tried to lure my mother into a trap…I don’t know what to do anymore…If even letting her go will help us.”

“…That’s…okay.” She gently reached up and set a hand on his shoulder “I get it. We always want to be sure of what we’re doing and have a plan…maybe right now, we just need to try to get our heads on straight. We’ll think of something. You’re not going through this alone.” He didn’t say anything but nodded. She squeezed his shoulder and then took off her jacket and headed for the kitchen. “So, um, I think I’m going to make something to drink. Tea, probably. You want anything? …Nick?” She turned and was shocked to see him leaning against the door, face screwed up as if trying hard not to cry. “Nick…I…” She hesitated, unsure what to do. But she thought what she wanted to do and slowly walked up, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m sorry…”

Nick gave a shuddering breath, leaning against her a little now. He buried his head against her neck, and she rubbed over his back, not saying anything. After a few minutes he pulled back. “I…I’m sorry…”

“You don’t have to be,” she said gently. Nick looked at her in the eyes, only inches away. Sloane tried to smile encouragingly. The smile faded when he leaned in and kissed her. Her eyes widened and she was frozen a moment before kissing back. But she caught herself and shakily pushed him away, breaking the kiss. “Wha…?”

Nick’s eyes were wide as well. “I…Uh…”

“Why did you…?” she started, looking confused, flustered, and even angry.

“I didn’t mean—I was just—”

“You know how I feel, why would you do that?!” she choked out.

Nick was about to try and explain he wasn’t even sure why, but he faltered. “I…how do you know that I know?”

She blushed deeply and looked away. “…I gave you an out,” she said quietly.

“What?”

“I pretended…I didn’t remember the dreams,” she said, trying to calm down. “I knew you didn’t feel the same, but I still said all that and I…I figured pretending would make it easier. For both of us. So why…why did you go and do that?” she asked, looking betrayed.

“I just…I don’t know,” he said honestly.

“…You still love Juliette?” she asked, trying not to sound too accusatory or bitter.

“I…Yes,” he said honestly. “I mean, part of me does…I can’t…just stop, even though I know…” He floundered for words and looked at her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you or make you feel…uncomfortable…I just…I should go.”

“No,” Sloane said, catching his arm. “Just…You should go to bed. You’re not thinking straight.”

He frowned. “Sloane—”

“Go rest,” she ordered. “Your mom is here and I’m not explaining why you left again. I’m going to get something to drink, then I’m going to bed too, so just…” She didn’t look at him and Nick sighed and went to go down the hall to the guest room again. He felt confused, conflicted, and stupid for what he’d just done.

Sloane went to the kitchen and instead of tea, grabbed a bottle of wine she had in the cabinet above the fridge and poured a glass. She downed the glass, closing her eyes and praying it would make her feel less like she was a hive of bees revolting and buzzing. She poured another and went to sit on her couch, sipping it and thinking on what was going on.

Eventually she fell asleep on the couch, not wanting to get up. But she was woken by the sound of breaking glass and Diana crying in the back room. Then a lot of yelling and screaming. She was alert in a matter of seconds and rushing down the hall, the door to the guest room flying open and Nick joining her. “Adalind?! Kelly?!”

“Mom?!”

Before the got to the door, a man was sent flying through it. He was wearing a gas mask and thick fog was following him. Nick was scared it was tear gas for a moment, but he’d smelled that before in his police training. This smelled different—and it didn’t burn, but it made his head swim for a moment. But Nick saw his mother through the fog, blood pouring down her face, trying to fend off another man while another was vaulting in. Diana was crying in Adalind’s arms while she tried to shield her from the men coming through the windows. As she cried, the lights in the whole house began flickering and it felt like electricity was crackling in the air. One of the men tried to grab her and was thrown back into the wall, screaming as though he was on fire.

“Help!” Adalind stood, trying to get to the door with Diana in her arms. But then the fog suddenly, and unnaturally, swirled upwards towards her and her daughter’s nose and mouth. She quickly tried to fan it away from Diana, who was quieting down as if drowsy. And Adalind began to sway before tipping into the wall and sliding down. Kelly moved to get her but one of the men struck her hard with a baton, then again when she was on her knees. He raised his hand and brought it down on her head again.

Nick felt his blood run cold—not with fear but rage. He went pale and rushed in with a roar, punching the man out the window, breaking it further. Three more had made it in and one was holding Diana. Nick tried to grab her back, but another wrapped his baton around his neck from the window. Kelly tried to get up but the man at the side of the room struck her again.

“Front!” he yelled.

The man raced out the room, only to be met with Sloane brandishing her knife that she retrieved. “Put her down and maybe you keep your head,” she growled.

The man hesitated but then the fog rose up towards her. Sloane was surprised a moment before remembering the fog Juliette sent into people’s houses the night before. She tried to swipe at it, but it enveloped her and forced its way into her lungs. She wheezed, coughing and feeling her head spin. The man in the body armor moved the sleeping Diana to one arm and drew his gun with the other. The other man who Diana had sent flying limped up to him. “No, she said don’t kill them…she has plans, remember?”

The man growled but holstered it and ran past Sloane as she felt things grow dark. She tried to move down the hall, focus on getting Diana back. She saw the door open and Juliette was on the other side. She took Diana from the man, holding her without much emotion or concern, but still carefully.

“What did you do…to her?” Sloane said. She felt like she yelled it, but she had no strength in her voice.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be fine…It’s just a sleeping spell. One I control. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you resist that sort of thing.” She held up a hand, which was holding a lighter. “But it does have one added danger listed…being flammable.” Sloane’s eyes widened as she clicked the lighter on. The rush of adrenaline was enough to get Sloane running back as Juliette laughed—a cold, wicked sound that churned her stomach. “Run, run, as fast as you can!”

Nick had pulled in and beaten the man that attacked him from the window, Adalind was trying to stand, and Kelly was motionless on the ground in the thick of the fog as Sloane got into the room. “Outside!”

Nick looked up. “What?”

“Diana…” Adalind said, trying to move to the hall. Sloane grabbed her, pushing her towards the window.

“Outside, she’s going to set this on fire!”

“But Diana-”

“GET OUT THAT WINDOW OR YOU’RE GOING TO DIE!” Sloane roared, her eyes going dark. Adalind’s eyes widened and she turned finally to climb out the window as fast as she could. One man tried to grab her to go through first, but Nick punched him across the head hard enough his goggles cracked. The other grabbed his comrade’s shoulder and pulled him to the door to run out the front with their unconscious friend.

Sloane knelt to grab Kelly and sucked in a breath when she saw how bad her face was—the man had struck her several times in the head and one of her eyes was badly bleeding.

“Mom?!” Nick gasped. He looked up, and through the door, down the straight shot of the hall, he could see Juliette at the front door holding the lighter. Even over that distance it felt like their eyes met. And he knew what she was about to do. Nick quickly helped Sloane pick his mother up and pulled her towards the window, Adalind helping to pull her through. “Go!”

“Sloane—” he started, but she was pushing him hard to go first. He noted the fog seemed to be concentrating in the room now.

Juliette dropped the lighter and like a plume of napalm the fog ignited, rushing back to its source down the hall. Nick’s eyes widened when he saw it rushing toward him and he quickly jumped through, then pulled Sloane through just before the room exploded outwards, the fire licking her heals quite literally.

They all ground, having been thrown to the ground by the force. Sloane sat up, shaking her head at the ringing in her ears, and stared in horror as the fire began blazing. “No…No!” She stood, rushing towards it.

“Sloane!” Nick yelled, grabbing her.

“My house!”

“Sloane, stop!”

“No!” She struggled. “No, my house! My collection! It’s in that room!” she screamed. “My home!”

Nick squeezed her shoulders at the anguished shout and she nearly collapsed to her knees. The pain she felt in seeing the only place she had called home in decades burning was palpable. He looked down at his mother, prone on the grass of the back yard, and his mind going through what could happen with head trauma like that. Adalind was crying, and it was the sound of a mother feeling her child ripped from her once again.

And he knew that it was all because of Juliette. And he could feel the anger welling up inside him.

Kenneth was waiting a block over and was surprised when he heard the explosion. But he saw Juliette making her way towards him, with a little girl in her arms, and smiled.

“You did it…” he said, opening the door to his car for her.

“I told you I would,” she said, climbing in.

“She’ll be alright though?”

“She should wake up soon, I made sure the fog only got her a little. We should go.”

He nodded, signaling the driver. The men in their covert military-like uniforms were climbing into a van nearby to take another route.

“You might’ve lost one back there,” she commented.

“Oh, they’re expendable. They know that,” he said, looking at Diana as Juliette set her down between them on the seat. She was sleeping peacefully and though cute, he didn’t see what was so dire about getting her. “What about the Grimms?”

“They got out.”

He frowned. “You gave them time to get out?”

“I have bigger plans for Nick and Sloane,” she said. “Kelly…well, she didn’t get out unscathed. She was too focused on playing mommy and ended up pretty bloodied up. I was hoping I’d get Adalind, but she fought it…”

“Why set the house on fire then?”

“Buy us time to get away, and destroy at least a part of her now,” she smirked.

“…You know, I’m sorry I doubted you,” he chuckled. “I think you and I will be able to do a lot together.”

\----------------

The police, fire trucks and ambulance all arrived fairly quickly. While the main portion of Sloane’s house was saved with minimal damage—mainly the trail down the hall—the back was completely busted out by the fire. Kelly was taken to the hospital and Nick knew now how to get her to the doctor on call that knew how to deal with a Grimm.

Monroe and Rosalee arrived at Sloane’s house just after the fire was put out and she was staring numbly at the soggy, sooty remains of her office. “Sloane!” She looked up and sighed as Rosalee hugged. “Oh my God, are you alright?”

“…No,” she said.

“…Hey, it’s…your alive. You can rebuild,” Monroe said, trying to smile encouragingly.

“…That was where my gear was. My weapons. My books,” she whispered, hiding her face against Rosalee’s shoulder.

Both of their eyes widened. “Oh…oh no,” Rosalee said. Even if they were about hunting and killing wesen, those books were from Sloane’s ancestors. They had kept her alive many times. Had been with her for the majority of her life. Had belonged to her mother, but more importantly her Grandmother. And the weapons too, must’ve been passed down or carefully curated. None of this could be replaced.

“That…it’s bad, but it’s not hopeless,” Rosalee said, rubbing over Sloane’s back. “You’re all alive, right?”

Sloane was about to answer when Adalind walked up. “They have my daughter…”

Rosalee’s eyes widened. “What?”

“They took Diana…took her right out of my arms…” She grabbed Sloane’s shoulders, tears running down her slightly sooty face. “Why didn’t you get her!? Why?! He passed right by you!”

“…I’m sorry,” Sloane said honestly. “I failed…I know…”

“Sloane—” Monroe started.

“It’s true. We all failed…They figured out they came here I guess…maybe they didn’t even know for sure, she’d do it anyway. But they have Diana now.”

“Where would they take her?” Monroe asked, looking at Adalind.

“I don’t know! I don’t know what they’re doing anymore! She’s going to be on a plan for Europe probably soon and then we’ll never see her again and it’s your fault again, I never should’ve given up my powers! I could’ve protected her! You let her —” She gasped when Rosalee suddenly grabbed her shoulder and Sloane’s shoulder.

“Both of you, snap out of it!” she barked. “Now…we’re going to figure this out. We’re not letting the royals get away with this. But we can’t be blaming each other like this or giving up.”

“…Never said I was giving up,” Sloane said, moving towards the back of the house once the firefighters began packing up.

“Sloane?”

“Just…need to see what’s left. Then we can go.”

Monroe and Rosalee looked at one another but followed her over. Adalind hesitated but then followed as well. It was sodden, smokey and blackened and the hardwood creaked and cracked under their feet as they walked. The walls were barely studs in the bedroom and the wind whistled through the blackened skeleton walls to the hall. Her bedroom and the side room were thankfully barely damaged despite the fire trying to spread, but the closet where she kept her gear was gutted. Some weapons would be repairable. It wasn’t hot enough to melt her swords or other metals. But her crossbows were snapped and charred, handles were gone, pieces of armor singed. And her books…

She picked one up from the pile that had been the bookcase and it almost crumbled in her hands. Dried leather, singed parchment. Papers gone, only ashes remained. She stared a moment before just letting it fall and sighing loudly. Rosalee didn’t say anything, just set a hand on her shoulder.

“…what do I do in a situation like this…?” Sloane asked, honestly lost.

“…Well, first we get someone to tarp this off, secure the rest of your house,” Rosalee said, going into helper mode. She knew this wasn’t exactly what she meant, but it was what she knew. “Then we contact your insurance and see what they can do…probably making up a story as to what happened. They might investigate but hopefully not too hard.”

“I guess we could get that Schwein, Orson, to help from prison. If he still has contacts…” Monroe said reluctantly.

“And then…we just have to see what we can do from there to start cleaning up,” Rosalee said.

“The books…might be harder,” Monroe said. “But we’ll figure something out.”

Sloane sighed but nodded. She felt her pocket buzz and pulled out her phone. “…It’s Nick. Kelly’s out of surgery.” _Come to think of it, when did the sun come up?_

“We should go to the hospital too then,” Rosalee said. She looked at Adalind. “We’ll plan once we’re all together.”

“…Alright,” she said. “I’m sorry…I know you didn’t mean for this…I just…”

“I’m sorry too,” Sloane said. “I was hoping you wouldn’t have to say goodbye again too…”

“I didn’t even get that this time either,” she said, huffing a bitter breath. “But I’ll make sure I get her back.” She started for the car and Rosalee sighed.

“I’ll call Bud, he can come put some boards on the windows and make sure it’s secure for you.”

Sloane nodded and walked back to her car. Monroe and Rosalee both shared a worried look but knew this wasn’t over yet.

\-------------

Juliette was holding Diana as they walked up to the door of an opulent mansion just outside of town. Kenneth had revealed on the drive the king had arrived that night and was waiting for them. So, it was good this worked out. They were led by more men in suits to a room off the side of the entryway, a sitting room with a lit fireplace and many books. And an older man in a fine gray suit stood up as they entered. He looked like a kind, affable grandfather when he smiled. “Ah…is this my granddaughter?”

“It is,” Kenneth smiled. He nodded to Juliette, who walked up and handed the sleeping one year old to the king.

“My…already a year old, it’s hard to believe,” he smiled, holding her close. “Oh, how I’ve longed to hold this child. Back where she belongs.”

“She’ll be asleep for a little while longer,” Juliette said. “But then should be fine. Aside from maybe being confused.”

“Well, she’ll get over that soon enough I’m sure.”

“You should be careful, uncle…according to my men, her powers are indeed very strong already. She threw him against a wall.”

The king just laughed. “Oh! Powerful indeed then, wonderful. I’m sure she’s the child we’ve waited for.”

“Indeed…Ah, and my manners. This is Juliette Silverton. Without whom this would not have been possible. Juliette, this is King Frederick von—”

“Let’s not spout all those names, Kenneth,” the king sighed, rocking Diana slightly. Kenneth frowned at being interrupted but sighed. The king smiled at Juliette. “I can’t thank you enough for your help, young lady. I promise, a new life awaits you in Vienna. I’ve always had a rather soft spot for Hexenbiests after all.”

Juliette’s brow twitched but she nodded. “Thank you…but there’s a bit I want to take care of here first.”

“Oh?”

“The Grimms.”

His face grew serious and he looked to Kenneth. “They aren’t dead yet?”

“She wants to do it herself,” he said. “And given her history, I thought that fair. Though Kelly may already be dead. Traumatic head injuries and all that.”

“They’ll all be dead by tonight,” Juliette added.

The king hummed but nodded. “Very well. But I want to get back home as soon as I can, you understand.” He nodded to someone behind her and a young woman in a maid’s uniform came forward to take Diana from him. “When she wakes, feed and bathe her, and dress her properly. I want her ready to travel by tonight.”

She nodded, walking away. Juliette watched and then her eyes widened when she saw Diana’s eyes were open, glowing purple and staring at her. She looked away quickly, kicking herself for being intimidated by a baby. “…Could I use one of your rooms to finish preparing something?” She lifted a bag. “I have everything else I need with me.”

“Of course.” He nodded to a man who gestured for her to follow him.

She began to, but then paused. “Oh, Kenneth…you said you had a Private Investigator following Nick, right?”

“Yes, Lighton. Pricey, but worth it.”

“I want him to do something for me…could he come here?” she looked at the King and put on a faux sweet smile. “I don’t want to overstep of course.”

“I suppose that would be fine as well…” he smiled. Juliette smiled back and headed out with the man to one of the other rooms. Once they were gone, the king turned to Kenneth. “You’ve done well, Kenneth.”

“You’re too kind, uncle,” he smiled.

He smiled back, but it wasn’t fully warm or proud. He paced over to the fire, looking into it speculatively. “But I do wonder…is it only thanks to Miss Silverton?”

Kenneth frowned. “What?”

“You said without her you couldn’t do it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m impressed. But more so with her, than with you.”

His jaw dropped and he strode forward. “I am the one that thought to even use her! She is a tool, not the master.”

“Then prove it to me.” Kenneth looked at him questioningly and the king glanced where Juliette had gone to make sure she wasn’t there. “While I don’t doubt she may wish to exact some sort of revenge, I’m not patient or so trusting that she might go through with it. You go take care of the Grimms. Ensure they cannot come and try to retrieve Diana from me. You cannot leave loose ends, lest they weave together a noose.”

Kenneth looked pensive before nodding slowly. “That’s simple enough.”

“You say that, but don’t forget what they are.”

“Don’t forget what we are either,” he said back. “But afterwards, I’d like to know more about our history with the Grimms. And with how we got to our…positions.”

“That’s knowledge for the future king,” he reminded him.

“And? Am I not your new favorite nephew?”

Frederick huffed a bit but then smiled. “Take care of the Grimm and then…I can guarantee you are.”

Kenneth smiled and turned to head out.

\-----------------------------

At the hospital, Nick was sitting and waiting. At some point morning came, but he barely noticed, sequestered in a back room after getting his own minor scrapes treated. He was going through a cycle of worry and numb. Kelly’s surgery was secret so the doctor couldn’t talk openly about it yet and asked him to wait. He thought to text Sloane, but that was the first real conscious action he took for a while.

“Nick?”

He looked up to see Sloane, Monroe and Rosalee walking through the door from the main hospital. He stood. “Guys…” he sighed when they all came to hug him.

“How is she?” Adalind asked.

“I don’t know, they could only tell me the surgery was over, not how she’s doing…” He sighed. “Trying to pull the strings and get this going without alerting a lot of the other staff isn’t easy I guess…I don’t think most of them even knew who she was.”

“That’s for the best, less questions,” Sloane sighed. “As long as she’s being looked after it’s fine.”

“How are you?” Nick asked.

“…Alive. That’s what’s important, right?”

“What she said,” Adalind said. “I mean, I’m…burning on the inside of course.”

“We all are,” Rosalee said. “But being alive is good.”

“Definitely,” Monroe said. “And Kelly’s going to be alright too.”

“Depends on your definition,” a new voice sighed. They turned to see the doctor walk in.

“What does that mean?” Nick asked, worried.

“…Your mother is alive. Luckily the bleeding in her brain was able to be treated relatively quickly. We’re going to have to monitor her for a while but I’m fairly hopeful she’ll live.”

“…But?” Nick asked, sensing the lingering bad news.

“…I was unable to save one of her eyes,” he said. “It was hit with enough force it’s was just not viable anymore. And the other isn’t in good shape either. I had an ophthalmologist see her and do a lens replacement, but she’ll be unable to see for a while. Your mother may be legally blind for the foreseeable future, maybe the rest of her life. And there is the possibility she’s lost some cognitive function or ability due to the trauma, that’s always a risk. We’ll have to look into it further once she’s awake but it’s better to keep her asleep for now while we can monitor her brain for swelling or bleeding.”

Nick stared a moment. “I…you’re saying my mother…may be blind now? And have brain damage?”

“Yes. Which I know for a Grimm, is…”

“She might prefer death,” Sloane said quietly.

“Sloane,” Rosalee gasped.

“It’s true. That’s the usual feeling. I’ve heard many ask to die rather than go blind. It’s not an easy thing for Grimms to accept,” the doctor said.

“…I remember thinking how it was when I was blinded once. That I wasn’t sure what to do because I needed my eyes…”

“We would’ve gotten you through it,” Monroe said. “And we’ll get Kelly through this.”

Nick nodded but still seem shell shocked. “I…I mean, how bad was it? What kind of recovery…?”

The doctor pulled out a tablet with a sigh and showed him several scans and x-rays. The damage was bad looking and they all flinched in sympathy at the shattered orbital bone and fractures. “They targeted her face and her eyes specifically. Not only that, there was a wound to her neck…as if they tried to take her head. The fact she is alive is a testament to her Grimm strength—a lesser human or even a lesser Grimm likely would’ve died from the trauma before making it to the hospital.”

Nick turned away, taking a shuddering a breath. “…When will she be awake?”

“Hard to say. But like I said, I’m going to medically induce her for the next few days to be sure her brain can heal.”

Nick nodded, vaguely. “O…okay…” Monroe and Rosalee looked at him worriedly and Sloane gently tugged his sleeve. He looked at her and sighed.

“For now, go get some rest…” The doctor sighed, turning to head back out.

“…I’m not resting.”

“Nick—” Monroe started.

“No. They’re still out there, and they have Diana,” he said, his voice turning hard. “I’m not letting them just do what they want or get away with it.”

“What do we do?” Adalind asked. “Kenneth is likely preparing to leave the country as we speak.”

“…You still have access to that fancy hotel room?” Nick asked.

She blinked but nodded slowly and unsure. “…I still have a key so…Probably. Why?”

\--------------------

It fell together surprisingly easily. Take the head of the Verrat agent Trubel killed, sneak it into the hotel, have Adalind (still a registered guest to the suite) “find” it in the master closet and scream bloody murder to get attention. Adalind was a fairly great actress and sold herself as being traumatized to the staff and officers. Wu was first on scene after being updated on the situation, fine with interrupting his sleep to help catch the guys that assaulted Nick’s mom and nearly killed Sloane. Renard was also updated and made sure Nick and Hank were sent to the hotel. He let them know that north precinct had updated him on the recent killings that Jack had perpetrated—the woman who got away gave a description of her attacker. Tall, well-built, and British. Though it worried him at first, Renard was never one to pass up an opportunity and gave them the in they needed to put out a high demand APB for Kenneth and his men.

Adalind was escorted safely away—they ended up taking her to Bud’s house with his permission. He was a bit hesitant but when they explained what was going on he was shocked into a rare silence before agreeing. Monroe and Rosalee stayed there as well, as their house might be a target. Bud wouldn’t be a first thought for Juliette they were sure. Before going their themselves to wait, Nick went to his house and Sloane went with him to be safe.

He went upstairs to get the box he came for and paused when he saw his bed. He knew he’d made the bed before he left the day before, but it was tussled. _Someone’s been sleeping in my bed?_ It was a wry thought, but he couldn’t shake a slight twist in his stomach knowing the Verrat, Kenneth, and Juliette were here waiting to kill his mother.

Downstairs, Sloane was checking to see if anything else was disturbed. They’d left the house surprisingly clean and fine, but Sloane found the deep claw marks in the computer desk. It reminded her of the claw marks in her old kitchen and she frowned at the slight shudder up her back. They didn’t stay long, Nick having what he wanted. The rest of the day was researching the best locations to play out their plan and preparing.

And while they were gathering as much information and preparing as well as they could, Kenneth had arrived back at the hotel and was taken into custody there. The other car with him, carrying Verrat agents and Rispoli himself, actually kept going. It was a little surprising, but Kenneth was their man target.

“Wu’s got him,” Nick said. The others looked up and knew what that meant as Nick stood and headed for Bud’s door.

“You sure you want to do this?” Bud asked. “I-I mean I get it, but this could make you an even bigger target for the royals!”

“He and his men nearly killed my mother. She could be blind and nearly brain dead…” He tried to get himself under control. “He’s a rabid animal. He’s going down before he hurts the rest of you,” Nick said. He headed out the door, but Sloane was right on his heels.

“I’m coming too.”

“No.”

“Nick—”

“Hank and Wu will be there. I’ll be fine.”

She glared, nostrils flaring, and closed the door. “That’s not the point! You don’t think I’m angry too! For Kelly? And my house? My collection?” she gritted out. “As much as I want you safe, I also want to kick his ass and there’s safety in numbers! And more feet to kick!”

Nick looked at her and sighed, setting his hands on her shoulders. “I know you’re angry and have a right to be…But I want to take him on my own.”

“Why? To prove something?” she accused.

“…No. Because you’re still recovering from before.”

“I’m not hurt that bad anymore! I can fight!”

“You could barely get up from crouching down yesterday!”

“That’s because I did it wrong, I can work around it—”

“I’m not losing you too!” He finally shouted. Sloane shut up and looked at him in confusion and he sighed. “Just…You asked why I…last night…I don’t have a great answer right now,” he said. “It’s all still confusing. But I do know…I can’t risk losing you. I know you’re strong, I’m not questioning that, but I also know you stabbed yourself to save me and it’s still healing. And you almost got blown up last night making me go through the window first. So…please, let it heal and let me know you’re not pushing yourself too hard for once.”

“…Fine,” she said, looking away. Her face was flushed, and she felt a little silly at how happy she felt deep down. “But the same goes for you. I don’t want to lose you either. So, kill the bastard and get home safe.”

“I will,” he nodded. He hesitated, the brief thought of hugging her or kissing her— _her cheek maybe, would that be better or worse?—_ but pushed it aside and quickly went to his car. Sloane watched him go and sighed before pulling out her phone and texting Trubel the update.

Rispoli immediately drove back to the villa after driving past the hotel. A smell permeated the house—not unpleasant, surprisingly. Almost like a field of roses, but with the subtle undercurrent of blood. Rispoli ignored it and went to the back room. “Your Majesty!”

The king didn’t flinch but sighed heavily, sipping tea as he stood before the fire. “What happened?”

“The police arrested Kenneth at the hotel. The Grimm apparently set a trap for him.”

The king turned, quirking a brow, and then huffed. “This Grimm is beginning to grow annoying…”

“Should we go back to retrieve him?” Rispoli asked, expecting the king to make some calls.

“No.” He blinked looking at him in confusion and the king took a sip. “I told him to take care of the Grimm. This is his job. He’s not my heir yet and I’m not going to hold his hand. Despite his attitude, he hasn’t done anything without my resources—yes, _mine—_ at his disposal. So, he can either sink, or swim and prove he’s capable of taking this crown.”

“…You’re certain, sir? I mean, he is your nephew?”

“And I killed his father when he tried to have me assassinated, what’s your point?”

“…Nothing. But I do need to hear this as a clear order,” he reminded him.

“Ah, yes, hold on.”

He set his tea down and reached into his jacket. He pulled out a small box that fit into the palm of his hand and held it out. “Marcus Rispoli, you and your men are to no long guard Prince Kenneth Alun Goderich Bowes-Lyon.”

Rispoli felt like there was a hum in the air, and then like a thread around his wrist was cut free. He sighed and nodded. “Understood…”

The King nodded, putting the box back into his hand and patting it. “Good. Please get ready for us to be leaving then.”

He nodded and left—almost running into a maid. “Ah, e-excuse me,” she said, ducking her head.

“Watch where you’re going,” he huffed, heading down the hall.

She watched him, then glanced back at the king before walking towards another room upstairs. The nanny looked up and quirked a brow. “Yes, what do you want?” She frowned more as she closed the door behind her.

Kenneth, meanwhile, was in the back of a car being driven by Wu. He wasn’t that worried. He was a prince after all, what could the cops do to him? But then he noticed they were heading away from where he knew from Lighton the police station was and towards the relative boonies. That raised a few red flags, but he still felt confident as he looked at Wu. “Leaving Portland, are we?” Wu didn’t say anything, and he kept smiling pleasantly. “Our destination?” Still nothing. Kenneth let the cordial tone drop slightly, impatient. “Where are you taking me?”

“Where you belong.”

“I doubt that,” he laughed. Only a slight bit of unease creeped in as they got to an old, dilapidated warehouse near the woods. Wu parked the car inside and then stepped out to open the back door.

“Get out.”

“I take it this isn't standard procedure,” Kenneth quipped.

Wu didn’t rise to the bate and hauled him up and out of the car, pushing him with his hand’s still handcuffed behind him to walk in front of the car. “Lay down.”

Kenneth stood, defiant. “If you're going to put a bullet in the back of my head, just do it.”

Wu rolled his eyes and instead booted the back of his knees, forcing the taller man to kneel with a grunt. He then pushed him down to lie on his front. Kneeling by him with one leg on his arm, he uncuffed him and then stood and walked nonchalantly back to the cruiser. The princes were surprised before unwinding his arms and sitting up, turning to watch the car back out the way it came as he stood. He frowned and turned to look around. The warehouse was quite large, old, dilapidated and rust infested. Old bits of hardware and barrels and the like were strewn about. It seemed empty, until he heard footsteps coming from the dimly lit back of the large, echoing room. Nick Burkhardt walked forward as if birthed from the shadows.

Kenneth smirked a bit, knowing what this was now. “You know, I'd always heard how badass you Grimms were, but your mother was a complete letdown…” Nick said nothing, just kept walking towards him. “Of course, I did have the element of surprise on my side. How is she? I meant to send some flowers before I left, but I wasn’t sure if it’d be “Get Well Soon” or “My Condolences” …”

Nick stopped across from him, staring at him coldly. “How'd you get Juliette to help?”

“She didn't take that much convincing. You and your new girlfriend helped really.”

“New girlfriend?”

“That Sloane girl. Quite pretty, I do have to say, you must’ve had quite a dilemma!”

“We aren’t together,” Nick said, hands tightening.

“Really? That’s a shame. But then, I can’t blame Juliette for thinking that. She broke into your friends shop and cast a spell to look into her dreams. Saw you two sharing a tender moment…a little kiss?” Nick’s eyes widened and then he sighed as it explained a lot. “After that, it was fairly easy. Anger and revenge are one of the easiest emotions to manipulate. One good romp in your bed...Well, let's just say her needs weren't being met.”

Nick glared darkly. “Where is she?”

He shrugged. “The King's delighted to have his grandchild back. She'll be well rewarded as will I. She's changed the course of history, just so you know.”

“Too bad you won't live to see it,” Nick said.

Kenneth laughed, turning away as if needing to compose himself—and then just as quickly coming around and punching Nick across the face. His eyes widened slightly when it felt like hitting brick wall and not bone. Nick glared and struck him back—also feeling like being hit by a brick. Kenneth had never fought a Grimm himself after all and he was unarmored, unready for the fury in him. They began trading blow after blow because he was no slouch when it came to fighting, but Nick was taking it all with vexing ease. Any time he nearly got the upper hand, Nick would do something he didn’t quite expect like punch him in the kneecaps and drove his elbow into his chin on the way up.

Kenneth stumbled back into a column with several bits of rebar resting against it that clattered and clanged to the ground. He worked his mouth around and spat a glob of blood and a cracked tooth onto the floor. Nick wiped at a slight cut on his lip, panting. “If you swear…that you will leave us alone, I’ll let you live.”

He stared at him a moment, wiping his teeth with his tongue. “No…No, see, I have no intention of doing that. Not after this. I’m going to kill you here and now. Then I’ll kill your mother if she isn’t already dead. Your little wesen friends will come to heel if they know what’s good for them. Then I’ll go bed Juliette again. Then, for good measure, I’ll find that pretty Grimm of yours and bed her too. Or maybe I’ll keep you alive, let you watch and see how I make her forget all about you too.”

Nick bared his teeth and moved to hit him, going pale as he did, but he dodged. The strike hit the column and cracked the brick. Kenneth grabbed a piece of rebar and swung it around, intent on bludgeoning him. But Nick grabbed it before he could without even looking. Kenneth’s eyes widened when he realized he couldn’t move the rebar. Then more when Nick rose and pulled it, making him stumbled towards him despite planting his feet. He let go and struck Nick’s face, but Nick barely flinched, still pale and his eyes dark like obsidian glass. He grabbed Kenneth’s jacket and then held up his hand and with a flick of his wrist, the vambrace’s knife extending. This was the only weapon he had from his own family collection, left in his closet after being shipped back, and he was going to kill this prince with a Grimm weapon or so help him.

Kenneth struggled, beating at Nick but he didn’t budge other than bringing the blade in closer, and closer. The tip came to his neck and for the first time ever, he felt fear. He looked at Nick. “Don’t…don’t, I’ll give you whatever you want, just—”

“No. This is for my mother,” he gritted out, pushing the blade in. Kenneth screamed in pain and Nick sliced the blade through. It was a faster death than maybe he deserved, but Nick wasn’t cruel. Kenneth’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the floor, blood pooling beneath him. He watched a moment, panting as his skin flushed back to a normal color. Taking off the vambrace, he headed for the doors.

Hank and Wu had been waiting tensely and debating going in after him and put their hands on their guns when they heard one door open. When the other opened and Nick came out, they both sighed.

“He’s dead,” Nick said.

“Not too beaten up about that. Neither are you,” Wu said, noting he wasn’t as badly hurt as he’d worried.

“He wasn’t as much of a challenge as he thought,” Nick said. “But now comes a harder part. We need to get back Adalind’s daughter.”

“How do we do that?” Hank asked.

Nick took a breath and nodded to himself before looking at Wu. “Get back to the precinct. Triangulate Juliette's cell. She’s with them, that’ll be how we find them. We need to get to them before they're gone.”

Wu nodded, heading for his cruiser. “On it.”

“What do you want to do about the body?” Hank asked.

“Nothing, we're going after Juliette,” Nick said, not caring.

Hank didn’t press but followed him to the car. “We're going to need some help on this…The last time you pulled a gun on Juliette, it didn't go well.”

Nick hesitated but nodded. “Let’s get back to Bud’s house.”

\-------------------

Sloane, Adalind, Rosalee, Monroe and Bud were all sitting together, having some drinks. “I…still can’t believe this is happening,” Bud said. “I mean, Juliette’s a Hexenbiest? She tried to kill Nick and Sloane and Nick’s mom? Kidnapped a kid?”

“It’s all hard to believe, but it’s true,” Rosalee sighed. She looked at Adalind and frowned sympathetically. “How are you feeling?”

“…Tired…angry…scared,” she sighed, laying her head on the table. “I know this is all my fault, but I just…I just want my daughter back…”

Bud frowned and rested a hand on her back. “I’m sorry…I can’t imagine what this is like and I don’t know what to say…”

“…Honestly…thank you all,” she said, though muffled slightly by her arms. “I know I don’t deserve all the help and the comfort but…going through this alone was worse the first time. If I’d just listened…”

“Yeah, well…everyone’s got moments like that. If I did this, if I did that…at least you’re doing better. And we’re going to get you through this and get Diana back,” Monroe said.

Rosalee smiled slightly. “I’m going to make you some tea, just wait here.”

“Thank you…” Adalind said quietly.

They all tried to relax, but Sloane froze a moment and looked towards the door. “Someone’s coming…”

“Yeah, I hear it,” Monroe agreed, standing with her. Bud looked panicky but they motioned for him and Adalind to stay there as they moved to go check it out. Both of them relaxed when they saw who was coming up the walk. Sloane opened the door as Trubel quickly walked inside.

“You made it.”

“Yeah, is Nick still out?” she asked, looking around.

“Yeah. We’re still waiting for an update. Where’ve you been?” Monroe asked.

“Just trying to figure some stuff out…” Trubel said.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Sloane sighed. “Rosalee’s making some tea.”

“And my wife made cookies,” Bud said. “She always makes something for me to snack on when she leaves. Part of why I’m not exactly Mr. Universe, but she likes me a little hefty.”

“TMI,” Trubel muttered, but headed for the kitchen while they closed and locked the door again.

“…You think Nick is okay?” Monroe asked Sloane.

“I’m sure he is…I just wish he’d get back here,” she sighed.

“Yeah, I know…” They went to go sit back down but Sloane paused and pulled out her phone when it buzzed. She’d hoped it was Nick, but it was a different number registered to the hospital. She quickly answered. “Larson.”

“Detective Larson? I’m Nurse Felton,” a male voice said. “You asked to be notified if anyone comes looking for Ms. Black, the woman in 342.”

“Yes, that’s right,” she said, immediately alert. That was the name they’d admitted Kelly under.

“A woman came by asking about her a couple of hours ago.

“Hours?”

“Yes, sorry…I just saw it here in another nurse’s notes, she didn’t get a chance to call. But according to her, she seemed very keen and didn’t like us turning her away. Wouldn’t give a name either.”

“…What did she look like?”

“Red hair, greenish eyes…that’s all I got,” he said honestly.

Sloane calmed herself quickly. “Alright…thank you for the update. I’ll be down there soon.”

“Of course. Have a good evening.”

“You too,” she said, exiting the call. She paused for a few moments before sighing and going to where the others had gathered for tea. “I’m going to go visit Kelly at the hospital.”

“You are?” Rosalee asked, surprised.

“Yeah…I don’t like leaving her alone right now. Even if she is sedated.”

“Yeah, people can still sneak in there. I speak from experience,” Adalind added quietly.

Rosalee nodded slowly, understanding. “Alright…call if anything comes up.”

Sloane nodded, heading out to her car.

Meanwhile, PI Lighton hanged up the phone and looked at Juliette with a bit of fear. “Alright…I found where Kelly Burkhardt is and called Detective Larson…Can I go now?”

Juliette smiled and took the phone from him. “Go on. I’ll take it from here.”

\---------------

When Nick and Hank arrived just minutes after Sloane left, they explained what was happening. Wu also called, having tracked Juliette’s phone to a group of luxury estates outside of their jurisdiction. Nick didn’t really care; he wasn’t going as a police officer. Wu gave the exact address and said he’d meet them there, but Nick insisted he’d done enough and didn’t need to put himself in danger any more than he already had for them. After the call, Monroe took them to the shop while Bud, Rosalee and Adalind stayed behind for safety. They’d gone through the wreckage of Sloane’s house earlier that day and retrieved what they could before fire investigators arrived. This included a couple of working crossbows, a spiked club, swords, and daggers. They quickly geared up and began the drive up to the estates.

When they were nearly there, they noticed a car following them. Nick pulled off the road, cut his lights and they got out to hide among the trees, ready to take out any guards. The other car pulled up, it’s headlights still on, and a figure got out of the driver’s seat. Nick raised his crossbow, ready to fire, but paused when he realized the silhouette was familiar. Squinting, he stood and walked out. “Wu?”

“Nick!” He sighed, relieved. He was dressed in jeans, a shirt, and a jacket rather than his uniform, and carrying a shotgun in his hand. “I know you told me not to do this, but after what they did to your mom, and Sloane’s house, I got to be here. I’m not letting them get away with hurting you guys.” Nick was surprised and a bit touched, as were the others when he looked at them. “Just so you know, I left my badge at home.”

“I'm glad you came,” Nick smiled.

Wu smiled back, then went back to business. “How we doing this?

“Leave the cars here. We walk,” Nick said, pointing towards the estate through the trees. “And no noise.”

“Could I still bring the shotgun?” he asked, gesturing at it. Nick quirked a brow and Wu quirked one just back and said dryly, “Just in case. You never know.”

“Bring it,” Hank nodded, before starting through the trees.

Inside, King Frederick was smiling with Diana, now in a much more expensive toddler dress he’d had brought in for her. She seemed confused when she woke up but was a surprisingly easy-going child. He brought out a few blocks to play with her and was astounded when her eyes glowed and they began dancing around, building different forms. “Ha ha! Oh, you are going to build kingdoms one day, Princess,” he laughed.

“Sir,” Rispoli said, coming to the door. “The pilot reported they’re five minutes out.”

The King’s smile more and he stood. “Good. It’s time to go home, Diana.” He picked her up, looking fatherly at her. “We’re going to go flying and then we’re going to sale across the ocean on a big boat! Won’t that be fun?” Diana smiled a little and he chuckled. “Yes, it will! Now, where’s Miss Silverton?”

“I…don’t know, sir. But she left earlier and said she had to take care of something.”

“Well, she’ll have to find another way to get to Europe then,” he said, not really caring. “Where’s the nanny?”

“Here, your majesty,” a woman said, quickly coming in. He didn’t really look at her as he handed Diana to her.

“Get her ready to go.”

“Yes, your majesty,” she said, quickly scuttling off.

The gang was quickly making their way through the grounds of the estate, taking out guards in the garden using arrows and the club until they could get into the house.

“Two guys in front of the house,” Wu whispered as they moved through some brush at the edge of the garden.

Nick paused, looking up when he heard a distant rumble. “I hear something…”

Monroe frowned, training his ears. “I don't hear anything…”

“Me either,” Trubel said. It was only a second later that the sound of a helicopter flying low filled the garden air and they watched as it began to descend at the other side of the house. 

“That's got to be their way out,” Hank said, surprised but rolling with it. The men were moving inside.

Nick gritted his teeth and then turned to them. “Juliette is not getting on the helicopter,” he said urgently. The nodded and Hank handed Wu one of the daggers as they rushed for the doors. Nick rushed to the large wooden door as he pulled his gun and with a surge of strength broke it down off its hinges. He began moving through, looking for any sign of life. The others flanked the sides of the house, taking out the other Verrat around the house before moving inside. Hank was nearly taken down by a hundjager’s surprise attack, being rushed and slammed into a china cabinet. Before teeth were in his throat, Monroe woged and rushed in, tackling the hundjager over the dining table and ripping his throat out first. Hank was a bit surprised but nodded in thanks. Before he and Wu raced to two different parts of the house.

Wu met another hundjager in the drawing room and though he looked at the knife, he shook his head and tossed it aside as he advanced and brought the shot gun up. One blast brought the hundjager down.

But the sound alerted the king, nanny and Rispoli as they were heading for the helicopter. The nanny adjusted the bundle in her arms, having wrapped Diana in a large blanket. Rispoli looked at them both. “If I’m not back in 60 seconds—”

“We’ll be gone,” the king finished, heading for the chopper door. The Nanny quickly climbed up, not accepting help with Diana to sit down with her in her lap.

From a window at the top though, Nick could see the King and a woman running for the Helicopter and not knowing if it was Juliette or not, raced down the back stairs to try and stop them.

Rispoli came inside, scanning with his gun raised. He saw Monroe run through a room and took two shots as he dove behind a loveseat for cover.

“Hey!”

Rispoli turned to see Trubel and she quickly took off running for the main stairs. Two more shots missed as she ducked down below the solid, plastered banister and crawled the rest of the way up. Rispoli followed, ready to shoot again, but didn’t see Hank hiding around the corner of the landing. When he passed Hank lunged and tried to wrestle the gun out of his hands. Bringing his arm down over his knee managed it but Rispoli yelled and grabbed him, bum-rushing him into a table and breaking a vase. A couple of punches made Hank grunted, but he punched back as hard as he could. Then he tried to pull Hank to the banister, intent to push him over. Hank managed to turn him around though and in the struggle, pushed him over instead. There was a crack and a thud and Hank looked over the edge as he caught his breath. Rispoli was splayed over the marble floor, blood already spreading from his skull.

Nick in all this was running across the lawn, trying to catch up to them. He saw the helicopter door close and as he got closer the wind from the turning blades made it hard for him to see or keep standing. It began to rise into the air, and he watched as it flew away, feeling helpless as he knew Diana and probably Juliette were gone.

\------------------------

Sloane finished smoothing out the bed sheet around Kelly. Really, she was looking for anything to distract her for the woman’s state. Her head was completely wrapped in bandages, from her crown down over her eyes. Several other areas were wrapped up, and her arm was in a cast as well. “…You better wake up. For Nick and for me. My own mother is a raging bitch who I think is trying to kill me and wanted me to be like her, so I could use another, more positive Grimm role model now,” she said, smiling wryly. “Your son did that pretty well though…I hope you approve. Oh, Dierdre has the trailer. I didn’t get to tell you. So, we need to get that back and I know you’ll want to punch her at least once. I want to see that. So yeah…you better be okay.”

She sighed, feeling a little silly talking to her when she was unconscious. But it also felt right to talk instead of letting the silence overtake them. To act like she wasn’t there. She was, she absolutely was, body mind and soul.

Sloane paused when she heard a sound out the hall. She frowned and stood, walking to the door, and looking out. Opening the door slightly, she froze when she saw Juliette at the end of the hall. She smiled and waved before opening the door to the stairs and heading down. Sloane felt her blood boil but looked back at Kelly.

Growling, she looked out again and grabbed a passing nurse, who looked at her in shock. “What-”

Sloane flashed her badge. “Get security up here. I want this patient guarded with your lives.”

“W-why?”

“Just do it!” she ordered. The nurse quickly rushed away, using the phone to call security. Taking a breath, Sloane waited till they came up before heading for the stairwell.

“You kept me waiting,” Juliette called up, echoing in the stair well. Sloane looked over the edge to see her at the ground floor four flights down. Growling, Sloane began rushing down and Juliette laughed as she went through the door. She jumped the last flight and rushed out after her. The ended up in the parking garage. Juliette was standing just down the line of cars. The orangish lights of the garage and sound of crickets made the scene strangely peaceful despite the high, hot and angry emotions running between them.

“Why are you here?” Sloane asked. “If you came for Kelly, I’m not going to let you near her. Or any of your Verrat friends.”

Juliette chuckled. “Oh, I’m not here for her…” She swiped her hand and Sloane’s eyes widened when she saw one of the cars glide quickly from its parking space. She quickly rolled forward as it crashed against the car across from it. Rushing forward, she managed to surprise Juliette with a kick to the stomach. Growling, she flung her hand, sending her flying back. She rolled again and grabbed a shard of glass, throwing it at Juliette hard enough it cut across her arm. She hissed and then woged, screaming into the garage. The echoing sound hurt Sloane’s and mad her grunt. The lights all began bursting around her, plunging the garage into darkness.

Another groan of metal being forced to move was her warning before the car slide towards her as though it found a patch of black ice in the summer night. Sloane high stepped over it but snapped the antennae off of it. She dodged two more and rushed Juliette again, whipping the antennae over her sharply like a reprimand, and sharp enough to leave more streaks across her with the sharp, broken end. Shrieking again, Juliette curled her fingers as if they were around her throat and Sloane gasped and dropped the antennae as she felt the phantom fingers lift her up. She choked slightly, being pulled forward by the invisible hand.

“You really think a Grimm is a match for a hexenbiest like me?” she said, jaw cracking in her woged form.

Sloane glared and then her eyes filled with black—and then her irises burned through. Juliette felt that cold shock down her spine, and then a pain in her shoulder when her booted foot raised high and then slammed down on her shoulder in an axe kick. She screamed backing away and her grip was lost. Sloane struck her across the face next, ducked at a swipe from her clawed hand, and then punched her in the stomach. She buckled, backing away and de-woging. She looked up and felt a flash of fear at the look of anger on her face. But then she stalled, blinking. A drop of blood leaked down her nostril.

Seeing her last opening, Juliette sent another car out of its spot and this time Sloane was struck, going up the hood and then rolling off. She was still on the ground, but still breathing. Juliette glared as she stood and walked over. “Let’s go end this…”

\---------------

High above Portland, the king was smiling as he looked out over the trees below. He looked over at the nanny holding Diana. “How is she?”

“Doing well,” she said. Her voice then changed from light and airy to a bit more somber and deeper. “Better than you.”

He blinked and looked at her. “I beg your pardon?”

She let the blanket fall away, revealing only a doll in its place. “Beg all you want. The royals won’t be pardoned.”

His eyes widened and then he glared. “You…bitch! Where is she?!” He moved to grab her throat, only for her to woge and bite him with a large beak. He hissed and backed away as far as the helicopter allowed. Then he reached into his coat pocket. “I’ll make you tell me and then I’ll make you jump from here!” Another hand caught his and pulled it with the strength of youth out of his pocket.

“I’m afraid that won’t be happening,” the pilot said.

“…When did you…? Get back to piloting and take us back to the estate!”

The man smiled. “I’m afraid I’m not wesen, your majesty…whatever that is won’t work on me.” He gripped the box and pulled it from the old man’s grasp.

“You won’t get away with this!”

“Another dead royal isn’t anything new,” the woman said. She nodded to the man and he reached behind him to open the helicopter door. The king’s eyes widened as the woman pulled a knife from the bun at her head and cut through his seat belt.

“You can’t! Please! You can take Diana, and the seal, but don’t kill me! I am the King!”

“The king of nothing. You royals are always cowards…playing with people’s lives, and then begging for mercy when it’s your turn on the chopping block,” she spat out in disgust. The man then pushed him out and he screamed. The scream faded as he plummeted down to the ground below.

“Long live the king…” Meisner sighed and sat down, flipping up his visor. “Feel better?”

“Moderately,” she sighed. She reached up and removed the wig covering her hair, then the bald cap underneath. Susannah wasn’t just a master of disguising her voice, she was well acquainted with changing her appearance. If she needed to be a maid it was easy. A nanny was a step up. “We should get to the rendezvous point and retrieve Diana…”

“And after that?”

“…You want to return her to Adalind as much as I do,” she pointed out.

“I do…but is that best?” He sighed, steering the helicopter with his copilot.

“Nothing is “best”. You just do what you can,” she said sagely. “And in my opinion, a mother that loves her child enough to change her ways deserves a second chance…”

“I’ll run it by the higher ups again then…” he said.

“They’re going to want to stick her somewhere “safe” and forget about her,” she said disapprovingly.

“I doubt she’ll let us do that,” he said with a wry smile.

\-----------------------

“They’re back,” Rosalee sighed, relieved. She opened the door and her face fell slightly when she saw they were empty handed.

Adalind noticed quickly as well. “You couldn’t get Diana?”

“…They got away,” Nick sighed.

“They had a helicopter,” Hank added.

Adalind’s face fell and she collapsed down onto the ottoman when her legs gave out. Tears came to her eyes and she covered her mouth as she tried not to completely break down. Nick looked at her sympathetically and sighed. “I'm sorry…”

“What about Juliette? Was she there?” Bud asked.

“I think so, but she got away too…”

“Oh, Nick,” Rosalee sighed.

He sighed, then looked around. “Where’s Sloane?”

“She went to go watch over your mom,” Rosalee said. “She was worried, since she’s…indisposed. She might be there most of the night.”

Nick sighed and nodded. “Okay…You can go back home now. It should be safe.” He looked at Adalind. “I’ll call Henrietta for you if you want?”

She nodded, sniffing through the tears. The pain was still there, but she knew how to go through it now. “What about you? What are you going to do? I mean, we can’t give up...”

“We’re not,” he said firmly. “I’m not letting any of them get away with this.”

Hank and Wu frowned slightly, and Hank set a hand on his shoulder. “Nick... You need rest. Go home. I'll handle the captain.” Nick looked at them, then at the others all staring at him anxiously. He knew he probably looked angry, but also bone tired. All the weight of what happened was pushing down on him. Sighing, he nodded and headed for the door.

Henrietta came a little while later and escorted Adalind back to her house. The moment they got home, Adalind dropped to her knees and began crying in earnest, and Henrietta did whatever she could to comfort her in front hall of her home till she could get her up to bed.

Hank meanwhile went to the precinct to speak with Renard. “Nick did everything he could, but they got away.”

Renard looked disappointed and saddened by the news, nodding. “So…My father has Diana now. There's nothing we can do about it. You tell Adalind?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

He breathed out. “Good. Glad I don't have to again.”

“Captain, there's a few bodies up there,” Hank pointed out.

“That's out of our jurisdiction, isn't it?”

“Yeah.”

“Shoot anybody?”

“One. With a shotgun.”

He nodded, relieved slightly, as he stood and paced while his mind whirred down the options. “Well, there's no ballistics. Nothing tying you to them, so... Don't worry. I'll handle it.”

Hank nodded then looked at him again. “If it's any consolation, Kenneth is dead.”

Renard’s brow ticked up, but he nodded. “Well, that is some consolation. I still have to deal with what I did, though.”

“But that was Jack,” Hank pointed out.

“Yeah, but... I can't explain it, and they won't stop looking. The northern precinct has a witness account from the girl that got away. Tall, fit, and British…”

Hank tilted his head, then an idea came to him and he spoke slowly. “What we need is a suspect that's about your height... With a British accent. What are the chances of finding that?”

Renard sighed, nodding. Then he froze and looked back at Hank, askance. Askance, but admiring as well. When had Griffin become so devious? Well…time to go plant some evidence on his dear cousin.

\---------------------

Nick sighed as he entered the house and locked the door behind him. He honestly wanted nothing more than to sleep for a few years at this point. Hope for a better world when he woke up.

“Hello, Nick.”

He froze a moment at Juliette’s voice and then sighed. “What are you doing here?” he asked, not turning around.

“Why? Aren’t you happy I’m home?” she asked, mockingly sweet.

“This isn’t your home, you made that clear,” he bit back, turning slightly. She was standing in the archway to the living room and smiled.

“No, you made that clear.”

“Fine. I didn’t handle your…change well. But you…you tried to lure my mother into a trap. Here, in our home…my home. She trusted you! Then you lead the royals right to her!”

“Oh, ease up on the violins,” she spat. “I wasn’t planning on killing her.”

“But the royals were. Kenneth was. I had a chat with him. He was going to take my mother’s head, and you’re the one who sold her out! But I still beat him in a fight. To the death.”

She frowned but huffed. “Well…not like I was that attached to him. Though he was fun in bed.”

Nick felt his stomach turn but glared at her. “Get out.”

“Oh, come on,” she laughed. “I don’t get to have a little fun on the side?”

“Nothing like that was ever on purpose for me! But you—you’ve done nothing but use your powers to hurt everyone around you! You nearly killed Monroe, a-and you burned Sloane’s hou-” He paused and then felt the color drain from him when he finally noticed Juliette looked like she’d been in a rough fight. And there was someone behind her.

“Finally realized it, hm?” She smiled and stepped aside to show Sloane tied to a chair with a gag in her mouth. She looked pretty worse for wear. She looked at him and struggled slightly, trying to speak through the gag.

“Sloane!” He moved forward and gasped as Juliette waved a hand and lifted him off his feet.

“Nah uh. Sorry, but you and your new girlfriend won’t be getting cozy in front of me, thanks.”

Nick stared, glancing at Sloane, then back to her. “New girlfriend? That’s…We’re not—”

“Please. I know already she loves you,” Juliette sneered. “And I know things were getting a little _hot_ before I burned her house down.”

“…It was a moment of weakness.” He didn’t look at Sloane, trying to look at Juliette in the eyes again. “Nothing would’ve happened though.”

“Oh, ouch. Here that, Sloane? Guess you’re not enough for him,” she laughed, looking at Sloane, then back at him. “But really…you’re not going to say you still love me, do you?”

“Juliette—”

“Because I know you’re just stalling while you think of a plan,” she went on coldly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Even if you and Sloane aren’t together…Looking at you two makes my stomach churn.” He gasped as her nails raked across his face, drawing blood. Sloane screamed at her through the gag, likely cursing a blue streak in a couple of languages and kept struggling. “You try to be so good…but you end up killing and excusing and lying…such hypocrites.”

“And you’re not?” Nick shot back, glaring at her. “You play the victim, but you apparently have no trouble turning on us to the point of killing us.”

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you. Not yet at least.” She waved a hand and Nick went sailing across the room, hitting the wall with a shout, and falling to his knees. Juliette turned her eyes to Sloane and smiled at the death glare she was sending at her, nostrils flaring, concentrating to try and break free she assumed. “You have something to say?” She waved her hand again and the gag untied, and Sloane spit it out.

“You’ve lost your damn mind,” she growled.

“Me?”

“Yes, you! Because you know what? The power isn’t corrupting you. Henrietta’s proved you can be a hexenbiest and do good things. Adalind’s proved they can change. You? You changed too. Or maybe this was always inside you.”

“What was?” she asked, glaring.

“A monster,” Sloane said. Juliette twitched and she pressed on. “All you are, and all you will ever be now, is the kind of monster people fear. You’re going to go the rest of your life alone, bitter and pathetically holding on to this idea that power makes you better.”

“You don’t think it does?” She reached out a hand and Nick gasped as he was slid up the wall again by power.

Sloane gritted her teeth but didn’t take her eyes off of her. “No. Dierdre thinks like that too, and I’m never saying that’s right again. But at the end of the day, Grimms have hunted your kind for centuries. There will always be another Grimm, and they will find a way to take you out. And no one will stand up for you. Not me, not Rosalee or Monroe…” She glanced at Nick hesitantly but pressed on. “You’re a monster. And monsters don’t get happy endings.”

“…Is that so?” she said. She gestured and Nick hit the window, but she pulled him back before he was tossed outside. He was bruised and a little bloody, groaning.

“Nick!” Sloane cried, trying to struggle again. She didn’t look up at Juliette till she was right in front of her.

“You want to see a monster? Alright then.” Sloane’s eyes widened as Juliette woged. She pulled a jar of black liquid from the bag at her side and opened it, before downing it all. She then reached her hands up, grasping Sloane’s head. She stared into the black depths of the other woman’s eyes as she opened her mouth, an inhuman screech coming from her throat. Like the buzz of a thousand high pitched cicadas in an echo chamber. Sloane tried to hold on but began to scream when she felt like Juliette’s hands fingers were pushing inside her skull. Tears began to trail down her cheeks and a noxious black smoke came from Juliette’s mouth to cover her.

“ _Sloane!!”_ Nick screamed. He pushed himself up, watching in horror as the smoke seemed to enter her body through her eyes, nose, and mouth. When it was all gone, the screaming stopped, and Juliette took her hands away. Sloane was limp in the chair, her eyes hollow and staring at nothing. Juliette stepped back and changed to her human form. Nick rushed over, lifting Sloane’s head gently. “Sloane?” She was breathing still, though it was shallow and raspy. Her eyes were back to their green hue, but wouldn’t focus on anything, her body was lifeless and unresponsive. “Sloane? C’mon, say something!”

“She’s alive, calm down,” Juliette said snidely.

“What did you do?” he asked, still trying to get Sloane to say or do anything.

“Something I was saving for you…but this will work too. I’m afraid she’s never going to have a normal life again. Or whatever that is for her.”

Nick felt something in him snap and he turned and surged up, wrapping his hands around Juliette’s throat, and _squeezing_. She looked surprised, hands going to his wrists and choking as she tried to breathe through the grip. “Undo whatever you just did, _now!_ ”

Juliette smirked. “Oh, but it hasn’t even started yet…” She set her hand against his chest and he gasped as he was blown back again, hitting the ground as though his legs were swept out from under him. “C’mon, Nick. Aren’t you going to fight back?”

Nick panted as he pushed himself up. “I'm done fighting, Juliette.”

She frowned, looking at him in frustration. “…Maybe I still love you. Maybe that's something that just never goes away. But you really should’ve killed me when you had the chance.”

Nick looked up at her, not wavering. “I'm done.”

“I know. I wish I was. Good-bye, Nick.” She woged raising her hand to strike.

“Good-bye, Juliette.”

Juliette looked confused and turned in time to see Trubel standing by the door, double crossbow cocked and aimed. Then two arrows flew and sank deep into her chest. She woged back, looking confused and unsure how this had happened. She turned, looking at Nick with wide eyes.

Nick stared as well before rushed to catch her as she fell. “No! No! No, Juliette!” Juliette stared up at him, gasping and moaning through the pain. He held her close as she shook from the shock and fear running through her.

“N…Nick,” she choked out, blood coming to her lips.

“Juliette, no!” he sobbed. “No…” He looked up at Trubel, and she looked down. It wasn’t shame, but it was sorrow. She hadn’t wanted to do this, he knew, but he felt his tears hot on his cheeks as he held Juliette close.

Trubel looked up then and saw Sloane, eyes widening and dropping the crossbow as she rushed over. “Sloane? Sloane, what…?”

As she was looking her over and starting to untie her, several men in tactical gear and black ski-masks rushed in. Nick looked up in shock, then panic when the men went for him and Trubel.

“No! Stop, what are you—?” Trubel yelled as they grabbed her and started pulling her towards the door.

“Trubel!” Nick shouted, standing to fight. He would be dammed if he lost her too. But five men all came for him, grabbing him and pulling him back. He glared and tried to summon his Grimm strength just as one placed a rag over his nose and mouth. The smell wasn’t chloroform, he knew what that smelled like and this didn’t have the same sweet scent. It was more medicine like, and strong. It sent his head spinning and they carefully laid him on the floor. He could hear them talking as the world kept moving around him.

“We got the Hexenbiest’s body.”

“Good, bring her out,” a voice said over the radio.

“The other Grimm is here. She doesn’t look too good…” another said.

“Bring her too. Either we can help her or make use of her, or both.”

Nick managed to turn his head and see them cutting Sloane free from the chair and one of the men fireman carrying her towards the door as they loaded Juliette’s body onto a gurney. Then the world went dark…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you all for your patience--this chapter gave me some trouble. There's stuff I wanted to set up, and I played with the timeline only to hate my first draft. So I painstakingly moved things back around and made it work a lot better even if it's a lot to happen in just a couple of days (I mean, same as before really, no one gets a break!)
> 
> So yeah, I didn't kill Kelly this time around--again, killing off a cool female character never sat right with me. Blinding her--hey, she might turn into Daredevil knowing her, we'll see, but I didn't want her to escape unscathed. As for Diana, I'm still thinking on that. I'd like to reunite her with Adalind since she's her only child now, but it's just figuring the best way to do that. As for what's happened to Sloane...well, that's a surprise.
> 
> Edit: Friend asked about title. It's from a bible quote, Ecclesiastes 7:26: "And I find more bitter than death the woman, whose heart is snares and nets, and her hands as bands: whoso pleaseth God shall escape from her; but the sinner shall be taken by her." or simpler, "And I find more bitter than death the woman who is a snare, whose heart is a net, and whose hands are chains. The man who pleases God escapes her, but the sinner is ensnared." Basically, a comment on a crafty woman who uses her wiles to ensnare men to their doom if they aren't careful. Seemed to fit Juliette's downfall...


	28. Missing in Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 28 of the Casebook of Sloane Larson! Rewrites/Summaries of Episodes 1 through 7 of Season 5! (Yeah, a lot)
> 
> After the events of the night Juliette tried to kill him, Nick wakes to find her, Trubel and Sloane all missing. Confused, angry and hurt he's determined to find out who took them and get them back. But things are worse than he knows as a new threat begins causing havoc in Portland, his mother is still recovering from the attack, Adalind might have the opportunity to get Diana back, arranged marriages end in body counts, and Giant Rats start a rampage!

\------------------------

**_The Grimm Identity & Clear and Wesen Danger_ **

\------------------------

He dreamed. He dreamed of Juliette, the happier times together. How much he loved her. Of her smiling and laughing and saying she loved him. Of feeling that love.

Of her resting on satin in a coffin. Of crying faces. Of his mother, battered as she was, standing with him with her eyes covered.

But when he looked up from the gravesite, he could see Sloane on a hill above, wearing a simple white dress. He moved to try and get to her, but the hill kept growing steeper. He called out for her, but she wouldn’t turn around. Finally, he made it and put his hands on her shoulders—only for her to begin cracking and breaking as though she were made of glass. She looked at him then, and her eyes were mirrors reflecting him. They cracked, and black blood ran down her cheeks.

“ _Help me…_ ” she whispered, before crumbling away even as he tried to keep all her pieces together.

_Help me_

_Help me_

_Help me_

The words repeated and Nick covered his ears, trying not to hear them as the ground opened up and began to swallow him whole. _I can’t…I can’t help…I couldn’t save you…I can’t save anyone…_ He felt the pieces coming back together, wrapping around him, and her voice like it was in her dreams with him.

“ _I love you, Nick.”_

\-------------------------------

Nick started awake and tried to sit up when he heard his phone, only to fall back down as the world tilted. He felt like a newborn dear as he got to his feet with the wall for support. He was still in his living room. But he was alone. Sloane wasn’t slumped in the chair Juliette had tied her to, and Juliette wasn’t lying dead on the floor. And Trubel…

“Trubel?” He called, making his way to the stairs, drawing his gun. No one answered. “Sloane?” he called, feeling a bit more desperate. Again, no answer. No sign that anything had even happened, other than waking up where he did. His senses and functions were all coming back as he searched the house quickly. His phone rang again, and he pulled it out and answered it as he went to check the front windows. “Hank.”

“Nick, just checking in on you,” Hank said. It sounded like he was driving and speaking through his Bluetooth in the car. “I'm heading in.”

“There were a lot of them,” Nick said, his mind whirring. “They must have drugged me or something.”

“What? Where are you?” Hank asked, confused but alarmed.

“At home. …Juliette's dead.”

“What?” He asked again.

“Juliette's dead. She was here, and she-she beat up Sloane and tied her to a chair and did…something to her, I don’t know. Then they took Trubel—no, then Trubel came and—”

“All right, Nick, stay there. I'm on my way. Explain when I get there.”

Nick nodded and hanged up but then immediately dialed Monroe and Rosalee.

“Hey, Nick. How are—” Monroe started.

“Have you seen Sloane or Trubel?”

“Uh, no…Are you okay?”

“When was the last time you saw them?”

“Last night, when Sloane left for the hospital and after you guys got back…”

“What's wrong?” Rosalee asked, knowing that urgent tone.

“Juliette's dead,” Nick said.

“What?” they both gasped.

“She was here. She had Sloane, she did…something to her! And then Trubel came and shot her and they took her body. They grabbed Trubel and Sloane too! I don't know what the hell's going on…I'll call you back.”

He hanged up before they could ask anything else, but both of them were in shock.

“Juliette's dead? Sloane…Sloane’s missing?” Rosalee said.

“What the hell?” Monroe muttered.

Nick was still searching the house, hoping to see any sign of Trubel and Sloane. But there was nothing. Then he paused as he tried to think about who would take her and one name came to mind. The one that kidnapped her once before. “ _Chavez._ Chavez knows something,” he said, rushing to the stairs just as Hank was coming in.

“Nick? Nick, what happened?” he said, trying to keep him from just running away.

“Juliette was here last night, trying to kill me. She would have, too, but Trubel shot her.”

“Trubel killed Juliette?” Hank asked, shocked.

“Yeah, with the crossbow, before she could kill me. But not before she did…something to Sloane. It was a spell—or a curse—it was terrifying to watch and she was just…catatonic afterwards! She must’ve taken Sloane from the hospital—My mom! I need to check on my mom!” he gasped.

“We will, but you’re sure Juliette is dead?”

“I was holding her when she died,” he spat out.

“I thought you said she got on the helicopter!”

“No, I saw her a woman to the helicopter. I never saw if it was her... Hank, she's dead. I was holding her in my arms...” he gasped out, the wound feeling fresh again. He began panting, hyperventilating, all if it getting to be too much.

“Okay, okay. Nick, Nick, Nick. Just take it easy,” Hank said, trying to calm him down. He breathed steadily, trying to get Nick to mirror him and it worked as he calmed.

He did, but his breath was shuddering as he tried to collect his thoughts. “Then we got hit…They came in from everywhere.”

“Who?”

“I don't know. But it was professional. They grabbed Trubel and Sloane. Juliette’s body…I tried to stop them. They drugged me. When I woke up, they were all gone. They took everything, even the crossbow.”

“Why?”

“So, there'd be no evidence of what they did or that Trubel and Sloane were ever here!” It was his best guess, but it felt right.”

“Was it the Royals?

“No, it wasn't the Royals. If it was the Royals, I'd be dead right now,” he said impatiently.

“Okay, then who?”

“Chavez.”

Hank blinked in confusion. “The FBI agent? That Chavez?”

“That's the only thing that makes sense.”

“Well, none of this is making much sense right now,” Hank pointed out, now also impatient.

“She abducted Trubel once before. And confronted Sloane.”

“What the hell?”

“To see if they were Grimm.”

“But what does she want with a Grimm?”

“Trubel told me that Chavez is part of a secret government group that wanted to use her to help them go after Wesen. She talked to Sloane too, but Sloane intimidated her into backing off.”

“But if they wanted a Grimm, why didn't they take you too?”

“Chavez doesn't know about me. When she was investigating Weston Steward shooting the captain, I wasn't a Grimm. And they saw one of the books from the trailer upstairs where Trubel was hanging out.”

“All right, how did they even know Trubel was here now?”

“They must have been tracking her or waiting for her to show up,” Nick said, heading for the door. “I don't know, but they knew. And they took the opportunity to grab Sloane when she couldn’t fight back,” he said in disgust, his anger boiling to a head.

“All right, Nick, I need you to slow down,” Hank said, striding after him and taking him by the shoulders.

Nick’s look showed he had no intention of doing that. “I need you to find out everything you can about Chavez.”

“All right, what are you gonna do?”

“I'm going after her,” he said, turning again.

“Hold on, wait. Wait. Wait!” Hank ordered, trying to keep him there but he opened the door. “You do realize you're talking about going after an FBI agent?”

“She's Wesen. I'm taking her down,” Nick growled. Hank watched him go, feeling like he was left with the floor crumbling under him. But he knew he needed to go talk to Renard about this if they were going to start taking on the FBI and headed out as well.

\----------------

Adalind was in bed. She really didn’t feel like getting out of it. She wasn’t sure she could. Nothing felt like it would get her out of bed. Nothing felt right.

“Adalind…?” Henrietta called softly. She didn’t respond and the woman sighed and walked over. “You have a visitor…”

“Not in…”

“She says her name is Susannah?”

Adalind perked slightly. “…What’s she doing here?”

“She didn’t say, just that she needed to speak with you. About Diana.”

That got her attention. She sat up and rubbed at her red rimmed eyes and nodded. Henrietta led her downstairs and Susannah was standing nearby to admire a painting. It was of a black woman draped in white cloth, with stars caught in the tight curls of her hair like the night sky. She looked at Adalind sympathetically when she came down. “Hello again…”

“Hey…you know something about Diana?” she asked, getting to the point.

“I know a lot actually,” Susannah smiled. “I’m the one that helped get her out of that mansion before they King could.”

Adalind’s eyes widened and Henrietta was surprised as well. “What?”

Susannah pulled out her phone and pulled up a video, showing Diana playing in a room. “Live feed. We have her in our custody.”

“The resistance?”

“Well…not exactly,” she said delicately. “I am part of that, and my work intertwines with them. But we’re actually a much bigger organization.” She looked at Henrietta, unsure.

“You can trust her,” Adalind said quickly.

“I promise, I’m not revealing anyone’s secrets,” Henrietta agreed, holding up her hand.

“…Alright. I’m going to still keep it vague because we do take this anonymity thing kind of seriously. But basically, we’re an offshoot of other covert agencies that deal with wesen issues. Wesen crime, terrorist groups, etc. But by extension, the royals. We killed the king last night.”

“You what?” Henrietta gasped.

“It was the best course of action at the time. We managed to get from him the object the royals have used for centuries to subjugate wesen. We’re studying it now before figuring out how to deal with it.”

“That’s…wow,” Adalind sighed. “But Diana…?”

“She’s very powerful. The other royals may know about her and want her, or others if they find out about her. Our goal is to keep her from being used as a weapon. My goal is to make sure they remember she’s a child. And I think she wants to be with her mother.”

Adalind gave a shuddering breath. “I want that too…please. I-I have something we can give her. It’ll suppress her powers.”

“You do?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes. No one will be able to tell she’s a hexenbiest. She can just be a normal little girl, till she’s older and we can figure out what to do. That was my plan. I’ve already taken it…my powers are there, but I can’t use them.”

Susannah nodded slowly. “I see…That’s quite a sacrifice to make.”

“Not for her. I did it to try and stop Jul…another Hexenbiest that might want to hurt me or Diana. It had to be tested. At this point, I just want to live normally with my daughter.”

She smiled and nodded. “Okay. I need to talk to some of the others, but I think we can work something out. Even if your powers are suppressed, you have a pretty extensive knowledge. They’d like to have more hexenbiest input. Would you be willing to sign on as a…consultant? It’ll mean regular check ins, but that’s just par for the course in this kind of organization.”

Adalind nodded. “That’s fine…I’d like to stay in Portland though.” Henrietta was surprised but smiled a little.

“You sure? We could set you up almost anywhere.”

“No. I…am making amends here. And I like the people. Plus, Sean is here, and Diana also deserves a relationship with her father. Even if I’m still not happy with him, I know he did what he did to help her,” she sighed.

Susannah nodded again. “Alright. I’ll see what we can work out. If I get the okay, I’ll be back, and we’ll take you in to hash out the details.”

“What if it doesn’t get the okay?” she asked urgently.

“If it doesn’t, tell them I’ll help if they agree,” Henrietta said. Adalind looked at her in shock.

“You? You’re…?”

Henrietta woged. “Not someone they want to say no to.”

Susannah kept her cool to her credit and nodded. “Alright…That might help.”

She changed back and smiled demurely. “She’s also become friends with the Grimm and his companions. Just saying…they’re not someone you want to mess with either.”

Susannah looked a bit more hesitant but nodded. “Right. I’ll let you know what I can work out.”

Adalind nodded then quickly hugged her. “Thank you…knowing she’s safe, not with the royals…that’s already a huge relief.”

She smiled and patted her back. “You’re welcome.” She headed out the door.

Adalind turned to embrace Henrietta as well. “Thank you…”

She smiled. “It’s fine. Very similar to what I usually do anyway, so I’m not too worried if they ask me to help. Though I’ll still expect additional compensation…”

Adalind chuckled. “I’m sure they’ll work that out with you. You’d be a valuable addition.”

She smiled. “So, feel like some food?”

“…I think I can finally eat a bit,” she nodded.

“Good. I’ll make some pancakes.” She headed for the kitchen and Adalind followed, moving to help a bit.

“…Henrietta, did you ever think about having kids?”

She paused in getting flour down but then sighed a bit. “I did, yes. It’s something that comes across many people’s minds after all. But honestly, I don’t think it’s for me.”

“Really? I mean, you’d make a great mom I think.”

“Well, I’m mothering you enough that’s for sure,” she smirked. Adalind smiled back. “But me trying to help you and be a good role model and friend to you is different from raising a child. And it just never really appealed to me. I like traveling, my work, my research—and all that isn’t really a factor with a child.”

“Yeah…I felt like that for a bit when I first found out I was pregnant. It’s part of why I could make that deal…but then I felt her kick and I realized I couldn’t give Diana up.”

“That’s fine too. But just not for me. If I’m not 100% into it, I don’t think it’s the best thing to go through with.”

“No, yeah, sorry, I don’t mean to sound judgy or pushy,” she said quickly. “Just…curious if you had children, considering you were a peer of my mother and Sean’s mother.”

She smiled. “That’s fine. Now, let’s get back to making pancakes because I’m hungry.”

\-----------------

Hank tried calling Sloane after Nick left. He honestly thought maybe Nick had finally just cracked under the pressure and stress and was confusing a dream with reality. But he got no answer. That was more than a little concerning, so he called Rosalee.

“Rosalee, hey—”

“Hank, Nick called us and said Juliette is dead and Trubel and Sloane are missing!”

Hank sighed. “Yeah, that’s what I was calling about. Can you call Sloane and see what’s going on?”

“I did!” she said. “I’ve tried calling like ten times since Nick did and she hasn’t picked up. We’re at her house now and she’s not here either!”

Hank frowned more, his worry now swinging into the realm of _Maybe Nick’s right!_ “Okay…okay, let’s not panic.”

“Why not? Because Nick wouldn’t lie about Juliette being dead! Or Trubel and Sloane being taken.”

“I know he wouldn’t, but he might be…confused.”

“Hank, I know it sounds farfetched, but weirder stuff has happened,” Monroe pointed out. “We exorcised your captain the other night. Is it so weird someone kidnapped Sloane and Trubel?”

“No…but Nick is saying that he thinks the FBI is involved.”

“The FBI?” Rosalee barked.

“More specifically, a lady named Chavez. Nick said when she came a while ago she met with him, Sloane, and Trubel, wanting to see if they were Grimms…to recruit them into some organization.”

“…Okay, I see why that might get a little hard to swallow…” Monroe said.

“But it’s still plausible,” Rosalee said firmly. “There’ve been other shadowy things we’ve dealt with, like that time the wesen mob kidnapped Sloane and Nick, and the Verrat, and the Royals.”

“True, true…”

“If we can’t find Sloane or Trubel, _something_ happened,” she finished. “Trubel might go off on her own again, but Sloane wouldn’t. Not without telling us.”

Hank sighed. “I see your point…Okay, I’m going to go fill the captain and Wu in. We need to find Nick though because he talked about confronting Chavez. And that is going to go south real fast.”

\-----------------

It did go south fast. After calling and making sure his mother was safe, Nick found the Portland FBI field office and requested (demanded) to see Chavez. He wasn’t intent on being subtle, he laid it all out about her being wesen and part of some other organization. She denied it and had him escorted (thrown) out of the building. Returning to the precinct, Renard was now updated by Hank and told him he can’t go into the FBI accusing them of kidnapping people. That it made him look crazy. When Nick resisted, he ordered him to take some time off. They had to investigate the attack on his neighbor as well, who was discovered that morning when someone noticed he hadn’t come out in a couple of days. Nick understandably lashed out, thinking none of them believed him.

The others looked for Sloane and had not luck. This meant as much as they hoped Nick just needed rest, he might be right. But they had no idea how to go about verifying it.

Meanwhile, Nick managed to get into the police database at home and find Chavez’s home address. He was intent to get answers and readied himself to go.

“Nick?”

He froze. That was Juliette’s voice. Coming from upstairs. He raced up, looking around. But it was empty and barren. It was always going to be now. Their bed, their home—it wasn’t theirs anymore and never would be. There was no chance now. She was gone for good. He shuddered, feeling the tightness in his chest and the tears in his eyes. Thoughts were racing—memories, laments, anger, grief, denial—until he couldn’t take it and quickly went back down and left the house.

\---------------

Chavez walked past several doors in the long corridor. Some were cells, some were just rooms. She stopped at one and walked up to it, pulling the outer slot open to look inside. It was dark inside, but she heard something moving—and then running for the door. She quickly shut it as she felt an impact and sighed. Then she continued on at the end of the hall was the control room—where they monitored field agents. Meisner was there and nodded as he walked up to her. “Chavez. What brings you by?”

“Checking in…any changes on the first one?”

He sighed. “Not for the better…”

“Hmm…and the second?”

He hesitated and several others looked at one another worriedly. “I haven’t updated outside the facility…”

“Updated what?” she asked.

“She…escaped,” he sighed.

“Escaped?” Chavez hissed, looking around. “How?”

Meisner sighed. “I’m not sure. We were transporting her to our northern facility at sunrise, and something happened that caused the car to wreck. Our agents are alive but they don’t know what happened either—the ones riding with her in back were beaten up and only remember she began screaming…I’m still trying to go through the car’s camera but I saw her run into the forest.”

She sighed. “Well, if she’s alive that’s good. We can track her down or see if she returns on her own and observe…and the last?”

“Seems to be doing alright, all things considered. I’m letting her rest today and debating how much to tell her…” he said.

“The less she knows the better…Burkhardt’s asking questions though.”

“Can’t blame him after last night,” He sighed. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure, but he’s coming after me. I’ll deal with him as best I can.”

\-----------

In hindsight, she should’ve expected Nick would get the jump on her, but she’d still though he wasn’t a real Grimm. When he’d snuck up behind her in her own home and managed to pin her before she could get her gun. She was against the mirror and Nick pushed her to woge—and sure enough, he was a Grimm. When he let go she tried to strike him, but he sent her flat with a punch across the jaw.

Nick though quickly hand cuffed her and got her to his car to take her to the shop. Chavez woke up on the way but remained stoic and silent. Rosalee answered the door after he called her, and her eyes widened when he marched Chavez in.

“Oh, my God!”

The others, who’d come up to meet him, were shocked as well. “You kidnapped Chavez?” Hank said.

“And brought her here?” Wu added.

Nick just nodded curtly, marching her towards the stairs to the basement where they came from. “Lock the door.”

Rosalee quickly did so while the others followed him. He pushed Chavez into a chair.

“What have you done?” Hank asked, his mind turning to all the laws being broken right now.

“She's Wesen, just like Trubel said,” Nick said, glaring down at her.

They all paused and looked at one another. They’d been trying to find out everything they could about Chavez but that wasn’t exactly something that would be in her FBI dossier or her Facebook.

“What is she?” Monroe asked.

“Steinadler.” He leaned in, both of them locking glares. “Who the hell are you working for?”

“You made a big mistake, Burkhardt,” she said back.

“The only mistake I made was not doing anything about you when Trubel told me what you did. You tried to recruit her once before. You threatened her if she told me. Well, guess what? She told me. And Sloane. So, she was well aware of you when you tried it with her, as I’m sure you remember.” Chavez didn’t even twitch. She was well trained after all. He glared and went to grab a book that was down in the basement, one of Sloane’s they’d looked through for a possible cure for Juliette. “You saw one of these books in my house. You thought it was Trubel’s that she brought with her. It was mine.”

“Wait,” Wu said, nodding as he remembered. “I saw the same book in the guest room. I left it on the bed. Somebody moved it.”

“That's why you came to the precinct, to talk to him. You weren't trying to find out about your fellow agent, Weston Steward. You wanted to find out if Nick was a Grimm,” Hank said.

“Only his powers were on the fritz, so you didn’t confirm it,” Monroe nodded.

Nick squatted in front of her. “Weston Steward was working for the Royals. That's why he shot Captain Renard. You ever figure that out?”

She still stared him down.

Monroe growled and woged and Rosalee followed suit. “You might want to think about coming clean,” he warned.

“Unless you killed Sloane and Trubel,” Rosalee added. “Then you really don't want to come clean.”

She looked minutely surprised a moment, the barest twitch of her eyebrows, but nothing more. The woged back and Nick glared. “You're not going anywhere until we get the truth.”

She sighed. “My life doesn't matter. There's too much at stake.”

“Well, somebody's gonna have to start trusting somebody,” Wu said dryly.

Nick’s cellphone broke the moment and he sighed, pulling it out to look. “…It’s the hospital.”

“Nick, you got to take it,” Rosalee whispered. “It could be about your mom.”

Nick hesitated but sighed and walked around the shelf to answer. “Burkhardt.”

“Mr. Burkhardt. It’s Dr. Frizzell. Your mother is awake.”

“She is?” he breathed. “I…how is she?”

“We’re still doing some post-op exams. Her eye of course is gone and the other needs to recover to find out if it’s viable. But her mind seems intact. She’s asking after you though.”

“…Okay. Thank you.” He hanged up, now feeling conflicted.

“Nick?” Wu asked.

“…My mom’s awake. She’s asking for me.”

“Nick, you got to go,” Monroe said.

He hesitated, looking at Chavez. Hank set a hand on his shoulder. “Don't worry about her, man. She's not going anywhere.”

Nick sighed and nodded gratefully to all of them before rushing up to the door.

Chavez watched him go, then looked at the others curiously. “You all know he's a Grimm.”

“Oh, we do. And Sloane and Trubel. We’re our own little group here,” Wu said.

Hank nodded, glaring at her. “If you’ve done something to Sloane and Trubel, you better hope we’re more merciful.”

\-------------------

Renard walked into his office after a briefing and paused when he saw a familiar face. Meisner was waiting in a chair and looked up when he walked in. “We should catch up…”

Renard sighed and closed the door quickly. “Yeah…I was afraid you were dead.”

“I was afraid you were dead,” Meisner shot back, watching as he went to sit at the desk. “I heard they sent Kenneth.”

“They did,” Renard said.

“Seems the police suspected him of some kind of Jack the Ripper. Guess he got here at just the right time.”

Renard frowned, knowing that meant he knew more than he was saying. “What are you doing here?”

Meisner sighed but tried to look as blasé as possible. “I thought you should know the King had an accident.”

Renard stalled in his thoughts as he turned that over. “What?”

“From what I've been told, he fell out of his helicopter somewhere over the ocean. The body has not yet been found.”

Renard sat back a little. While he was never close with his father, it was still a bit of a shock to learn he was dead. “…Diana was with him.”

“She's safe, don’t worry,” He said, gentling his tone and expression. “We already orchestrated getting her out before then. She's with friends.” Renard sighed in relief. Meisner went on. “Apparently Viktor wasn't too happy about being replaced by his cousin, Kenneth. None too happy with the King either for doing it.”

“So, Viktor struck a deal with the Resistance?” he asked, putting the pieces together.

“A little payback. They gave us your daughter...”

“And you took care of the King.”

“Let's just say I happened to be on the helicopter at the same time.”

“That puts Viktor on the throne. I’m guessing the King never changed his heir apparent?”

“He did not, so he is. For now.”

“…There’s something…the king has. That gives him sway over wesen.”

Meisner smiled. “Victor did ask about that as well…unfortunately, whatever was on the king at the time went down with him. In case you're wondering, they haven't found the helicopter either.”

Renard narrowed his eyes. He had a feeling that was double speak of some kind but dropped it. He didn’t want to get on the resistance’s bad side after all the work he’d done to get on their good. But there was one issue he wouldn’t drop. “Where's my daughter? I want to see her.”

“That is…complicated, at the moment. One of my members it seems has become friends with Adalind Schade. She’s moving that Adalind be given custody…with some provisions and help. If that happens, of course you would also be included.”

“And if they don’t do that?”

“Then they will ensure she is well taken care of, somewhere safe. I can’t make guarantees. I just wanted you to know what I did and where we’re at.” He rose, heading towards the door.

“How do I contact you?” Renard asked.

“I'll contact you. By the way, I was never here, and you don't know any of this,” he said, serious. “Bit of a cliché, but such is life.”

Renard nodded and watched him go.

\-----------------------

When Nick arrived at the hospital, he immediately went to the back. The doctor was waiting for him and led him to his mother’s room, which they’d moved her to after the incident last night. “Ms. Larson alerted us to the intruder and then ran after her. There was an altercation in the parking garage we think, though the cameras were disabled. But cars were…pushed around, apparently. She may have saved your mother’s life because she came to stand guard.”

Nick felt his gut twist but nodded. He knew that must’ve been Juliette leading her away, and then fighting her in the parking garage. Sloane had confronted her, convinced she was protecting Kelly. Maybe she was, or maybe it was a trap for her. He wasn’t sure. “Yeah…”

“Where is she? She didn’t return.”

“…She’s…missing.”

The doctor froze. “Missing?”

“Yeah…it’s…complicated,” Nick sighed.

“…Okay…Well, I hope she’s alive,” he sighed. Nick nodded, thinking the same. They got to the door and he opened it up.

“Who’s there?” Kelly asked, laying in bed. She sounded tired, but she was alert.

“Mom!” Nick gasped, going to her.

“Nick?” She turned her head, and Nick could see the bandages around her face and over her eyes.

“Mom…I…”

Kelly weakly raised her hand and he immediately grabbed it and squeezed. She was bandaged all over, including the wound to her neck the doctor thought might’ve been them trying to take her head. She swallowed slightly, dryly, and spoke softly. “They…got the drop on me. I’ve gotten stupid in my old age…”

“Don’t say that,” Nick said, squeezing her hand. “They were working around us this whole time…with Juliette’s help.”

“Mmm…I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you and Sloane…But they got Diana…In a way I’m glad they got her out of there before she saw…kids shouldn’t see that kind of thing…I tried to protect you from it…” She was rambling a little and Nick frowned. She was awake, but still medicated he realized.

“I…I know. I figured that out. I know you and Marie did your best.”

“Marie…I miss her…I miss you too…I miss Diana…we have to get her back.” She moved as if to get out of bed and Nick quickly put his hands on her shoulders to keep her down.

“Mom, you…you aren’t in any condition to fight.”

“I can still—”

“No,” He said more firmly. “Mom…Mom, the doctors said…One of your eyes are gone,” he finally said. “The other isn’t looking good either…”

“…Damn,” she muttered. “They got me with…a pipe or…something…it must’ve been that…”

Nick felt his heart squeeze. “You could’ve died…”

“I’ve had many situations like that,” she pointed out.

“Not like this,” he hissed. “You’re really hurt. You need to recover. And…the royals got away with Diana. They’re in the wind. We need time to track them down. We’re going to get Diana back, I promise, but you need to let us handle it while you recover.”

Kelly turned her head up to him, and he knew somehow she could see him even with her sight gone. “…Never thought I’d be forced into retirement…Always figured I’d go out on a job. That’s what most Grimms do…”

“I’d rather you stick around for a while,” Nick said. “I…we’ll make it through this.”

She sighed but nodded slightly and laid back when he easier her down. “Alright…just…be careful, please. I’ve lost my eyes, but I’m not gonna lose you.”

“You won’t,” Nick said, squeezing her hand.

She smiled a bit and squeezed back. “What happened after I was out?”

Nick hesitated but began to explain it all. Juliette’s helping the royals at the house, destroying Sloane’s collection, her surgery, sieging the mansion, Sloane coming here and fighting Juliette, Juliette confronting him…her throwing him around…her doing something foul looking to Sloane…Trubel shooting her…and the men in black coming for them.

“…Nick, I am…so sorry,” she said, squeezing his hand. “But Sloane…where…?”

“We don’t know. I don’t even know…if she’s alive.”

“…I don’t think Juliette intended to kill her if she did some sort of spell. But I don’t know what these people might do. If they took her alive, I have to believe they wanted her and your friend Trubel alive and not dead.”

Nick nodded, feeling comforted by the logical words. “Yeah…You’re right.”

“Of course, I am,” she smiled a little. “So…how long am I in the hospital?”

“A couple of days…then you can come live with me.”

“…You sure?”

“Never been more sure, ever,” he said. “Except…I don’t think I want to stay where I am…that house…”

“Can’t say I blame you…I can live anywhere, so I’ll leave that up to you.”

“Okay…I…didn’t get to tell you, but…Dierdre took Aunt Marie’s trailer.”

“…That bitch,” she said, sounding both angry and put out. “She always did like that trailer; she just wouldn’t admit it…”

“You’ve known her a while?” Nick asked.

“We met before I met your father. She’s about my age so we were introduce by our mentors—your father Walter was training me, Marie, and your uncle, George.”

“…I have an uncle?”

“…Had. My older brother, the oldest of us. He died a long time ago,” she said, turning a little more somber.

Nick winced. “Oh…but you both knew Dierdre?”

“Yes. She’s always been…hardcore, I guess you could say. Mainly because of her mentor, Egon Ketterling. He is…there’s things even most Grimms won’t do anymore, that he would do happily. I think he messed Dierdre up and made her that way. And a pain in the ass.” She sighed a bit, thinking. “…She almost left Sloane with us.”

Nick sat up straighter. “Huh?”

“When she was young…just after what happened to her grandmother. She called me and asked if I could take her. I got angry and told her to be a mother. Now…maybe I should’ve. It might’ve been better for her.”

“…It might’ve been…” Nick nodded. “I’m going to find her…and bring her back. I couldn’t save Juliette, but I’m saving Sloane and Trubel.”

Kelly smiled and squeezed his hand again. “I’m sure you will.” 

Nick smiled as well, and they visited for a while longer before his phone rang.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have that here I’m told,” Kelly chuckled.

“We’re in a more private area of the hospital, I can get away with it,” Nick said. He looked at the name and frowned. “It’s Hank…”

“Answer it. Your FBI agent might’ve done something.”

Nick nodded and quickly answered. “Hank, what’s wrong?”

“Chavez wants to talk to you,” he said, sounding suspicious.

“She tell you anything?”

“You need to talk to her,” he sighed. He held the phone up to Chavez, who looked at him seriously.

“This is your one chance to get the answers. You come with me, alone, and we leave in 20 minutes. After that, it'll be too late.”

Nick narrowed his eyes, but his mother set a hand on his arm. She could obviously hear the conversation thanks to her Grimm hearing. “Nick, go. I'll be fine.”

“You sure?” He asked, hesitantly.

“I’ll be recovering for a while. Go find your girls.”

He smiled and kissed her cheek before putting the phone back to his ear. “I'll meet you there.” He hanged up and looked at his mother. “I'll let you know as soon as I know something.”

“You better,” she said. He knew while some of it was real, she was putting on a brave face for him. He gave her hand another squeeze before leaving.

Getting back to the shop, Monroe met him at the bottom of the stairs, looking antsy about this. “Nick, I'm not so sure about this. She talked to somebody on the phone, and we didn't hear what they said.”

“He's right, Nick. This could all be a setup,” Wu said.

“She had to use her thumbprint to answer her phone!”

Nick frowned and looked at her. Chavez was as calm as could be, uncuffed now with her hands clasped in her lap. She looked at him back. “We're running out of time.”

“…You took Trubel once and you let her go,” Nick confirmed.

“I did,” she nodded.

He sighed. “Let's go.”

She rose and headed for the stairs, Nick a step behind her. Wu looked at the others, then back at him, then at the others again, unsure and a bit askance. “Uh... we're just gonna do nothing?”

“For a couple of hours, yeah,” Hank said, trying to stay calm with the underlying urge to follow them. “That's about as long as my trust lasts.”

Nick drove them and followed Chavez’s directions to a large, empty warehouse on the outskirts of town. “Stop. We walk from here,” she said, unbuckling her belt.

“Wait,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Who's in there?”

Chavez looked at the door to the warehouse, then to him. “You wanted to find out who I'm working with. You're gonna find out.”

“Well, how many?” he pressed.

She sighed, trying to be patient. “I'm not sure. We're never all together in the same place. But things are happening. We have to be prepared.”

“For what?” he asked, growing more concerned.

“What's coming…I can't tell you anymore,” she got out of the car and Nick huffed in frustration but followed.

He turned on his flashlight in the dim light now that the sun had set, checking the shadows to be safe. Nothing but trash and graffiti was illuminated though. As they climbed up the stairs to go to the entrance, he didn’t see any sign of life. “You sure they're here?”

“They're here,” she said, her shoes clicking and echoing in the empty concrete building. A busted pipe was leaking water and he trained his hearing to try and pick up anything else. But he couldn’t. And then his flashlight passed over a figure on the ground. It was a man—Caucasian, in a suit, with his throat torn open.

“Oh, God,” Chavez gasped. Nick looked around with the light and found another body, this time a black man in a suit, also with his throat torn open. Chavez was wide eyed and breathing a little harder. “Oh, no…”

“Who are they?” Nick asked.

“Who we were meeting with…”

Nick frowned, then focused his hearing again. Now, past the dripping water and his own heartbeat, he could hear heavy breathing coming from above.

“We have to go,” Chavez was saying, just as Nick turned to look up. A man in coveralls was there, ready to jump down on her. Nick pushed her out of the way quickly as he leapt, and he growled as he landed but managed to push Nick down. He moved to try and stomp on him, but Nick rolled out of the way and back to his feet. Chavez did as well, just as two more men came in, woging into various sharp toothed and clawed wesen. Chavez woged as well and began fighting two of them, showing off her CIA combat skills as she targeted their vitals and their knees to try and bring them down. The first was still targeting Nick after Nick kicked him in the ribs and they began trading blows. HE finally woged into a Galumcaedus and he cursed that he didn’t bring the vambrace with him this time. He tried to immobilize Nick long enough to take a chunk out of him with his jaws, but Nick managed to get out and struck him in the face then the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He then shoulder-threw him, so he was prone on the ground. While the large wesen moved to get back to his feet, nick looked for a weapon. The only thing he found was rebar in concrete nearby. Grabbing it, he pulled it free with a grunt. As the Galumcaedus turned while kneeling he brought the rebar down into the most unprotected place he could find—right into is left eye. He screamed but collapsed after he pushed it in harder.

Chavez meanwhile managed to finally get one of her assailants—a Phansigar—from behind and broke his neck with the twist of her hands. The other—a Balam—was on her too quickly though and slashed his long claws right through her stomach. She screamed and he gave another as she stumbled back. Nick rushed over and drop kicked him away, straight into a crumbling wooden wall. Another was rushing towards him from the back of the building and before he could even woge, Nick took the risk and pulled his gun to shoot him. Another that was coming turned and ran the other way and he gave chase. He found the other side entrance where they’d come from and rushed up to try and catch him. But a car engine revved and he was too late as he saw an old pick up with a bed cover on the back speeding away fast enough the tires squealed on the wet ground.

He growled and turned to head back in, but something caught his eye. Across the wall was four black lines painted at an angle. They were crude, and jagged, but the reminded him of claw marks and were the only bit of graffiti on the otherwise clean wall. And they were fresh—still glistening and wet. He had a bad feeling but quickly headed back inside because he knew Chavez was hurt.

But it was more than hurt he realized. She was sitting, leaning against some metal barrels in the corner near a couple of bodies. He knelt and opened her jacket enough to see the deep gash mark in her side. He quickly grabbed his phone to call for help but she shook her head weakly. “Don't…”

“No, we need to get you to a hospital,” he said, putting it to his ear.

“You can't be tied to this,” she said, panting softly. Nick knew that look and knew she didn’t have long. There wasn’t any way for an ambulance to get here in time, and there would be too many questions when they did. He closed his eyes but ended the call before it was answered. He then looked at her. “Where's Sloane? And Trubel? Where did you take them?”

She sighed, swallowing the pain as her words wheezed out. “They're coming here... to Portland.”

“Where are they?” he asked more urgently, his voice pleading.

“They're rising... everywhere.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out something and handed it to Nick. He recognized it as Trubel’s black knight chess piece. “It's war,” she gasped. She gurgled slightly then sighed and her head tipped to the side. Nick stared a moment before sighing deeply. _I’m sorry…I didn’t want to actually kill you or have this happen…_ He paused before getting up when he heard a buzzing noise from her pocket. Leaning in, he reached into her pocket and pulled out a phone. It was asking for a thumb print. Knowing this might be his only chance to get answers, he grabbed Chavez’ limp hand and pressed her thumb to it before pressing it to his ear.

“Where are you?” a male voice asked.

Nick hesitated before taking a deep breath. “She's dead.”

“…Who is this?”

“The others were dead when we got here. Who is this?” Nick countered.

“…Keep the phone.” The call ended and Nick looked at it but sighed and put it into his pocket before running out.

\----------------

Nick went back to the others and explained what happened. By the time they got back to the scene though, it had been cleaned up. Chavez, the two men she was bringing him to, and their attackers were all gone as if it had never happened. Even the graffitied mark was gone. They believed him—they knew something was very wrong and he wasn’t making this up. But besides the phone, which was still locked, he was back at square one in finding Trubel and Sloane.

He got a call later that evening that his mother seemed to be doing well—though her eye couldn’t be saved, her brain seemed okay. There was no telling what might happen down the line but for now they were optimistic. But they wanted to hold on to her for a few more days before she was released, and she could go home.

Nick though couldn’t stay in the house. Going there only brought back painful memories and even the good ones were now tainted. One other option came to mind, and that was Sloane’s house—but that didn’t feel right. For one, it needed to be fixed from the fire and he didn’t really want his mother in the middle of renovations when she should be recovering. And for another, like his house, there were some harsh memories involved that were just too fresh. He wanted somewhere safe. Somewhere he could feel like he was both home and protected. While his mother said she was fine with anything, he brought a tablet and described a few places on his visits to see what she thought.

In the next few days though another case arose—Mr. Beau Childs, the CEO of C&E, was found dead in his office as if he’d been mauled by something. Hank was handling the case with Detective Pogue since Nick was still supposed to not be working, but Hank could already tell something was off. Child’s financial officer, Wemlinger, was on scene and had reportedly tried to help—that was his explanation for blood around his front and wrists. He said heard screams and saw two men running from Mr. Child’s office. He’d called the police and Child’s assistant, Betty Frame, who was also on scene.

Hank asked for Nick to come down to confirm if Wemlinger was a wesen like he thought. He was hesitant to leave, but Kelly said it was fine since she was going to be resting anyway. Wu was able to find out Wemlinger was actually (or also) known as Simon Kinkaid and was wanted in California for embezzling almost a million dollars from Bankers Trust in Sacramento 3 years ago. Though it got a little rough in the interrogation room, Nick was able to confirm he was likely a Quijada Vil. Pogue was confused by all this of course, but things were further complicated by two California marshals coming to pick him up for extradition.

“You can't stop them,” Hank sighed.

“I can follow them.”

He looked at Nick, a bit shocked. “All the way to Sacramento?”

“Whatever it takes.” Hank frowned. He wasn’t thrilled Nick was so ready and willing to do that. It felt like it was him ready to just throw caution to the wind because what did he have left to lose?

Renard didn’t like it either, though mainly he didn’t like Nick being there at that moment as he marched over. “What part of "take time off" don't you understand?”

“Sorry, Captain. I had no choice but to bring him in. Marshals picked up our murder suspect for a prior, and he's Wesen. They have no idea what they're dealing with,” Hank explained.

Renard cooled, looking towards where the Marshals were getting Wemlinger together for transport. “What kind?”

“Quijada Vil,” Nick said.

Renard grunted, knowing they had some teeth on them. “Where are they taking him?”

“California.”

“I've got to go after them,” Nick said.

Renard sighed and shook his head. “In my office.” Nick looked frustrated but followed him with Hank. Renard closed the door and sighed again. “You want to lose your job?”

“They're not gonna make it to Sacramento,” Nick said.

“You’re not listening. You've already screwed up with the FBI. You want the marshals on your ass too?” Nick glared and he glared right back. “I’m serious, Nick. I don’t think you realize or appreciate how many strings I pull to make sure you, Hank…Sloane, Wu, Monroe and Rosalee don’t get put on some sort of watchlist!”

Nick twitched and looked away. “We do appreciate that, sir,” Hank sighed. “But after what this guy did to his last victim, I wouldn't want to ride in a car with him. These guys are going to be in real danger if they go.”

Renard messaged between his eyes. “…I appreciate that. But there are some things we can’t prevent if we want to be here to help other people in the future. I don’t like it either, but those are tough calls we have to make.”

“We can’t do nothing,” Nick said.

“I can call the marshals office, tell them there's a death threat on their fugitive. They'll beef up security themselves. You three—” He paused and looked down. “Sorry…two. You two are trying to do the right thing, I know, but it’s not as easy as just mowing over everything else without putting yourselves and others in danger.” He paused and looked up. “Is there any word on Sloane?”

“…No,” Nick said.

“We can’t find her anywhere. And for the record, she really was taken. And Chavez was in on it,” Hank said.

“…Do I want to know how you know this?” he asked, looking at Nick.

“…I did what I had to. But it didn’t turn out well. There’s something else—some kind of other issue I don’t know about. Someone killed two men Chavez wanted me to meet, then her.”

“What?” Renard said, straightening. “You—she’s dead?”

“Yes…But she was going to tell me something important. She knew something about Sloane, and Trubel, I know it. It’s something big.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Hank said. “I know he wouldn’t lie about it. But the scene was cleaned up when we got there. Faster than even your guys can do it. So, Chavez is… “missing” as well now.”

Renard groaned slightly. “Which means the FBI is going to likely come calling. Alright…do you have any other leads on that?”

“…Not really. Chavez died before telling me anything useful.” Hank looked at him, unsure why he didn’t mention the phone, but went with it.

“Okay. I’m going to say, after what’s happened the last few days, that Sloane is…on assignment.”

“Assignment?” Hank asked, Nick also confused.

“We need a cover. We can’t just say she’s missing—it’s going to lead to too many questions of why and have too many people looking into her. That could just cause more problems if they look too deeply into her past. For now, she’s under cover somewhere else. That was the excuse I gave for her coming here in the first place I think…”

Hank and Nick looked at one another but nodded. “Okay…”

“Good. Now go home, and don't come back until you hear from me,” he ordered Nick.

“What?” Nick asked, his voice sharp and clipped.

“You heard me. You need time, not work.”

Nick glared but turned and stalked out. Hank sighed and then looked at Renard. “This job is hard enough. It's even harder when you know what's going on and you can't do a damn thing about it.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Renard said, looking at him with an expression that spoke volumes of what he’d seen over the years and had to let go or find a way “around”. Hank nodded and headed out as well.

When Nick arrived, he was greeted by two FBI agents. He recognized them from the day he’d gone to confront Chavez and felt a tinge of worry. But he schooled his face.

“Agents…what brings you here?”

“Can we come in?” Nick nodded, letting them into the house. The larger man, Rosten he thought his name was, stepped up. “Agent Chavez is missing. Didn't show up for work, hasn't returned calls.”

Nick feigned surprise. “How long has it been?”

“Since last night.”

“The argument you had in her office, what was it about?” the other asked.

“She didn't tell you?”

“Why don't you tell us?” Rosten said, getting a little impatient.

Nick sighed. “I thought she was investigating me.”

“Not sure I follow.”

“The Weston Steward case. He was killed right in this room.” They blinked and glanced around, a little bit of unease creeping into them. “She always thought I was involved. I wasn’t. He tried to kill my captain and he just happened to drop by to get a file from me—he didn’t realize I was at a wedding because he was supposed to come later. I tried to tell her that, but I felt like she was still watching me.”

“We weren't still working that case.”

“Maybe you weren't. She interrogated me at the precinct. Did she tell you that?” Nick asked, folding his arms. The agents looked at one another. “She was investigating my partner, Sloane Larson too. Following her. Interrogating her. Interrogating a friend of ours. Neither of us were happy with that. After someone tried to torch her house, and my mother was hurt in the process, I…lashed out. In my head, it was because of what she was doing. There was a lot I had to deal with in a short amount of time. I found out it was actually because of an old case of Sloane’s and she’s been moved into protection for a while on another case. I was going to apologize to Chavez soon, when I didn’t think I’d get arrested for coming to close…”

They looked at one another. It was plausible, they knew, and Nick hoped they bought it. But Rosten still looked at him suspiciously. “We went by her house today. There were signs of a struggle in her bedroom. Where were you last night?”

“You got to be kiddin' me,” Nick sighed.

“Where were you?”

“At the hospital,” he said impatiently.

“Not feeling well?” he asked snidely.

“As I said, my mother was badly hurt. Someone beat her in the head, and she lost her sight and I’ve been visiting every day. Would you like the doctor's name?” he asked, equally snide.

Rosten looked angry but his partner set a hand on his arm and shook his head. He huffed and headed for the door. As they exited, he looked at Nick. “If you had anything to do with Agent Chavez' disappearance, it's just a matter of time. I’m sorry about your mother.” He closed the door and Nick sighed, rubbing his eyes.

From there things just got more complicated. The Marshals were killed in a gas station bathroom just on the edge of their jurisdiction on the way to California. Hank sent Nick a picture of the same four claw-mark sign left on the bathroom wall in blood, similar to the mark that disappeared at the warehouse. He said that he’s meeting with a forensic accountant going over C&E’s accounts and Nick goes to the meeting with him. The forensic accountant told Nick and Hank that most of the missing money was wired from the corrupted accounts to offshore banks in the Bahamas, the Caymans, and Puerto Rico. He said the transfers came from Wemlinger's computer between 2:30 and 3:30 a.m. every other Tuesday, and every time there was a data transfer a phone call was made to a Portland number. He gave them then number, and Wu traced it back to of all places the victim’s assistant, Betty Frame.

They arrived at apartment 502 on the building at Northwest 19th and readied their guns. Nick paused when he heard something inside. He expanded his hearing and realized it was the sound of electric motors—like several desktop PCs working at once. “I hear something…Electric motors, a lot of them.”

He nodded to Wu, who nodded back and then kicked the door in. “Portland police!”

Wemlinger looked up, startled as he was working on a PC—one of the many set up in a make-shift server room of some sort.

“What was that?” a feminine voice asked. Betty Frame walked into the room and Wemlinger quickly grabbed her around the throat. She shrieked but he held her steady.

“Move, and I'll kill her!” he shouted, woging into his reptilian form. “I'll rip her throat out!” She screamed again, struggling slightly but he held her fast as he pulled her to the bedroom. They kept their guns trained on him, but he had Betty in front as a shield. He kicked the door close as they got in.

“Watch the hall,” Hank ordered Wu. He nodded and rushed back out while they advanced. Nick kicked in the door and Wemlinger all but threw Betty at him.

“Help me! Help me! He made me do it,” she sobbed, going into hysterics. Nick clicked his tongue as she tried to cling to him and Wemlinger got out the window. He gently as he could pushed her aside and followed. “He made me do it. He made me help him!” she sobbed, going to Hank.

“I'll take the stairs!” Hank shouted after Nick as he followed the man onto the fire escape. He then looked at Betty, who looked like a traumatized midwestern housewife.

“He's some kind of animal,” she sobbed, shaking.

Hank sighed but patted her arms. “Stay here.” She nodded, covering her mouth as she tried to get under control.

Hank rushed out and by Wu, shouting as he ran. “He jumped out the window!”

Wu rushed after him. Nick meanwhile was chasing Wemlinger down the fire escape, the man several steps ahead. When he got to the ground he ran for one of the alleys and Nick followed. He saw him jump a wire fence and just as he got there, Nick saw Hank coming from another direction. Wemlinger was crouched behind a dumpster but saw the opportunity of Hank’s open back.

“Behind you!” Nick shouted, getting Hank’s attention. He managed to dodge Wemlinger’s first strike and start duking it out with him rather than immediately shoot. Nick got over the fence and grabbed a pipe, moving to strike him. He dodged and Nick accidently smashed the window of a car in the alley instead. Wemlinger was wily and hard to get a solid hit on, even jumping over Hank using the car at one point and throwing an old wire shelf down over them before trying to run. He threw tires at them to slow them down before climbing a dumpster and using that to jump over the even higher fence at the end of the alley.

The siren wailing was their warning as Wu rolled up. Wemlinger jumped down to the ground and roared at him as he got out. Wu’s gun was drawn and aimed as the Quijada Vil ran for him. “Stop! Stop!” he ordered. Wemlinger wasn’t stopping and Wu gritted his teeth before firing on him just as he climbed to the hood of his car. He did finally stop, looking perplexed a moment before collapsing on the hood like a rag doll. Nick and Hank came over just as he de-woged, dead.

Wu gave a shuddering sigh, his gun stull raised and pointed at the body. “I had no choice…”

Nick and Hank sighed, agreeing even though it was hardly ideal. Nick looked toward the apartments and realized there might still be something they could use though. “Stay here. Call it in.”

Wu nodded and pulled out his phone with one hand as they took off back to the building. The pushed the door open again, to see Betty doing something to the computers. She seemed perfectly calm as she was working. “What are you doing?” Nick asked, watching as she went to the last set.

Hank looked at the command box up top, which had big bold red letters across it. “She's deleting the files!”

Nick’s eyes widened and he moved towards her. “Get away from the computer! Now!”

She stood back but smirked at him, as if she’d won. “Not even a Grimm can stop what's coming.” She then woged into a drang-zorn, her red hair striking against the brown fur and her long sharp teeth bared. “Occultatum Libera!” Before they could stop her, she ran and took a leap, crashing through the glass of the nearest window. Nick and Hank rushed over but being five stories up they knew before seeing the blood staining the concrete she was dead.

\--------------

Hank managed to convince Pogue that Betty killed herself when Wemlinger was killed due to them being partners _and_ lovers. Wu managed to excuse that he’d come across Wemlinger during a patrol and had shot in self-defense. Luckily, the witnesses were few so they could play with the order of events a little and say that he’d gone up to the apartment after Wemlinger tried to attack him and Pogue bought it when he called it in.

Nick had gone back to the shop to avoid being seen and Monroe and Rosalee sat and discussed what happened with him, and Hank and Wu when they arrived.

““Occultatum Libera"?” Monroe asked, making sure he heard right.

“Yeah, that sounds right,” Hank nodded. Now they wanted to know why things had ended the way they did, and their best source of wesen knowledge was their friends. That, and what they could salvage from Sloane’s books. Rosalee had brought them to the shop for safe keeping. Until Sloane returned. “That was the last thing she said.”

He sighed, flipping through the book he was holding. “Loosely translated, it would mean something like "free what's hidden" or "free the hidden."”

“What does that mean?” Rosalee asked, looking just as confused as the rest of them.

“I guess it depends on who's hidden or what's hidden.”

“It's got to be whatever group uses this as its symbol,” Nick said, holding up a print he’d made of the bloody sign from the gas station bathroom.

“Yeah, we're still working on that,” Rosalee sighed as Hank had texted them about it earlier too.

“There have been some funky Wesen symbols over the years. So...” Monroe sighed.

“Horns, hooves, eyeballs, tails, representing everything from death to fertility to war. We got the Reaper's Scythe, the Verrat tattoo...”

“Let's not forget my personal favorite, the wolfsangel, which still gives me nightmares,” Monroe said, shuddering.

Rosalee rubbed over his back softly but sighed. “Unfortunately, nothing so far that looks like that. It might be new.”

Wu chewed on his lip. “What the hell does it mean? …You think Sloane would know?”

They all looked at each other, the question hanging in the air, and not for the first time the pain of someone missing was palpable.

“If she did…It might be in here,” Rosalee said, gesturing at the table of salvaged books. They nodded, grabbing them to start looking through again.

\----------

“What do you mean she’s missing?” Mim asked, her voice low and dangerous. Nick had waited a week, hoping they might figure something out

“…I’m sorry,” Nick said. “I don’t know…where she is. My one lead is dead, and the other is saying “Don’t call us, we’ll call you”, and not calling.”

“She was supposed to be resting!”

“I know!” Nick said. He tried to gentle his tone. “I know…all of us, we were trying to keep her resting, keep her safe…I didn’t think Juliette would…”

“…Jean, take this.”

“Mim—”

“I can’t talk to him right now!” Nick heard a door slam and then a tearful Jean was on the phone.

“Nick…We know it’s not your fault. We do. Part of us always knew there might come a time where she…didn’t come back,” she said. Nick felt his own heart clench. “We just…I’m sorry, I think w-we need some time.”

“…I understand,” he said.

“I know you do,” she sobbed, hanging up. Nick set his phone down and sighed, rubbing over his face. Sloane might not know how much she was missed. She always seemed to forget that. But he’d make sure she knew when they found her.

\-------------------------

**_The Lost Boys_ **

\-------------------------

It was almost a good thing Trubel and Sloane were still missing two weeks later. Nick couldn’t imagine how crazy Sloane would have gone with worry when Rosalee turned up missing. Or when it ended up being a bunch of wesen children that fell through the cracks in the system and were living on their own. Longing for a mother. It was a hard thing for all of them to deal with, knowing they kidnapped a previous woman who ended up dying, and now they would all be put into a juvenile center that was almost like a jail. But he knew, given Trubel’s past, it would be a hard pill to swallow.

In that time, his mother came home with him. Her eyes would have to be covered for another 6 weeks so he carefully guided her home.

“The stairs are in front of you. It’s five steps up, and the door is…I think about five steps in front of you.”

Kelly smiled tiredly, letting him hold onto her arm as she slowly limped up the steps. She was still sore and bruised, but aside from that the rest of her body would heal without any lasting effects. Just her eyes would never be the same. “You don’t have to fuss, really…”

“That’s not going to stop me,” Nick said, trying to smile. It was harder these days, but the fact that his mother was alive and coming home with him at least got a small one out of him. “Now…I’ve put an offer on another place. But it’s a bit lower than what they wanted, and I want to do a quick renovation, but I have to wait and see if it comes through.”

“If you’re telling me not to get comfortable, I rarely do.”

“Well, I tried to make it so you would be comfortable here. Monroe helped me move a bed downstairs for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said.

“I felt like I did. So, you wouldn’t have to go up the stairs so much.”

She sighed but followed Nick inside and over to where he’d set up the bed. “So, what’s this new place like?”

“Secure…a little industrial. I’ll show you later—I mean—”

She held up a hand. “It’s okay, I know what you mean…”

“…I was blind for a little while once.”

“What?” she asked, looking towards him.

“There was a Jinnamuru Xunte in town…you know them?”

“Yes…They’re rare in the states though. It got you?” she asked, mildly concerned.

“It did. But Rosalee figured out how to cure me before it was too late. I had to get one of his eyes to do it.”

“Hey, eye for an eye…”

“Yeah. But um…my hearing…that’s when it first started to get I guess superhuman.”

She nodded. “Usually it takes longer for that to happen, a couple of years…”

“I guess I found a cheat code. But it’s kind of helped me figure out my area and all that—hearing things rather than seeing them.”

“You think maybe I can use that to help get around?”

“It helped me,” Nick said. He hesitated and breathed deeply. “I know nothing’s going to make up for losing your eye and maybe the other…but I’m glad you’re alive. If I’d lost you on top of…of everyone else.” He tried to control his breathing.

Kelly reached out, softly making sure she got her arm properly around his shoulders before pulling him close. “I’m here...”

Nick gave a shuddering breath and held her close. It felt especially poignant, knowing how much those kids wanted a mother, that his own was here, alive.

\--------------------------------

“Why haven’t they called?” Adalind said, tapping the table impatiently. “It’s been weeks!”

“Likely they’re bureaucrats of some kind. And they can never do anything quickly,” Henrietta said.

“Well I’d like them to make a decision before she’s in college!”

Henrietta smiled. The scarf was gone and though there was a thin scar left, she was completely healed. “I’m going to make you some tea to calm you down.”

Adalind nodded and went back to trying not to stare at the phone while also keeping it close. A few minutes later it rang, and she grabbed it up. “Hello?”

“Adalind? It’s Susannah.”

“Hey…” she said. She had all her questions suddenly leave her, her nerves taking over.

“I have good news.”

Hope rose up. “You do?”

“Yes. We managed to convince them that you would be the best person to care for Diana.”

Adalind gasped and smiled brightly. “I…thank you…thank you, thank you…” she said, feeling relief wash over her.

“Well, that’s the good news…”

The relief shrank slightly. “There’s bad news?”

“Not bad. You will be able to stay in Portland as well. But you’ll have to deal with a bit of…big brothering. Regular check ins and the like.”

“…Well, that’s not ideal…but it’s manageable.”

“Well, they’re going to be pretty hard to please,” Susannah sighed. “Part of it is going to be monitoring you too. I told them you suppressed your powers and could suppress hers too. They want to go forward with that, and…they might be worried about what you’ll do when yours come back.”

“…I see…I-I’m not planning on going back to the royals or anything like that. I don’t want to do anything to hurt anyone, I just want Diana back.”

“I know, I know. Our backers are just paranoid. We have assurances that Viktor won’t go after her again, but it’s still not ideal.”

“Viktor?”

“…Ah, we didn’t tell you,” she sighed. “Part of the deal when we threw the king from his helicopter. Viktor is in charge now, but we have a tentative agreement with him. He leaves Diana alone and doesn’t overstep, and we let him take the throne without us trying to stop him.”

“…And you’re okay with that?” Adalind asked, unsure.

“I’m…not pleased, but I got my own little revenge. Victor hoped to get what the king used to control the wesen. But we recovered it before his body hit the water.”

“You did? What is it?”

“I…can’t really explain it well. It looks like a ring, but it gives off a strange feeling. But that’s all I can say.” She sighed. “If you didn’t know any of this, I guess you haven’t talked to Sean Renard either?”

“…He’s been a little…distant.”

“I see…and you’re still staying here?” she gestured at Henrietta’s house.

“Yes?”

“…You’ll have to find your own place.”

“I will?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes. I negotiated a little money to get you started, and you’ll get paid for any consultation work, but they want to be sure you can stand on your own two feet so to speak.”

“…So, I need to get a job too,” she sighed.

“More than likely, since I don’t know how often the consultation work will come around…Once you can get your own place, then we’ll be able to coordinate.”

“…Okay. Then I’ll get on that.”

“Alright. Good luck.”

Adalind hanged up and looked pensive as she went over all that information.

“Did you get the news you were hoping for?” Henrietta asked. She walked in and set a mug of tea down in front of her.

“…Yes and no,” she sighed.

“Well…let’s get together a game plan then.” Adalind looked up at her and smiled gratefully for the help.

\-----------------------

**_Maiden Quest_ **

\----------------------

Another month and a half later and Nick closed on the property he was looking for, and also had a quick reno done to create two bedrooms instead of one that had been there before. The house was on the market and already had prospective buyers for a good price, so he wasn’t worried. This meant moving. It wasn’t easy to box everything that had been his and Juliette’s up and let men take it away. But the pain was numbing slightly after nearly two months. Even so, he sold much of the big furniture and other items and bought new ones that didn’t have any memories attached to them. His new home was a bit unconventional, but it was cheap and more secure than a house. It was a loft, built in the remains of an old paint factory. The loft had been built above and the factor below made for a huge garage. One day, maybe, he could fill it with other things that would be useful. Like the trailer when they found it again.

Kelly, meanwhile, was trying to get used to moving around without her eyes. The doctor recommended counting steps between things and she did—usually after hitting them with her foot or hip. It was frustrating to say the least. She’d trained in her youth with blindfolds on to try and hone her senses, but this was different. She couldn’t just take this off. But she refused to give up because she was also trained to fight through pain and hardship. And Nick needed her. She could feel that. He’d lost Juliette, Sloane and Trubel—and while he was trying his best to put on a brave face and not let the hurt show, she knew he was often lost in thoughts of where the girls were and what happened. He often paced while holding the chess piece Trubel used to carry, and the phone Chavez had on her when she died. He vented how frustrating it was that the voice on the phone told him to keep it but hadn’t called.

In truth, Kelly had her suspicions about who was on the other end but hesitated to tell him. She’d heard rumors of organizations—heck, some had asked her to join. But it was dangerous work and she didn’t want to be tied to one group. It made it easier to get out. As a mother, she had wanted to protect Nick from this life. She’d wanted him to have a chance at life. A chance at something safer, something that wouldn’t kill him the way it did her father, her sister, and even her own husband who wasn’t a Grimm in the first place. But the Kessler line was strong still while others were waning. Nick inherited, albeit a bit late in life. And now it was all falling apart.

Then there was Sloane. She was worried about her. She remembered the first time she’d ever laid eyes on the girl. Ten-years-old, sullen and somber, quiet to the point it was unnerving. Dierdre had asked her to watch her, but Kelly had a lot on her plate at the time. Nick was barely 13, she and her husband were having some problems, and there was a lot of wesen activity Rhinebeck, New York where they were living. She’d turned them away and honestly, years later when she saw fifteen-year-old Sloane gut a Jaegerbar, she’d regretted it. She could see in her eyes that Dierdre was raising her as a weapon, not a child. That was maybe part of why she sent Sloane to Nick. It was to check on him, but it was also to try and help her find herself again. Her ending up more like Nick hadn’t been her intention, but it wasn’t a bad thing she realized. Now she’d get a chance to really get to know him again herself.

While he was getting things ready, his mother was okayed to remove the bandages. Nick was there and he flinched when he saw the empty socket. The ophthalmologist examined her remaining eye. “Well…it’s healing. You may get some vision back in it over time as it adjusts to the new lens but I’m afraid it’ll likely never be perfect.”

“I’ve noticed,” she said. Nick noted she couldn’t read beyond the largest letter on the eye chart earlier and had tried not to let it get to him so it wouldn’t get to her.

The doctor wrote something down. “I’m going to have you fitted for a prosthetic. You’ll need it to help keep the shape of your eye socket and keep it clean.”

“…What about an eyepatch?” The doctor arched his brow and she smiled. “I think I’d look pretty cool in one.”

Nick huffed a laugh, easing slightly, and the doctor smiled. “I’m glad you’re taking this well. An eyepatch would be fine too, but I’d still advise wearing a prosthetic under it. Now unfortunately, this will be my last appointment with you all for a while, I’ll be going on vacation next week.”

“But you’re the only Kehrseite doctor here right now,” Nick pointed out, worried.

“Yes, but the other doctors will still treat you fine, don’t worry. You just might have to…lie a bit more.”

Nick sighed but nodded. She set up the appointment for the prosthetic and that was fairly quick and painless. It took about a week to get the prosthetic made and by then the loft was ready and officially his.

He brought his mother and explained the layout—the large garage first floor, the elevator up with a key code, the living room kitchen, staircase to the roof, metal coverings for the windows, the bathroom and the bedrooms. Originally it had been one extra-large bedroom and he’d bisected it into two with two doors so that they both had their privacy. And one extra feature—behind a panel in the wall, there was a secret doo that led down to tunnels below the factory. He’d seen them on the building plans and had intrigued him. He wasn’t sure what was down there, but he figured they must lead somewhere and could be a handy route out of the loft in case of an emergency.

While they were getting settled, a new case came up. Isaac Proctor, son of a prominent defense attorney named Amanda Proctor, ended up dead after he tried to attack one Frankie Adkins. According to Frankie though, it was someone in an “animal costume” that killed Isaac as he was about to kill Frankie.

They spoke with Renard as he knew Amanda and he was aware that the family was Weten Ogen, Lynx like wesen that could trace their bloodlines back ages. Renard brought them to meet with her, and she was less than pleased to meet with a Grimm, let alone one working for Renard. But she gave them the information that Isaac had visited the Troyer family before going to Frankie’s bar to confront him. She has no idea why he did that either. They went to speak with them and met with Daniel Troyer and his daughter, Emily. They were friends of Isaac but said they don’t know why he went to see Frankie and claimed they didn’t know Frankie themselves.

Kelly was getting use to the prosthetic, and the layout of the loft. She could see vague shapes and colors with her other eye, enough to know what certain things were. Her depth perception was shot to hell however, something she found out when she accidently poured coffee over her hand instead of in the mug. Nick had wanted to take her to a doctor, but she convinced him to just bandage her hand and let her learn from the incident.

Despite being a bit protective, Nick had the slight penchant for trouble he always did. And that made him go down into the tunnels accessed by that door a little nerve-wracking. She waited by the entrance, training her ears on the echoes below. She heard some strange metal clanging—and oddly, she could almost envision it in her mind. _A metal door…?_ Nick came up and confirmed there was a metal door at the end of a passageway below. But he couldn’t get it open without tools. And he was filthy—she could tell at a touch and ushered him to go take a shower.

The case with Frankie Adkins at the center continued to get more confusing. Another man, Eli Kemper, ended up dead at Frankie’s house. He was supposed to be a bodyguard but had punched out the other guard and gone to try and kill Frankie. He’d been saved at the last minute once again and when Nick asked if it was the same person in an “animal” costume, he nodded through the sedative he was given. “Oh, yeah. You don't forget something like this. Sharp teeth. Yellow eyes. Pointed ears. A lot of hair with stripes in it.”

Talking to Monroe and Rosalee, they agree that Frankie’s guardian angel is likely a Weten Ogen from that description.

“We think so,” Hank nodded.

“And we met one yesterday, the mother of one of the victims,” Nick said.

“Wait a minute; You're saying that the killer and the victim are both Weten Ogen?” Monroe asked, looking alert and a little excited. He looked at Rosalee who nodded as well.

“You could be dealing with the Maagd Zoektocht,” she said, laughing a little. “Oh, that is an ancient Weten Ogen tradition. I'm talking from the millennium before the millennium.”

“You know how knights would slay dragons to win the princess? It's that.”

“Basically, a maiden quest.”

“Maiden quest? Like, to win the bride?” Hank asked, arching his brow.

“It's a way to facilitate arranged marriages,” she nodded, smiling at how old fashioned it sounded too. “I think three Weten Ogen bachelors, right? Are sent out to complete the quest to prove themselves worthy for the hand of the fair maiden and her dowry.”

“But what's weird here is, the quest doesn't normally end with the participant's death. Not to say that procuring a dragon's tooth didn't have an abnormally high casualty rate, but still,” Monroe said. “Nowadays, it’s usually something tamer like procuring something equally rare but less dangerous. I knew one whose daughter loved orchids and grew them and said the one that got her the rarest orchid would be deemed the winner. Not much point if the bachelors die in the process…”

“Maybe since these Weten Ogen have criminal ties, the stakes have been raised,” Rosalee said, frowning at the thought.

Monroe nodded, jumping on that train of thought. “As in the goal for this quest is... what's his name?...Frankie's head. I mean, they're using axes and swords, right?”

“Bringing in the head of the enemy, that's a pretty standard challenge,” Rosalee nodded.

“So, Isaac and Eli were opponents in this quest…” Nick said, putting the pieces together.

“So, then who's the beautiful maiden?” Monroe queried.

Hank smiled, already knowing the answer. “That would be Troyer's daughter, Emily.”

“Then Troyer must be Weten Ogen, as are all the suitors,” Rosalee said.

“We know Troyer is one.”

“You know what? Find the third competitor, and that's probably your murderer, because they...” He gestured like his arms were swords crossing.

“You should find him quickly, though, because this quest won't end until Frankie's head is delivered,” Rosalee said.

“Yeah, and don't expect Troyer to just, you know, tell you who it is.”

“But he does have to bless the third competitor, who will also have that third golden feather,” Rosalee pointed out.

“Yeah, we're gonna keep an eye on Troyer,” Hank said.

“Thanks, guys, I appreciate it,” Nick nodded, grabbing up the files to head out.

Rosalee sighed as she watched them go and Monroe huffed. “Wow, Weten Ogen…”

She smiled and leaned in to sit on his lap. “Honey, would you slay a dragon for me?” she asked sweetly.

“Oh, my God, a flock of them. Or whatever you call a great gathering of dragons,” he said.

“My knight in shining...”

He held up a finger. “Ah, but I don't do armor. I got a nickel allergy.”

Rosalee burst out laughing and hugged him close.

\---------------

Adalind was looking at houses online, sighing to herself. While she had some money, it wasn’t enough to cover a nice house. And she really didn’t want to rent—if Diana’s powers couldn’t be suppressed, there would be a lot of potential questions and issues if they had to move.

A phone rang—one Susannah had given her—and she answered it. “Hello?”

“Hey. Just updating you—Diana’s doing well.”

“Good,” She sighed.

“But I don’t know how much longer I can stall our superiors…they want to move her to another state, somewhere they think is safer. Have you made any progress?”

She groaned and sighed. “I’m trying, but a lot of my savings were used to get to Europe. And after inquiring, the rest of my mother’s estate is still tied up legally considering how she died. Apparently the insurance company and law firm that held her will are both very suspicious when their client dies under “questionable circumstances.” Henrietta offered to help but I owe her so much already…”

Susannah sighed as well. “I’ll keep trying to stall then, but you need to figure out something soon.”

“I will, I promise…thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Thank Meisner too when you can, he’s fighting for you two as well.”

She smiled. “I will if he ever calls…”

“Isn’t that just like a man. Helps you deliver a baby and then never calls.”

Adalind snorted and laughed a little. “Thanks, I needed that.”

“You’re welcome. I’d better go before they get suspicious. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Adalind sighed and they hanged up. She tried not to feel panicked at the news and went back to budgeting and looking through listings.

\--------------

From there, regarding the Weten Ogen case, a few things were found out after the fact, but this is how they all fell into place:

Amanda told Frankie it was Daniel Troyer out for his head, wanting to see Daniel dead for the death of her sone. When Frankie broke into Troyer's house to kill him first, he was shocked to see him woge into his Lynx-like Weten Ogen form. Emily however is the one to attack Frankie in her wesen form to stop him, the gun going off and striking Daniel by accident. Nick and Hank arrived in the house just as that happened, and Hank called an ambulance quickly while Emily rushed to her father. Nick helped her try to staunch the bleeding and told her they knew about the Maagd Zoektocht. It ended up she had killed all her suitors because she didn’t want an arranged marriage, she wanted her own life on her own terms. But she hadn’t wanted her father killed. Her father, rather than anger, looked at her proudly despite the pain and told her the quest had always been for her—that she proved herself worthy to take over for him, more worthy than any man. Daniel was to be arrested for soliciting Frankie’s murder, but they couldn’t prove Emily was the one to kill the others. And Frankie was now a mess, sobbing and talking about monsters, so he was going to be next to useless in court more than likely.

When he told the story to his mother over dinner, she smiled. “Hmmm…you’re learning a lot of things we never really did. Are you writing them down?”

“When I have time,” he said. “I don’t know if I can recreate the whole trailer though…or Sloane’s collection for when she comes back.”

 _If_ was not a word he was going to use. It was When. Kelly smiled and patted his shoulder—well, his bicep, then his shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll find the trailer one day. Dierdre can’t keep it hidden forever. And Sloane will appreciate anything we can do.”

Nick smiled and picked a little at his Lo Mein. “…It’s been almost two months…” The frustration grew, familiar now, and he sighed.

“…I know it’s frustrating. I was frustrated for years trying to track down the men that killed your father…” Nick looked at her and was about to ask more about that when they heard a crash from outside. “That sounded like a motorcycle…” Kelly said, turning her head in that direction.

“Stay here,” Nick said, standing. He drew his gun and went to the fire escape outside. He could see it was indeed a motorcycle crashed into the garbage cans by the side of the building. But he didn’t see the driver. Quickly heading down, he looked at the machine. Before he could inspect it further, he heard a wheezing breath behind him and turned, gun raised. Someone was coming back around the corner, maybe looking for a way in. He was ready to fire but eased in shock when he saw who it was.

Trubel limped around the corner, holding onto it as if it were the only thing keeping her standing. She was dressed in black leather motorcycle gear, her jacket particularly thick and reinforced. She had a split lip, a black eye, and a nasty scrap along her cheek. She looked up at him and he managed to gasp out her name.

“Nick…” she said hoarsely, moving towards him. She almost collapsed but he quickly grabbed her and held her up. She sighed, wheezing in a way that scared him, and soon went limp in his arms.

\--------------------

**_Rat King_ **

\---------------------

Kelly could hear the garage door opening before the security system let her know in that annoyingly calm voice that it was opening. A feature Nick added for her, so she’d know where to look. She quickly grabbed her cane and went down the elevator and could hear Nick dragging something in. “Nick?”

“It’s Trubel!” he shouted.

“What kind?” she asked, immediately ready to fight.

“No, I mean it’s Trubel! She’s back, she’s the one that crashed. Sh-she’s hurt, I need to get o her to the hospital.”

Kelly switched gears. “Go, I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, lock up, I’ll let you know what happens.”

She nodded and went back to the elevator to go back up to the loft.

Nick used his siren to get to the hospital as fast as possible and didn’t really think before rushing her into the ER rather than find a Kehrseite doctor. He remembered later they weren’t there anyway. They brought her in and immediately got to work on her. They were obviously confused as they took off her jacket and found a bullet proof vest and other bits of armor but clipped her out of it quickly. Nick gave the excuse she was a police officer involved in undercover work. It was a good thing he did because they found a blade hidden in the strap of the vest. One nurse gave Nick the jacket and he held on to it as he watched them take off the guards on her legs and arms. The doctor asked if he was staying and he said he was, so he promised to update him before closing the curtain.

He sighed and went to sit in the waiting room. It was empty for that time of night thankfully so he could breathe out and try to collect his thoughts. It was a relief first and foremost Trubel was here. And alive. But she was hurt much worse than she would be from just the crash into his garbage cans. And where had she gotten a motorcycle? And body armor?! He looked at the jacket in his arms and weighed it slightly. Something was inside so he started going through the pockets. The first thing he found was two driver’s licenses—one under the name Lauren Cole, and the other was from Italy with the name Giana Novara. Both had Trubel’s picture. A Canadian passport was also inside, and he opened it to see Trubel’s name with the name Rebecca Ryan printed. _This is like when I met Sloane…she had fake IDs. But where did Trubel get these? From the Library? Ours is still closed so it would have to be another one. And if so, why wouldn’t she contact me? Where’s Sloane?_

He put those away quickly and went through the other pockets. In the next he found several wads of cash from three different countries. And more interesting, a phone just like the one Chavez had that he still had at the loft. Right down to the fingerprint scan request when he booted it up.

With no way to open it now he sighed and reached in one more time. This time he pulled out a black handle and with a flick, a blade popped out. Quickly he retracted it and put it away, his nerves now up again as he tried to think what Trubel had been up to.

Kelly meanwhile was pacing a little, counting her steps to make sure she knew where everything was with her limited vision. It was how she was trying to stay calm as she waited for news from Nick. She froze when she heard a buzzing sound. She recognized it immediately as a cellphone vibrating, but her phone was in her pocket, so she knew it wasn’t hers. Nick grabbed his when he heard the crash. She followed the sound to Nick’s room and the bedside table there. _The phone Chavez had…_ Picking it up, she brought it to her good eye to make sure she accepted the call properly—it let her which meant the finger print scan had somehow been remotely deactivated—and then held it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Where’s Burkhardt?” the man on the end asked. He had a faint German accent and Kelly knew it was familiar.

“Who’s asking?”

“Is she with you? I need to know if she’s alive,” he said more urgently.

“I’ll ask again: Who’s asking?” she said, putting that hard edge to her voice.

“…Kelly?”

Kelly straightened, able to place the voice now. “Meisner?” The call disconnected and she looked at it, frowning deeply. _Meisner has something to do with this? Is it the resistance? But this feels off…It must be that other…I need to call Nick._

Nick was looking through the passport at the stamps inside—it seemed like she’d gone to a new place every other week. From Dublin to Malta to Beirut to Tokyo…More places he’d ever been. He paused when he felt his cellphone and looked around before taking it out to answer when he saw it was his mother. “Mom? Is everything okay?”

“Hard to say,” she sighed. “That phone you got from Chavez finally rang. A man called, asking if “she” is okay.”

“Trubel?”

“He didn’t say a name and I wasn’t going to offer it.”

Nick sighed, leaning back. “So, it’s related…”

“Are we surprised?” she asked. He knew he wasn’t surprised, but it raised more questions than it answered. “I recognized the voice as well.”

“You did?” he asked, now surprised.

“Yes. But it’s better not to discuss this over the phone…”

He sighed and then looked up when he saw the doctor coming. “Okay, later then. I gotta go.” He hanged up and stood to meet the doctor, making sure the jacket hid the passport in his hands. “How is she?”

“Stable,” the doctor said, smiling slightly. He gestured at the tablet in his hands. “CAT scan revealed no internal injuries. Probably would have been a lot worse if she hadn't been wearing body armor.” He quirked a brow and Nick smiled wanly. “Now, I'd like to keep her under observation for at least another 24 hours.”

“Well, can I talk to her?” he asked.

The doctor sighed and shook his head. “I just gave her a sedative. She's still in a lot of pain.”

“Just to let her know that I'm here,” Nick pressed.

He nodded slowly and then motioned for him to follow. “Okay. Just for a couple minutes.”

Nick followed him and he opened a door to one of the rooms. Trubel was laying on the bed, now bandaged up. The bruises were still mottled over her face and neck, but she looked better than when he’d first found her. He softly pushed the door behind him, not quite closing it as he walked forward. Trubel cracked her eyes open then looked at him with an expression of relief. “I knew if I could just get to you, it'd be okay…” she said quietly. Nick smiled, going over to squeeze her hand. She took a shuddering breath, wincing in pain. “I'm so sorry I didn't...”

“It's okay,” Nick said quickly, gently. “I'm just glad you're alive.”

She sighed, relieved enough that there were tears at the corner of her eyes. “You have my jacket…That's good.”

He nodded, worry puckering his brow. “Found a few things…but I need to know, where’s Sloane?” he said.

A tear rolled down her cheek and she shook her head slightly. “There's so much to...”

There was a knock at the door before it was pushed open and a nurse walked in with a smile. Nick shared a look with Trubel and squeezed her hand again, trying to act normal. “Just try and get some rest. They're gonna keep you under observation for 24 hours.”

Trubel looked a little panicked at that, looking at the nurse as she walked around to the front of the bed. “I think maybe I can go now. I actually... I feel okay.” She moved to try and sit up and Nick was about to tell her to stop when the nurse rushed over.

He could get a good look now—she was in her forties, with curled blonde hair, wearing blue scrubs an a longer blue medical coat. “No, no, no, no, no, no,” she tutted, easing her back down. “That's not a good idea. You've been given a sedative. We don't even have your name yet. I know you're a police officer, but...”

Trubel looked at Nick who tried to convey _I had to tell them something_ to her with a look. She sighed. “Lauren Cole…”

Nick nodded, looking to the nurse. “I can get you the rest of her information.”

She smiled and nodded. “Good. Well, Miss Cole, you've had a rough night. You need to get some rest.”

“Just try and sleep,” Nick said gently. She looked like she was fighting the sedative at this point but slowly fell asleep as they walked back out.

The nurse lifted a bag that she’d placed by the door and handed it to him as they walked out. “These are her clothes. Do you have her license?”

“I do,” he said, pulling the right one from under the jacket. “Right here.”

“Thanks,” she took it, veering into the office as he followed.

“Oh, and if anything changes, call me,” he said quickly, pulling his card from his pocket. “Here's my card.”

“Of course. I'll make a copy of her license,” she smiled, taking the card.

Nick nodded and when she was done headed back out to the car to head home. When he got there, he noted the motorcycle was still where it crashed near the garbage cans. He parked his car in the garage, then came out and walked it in. He could see it was an expensive, supped up model for sure. Made for speed. But it was also roughed up—from the crash and something else he was sure as it looked like paint transfer from a car was scraped along the side. He backed up and noticed the Oregon license plate and quickly snapped a photo to text to Hank. After calling and asking him to run it, he headed back up to the loft.

Kelly was waiting at the kitchen island and looked up when he walked in. “How is she?”

“She's stable,” he sighed, setting the jacket down on the kitchen counter.

“Could you talk to her?”

“Not much, they sedated her…But she knows I brought her in.” He reached in and grabbed a beer from the fridge to cool down.

Kelly sighed. “I thought she was likely dead, but I’m glad to know she’s not…She was the one that crashed though?”

“Yeah, a motorcycle. I brought it in, but I don’t know if it’s hers. She might have stolen it.” He took another long drink and sighed, frowning. “She was wearing body armor, carrying three false identifications and a lot of cash…This has got to be connected to Chavez.”

“…How did she know to come here?” Kelly asked.

“I don't know.” He looked at her and though he wasn’t in focus she could tell he was curious. “Look, when you called me, you said there was more…”

“…The one who called on Chavez’s phone. I know him.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “How? Who?”

“I'm certain it's Meisner. He's the one who helped me get Adalind and Diana out of Europe. Helped deliver Diana into this world too, brought them to me at the airport where I helped fly them here.”

Nick sighed, rubbing between his eyes. “I am so sorry this happened…”

Kelly frowned. “What?”

“I thought I'd picked someplace safe. And they’re still…”

“Nick, I’m used to danger. Vision loss…I’m adapting. But I’m not scared or angry. Mostly I’m just worried.”

“Well I’m angry!” Nick said. “I mean, what did this guy do to Trubel? What did they do to Sloane? If he helped you, he’s part of the resistance, right?”

“…I’m not sure. The resistance is both official and unofficial. Some do it full time, are willing to give their life, all that. For many, it’s something to do when their needed. There’s an information network that gets ahold of us. Because it often intersects with wesen, and it could get dangerous, I didn’t advertise I was part of it. It’s not like they have membership cards.”

“Not like us,” he said, smirking a little.

“Exactly,” she smiled. “I knew Meisner also worked for another organization. He tried to get me to join, but it was much more official. Like covert agents. Paychecks. They said they handle wesen issues, much the way Chavez explained it to you. I know they wanted a Grimm…”

“So, they took one?” he asked darkly.

“I don’t think Meisner would do that,” she sighed. “He’s doing this because the Royals killed his girlfriend. He told me the story. I don’t know why they took Trubel and Sloane, but I don’t think he’d have forced them into something…”

Nick wasn’t convinced but his phone buzzed, and he took it out to answer it. “Wu?”

“Hey, Hank's with me. I got you on speaker. I ran the plate. Motorcycle is registered to a Lauren Cole, 3618 Northwest 19th Ave, Apartment 505. So far, so normal. Then I pulled Lauren Cole's driver's license. You will never guess who it is…”

“Trubel.”

He could imagine the incredulous look on Wu’s face, but Hank was the one that spoke. “You want to tell us what's going on?”

“I don't know what's going on,” he groaned. “She showed up here pretty beat up. I took her to the hospital.”

“How bad is she?” Hank asked.

“There's no internal bleeding, but they want to keep her under observation for 24 hours.”

“Did she say why she's Lauren Cole?”

“No.”

“Did she say anything about Sloane?” Hank asked.

He sighed. “No…they sedated her before I could ask her anything. I’m going to ask her when she wakes up. I’ll let you all know what I find out.”

“You need anything else?” Wu asked.

“…Check out Lauren Cole's apartment. But do it out of uniform.”

“Copy. By the way, Ms. Cole's motorcycle costs 30 grand,” Wu added. “And that's just the base model.”

Nick’s eyebrows rose. “Given the fake IDs and the amount of cash she had on her, I doubt she's driving the base model. I'll check it out, see if there's anything else I can find.”

“Right. And Nick…Good to know she's still alive. If she is, we gotta think Sloane is too.”

He sighed and nodded. “Yeah.” He hanged up.

“Sounds like they set Trubel up well…but it’s getting complicated.”

“Yeah, it is. I got to take a look at that bike,” Nick said. He headed back down to look it over. The keys were still in the ignition, so he climbed over to sit astride it and turn them. The bike came back alive with a dull roar, vibrating with a lot of power. The headlights came on, illuminating his car and Juliette’s old car he wasn’t sure what to do with. Revving it, he jumped a little at the sound. This was definitely a hard machine. Everything seemed normal on the dash—odometer, fuel gage, etc. But he noticed four nodules right in front of normal readers, like caps with release buttons. Pressing one, it flipped up to show a blue button. He pressed the others and they were the same. He’d never heard of this before. Pressing the second one from the left, there was a whistling noise and then four hard thunks at the same time behind him that made him turn. From the back of the bike, four metal arrows had been fired. Two landed in some of the factories old paint barrels, and the other two went right into the metal siding of the garage. Nick looked at the buttons with wide eyes and quickly covered them back up and turned the bike off, climbing off and backing away like it was a wild animal.

\--------------

Monroe was taking out the trash from the shop before closing. It was time to head home and he yawned, feeling tired. As he threw it into the dumpster, he heard something above and looked up. Nothing stood out at first, but he backed away and then woged, focusing up. He saw something move on the roof of the building. It was big, bulky, and hairy—that was all he could tell in the dim light. But when it tilted its head, its eyes shined with a blue light he saw in predators. He blinked and then woged back and rubbed his eyes, and when he looked back up it was gone without a trace. “…I need to get some sleep,” he sighed, heading back in.

\--------------

In the morning, Nick and Hank went to the hospital to visit Trubel.

“She's stabilized. All her vital signs are good,” the doctor said as he opened the door. Trubel was still sleeping on the bed, looking at peace.

“Shouldn't she be awake by now?” Nick asked.

“I don't know how well she slept last night, but after what she's been through, it's not unusual to sleep for quite a while.” He went over to start examining her and Hank came up next to Nick.

“How's she doing?”

“Well, okay, I guess,” he said, shrugging. He looked at the doctor after he finished taking her pulse. “Will you call me as soon as she wakes up?”

“We will,” he nodded. Hank and Nick headed back out the room.

“Doctor said her vitals were good. I thought she'd be awake by now,” Nick sighed.

“We have any idea where she was before she got to your place?”

“No idea. But you got to see this motorcycle she was riding.”

As he spoke, Hank’s phone rang. “Griffin…Where?...Yeah, he's with me. All right, we'll be there.” He hanged up and sighed. “You’ll have to show me the motorcycle later. We got a case.”

They went out to the country, to a cornfield of all places, to meet up with Wu. Wu let them know as they walked through the path left by something large in the field that he’d tracked down Lauren Cole’s apartment. It was real, her name was on the mailbox despite no mail in the mailbox, and though he went up to it he couldn’t get inside without breaking in. Since they didn’t want to raise suspicion he opted not to do that but did say he had no answer when he knocked.

Their bodies were in the back of a pickup parked in the field, what caused the long path of destruction it seemed. They were Robby Kyle and Chester Avery. And they were in bad shape—cut up, bits of skin missing on their chests, dried blood, cracked bones, the works. The truck belonged to Mr. Kyle. And his phone started ringing as they were looking the bodies over. The picture on the ID was of a very pretty young lady who immediately was irate when they answered the phone, wondering where Robby was. She wasn’t surprised when Nick identified himself as a detective, more resigned. That is till they explained what happened.

They met with Selina Golias at her house, where she lived with Roby for three years. She tearfully explained that he’d gone out the night before despite her trying to get him to stay. It was him, Chester, and another man named Johnny. As she broke into another fit of tears, Nick saw her change into a calico patterned Klaustrike. When she realized he was a Grimm she accused him right away of killing them, but they talked to her calmly and got her to admit that the men went to the dump to harass a group of Reinegen. She’d tried calling Johnny, but he wouldn’t answer, so she got them his address. Hank sent it to Wu to check out.

Wu called them just as they got to dump to let them know Johnny’s trailer and car were trashed. They were having the CSI team go over it, but there was no sign of blood or anyone being killed. At the dump itself them met with a man who was using an angle grinder to try and take a car apart. After a little cajoling, Nick got him to woge into a Reinegen. However, he wasn’t apparently scared of Nick at all. They decided to leave, let him stew for a bit after making it known they knew the klaustreich were killed there and not in a cornfield.

The next stop was the Spice Shop to talk with Monroe and Rosalee. They explained a bit of what was happening and then summed up. “We have two dead Klaustreichs and a third one missing,” Hank said.

“They went to the dump last night to chase some Reinigen,” Nick said.

“Ugh, Reini-bashing,” Rosalee sighed, shaking her head as she brought a few rinsed clean jars over for Monroe to dry.

“Yep, Saturday night at the dump is a popular Klaustreich pastime…” he grimaced, picking up another to wipe down.

“Although I've never heard of the Klaustreichs winding up dead.”

“No, anyone winds up dead, it's the Reinigen,” he nodded.

“Well, the Reinigen we questioned wasn't afraid of anything,” Nick said. “And I don’t think it was a group attack. Can a Reinigen take on three Klaustreichs?”

“And live to tell about it? No way,” Monroe said, shaking his head with a laugh.

“Not unless we're talking about Riesen-ratte,” Rosalee said.

He laughed more. “A rat king? Come on, that's not real.”

“Why not?”

“Are you kidding me? A 20-foot-tall Ratzilla that can't be stopped? I mean, where's a thing like that gonna hide? Somebody would have seen one somewhere.” Hank shuddered, the fear of rats washing through him. Monroe also paused, remembering the figure he’d seen on the roof last night. He was sure he must’ve been just tired. That thing had been big, but not that big.

“There might be something in one of the books,” Rosalee pointed out.

Monroe sighed and set his rag down. “I'm sure there is, but I'm telling you, it's just an old rat's tale.” She rolled his eye as he headed to the shelves where they had what was salvaged from Sloane’s collection and some of their own books.

Nick nodded and folded his arms when he saw the clock on the wall. “The hospital should have called by now…”

“Who's in the hospital? Is your mom okay?” Rosalee asked.

Nick hesitated a moment but sighed. “Trubel came back last night.”

“What?” they both gasped. “She's alive?” Rosalee asked.

“Yeah, but she was in a bad fight. I don't know any more than that. I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet.”

“You don't know where she's been, what she's been doing?” Monroe asked, coming back with a couple of books.

“Where Sloane is?” Rosalee asked, a touch desperately.

“Nothing.” He sighed and pulled out his phone, dialing the hospital while he came over to open the books.

“St. Joe's.

“Hi, this is Detective Burkhardt. I want to check on a patient. T…Lauren Cole.”

Rosalee and Monroe looked at one another, arching their brows and mouthing the name in confusion.

“Transferring...” He waited then sighed when the sweet tone of the nurse he’d met last night came up. “Hello, Detective, this is Nurse Kane. I'm sorry we haven't called yet, but she's not awake.”

“Shouldn't she be awake by now?” he asked, concerned and a little agitated.

“It can take a while when a body's suffered this much trauma. I promise I'll call as soon as she's awake.”

“All right,” he sighed, hanging up.

“Lauren?” Monroe asked.

“It’s…she had a fake ID on her. My mother thinks she might be working with an organization that sometimes works with the resistance. The same one Chavez was a part of.”

“The same one someone had killed?” Rosalee asked, frowning deeply. Monroe was slowly turning through the books with his ear on them.

“Yeah…But again, I haven’t been able to talk to her. Someone called Chavez’s phone last night while I was at the hospital with her. Mom picked and said it sounded like a man she’s worked with for the resistance, Meisner. That he helped get Adalind out of Europe.”

“…Maybe you should talk to Adalind then. She might know something.”

Nick blinked then nodded slowly. “That’s…not a bad idea. I haven’t been able to talk to her much lately. I haven’t really known how to talk to her after losing Diana…and Juliette and Sloane…”

“Well, we got Trubel back at least,” Monroe said. “And I think I did find something. Check it out.” He set the book down. On one page was what looked like several Reinigen in a pile, climbing over one another. The next page was a drawing of a huge rat, taller than three men standing foot to shoulder. Other Reinegen were at its legs and they seemed to be melding into the giant rat, being absorbed into the creature. “"Few mythological beings pose a threat as powerful as the Riesen-ratte, also known as Les Rongeurs Roi, or Rat King." …That's kind of a nice drawing, don't you think?”

Rosalee arched her brow at him. “Yeah, as long as it stays on the page, it's beautiful.”

He chuckled and kept skimming the page. “Okay, here we go. This is maybe why one's never been found before. "According to legend, the Riesen-ratte only forms when the Reinigen are under attack. Fueled by fear, scores of them join together in what is known as the Erklarend."”

“Join together? What does that mean, they hold hands or something?” Rosalee asked.

“No…listen, "These Reinigen have little genetic diversity. In their woged state, they appear to stimulate the growth of cancer-like cells. As these cells cannot differentiate which body is the original vector, they merge into each other, causing the individual to become part of the greater whole."

There was silence for a moment before Nick shook his head. “Anyone understand that?”

“I think it means the whole is worse than the sum of its parts,” Rosalee said, grimacing at the thought. “Also, surprisingly scientific.”

“This is the updated version from 1970,” Monroe said, nodding.

“I don't like rats. I don't care what size they are,” Hank said.

Nick remembered teasing Hank about his fear of rats and smiled but then pulled out his phone again when it started ringing. “Hello?”

“They're here! They've come for Johnny!”

Nick was on his feet at the scream. “Selina? Where are you?”

“They found Johnny hiding at my place! They said they're gonna take him back to the quarry and make him pay for what he did.” Nick could hear a loud bang through the phone, and she screamed. “Oh, God! Help me! Let me go! No!” Nick heard a loud thud.

“Selina!” The line went dead, and he cursed as he ended the call.

“They have Johnny?” Nick asked, having heard it as well.

“Sounds like they have her too.” They nodded, heading for the stairs.

“Well, if you're dealing with the rat king, we're going with you,” Rosalee said, following.

“Uh, we are?” Monroe asked. It was getting dark and he wasn’t keen to go out. She looked at him and he quickly followed. “Oh, no, yeah, we are.”

\-----------------------

The dump was a maze of garbage and old cars and the like. It made them all glad they were up to date on their tetanus shots. But it was also definitely inhabited, Nick could hear movement everywhere. There was more than he thought living among the dunes of scrap metal, that was for sure.

Rosalee found an old fridge that acted as a door to something larger inside one mound. They’d structured it to look like a pile of garbage from the outside but was hollow inside with a path leading down. Following it, it reminded Nick of a mine with how it was bolstered up with more debris. He found a switch—the lever kind that he might see in a mad scientist movie. When he flipped it, strings of lights, salvaged chandeliers and what not all lit up. It was surprising to say the least that they’d wired the place this way. What looked like a throne made from an old chair and other pieces of furniture stitched together was at the back.

They also found Johnny’s body. He’d been mangled like the others. Selina was tied up and gagged in a corner behind a couch. She sobbed as she told them how they’d killed them and were going to kill her when someone ran in and said they were there and the rest of the Reinegen scattered.

Climbing out of the trash castle, they were preparing to get out of there fast when more than twenty people climbed out of the piles themselves. A large bald man at the top told them he would let them go if they left Selina, but Nick knew she’d be dead if they did. Refusing had them all crying out for their blood and they ran around to the king at the other side of a large mound. And before their eyes, with gut churning sounds like flesh and bone melting and melding, they coalesced into a huge, two and a half story rat.

Through his horror, Hank tried to shoot it with the shotgun he brought bit it roared and brushed the shot off, literally. They began running to try and get away, thinking of what to do.

Nick paused when he heard a roar and a shriek from the beast and turned. He couldn’t see over the garbage mound, but something was attacking the Rat King, pulling at its foot from the look at it. “What’s that?” Selina asked, sinking back behind Monroe and Hank.

“I…don’t know,” Nick said. The rat king roared and struggled but ultimately kicked its foot, sending whatever it was flying into a garbage mound with a yelp. It then looked at them and pushed its way through the garbage, it’s mangled leg already healing. “Move!” Nick ordered, pushing them. Nick noticed the powerlines running along the side of the dump when Monroe mentioned a trap. Then a hole in the fence just under them. He pointed to a hole in the fence and they all raced through. The hole led to the shore of the river, with no way around.

Though they felt trapped, Nick still had his plan. He they needed to get the Rat King moving towards them. He pushed Selina to Woge so he could smell her and though her fear made her hesitate, Rosalee’s push got her to do it. The Rat King scented the air and roared, moving towards them. He spurred it on with shouts. It could tell something was off, but he kept going towards them.

“Shoot the power line,” Nick whispered to Hank. Hank hesitated only a second before he raised the shotgun and aimed for the transformer.

“Anytime, Hank,” Rosalee said tensely.

“Little closer…” He waited and then fired when he was sure that it would hit.

The transformer erupted in sparks and there was the sound of electricity in the air as the wires fell away. They hit the Rat King and he roared loudly—loud enough it echoed all around them—jerking and convulsing as he was electrocuted. Then he fell forward with a crash.

They were all quiet a moment, waiting to see if anything happened. “I think it worked,” Hank said. They all breathed out, moving slowly back to the hole in the fence.

“Is it dead?” Rosalee asked.

“It's not moving…” Nick said. He froze when he saw it ripple and then the one rat became twenty people, lying in a smoldering, smoking pile as the rain started to fall.

“Do you think the high voltage could have, like, pulled it back apart?” Monroe asked.

“I did not see that coming,” Nick said, moving to look them over. They could hear faint groans coming from the people and though obviously worse for wear, they were alive. But they stank like burnt rats.

“There…really are no winners here…”

“I think we won,” Hank said, pulling out his phone. He could get reception now that they were out of the underground and called for paramedics. Nick looked back towards the garbage heap and began walking over. “Nick?”

“I want to check what attacked him,” he said. Monroe quickly caught up with him, heading to the heap they heard something crash into. As they did, it shifted and more garbage collapsed before they heard heavy footsteps rushing off in a four-legged gallop. Nick rushed over but it was already gone.

“What was that?” Monroe asked.

“…I don’t know,” he shook his head.

As they made their way back to the cars, Nick’s phone rang again, and he sighed but answered it.

“Trubel's life is in danger. Where did you take her?” was the immediate question.

Nick stopped walking, frowning deeply. “Who is this?”

“There isn't time. I know she came to you.”

“I'm not telling you anything until you tell me who this is,” he snarled.

“Nicky, calm down.”

“Mom?” he asked, confused. “Where…?”

“I’m at the loft. Meisner’s here, with me. I didn't know he was coming, but I trust him.”

Nick eased a bit, but still felt a bit of anger simmering. Meisner was back on the phone. “Listen, you need to tell me where she is. If you won't, you need to go to her. They'll find her.”

Nick exhaled but didn’t bother asking who. He doubted he’d get an answer, so it was better to go get the answer himself. “St. Joe's. I'll meet you there.”

“I've got to get to the hospital. It's Trubel,” he said, running for his car.

“Do you need us?” Hank called.

“No, let me handle this.”

He got in the car, started the siren, and drove for the hospital. On the way he called another number on his phone.

“Nick?” Adalind asked. “You know what time it is?”

“You know a Meisner, right?”

She paused and sat up in bed. “Meisner? Martin Meisner? Yes, he’s…he’s the one that helped get me and Diana away from the royals back in Europe.”

“Do you trust him?”

“…I do. With my life.”

“Okay. He’s in town. He’s working for some organization. And I think he recruited Trubel—she came back last night. She’s hurt.”

“Oh my God,” Adalind said, getting out of bed. “What happened?”

“It’s a lot to explain, but I took her to the hospital—they’ve been acting weird about her though and now Meisner says she’s in danger.”

“Okay…if he says that, she is then.”

“There shouldn’t be doctors there that know about Grimms right now, so I have to agree. I’m going to get her. If I text you an address, can you get there?”

“Me?”

“It’s someplace safe. You healed Sloane before. If Trubel is in bad shape, you can help her survive it better than me and I trust you more than the doctors.”

“…Okay. Send me the address, I’ll meet you there.”

“Thank you,” he sighed. “This is going to be my new home. I’d appreciate keeping it secret.”

“Don’t’ worry, I understand. What about your mother?”

“She’s still there, I’ll let her know you’re coming. She’ll let you in.”

“She’s not coming with you?”

“She hasn’t tried to fight since what happened and I’m…not sure I want her to.”

“If you say so, I think she’d still kick some ass even if she is blind…”

Nick smiled wryly. “You’re likely right, but better safe than sorry. I better focus on the road though; we’ll talk more when I get there.”

“Okay…”

He hanged up and kept speeding for the hospital with lights and siren blazing. When he got there, he rushed back up to the room where she should be but found it was empty. Going to the station, he tried to stay calm but urgent. “Excuse me, where is Lauren Cole?”

“I'm sorry, she's been moved to... intensive care,” the nurse said, looking up her notes.

Nick cursed under his breath and started for the elevators—only to see Dr. Nicholson, Nurse Kane and a male nurse pushing a gurney with Trubel on it into the elevator. He ran over but wasn’t able to catch the elevator. He waited to see which floor it stopped on and rushed for the stairs. He actually vaulted over the side when he was close enough to the bottom—they were heading for a back door of the hospital.

By the time he got to the floor, he could hear fighting up ahead. A large man, blonde with a stubbly beard, was fighting off Dr. Nicholson and the male nurse who were Murciélago and a Hundjager respectively. Nick rushed over to kick the Hundjager away while the man kicked the fire extinguisher Dr. Nicholson tried to use as a weapon out of his hand. He blocked a punch from the Hundjager and punched him across the face, backing up to be back to back with the man.

“Burkhardt,” he greeted. They both ducked as they came for them again and Nick took the Murciélago this time, hitting him in the face and back into a shelf full of tray tables. When he tried to get back Nick brought the shelf down him, then struck him across the face with one of the trays.

Meisner punched the Hundjager, and Nick punched him again as he reeled towards him, sending him down. “Meisner.” He gasped when the Murciélago tried to grab him around the neck and Meisner got around to strike him and pull him off of Nick.

In the confusion, Nurse Kane managed to get around and start running for the elevator, leaving Trubel behind on the bed near the rear entrance they were trying to take her from.

“Get her out. I'll get the other one,” Meisner said, moving to follow Nurse Kane. Nick quickly went over and unhooked Trubel, picking her up and carrying her to the door. He managed to get her to his car and lay her down in back before driving for the loft.

Adalind met him at the door, Kelly right behind her ushering him in quickly. “The bed's ready, this way.”

He carried her through to a rollaway bed he’d gotten just in case someone needed to stay over, set up between the bedroom walls and the bathroom door. Nick set Trubel down and she groaned a little before cracking her eyes open.

“Nick... they're gonna take me…”

“Not anymore,” he said gently. “You're with me. I brought you somewhere safe.”

“I have so much to tell you…” she said, trying to stay awake again.

“Shh. Later.” He gently pushed back her hair and she sighed before closing her eyes again.

“Wait,” Adalind said, taking out a flask. “Henrietta brewed this. She recommended she take it first; it’ll help with pain and speed up healing. Healing by power alone is too tricky and finicky. She said that’s better than just trying to heal her straight away.” Nick nodded, backing up so she could gently tip her head up and press the flask to her lips. Trubel frowned at first but soon began sipping willingly till it was gone. She sighed, looking more at peace. “Is she all right?” she asked, frowning as she looked at all the cuts and bruises.

“Yeah, thanks to your friend…”

“He was there?”

“Yes…Tell me about Meisner. I need to know who he is.”

Adalind sighed but nodded. “Okay…and then I want to talk to you about something.”

\-----------------

Meisner sighed as he got back to the compound. He walked back to the back and one of the other men looked up. “Did you get her back?”

“I got her safe,” he said. “And took care of three hostiles.”

“So, she’s with Burkhardt?” he asked.

“Yes. But I think that’s best. He’s going to need to know what’s going on.”

“How much does he need to know?” the man asked, worried.

“…That’s a hard thing to decide,” he sighed. “On that note, do we have any news on the MIA?”

“No. It’s like she…vanished,” he said. “It might be whatever the other did to her.” He looked back towards the doors.

“You’re scared of her?”

“Honestly, yes. She’s strong. I don’t know if we can fully reprogram her…”

“Well, she can’t stay as she is,” he said. “And I’m not sure what to tell Mr. Burkhardt about the other. I think he’d be rather…”

“Angry?”

“To say the least. For now, get a clean-up crew to the hospital. I got the hostiles out, but it needs to be scrubbed. Rear entrance number 4.”

“On it.”

\---------------

“You’re going to what?” Nick asked, shocked.

“Move into my own place. So that I can get custody of Diana. I’m trying to find a place that will work though.”

“Okay…why didn’t you say this Susannah person was in contact before? And knew Meisner?”

“I didn’t want to wreck my chance! I wasn’t sure they’d like me telling you,” she sighed.

“Fair enough…”

“I just wanted to ask your help if it does happen. To keep Diana safe.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding.

“Great…now I just have to find a place.”

“…How about Sloane’s?”

Nick froze and then looked at his mother. “What?”

“Sloane’s house. It would be a place to start at least.”

Nick frowned and was going to shoot the idea down, but Adalind was already shaking her head. “Oh, no, I couldn’t! I mean, she’ll need that when we find her.”

Nick eased slightly, a little glad she didn’t except it. But Kelly sighed. “I admit, Trubel being alive gives me hope. But if she’s also joined, she might be home much. What I’m suggesting is basically guarding her house—fix it back up, stay there and make sure it’s safe. Having it empty is tempting for more…unscrupulous individuals. And Dierdre. And I know she likely has some things that are hidden there she wouldn’t want people to find.”

Nick frowned, realizing she wasn’t wrong. “Okay…but then what about when she comes back?”

“Well, this would give Adalind time to get a job and save back up. And hopefully, get the resistance off her back for a while and do what she wants.” He looked at him. “I know how hard it is to raise a child with a life that doesn’t let you get much peace. I missed out on a lot and Adalind’s already missed out on things. I’d like to make this easier for her.”

Nick stared back but sighed. “Okay…if we clean it up, get it fixed and make sure her stuff is safe, I…think she’d be okay with it,” he sighed. “But when we find her, we’ll have to work it out again.”

Adalind stared before smiling brightly and hugging first him, then Kelly. “Thank you! Oh my god, this isn’t what I thought would happen, I swear! I just wanted help.”

“You’ll get it…” Kelly said. “I think for now, go home and rest. Trubel’s going to likely be out for a while again, right?”

“Yeah. Okay, thank you,” she said, standing.

“We’ll work out the rest later.”

She nodded, heading for the elevator and down to the street level, still smiling.

“You really sure this is okay?”

“I think a house sitting empty is a sad thing…” she said. “I also think it might be good I live there too for a bit when Diana comes.”

Now he tensed back up. “Mom—”

“I’ll be perfectly safe,” she said. “I’m adapting fine. But Adalind, through my fault in a big way, hasn’t gotten to really be with Diana in over a year. I have. I can help take care of her, even with my sight nearly gone.”

“But you’re all set up here!”

Kelly put a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “I love you, Nick. I’m happy to be here with you at all. But I also know you need to have some time alone. I know…what’s happened took a toll on you and you haven’t really gotten the chance to grieve because you’re trying to take care of me.”

“I don’t need to—”

“Don’t.” He jumped at the sharp order. “Nick, I left right after your father was killed. I couldn’t be there for you. I didn’t grieve for a long time because I told myself I had to be strong. But when it finally hit, I was nearly crippled with the grief of losing him, and in a way losing you…losing me. I nearly ended it…”

His eyes widened, feeling a little sick. “Mom, you…”

“I made it through because I let it out. You gotta keep control of your emotions when on a hunt, but when you’re not you have to let them out. I’m worried you’re starting to bottle them up instead. Like Dierdre.”

Nick flinched and looked down. “…I…”

“You gotta grieve, Nicky. If you don’t, it’s going to eat you up. I might need to do it too, considering my eyes, but I’m trying to stay strong for you…”

“…Okay,” Nick sighed. “Okay, I…I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“You don’t need to apologize,” she said, hugging him. “Just…you know we’re all here for you. But I think you need a little time to yourself.” Nick didn’t say anything else but sighed and nodded. She patted his back. “Go rest. I’ll keep an eye on Trubel. So, to speak.”

Nick tried to smile but he walked to the room and closed the door. He didn’t really want to grieve. It meant admitting that Juliette was gone. The fact Trubel was here helped and gave him hope that Sloane would be back too. But he’d seen Juliette shot with those arrows. Felt her last breath. She was gone.

And the pain when it first happened had been too hard to let out. It felt like if he did, he would break. Like forcing a ball bearing through glass. The pain had lessened over the last few weeks, but he still was scared he’d break when everyone needed him.

\---------------------

**_Wesen Nacht_ **

\-------------------------

Kelly was staying up, listening to a book through headphones, when she heard Trubel start awake. She took the headphones off and walked over to her. “Trubel?” She looked up, startled. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m Kelly, Nick—”

“Nick's mom,” she said, nodding slightly.

“Yes, that’s right.” She walked over and sat down on the bed. “I'm glad you're okay. I mean, we're all very glad. Nick was a little out of his mind when he couldn't find you.”

Trubel nodded slowly, waking up more. “How long have I been here?”

“Nick brought you home from the hospital last night.”

“Last night?”

“That’s right. You’ve been asleep for…” She brought her phone close to her eye, “about 22 hours.”

“Oh…What am I wearing?” she asked, looking down at the long shirt.

“One of my shirts. I changed you, the hospital gown didn’t seem very warm. He brought your clothes back. I washed them; they’re just drying now.”

“…Thanks. Where’s Nick?”

“I’m here,” Nick said. He padded out of his room in bare feet, his pajama pants and a shirt. “You’re awake…good…I’m glad.”

“I’ll let you two talk,” Kelly said, standing and going to fix herself something to drink.

Trubel folded the blanket back and swung her feet out, grunting as she stood. She hissed a little, her hand over her side. “Hey, careful,” Nick said, moving to help her. “You sure you should be up?”

“Don’t want to stay in bed anymore…” she said. He let it slide, guiding her over to his couch.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sore…and really glad to see you.” Nick smiled; the feeling mutual. She then looked like she was trying to remember how she got there. “Was somebody in the hospital wesen?”

“Yeah, I'll tell you about that later,” he said. “Still have some questions myself, but you've got to be hungry.”

“A little, yeah. Well, no…a lot,” she amended, smiling.

Nick smiled back and went to warm up some pizza he had leftover in the fridge, as well as pasta, wings, garlic bread in the freezer and some fresh fruit for at least a little healthy option. Trubel dug in before it was warmed up, ravenous as ever. “The Grimm appetite is strong in her,” Kelly smiled.

“That’s a thing?”

“It is for the women.”

“Good to know…so, Trubel, what…I mean, it’s been months since we saw you.” _Three to be exact…_

“Yeah…” she said, chewing thoughtfully around the pizza before swallowing. “Well…They know, Nick. Ever since Chavez found out you were a Grimm; they’ve been keeping an eye on you. I didn't tell her,” she added quickly.

“I did, it’s fine. How did you find me?”

“Well, they've been keeping track of you 'cause that's where they found me. They didn't know what you knew or didn't know.”

“And this is the group you were telling me about?”

She nodded, swallowing another bite. “They want people like us on their side. People with our abilities.”

“So, you work for them now?”

“I’ve…honestly worked for them for a while,” she said sheepishly.

“Yeah, I saw your passport and some of the dates,” he said, trying not to sound like a disapproving parent.

“Yeah…Well, when I left here and went to take Josh home, they found me there. Or followed me there. Their offer was pretty good.”

“Who are they?” Kelly asked. “Meisner never told me the name.”

“H.W., or Hadrian's Wall, or something…I... That’s what they call themselves.” Nick frowned and she sighed. “All I know is they're a part of the government, but a part so secret that most of the government doesn't even know they exist. I guess they don't trust a lot of people in the government either.”

“Probably smart…” Kelly muttered.

“But they're fighting this underground war.”

“Against who?”

“Wesen. But I mean, like wesen crime. Chavez was part of it, and there’s lots of others. Nobody knows how many there are or how big a group it is, but it's all over, not just in this country. It's everywhere, like a revolution. I had to help. Nick, H.W. needs Grimms on their side, and I'm not the only one fighting for them. I worked with one in Lisbon, and... and I heard about another in Bangkok. And I recommended Jacob, Sloane’s friend. I don’t know if they recruited him yet though.”

“Wait, back up, you went to Lisbon?” Kelly asked.

Trubel nodded. “Twice.”

“…Alosio?”

“You know him?” she asked, surprised.

She laughed softly. “I trained with him. Glad to know he’s still alive. Surprised he joined any kind of group though. He’s been more of a lone wolf type his whole life.”

“I mean, that might be part of it. We meet, help each other, then leave. I never know where I'm going or what I'm supposed to do until I have to do it, but...I mean, there are sections of H.W. all over the world.”

“Do they pay you for this?” Nick asked.

“Actually, yeah, they do. In cash.”

“Nice.” Nick frowned at his mother, but she shrugged.

“…Do you know Meisner?”

She was a little surprised but nodded. “…Yeah, I do. I told him he was gonna have to meet you.”

“Already has.” She looked up, slowing her chewing. “When I was getting you out of the hospital.”

“Meisner was there?” she asked, surprised.

“If he wasn't there, you might not be here.” She looked thoughtful about that, maybe not having expected it. Nick took a deep breath before speaking again. “What did they do with Juliette's body?”

She flinched and looked down. “I don't know…”

“Well, what about Sloane?” he pressed. Trubel’s face screwed up more and Nick felt his heart lurch. “Trubel? What happened to her?”

“I…don’t know…”

“Trubel,” he pressed.

“I really don’t, they wouldn’t let me go with her! They said they were taking her to another facility and then they had me go on another mission. I asked when I got back, and they got really cagey. I…overheard something though.”

“What?”

“…I heard someone say she didn’t make it.”

Nick felt his stomach drop out. “Didn’t…make it?”

“Yeah. That’s all I’ve heard…No one tells me anything when I ask, saying I don’t have the clearance.”

Kelly took a deep breath and looked down. “Dammit…” She looked up when she realized Nick wasn’t moving. “Nick?”

“I…need to go for a bit.” He went to the door.

“Nick?” Trubel asked.

“Just…I need to go!” he quickly pulled on his shoes and headed downstairs. He wasn’t really sure what he was doing, but he climbed into his car and started driving. He probably shouldn’t be, his mind was barely there. Luckily it wasn’t too crowded at night. Eventually he found he’d driven all the way to Sloane’s house.

He sat for a time, staring at it before getting out and going up to the door. He had a spare key—given to him in case he needed something from her collection—and opened the door. It was quiet. Three months with no one entering quiet. He saw the blackened floor from the front of the door all the way to the back room and remembered Juliette dropping the lighter. The fear, betrayal, shock…it was there but it was dull now. Like a film played too many times and close to breaking in the light. He walked further in, looking at the photos on the wall. Souvenirs from travels before they’d met. Souvenirs from the times after they met. He smiled a little when he saw the trophy from the dance competition on a side table, picking it up to dust it off. He should’ve told her he enjoyed it. Should’ve danced with her one more time. Even in her dreams it would’ve been something…

_“I’m serious,” she said, looking at him. “I noticed it dancing with you. You’re leading, but you’re holding too much tension. You’re trying to do it all on your own when I’m right there.”_

He set the trophy down, hands shaking a little bit. He looked up at more of the photos. One of them with Monroe and Rosalee at their wedding stood out, Sloane smiling brightly with her arm around Rosalee. It was hard to believe how awful that day was in some respects, though it had its good moments.

_“…Nick…” She set the rug against the wall, making sure it wouldn’t get anything even dirtier. “I…I get why Juliette is upset. But I’m going to be honest, I’m not happy with her.”_

_Nick frowned. “With her? Sloane, she—”_

_“Has a right to be upset, I’m not arguing that,” She said, holding up her hand. “At Adalind. You…are a victim in this. I don’t like that she’s holding it against you. Someone tricked you into sex, that’s…that’s unforgivable, but it’s not on you.”_

Moving down the hall, he followed the burnt path to the back of the house. The room was still trashed—they hadn’t had anyone in to clean. The desk in the corner was charred and a little splintered, but he ran his hand over the top of it. Opening a drawer, well forcing it open due to a bit of water damage, he was surprised to see a little notebook sitting among the pens and paperclips, still whole. He picked it up and flipped through, smiling when he saw the crude little map on one page. The road, trees and square with a cross in it to show a church. This was the notebook she carried when they first met. Back when she tried so hard to be a heartless Grimm.

_"Kelly and…Wait, Kelly and Marie Kessler?” The woman’s jaw dropped with her eyes wide in shock, the first truly noticeable emotion she’d shown. “You’re Nicky?!” she asked, her voice cracking._

_Nick was just as thrown off. “What? I…Only my mother calls me that…”_

_She groaned, running a hand through her hair as she took in a deep breath, looking close to a minor breakdown. “Nicholas Burkhardt…Ugh, her husband’s name was Burkhardt. You’re Kelly Kessler’s son, oh my God…”_

He laughed a little. She’d come so far since then. He set the notebook back and closed the drawer again before walking back out. He went into Sloane’s bedroom. He sat down on the bed, thinking about all the times they spent together. All their cases. All the dinners with friends. Games. Talks. Nights spent reading and making notes. And he realized that there would never be any new ones. These memories were what he had. It was the same with Juliette, but he’d held onto his hope that Sloane was alive and would come back. But she didn’t make it.

Nick felt the tears coming to his eyes. She was gone. This house was nothing but a monument to her now. He’d never hear her talk again. Watch her fight. Hear her laugh. Dance with her. Hold her…

 _“I love you, Nick. I really do._ ”

He felt his heart screw up and he leaned down, crying in earnest now. The grief was flowing out of him, like his mother said to do. It was grief for a friend, but it felt harder too. Like he was mourning something that had never even been. _Dammit…why now…?_

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that but eventually he stood and headed back for the door. As he did, a shadow crossed in front of the French doors out to the back patio and he paused. Going over, he opened the door and looked out. “…Hello?”

There was no answer. But he got the feeling he was being watched. Moving further out—the yard was also in bad shape, grass overgrown, the little garden she’d been starting was beginning to look like a jungle, he saw someone at the back. “Who’s there?”

The foot falls were hard and sounded like an animal as they moved swiftly around the side. Nick followed, wishing he’d brought a weapon. He saw the huge shape in the corner near the fence facing the street. When he moved towards it, he gasped when it suddenly vaulted over the high fence. Nick rushed over and out the gate, but it was gone. _…Mom may have a point. Someone living here is less of a temptation for robbers and the like._ Deciding to call it a night, he made sure the house was locked up and made a note to call Bud tomorrow about getting the house fixed up. He heard another sound of something moving as he headed to his car and turned around again. Still nothing. Figuring he was tired, and grief stricken, he climbed in his car and headed back home. He had no idea a dark shape followed him from the shadows.

\----------------------

Trubel looked up when Nick walked in. “Hey…are you okay?”

“…No. But…”

“Yeah…” she nodded. “I-I know. I kind of threw myself into working when I heard that. Didn’t really want to think about it…I…honestly still don’t, but if you need to…”

He took a breath and walked over sit down. “…Why did they take you that night?”

She hesitated but sighed. “Because they knew I was with you. It all happened so fast. I... I wanted to tell you, but they wouldn't let me, and then I got sent away.”

“To do what?”

“What Grimms do.”

He nodded, pursing his lips. “How long have they been watching me?”

“Ever since I killed Weston Steward, and Chavez found your Grimm book on the bed. They’ve been watching Adalind too. Since she was working with the royals and I guess because she’s a hexenbiest.”

“…Was. She took a suppressant. Still working, last I checked.”

“Oh…” she said, surprised.

“…Tell me about that motorcycle.”

She smiled a bit. “It's mine.”

“You want to show me?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Sure.” She stood and followed him down to the garage. She was walking a little easier, the potion having helped he thought. When they got there she walked over, smiling and going over it. “So, they gave it to me, like, six months after I started. It's not normal. It does all kinds of things.”

“Like what?”

“Okay. You lift this,” she said, opening the buttons.

“I already did that.” He flushed a bit and pointed at the arrows in the wall.

“Oh…well, I got more. This leaves an oil slick. This blows out smoke big time, but you breathe it, and it knocks you down. Over here is your Internet connection. Your satellite tracking system.” He watched one of the dials turn into a computer screen, showing it triangulating their location. “I mean, it can find any phone number any time anywhere. It's how I found you.” Nick nodded, impressed. When he looked at her though he saw tears were in her eyes. She huffed out a watery laugh. “God, why do I always do this with you? I'm...I just thought I'd never see you again. After I lost…Sloane and…”

He knew what she meant without saying it. “Yeah…I was thinking the same thing,” he nodded.

She sniffed and then leaned in, giving him a hug. He was surprised but returned it readily enough. She sniffled again and then grunted as she pulled back, favoring her side. “Oh, God. Still hurts a little bit,” she chuckled.

He smiled, sighing. Then his phone began ringing and he pulled it out to see Hank’s name on screen. “It's Hank.”

“Oh. Tell him I said hi,” she said.

He answered the call with a “Hey.”

“We got a big one,” Hank said immediately.

“How big?”

“Don't know. Lot of places hit.”

“All right, where am I meeting you?”

“Where the body is: North Denver and Kilpatrick. How's Trubel?”

“She's awake. She says hi. I'll tell you more about it when I get here.” He hanged up and realized he’d have to tell Hank what Trubel told him. And Monroe and Rosalee as well. He had to keep pushing though, he had to keep fighting. That’s what he had right now. “You okay here?”

Trubel nodded. “Yeah. I’ll tell Kelly you’re heading out. She’s pretty cool by the way.”

Nick smiled a bit and nodded in agreement.

\-----------------

Downtown was a mess. Shops were broken into but rather than a robbery it seemed to just want to cause as much damage as possible. It happened in three neighborhoods at the same time, multiple shops in each. And one man, Ken Honeycutt of the local flower shop, was dead. Mauled. There was nothing to point to gang related activity, but Wu found one clue in the wrecked bakery: the four-line claw mark drawn in blood red spray paint on a back wall.

They began the investigation and stayed up well into the morning as they tried to find any clues. The witnesses described people wearing all black causing damage and doing the assaults. Which didn’t sound like any gang they knew. But attacks also happened in Eugene and Seattle—this was a massive planned exercise. It gave him a bad feeling, especially combined with the four mark.

“Now, Trubel told me that Chavez's group is fighting some kind of…wesen uprising,” Nick explained quietly to Hank and Wu.

“Wesen uprising? That doesn't sound good,” Wu said, trying to keep a straight and unpanicked face.

Nick nodded and pulled out his phone as it started ringing. “Check with the other business owners. See if they know anything about the marks on the wall.” He saw the name and immediately answered. “Rosalee?”

“Nick, I hate to bother you, but do you know anything about all this vandalism last night?”

He sighed, knowing they must’ve seen it on the news. “No, we're just starting the investigation now. Why? You know anything?”

“Yeah, we know some of the people that were hit,” Monroe said. “We know the guy who's missing, and Bud—”

“And I know the guy that was killed!”

“Bud?” Nick asked, surprised.

“Yeah, I'm here. I'm ready if you need me. Don't know what you might need me for, but I'm there,” he said, his usual nervous self.

“…I actually might need you for something.”

“Oh, God, really?” he groaned.

“Yeah, but not with this.”

“Oh…okay, that’s good-fine, that’s fine.”

“Nick, all the victims we know were wesen,” Rosalee said.

“Ken was one of the nicest Eisbibers you'd ever want to know,” Bud agreed, back on topic. “I... I went to high school with his brother.”

Nick sighed, having figured that was likely. “We found another one of those marks on the wall inside Xavier's bakery.”

“Oh, God,” Monroe groaned.

“Marks? Marks? What marks? This... this isn't a wolfsangel thing again is it?”

“Bud, shh,” they both said.

“Where are you?” Nick asked.

“We're at—”

“I'm at Monroe and Rosalee's house.”

“We're on our way.” He nodded to Hank and they quickly rushed out.

When they got to their house they ran down what they knew for the three of them quickly, laying out the pictures.

“This is unbelievable, a thing like this happening in Portland…” Rosalee said, frowning at the pictures.

“Well, not just here. Half a dozen cities were hit. Including Seattle and Eugene,” Hank said.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Why would they kidnap Xavier? He wouldn't hurt a fly.”

“Well, he actually would hurt a fly. I mean, he's a Hasenfussige Schnecke. They think of flies as a kind of delicacy, but point taken,” Monroe said. Rosalee smiled in fond impatience and rolled her eyes.

“It's not a woge you forget,” Bud nodded. “God knows you want to.”

Nick picked up one photo and set it down on top of the others, pointing to the graffiti. “Look, every time we've seen this mark, it's involved a wesen.”

Bud nodded, following along. “And... and two of the people who were attacked we know are wesen.”

“Judging by the way Ken the florist was killed, these gang guys could be wesen too,” Hank said, pointing to a picture of the man with his throat ripped out.

But grimaced, both in disgust and anger. “Oh, my God! Look what those bastards did to Ken!”

Nick nodded and sighed. “So, why are wesen attacking wesen?”

“And why are they all wearing black shirts?” Monroe asked, following his line of thought.

“A coordinated effort, that's for sure,” Hank nodded.

“Occultatum libera,” Monroe said snidely.

Bud blinked. “Occul... what?”

“It means "free the hidden."”

“Who's hidden?”

“The wesen that are using that mark,” Nick said. “A kind of warning.”

“…Kind of looks like a claw mark, I think. Wait…is this like Cruor House?”

Both Monroe and Rosalee froze and looked at one another. “Oh God…he’s right.”

“Cruor House?” Nick asked.

“Why didn’t we think of it,” Rosalee said.

“What is it?” Hank asked impatiently.

“I-It’s like our Manson Family, or Jones Town,” Bud said. “But it happened way before, like back in the 1800s. There was this guy, he was a super-rich, um…”

“No one’s sure what he was,” Monroe said. “Just that he was rich, charming and powerful. He made everyone call him Midas. You know, golden touch. But he had this idea that Wesen shouldn’t be hidden. That we’re the dominant lifeform and should there for be top of the food chain. Like super survival of the fittest.”

“It’s not a new thought. There’s always been people that think like that,” Rosalee sighed.

“Yeah, but Midas took things too far. He collected like a huge amount of followers and moved to this mansion estate in the English countryside. They called it Cruor House—basically, Bloody Manor. Where they started doing a lot of _Eyes Wide Shut_ masquerade stuff.” Hank’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah. But then they also started hunting. Deer and stuff first, then they went after livestock. Didn’t care who saw them.”

“Then they started hunting the witnesses,” Rosalee said.

“It’s thought this was a big inspiration for _Hound of the Baskervilles,_ ” Monroe added.

“Then a farmer killed one of them and they…started killing everyone they could find. They tried to take over the town. Did a lot of…awful, despicable things to the townsfolk,” she shuddered. “The description makes even those wesen with the penchant for violence sick.”

“Yeah. Then one day, they were all found dead. Most think it was a Grimm, some think the old council from then did something…it’s one of our kind of unsolved mysteries thing. But the council did sweep it under the rug,” Bud said.

Nick and Hank looked at one another, worried now. “You think this could be another version of this?”

“It’s possible,” Rosalee sighed. “But we don’t know who’s in charge or why they’re doing things like this.”

“You know, I’ve got some books at the shop that go over this sort of thing,” Monroe said.

“We’ll meet you there.”

They all loaded up, heading to the shop and down to the basement where Monroe was pulling out a leather-bound book he put with Sloane’s books. “So, being honest, a lot of street violence is not happenstance. I mean, some of it is, of course, but just so you know...a good amount of street riots are instigated by wesen. It's not something we're proud of, and certainly not something the history books will tell you, but there it is. Here's a good example.” He said, flipping to a page and setting it down. “Réveillon riots. Paris, 1789.”

“That's a good one,” Bud nodded.

“Everyone thinks this started because one factory was unionized, and the others weren't. But actually, it was wesen factory owners going up against this guy, Réveillon, who was not wesen.”

“Réveillon was Kehrseite, and they looked down on him,” Rosalee said.

“And here's the crazy irony, though. A lot of his workers were wesen, and they were loyal to him because he, you know, treated them well.”

“Kinda like you, Nick,” Bud said. Nick tried to smile, but it was also a little worrying given the situation.

“The wesen who worked for Réveillon were targeted and killed in these riots,” Rosalee sighed.

Monroe nodded and he pointed to a picture showing men in 17th century French clothes fighting one another—many of the woged into various wesen unlike most historical tableaus. “Right, so on the surface, looked like a union problem, but the truth is, it was also a wesen problem.”

“Similar to what happened last night,” Hank said.

“Right, and this isn't the only example. I mean, the boxer rebellion, draft riots during the civil war. I mean, the freaking Boston tea party.”

“All started by wesen?” Nick asked.

“Well, instigated often with Kehrseite going along as well. When something’s wrong, most of us don’t want to sit back and do nothing and we’re all kind of hot-blooded...”

“But it’s no wonder history seems to repeat itself. Nobody really knows the history. Still true today,” she sighed.

“And bottom line, don't rile us up,” Bud added. Monroe quirked a brow and he smiled sheepishly. “Well, most of us.”

“So, last night was wesen on wesen,” Hank surmised.

“Feels like some of us are…being made an example of,” Monroe sighed.

“Now, your friend who was kidnapped, was he involved in any groups?” Nick asked.

“I doubt it. That bakery was his life,” Rosalee said, shaking her head.

“That's the weird thing. Xavier was all about the bread,” Monroe agreed.

“That's Ken exactly. He doesn't like groups. He never did,” Bud said.

Nick sighed when his phone rang and pulled it out. “Wu, I'm putting you on speaker. You got anything?”

“Yep, I got something. Xavier,” he said.

“He's alive?” Rosalee asked in surprise.

“He's pretty beat up, but he managed to get away. We got him under guard at the hospital. He's had the crap scared out of him.”

“Which hospital?” Nick asked.

“St. Joe's.”

“All right, meet us there.” He hanged up and nodded to Hank. “Bring the mug shots.”

“Xavier's alive…” Monroe breathed out, relieved.

“He was luckier than Ken…Oh, wait, hey, Nick!” Nick paused on the stairs. “You said you needed me for something?”

Nick paused, looking at the others, before sighing. “I…wasn’t sure how to bring this up or say it…” He admitted. “Bud, I’d like you to go fix up Sloane’s house. Get it back in order. Get whatever you need, whatever friends you need. You’ll all get paid well.”

“Oh? Okay, yeah, that’s no problem,” he said.

“Wait, is Sloane coming back?” Rosalee said, walking around to him. She looked up at him so hopefully it made him a little sick. “Did Trubel tell you where she is?”

“…No. This is for Adalind.”

“Adalind?” Monroe asked, all of them looking confused.

“Yeah. Apparently, the group Chavez was working for got Diana back. And killed the king.”

“What?!” Bud said. “They killed…holy…wow…Why didn’t we hear about that?”

“It’s not something they’d broadcast widely,” Nick said. “Probably their searching for his remains…”

“But they got Diana? That’s…good. Great,” Monroe nodded. “Why does she need Sloane’s house though?”

“They’re willing to bring Diana here, back to Adalind. But they want her to have a job and a house and prove she can support herself again and keep her out of trouble. My mom suggested Sloane’s house till she can afford another.”

“Okay, making sense…”

“But Nick, what about Sloane?” Rosalee pressed.

“…She didn’t make it.”

They all froze, unsure if they heard right. “What?” Hank asked.

“Trubel…Trubel said she didn’t make it,” Nick said, trying to control his voice.

“No, that can’t…she has to be alive…” Rosalee said.

“It was that same night. Trubel said they were transporting her somewhere for medical attention, but she didn’t make it through the trip.”

“No…Oh God,” Rosalee sobbed. “No…”

Monroe put his arms around her, blinking.

“That can’t…I didn’t think she’d be…” Bud said.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Hank asked, looking hurt.

“Because I don’t want to admit it either!” Nick said a little harshly. He shuddered and rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry, I just…she told me last night and I still haven’t…”

“I don’t believe it,” Rosalee said.

“Honey-”

“No! She is not dead! I don’t believe it!” she quickly headed back upstairs, crying.

“Rosalee—” Nick started, but she was already through the door. Monroe gave him a look that said he’d go to her and followed. He sighed and looked at Hank and Bud. “…I wanted to wait till this case was over. We still…need to do this.”

Hank nodded numbly, heading up the stairs while Bud sat down to think.

\----------------------

Nick tried to push those feelings back down where he’d managed to shove them before. It was harder, but he needed to focus. People were dying and Sloane wouldn’t want him being distracted from stopping them. Wu met them at the hospital they went up to talk to Xavier about what happened. He said he didn’t remember much, they had him blindfolded a lot of the time. But he knew they took him to a warehouse. He said when the guy watching him fell asleep he found a brick and struck him he didn’t know how many times before making a run for it. Nick showed him a picture of the claw mark on the wall of the bakery and asked if he knew what it was, but Xavier said he doesn't recognize it. He then asked if he thinks he could identify some of his captors. Xavier’s already pale self grew even paler and said if he did, they would kill him!

When Nick said he knew he’d been targeted because he’s wesen, Xavier looked at him with confused fear and then woged. And Nick…had trouble keeping eye contact. He’d seen many wesen that were arguably terrifying or unattractive to the human eye, but this was something else. His skin turned gooey, jiggly, slimy and sallow. It was thin enough Nick could see all the thin blood vessels running through like lines on a road map. His eyes were a milky black, like coal rolled through lard. A long bulbous structure that was like a nose but didn’t seem to have any function hung between them, down to a lipless mouth that fell open in a pant to show needle sharp teeth. And weirdly, he recognized it from one of the nature shows Juliette used to watch regularly. _A blobfish? A freakin’ blobfish wesen, are you serious?_ He thought.

Xavier thankfully changed back quickly and said he’d heard of Nick, though he still looked wary. Nick Told him they could protect him and that they just wanted him to look at some photographs. He hesitantly agreed. Wu set a book of mugshots gently in his lap. He didn’t recognize anyone on the first two pages, so he turned it and Wu thought for a sec he looked spooked. But he couldn’t tell what and Xavier shook his head. Wu turned the page again and he looked them over before focusing on one. He hesitated, saying he couldn’t be sure, but pointed to a picture of a woman with a long blond ponytail. Wu took out the picture and looked at the back with them. _Billie Trump…_ Nick said to track her down and Wu went to do so while Xavier kept looking through the book.

He then knew it was time to update Renard. While he was less than pleased to learn Nick had essentially kidnapped Chavez, and less so to learn of the trap that killed her, he sighed and said he just hoped the FBI didn’t find out what he did. Nick then told him the last thing Chavez said before she died was, "They're coming to Portland. It's war." That troubled him more. Renard okayed them to bring Billie in and put her in a lineup, so long as Xavier could identify her.

By that evening Billie was picked up at a bar and though angry and belligerent she was brought in and put into a lineup. Xavier was deemed well enough to be released and come to the precinct, but he was too scared to positively identify her. Nick, Hank, and Renard trying to encourage him to not be scared. Xavier still hesitated and refused to do it. Talking outside the room, Renard reminded them without a positive identification they’d have to let her go. Nick was certain she'd disappear, and she’d already asked for a lawyer. And he was sure that Billie was the right one given Xavier’s reactions. He was just scared. Nick had to smile a little at Renard’s order to “unscare” him then.”

He called the shop, hoping to get Monroe and Rosalee’s help. He was surprised to hear her more frantic than sad still and relieved to hear from him. Apparently many wesen shop owners, and other citizens, had flocked to the shop to discuss what was happening and were beginning to panic as theories and fear swirled around into a storm of hysteria. Nick asked if she could come down and calm Xavier before they lose their only suspect in custody and she readily agreed. Hank brought them in as Nick tried to talk to him again and they gave them the room. Hank then brings Monroe and Rosalee into the room, and Nick leaves with Hank. Monroe explained Nick was their friend, that he’d known him from the start of his Grimm career and he’s a good guy. Nick smiled a little at that.

“Wasn’t there another one? I heard there were a couple of Grimms…” Xavier said, looking around as if another would rise up out of the shadows.

Rosalee took a breath, swallowing. “She…isn’t here right now. But Nick’s doing everything he can to help us.”

Monroe nodded, holding her hand under the table. “These guys are going to just keep hurting innocent people unless we can figure out who they are.”

Xavier hesitated and says that they want them to pick out someone who kidnapped him. Rosalee pointed to Billie's mugshot and asked if this was her. He was close to tears as he said he couldn’t tell them, or they’d kill him. Monroe then told Xavier that Ken was killed. That shocked him. He said that they couldn’t let them get away with this. Rosalee assured him Nick would protect him, but Xavier was skeptical about a Grimm protecting Wesen. They tell him honestly that they have, many times. After a little more convincing, Xavier finally agreed to identify Billie.

Nick and Hank got Billie into an interrogation room right after he pointed her out. Her lawyer wasn’t there and given the time frame and who they were dealing with he knew he couldn’t wait for a public defender. They told her she was looking at a minimum of 20 years, and when the other charges stick, she would be going away for a very long time. Unless she made a deal there and now. Nick knew she likely wasn’t the big boss, so he wanted the name of who was calling the shots. It was deal now or lose it if they had to walk away. She was still resistant. He sighed and told her he knew she was wesen and her friends were wesen. She assumed both of them were too and sneered when she thought he was playing a sort of wesen loyalty card. That it wouldn’t work since their cops. Hank just calmly pointed out he’s a cop, Nick is a Grimm.

That threw her and she woged into Skalengeck. She threatens to start screaming if he tries to kill her. Nick just gave her a hard look and said if he was going to kill her, he wouldn't do it there in the interrogation room. That seemed to make her settle slightly. Hank told her all they need is a name. Billie hesitantly asked what would happen to her, and he said likely probation and Witness Protection. After a bit of thought she finally told them a man named Dallas Cruz was organizing them.

They had Billy call Dallas to try and trace him, but Dallas didn’t stay on the phone long. They did hear him tell Billie to meet him at the factory before he hanged up. Nick gave Billie a pad of paper and a pen and ordered her to draw it. When she asked why he said they’ll be following her. She said they couldn’t make her; even said to Renard’s face they couldn’t make her. He affirmed they could and woged, shocking both her and Wu. Knowing she was on the losing side; Billie drew the building and tossed the pad of paper by Nick. Nick asked a few questions about the layout, having her mark where the entrances and exits were situated. Renard asked where they meet and she marked that too, as well as describing the window and doors and where to park that Dallas wont’ see.

Rosalee meanwhile was looking over the book and found Dallas’s mugshot on that second page. She frowned deeply and revealed she knew Dallas from her time in Seattle. She knew he enjoyed hurting people and had hoped honestly he’d died before now. Monroe knew her old life was on her mind lately too, after receiving a couple of letters from an old “friend” dredging up the past. But he said he wanted to go help with things at the factory. Rosalee looked ready to argue, but Monroe reminded her that if they’re targeting Wesen store owners it was a matter of time before they were on the list, probably higher since they were helping Nick. She sighed but volunteered to take Xavier home since he was pretty shook up.

When they arrived at the factory, Billie pointed out Dallas’s truck. She knew he would kill her if he saw her, but they promised to stop him. The gang—Nick, Hank, Wu, Monroe and Renard—walked up to the factor and despite her claim, Nick noticed how at ease she seemed. He stopped her to ask why she was so calm, and she feigned ignorance just as Monroe’s phone loudly rang. He apologized, telling them it's Rosalee and he has to answer in case something is wrong.

“Are you okay?”

“Monroe, it's a trap!” she yelled desperately. Nick’s head whipped around, able to hear her.

“What?” Monroe asked, taken aback.

“Xavier set you up!”

He looked at them, mind catching up quickly and whispered. “It's a trap!”

Billie took off running immediately, yelling. “They know!”

Nick was about to follow to grab her when dozens of people, many large burly men, flooded out of the building towards them. Several were armed with pipes, wrenches or other makeshift weapons. They were coming from a building behind them as well, cutting off a route back to the car.

They were all looking around for options when Renard yelled out, “Inside, come on!” Pulling Wu with him towards the door they weren’t coming out of. The others followed quickly inside. They could hear the mob running towards them, but Hank slammed the door and with Nick’s help managed to roll an old wood and metal shelf in front of it to buy them some time.

“Monroe! Oh, my God, what's happening?”

“I don't know,” he yelled back into the phone as they wove through some old machinery inside the factory. “There's a lot of them.” He yelled when one surprised him, making him drop his phone. Rosalee cried out, frantic, but he fought the man off. Soon enough they were all being swarmed though. They were doing their best to punch and kick them away, but it wasn’t an ideal place to have a knock-down, drag out brawl. Then Nick saw an office with metal grating over the windows, the door open.

“This way!” he started for it, only for one man to swing down from some pipes above and kick him down. He grunted but rolled out of the way before he could stomp on him and got up, upper cutting him and slamming him into the wall and punching him again before running to the door. “Get in!” The others made a mad dash for the door, Wu and Renard drawing their guns. Wu shot what looked like some kind of dog wesen in the chest before rushing in and locking the door behind them.

“Well, we sure walked into this one!” Hank said, drawing and readying his own gun. They were pounding on the doors and windows, snarling and growling and making all other manner of noises as they tried to get in.

“I thought you said Xavier was your friend!” Nick said, looking at Monroe.

“He was!”

“Well, they got to him,” Renard sighed.

“And now they're getting to us,” Wu added dryly. Nick wasn’t sure how he could quip in this situation.

Another canine-like wesen dropped down from the ceiling then and snarled, going for him before Nick shot him. “Keep your eyes up!”

“We got just as many problems down here!” Hank pointed out as they kept slamming against the door. It was starting to loosen at the top and they knew it was just a matter of time before the black shirts got in.

“We need to conserve ammunition,” Nick said, aiming his gun at the door.

“I'll take the first guy through the door,” Hank said.

“Second,” Wu said.

Another particularly hard bang had them all tensing. “I'll take whoever you guys miss…” Monroe said, unsure how many he could put down in a small area like this.

Then they heard the first yelp of pain. And another. “No!” Someone cried as they began gagging and screaming and there was thud after thud as they hit the ground. They looked at one another confused and concerned.

“What the hell's going on?” Renard murmured, looking every direction he heard a new scream.

Then it was quiet. The quiet lasted a long handful of seconds before Nick took a breath and moved. “I'm going out.”

“No, it could be another trap to get us to open that door!” Wu yelled.

“I got this. Bolt the door behind me,” he ordered, opening it and moving through before they could stop him.

“Nick!” Hank yelled. He was already moving. The first dead body he saw was a few feet away. Blood was pouring from the back of his head. Then it looked like they tried to scatter but were taken down—all from the back of the head. As if their brains had just exploded outwards. He swallowed and kept moving. He heard a groan and saw one man with a knife in his abdomen, holding the handle and looking terrified. But it almost seemed like it wasn’t death that scared him.

Nick heard footsteps and turned in time to see Dallas rushing him. He hit Nick hard enough to make him lose his grip on his gun, but Nick quickly punched him. He punched back and then slammed him into the metal wall. Nick struck again but he roared and flipped him. Nick landed between two steel beams on the floor with the wind knocked out of him. Dallas grabbed a pipe and walked over, planting his foot on Nick’s chest. He didn’t gloat or say anything, just raised it with the intention to either stab or bludgeon him, he wasn’t sure.

Then suddenly he was flying. Nick’s eyes widened as Dallas was raised almost to the ceiling with a yell, flailing, like a bug caught in a web. Then just as suddenly he began plummeting. Nick managed to get out of the way as he belly-flopped onto the concrete floor with a crack.

Nick stood, panting and looking around to try and figure out what just happened. Then his eyes caught something in the shadows. A bob of short, platinum blonde hair. His heart both jumped and stopped. “Sloane…Sloane?!”

The others ran up and then looked where he was looking, also shocked. But Nick realized something wasn’t right as they stepped forward. The figure was shorter, lither than Sloane, and the hair was straight where hers was wavy and curly. Then they stepped into the sliver of light coming through the nearby window and again, his heart stopped.

“…Juliette?”

She said nothing. She was wearing black clothes similar to Trubel’s, and the white wig threw him off. But she turned and to leave. Nick ran after her and the others followed.

“Oh, my God!”

“That looked like...”

“Can't be!”

Nick rushed out the door and looked around, but there was no sign of her anywhere. “That was her…That was Juliette.”

“How? You told us she was dead!” Renard said.

“Her and Sloane!” Hank said.

“Sloane’s dead?!” Wu asked, both Renard and him shocked.

He shook his head. “Her hair was different, the way she moved was different, but it was her; I know it was her.”

“But she died in your arms, Nick, you said,” Monroe said, not quite believing despite seeing it.

“She did…she did,” he said, reeling.

“So, whoever took her body brought her back to life?” Wu said, not sure what to believe.

Nick sighed, getting his thoughts together. “I know it doesn't make any sense, and I can't explain it, but I know what I saw! And she looked right at me. She saw me too!”

“It looked just like her,” Hank agreed.

“Well, whoever it was, she just saved our lives,” Monroe pointed out. “And if she’s alive…maybe Sloane is too. Maybe they still have her.”

Nick’s face hardened and he turned, walking back towards the cars. “Where’re you going?” Hank yelled.

“To talk to Trubel! She was there that night! She has to know what's going on!” He took off running and they all took a few moments to ease back.

“Juliette's alive?” Monroe said, confused.

“We all saw the same thing,” Wu said. “What’s this about Sloane though—she went from missing to dead?”

“Nick said Trubel told him that,” Hank sighed. “But she didn’t tell him Juliette was alive so now who knows?

“We need to fingerprint the bodies and then let's get the hell out of here. We do not want to be tied to this,” Renard sighed.

Hanks’ phone was ringing, and he pulled it out of his jacket. “It's Rosalee.” He answered and put it on speaker. “Hey, Rosalee.”

“Where's Monroe? Are you okay?” she asked immediately. “He's not answering his phone!”

“I'm right here, honey,” Monroe said gently, taking the phone from Hank when he offered it. “I'm sorry. I dropped my phone. We're all okay.”

“Oh, my god. Thank god,” she sighed, breathing deeply in relief. “Oh, my god. I was worried sick!”

“Are you all right?” Monroe asked.

“Yes, yes. I'm still with Xavier. What do you want me to do with him?” she asked, venom in her voice.

“Where are you?” Renard asked.

“In my car. He's sitting right next to me. I gave him a few new bruises when I realized what he did.”

“Don't let him out of your sight. We need to talk to him.”

“Yeah, I definitely need to talk to him,” Monroe said.

“Where?” she asked.

Hank looked at Renard. “Precinct?”

“No. It's not gonna be that kind of questioning.”

“Take him to the spice shop,” Monroe said.

“We're on our way.”

“And if he tries anything...”

“Don't worry. He won't. I learned a lot from Sloane.”

\-----------------------

When Nick walked into the room, Trubel must’ve heard him coming because she’d gotten her switchblade and rolled out of bed. She relaxed when she saw it was him, but the expression on his face made her pause. “What's wrong?”

“I just saw Juliette,” he said, trying to keep his cool.

Trubel’s eyes widened. “What?”

Nick’s angered flared. “She's alive, and you know it!” he yelled, zeroing in on her.

“No! Nick, I...”

“Tell me the truth!”

“I swear to god,” she yelled back. “I have no idea what happened to her!”

“But you knew she was alive,” He accused.

“No!” She hesitated then looked away. “I mean…not for sure.”

Nick’s hands screwed up, but he quickly paced away. “She's either dead, or she isn't!”

Trubel took a breath. “All I know is that she was alive when Chavez took her, but...I didn't know if she was gonna survive what they were gonna do to her.”

Nick froze and looked back at her. “And what was that?”

“…Break her.”

“What are you talking about?” he said, his confusion cooling the anger slightly.

“Juliette's alive?”

Nick looked up to see his mother at her door. She didn’t have her eyepatch on and instead just her white prosthetic showing through on her right side.

Nick sighed, regretting waking her up, but nodded. “Yes, I just saw her.”

“…What did they do to her?” she asked, looking towards Trubel.

Trubel sighed as well, picking at one of her cuts. “Chavez knew that Juliette was a Hexenbiest and wanted to use her…”

“For what?”

“A weapon,” she admitted. “That's why they took her.”

Nick felt his gut twist. “Where did they take her?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. I saw them loading her, and loading Sloane, into two different vans. I heard them say they both still had pulses, but Juliette’s was faint. I tried to get to them—mainly to Sloane honestly—but they pulled me away and drove off. That was the last time I saw either of them. They sent me on assignment that night. It wasn't till I got to Bangkok that I heard rumors about them trying to turn a Hexenbiest into a warrior, but nobody told me if it worked.”

“Well, it worked. She just took out over 20 Wesen who tried to kill me,” Nick huffed.

“By herself?” Kelly asked.

“Yes.”

“Where is she now?”

Nick looked a Trubel who shook her head. “I don’t know!”

“Well, somebody does!”

“Meisner might,” Kelly said quickly. “If he knew where Trubel was, he probably knows where Juliette is. And likely, what really happened to Sloane. Because no offense Trubel, but even if that is what you heard I’m not sure if that’s what’s true.”

Trubel nodded, choking up a little. “She’s right. And honestly, I want to be wrong. You don’t know how much I want to be wrong and Sloane is okay somewhere.”

Nick nodded. “How can I get to Meisner?”

“…Chavez's phone,” Trubel said.

Nick went to his bedroom and grabbed the phone. After Meisner called that time it had somehow been changed to open with his thumbprint, so he opened it and dialed the only number inside.

“Nick. I had a feeling you’d call,” he sighed.

“I want to see Juliette.”

“I don't think that's a good idea…”

“I don't give a damn!” He barked. “Where is she? And furthermore, where is Sloane?!”

“…The woman you knew as Juliette doesn't exist anymore.”

“I want to talk to them!”

“It's not that easy.”

“You should've told me she was alive,” he hissed. “And I swear if you don’t tell me where Sloane is…”

“…Give me a little time,” he sighed. Then cut the call. Nick was tempted to throw the phone but managed to keep hold of it.

“What'd he say?” Kelly asked.

“He said he needed time.”

“That's it?” Trubel asked, looking annoyed as well.

“And that Juliette doesn't exist anymore…”

“…Next time let me talk to him. I know how to threaten a man.”

Nick didn’t smile at his mother’s joke, partly because he was still on edge and partly because he wasn’t sure she was joking.

Nick called Hank to update him on what Meisner told him and found out that Billie Trump had apparently gotten away. They were planning to go check her house and Nick said he would meet them there. He made Trubel stay as she was still recovering. And he knew that Juliette either followed them, or new they were heading into a trap which worried him.

Billie’s house was obviously a base for a lot of the members of this group. There were hammocks, sleeping bags, trundle beds all throughout the large farmhouse. It reminded Nick a lot of his dorm in college to be honest with how messy it was. The cache of explosives he found didn’t though and he immediately had them call in to bomb squad to move them safely. They knew Billie likely wouldn’t return but they did find a picture of her and her parents. A surprisingly normal picture, happy picture of her graduating with her parents beaming on either side, a note written on the front saying they were proud of her. Wu commented he wondered if they knew what she was up to.

When he got back, Trubel was eating a grilled cheese for a midnight snack and straightened when he walked in. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice even. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah…Kelly's asleep.”

“Thanks for staying up,” he said, still a little clipped as he took off his jacket.

“…If you want me to leave, I can find someplace else to stay,” she said.

Nick paused and then sighed, opening the fridge and grabbing a beer. “You're not going anywhere. Look, I don't blame you for what happened to Juliette. If you weren't at my house that night, I'd be dead.” He knew that. Juliette was serious about killing him. And he knew if she’d be absolutely certain, Trubel would’ve told Nick everything. He wasn’t angry at her so much as the whole situation.

She still looked down guiltily though. “Nick, I should've said something…”

He sighed again, opening the beer and taking a swig before shaking his head. “I just can't believe this is happening. She was dead. I saw her die. Felt it. I saw her…do something awful to Sloane, I don’t even know what, so maybe she was already gone. But then she actually died. And now what? What, she saved my life?” He sounded as lost as he felt.

She nodded, looking sympathetic. “This has got to be really weird for you.”

“I want some answers.”

“Join the club…” she said. “You think I’m happy they never told me what they did? Now I wonder if Sloane really is dead and what they’re doing to her!”

“You’re part of them though?”

She huffed. “I’m still new. It’s been less than a year. I’m an asset, so they say, but I’m not a big player. I wanted to stay out of that, just go and do jobs, not deal with politics in the office. Now I’m realizing I should’ve asked more questions. Sloane would’ve,” she said.

He sighed, nodding a little. His phone rang and he pulled it out. “Monroe?”

“Rosalee just called the Wesen Council,” he said.

“The group is called Black Claw,” Rosalee said.

“And the Council knows about them.”

“Well, what are they gonna do about it?” Nick asked.

“We don't know. Alexander is gonna get back to us. And, Nick, Monroe told me about Juliette. You really think it was her?”

“I know it was her.”

“Oh, my god, this is insane,” she sighed. “But that means Sloane is alive too, right?”

“…It’s a possibility.”

“Just a possibility?”

“Trubel doesn’t know for sure. I’m going to try and get it out of the group she’s with one way or another. And if she is, I’m getting her back.”

“We’ll help. Whatever you need,” Monroe said.

“Right now, we all need rest,” he sighed. “Let me know when you hear back from the Council.”

“We will.”

They hanged up and Nick looked at Trubel. “You ever hear of Black Claw?”

Her eyebrows ticked up and she nodded. “Oh, hell yeah. My last two major jobs had to do with them.”

“Here?” he asked, going around to sit at the bar with her.

She shook her head. “No, Lisbon and Bangkok.”

“But they're here now.”

She shrugged a little, wincing just slightly. “I mean, from what I know, they're everywhere.”

“What else do you know about them?”

She sighed, thinking. “They're Wesen, all kinds. Not afraid of dying for whatever it is they believe in.”

“Which is?”

“Ruling the world? I mean, they’re goal right now seems to just be getting as many wesen as they can on their side, by any means necessary. And scaring the crap out of non-wesen, when they’re not outright killing them.”

“That's why Chavez wanted you?” he asked, thinking on how interested she was in Grimms.

“I think so.”

He nodded, sighing a little before patting her shoulder. “All right, get some sleep.”

“What? Nick—”

“You need to finish healing and we’ve got more to do tomorrow I’m sure. We need to get our rest while we can.”

“…Okay,” she sighed, standing.

Nick grabbed her plate and her glass to put in the sink and she walked to the rollaway bed to lay down. He went towards his room and paused before going to his mother’s door. “You catch all that?”

His mother opened the door slightly. “Yes. I also think we need to get Adalind and Diana to a safe place sooner rather than later. We don’t know if Juliette will still want to hurt her.”

“…Right. I asked Bud—our Eisbieber friend—to start fixing up Sloane’s house. We’ll get her stuff put away; I can store it here. And…it would be good for you to stay with her to be safe.”

She nodded. “Alright. Goodnight, Nicky.”

“Night mom,” he said, heading for his room and his bed. He hoped things would make more sense in the morning.

\--------------------------

Trubel left early in the morning. She knew Nick would likely see her on his security system, but she hoped he would understand. She got on her cycle and drove till the morning light to the main facility outside of Portland. There was a hidden side entrance that she coasted around the corner to, and into the tunnel hidden in the hill. Meisner was standing, waiting for her as she pulled to a stop inside.

“You shouldn't have come here.”

Trubel pulled off her helmet and threw it to the side, glaring at him and advancing with steps that meant she was ready to fight. “Why didn't you tell me she was alive?!”

“You can't be here,” he said calmly.

She glared and moved to past him, but he caught her. She glared and tried to push through him. “Where is she?!”

“I'll contact Burkhardt when the time is right!” he said, pushing her back.

She growled and swung her arm. “That's not good enough!”

Meisner blocked that and her other blows. “You're still hurt. Don't make it worse!”

She snarled and tried to kick him. It was frustrating he kept blocking and deflecting her feet and hands, not even fighting back. She tried to really hurt him, and he frowned and finally grabbed her arm, twisting it hard enough to make her shout. But she glared up at him. “What did you do to her?”

“What we had to!” He pushed her away again and she glared at him like she was still going to fight. He finally sighed. “She was out of control. You know she was. In order to keep her from continuing to try and kill you and your friends, we had to put her in someone’s control.”

“Yours?”

“The organizations,” he sighed. “It wasn’t easy. But it was necessary. The alternative was to let her die.”

“She’s not a pet or a weapon!”

“…No. But she was much worse than that. She was a force of nature ready to devastate anything that got in her way. She was going to kill Burkhardt. Your friends. But as powerful as she is, and what we know about some of what we’re going to face, she provided us a bit of hope. There was no way she was going to willingly work with us. And there was no way we would be able to let her be out there to do as she pleased with that power.” She eased but was still glaring and he sighed. “I can sit here and make excuses all evening. In the end, it wasn’t my decision. But I will use what I can to keep people safe. And that includes assets like you and her. As heartless as that is, and as sorry as I am sometimes, it’s what I have to do.”

“…What about Sloane? What happened to her? Are you brainwashing her into a weapon too?”

“…Let’s go for a walk and I’ll tell you what I know. What I’ll tell Burkhardt tomorrow.”

\---------------

“Juliette’s alive?!” Adalind yelped. Nick and Kelly had invited her over to discuss what was going to happen moving forward and while she’d been relieved about the house, the news about Juliette was more than a little terrifying.

“Yes. But she saved my life, so…I don’t know what’s going on with her.”

“You…think maybe she’s not, like, power mad anymore?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed.

“…You know…are you still okay helping me?” He looked at her, confused. “This is all my fault. You and Juliette would still be together if it wasn’t for me…”

Nick took a deep breath. He’d thought about that too before, certainly, but he could see how genuine Adalind was at the moment. “…I had a chance for a normal life with Juliette, and you gave that to me when you stopped me from being a Grimm.”

She blinked then looked a bit sheepish. “That wasn't exactly my intention at the time…”

“I know. But still, we had a chance, and we didn't take it.”

“…I wish I could take it all back...Everything I did to you,” she said honestly.

Nick eyed her and took a deep breath before nodding. “I believe you,” he said.

“…Do you think you’ll try again with her?”

He sighed, also having thought about that a lot. “Truthfully, I don’t know how long Juliette was feeling…like she wasn’t part of my world. That’s on me in a lot of ways. Maybe if I’d been upfront from the start things would’ve turned out differently. Or maybe they’d have ended up the same, who can say. But at this point…even if I she’s herself again, I don’t know if I can ever…feel that way about her. Not after what she’s done. I still care about the old Juliette, and I want to…I don’t know, give her a chance at some kind of life. But not with me.”

She nodded a bit. “I understand…I guess…I hope you find someone someday then.”

“You too…think you’ll ever give it a shot with Renard again?” he asked, a little teasing and a little curious.

“Ah…I don’t know,” she said, grimacing a bit. “I mean, I still care about him too, but…our history is honestly almost more convoluted than yours and Juliette’s.”

“…From what I know, I’d say about equal.”

She laughed a little and then sighed. “Yeah…and you’re okay with Kelly coming to stay with me?”

“I…am glad she’s alive. I got time I can spend with her; she’ll be in the same city. But she wants to help you and I think…it’d be good for her. She’s kind of going stir crazy here without anything to do since I won’t let her come with me.”

“I heard that but you’re not wrong,” Kelly called, having given them some privacy.

Nick smiled a little and looked at Adalind again. “The eyes won’t slow her down, I’m pretty sure.”

“Oh, I’m sure they won’t,” she said, smiling. They both paused when they heard the garage door going and she tensed. “Who is it?”

Nick went over to check the monitor quickly and then sighed in relief. “It's Trubel.” He went over to help open the elevator when she arrived, still holding her helmet. “Where have you been?”

“You sound like a big brother, Nick, easy,” Kelly said, coming out. Nick pouted at her but felt he was a bit justified at this point sounding like a big brother to her.

“I saw Meisner,” Trubel said.

Nick was on alert again. “What did he say?”

“You're gonna see Juliette today. He'll contact you later. It'll be a public place.” His heart ratcheted up, but he nodded.

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” Adalind said.

“I have to deal with this,” Nick sighed.

“He’s right, he does,” Kelly nodded.

“I know but call me a little paranoid that the woman that tried to kill him and me is still out there and he wants to spend time with her…”

“You’re not paranoid. But Meisner wouldn’t be agreeing to this if he thought it would end up with him dead. Because he knows I would kill him.”

“Fair enough…” Adalind nodded.

Nick sighed and then heard his phone ringing. Picking it up, he saw it was his partner. “Hank.”

“We found Billie Trump's parents,” he said. “They live in West Linn.”

Nick grunted. “Oh, we should pay them a visit.”

“That's what I was thinking. Any word on Juliette?”

“I'm supposed to meet her today.”

“You talk to her?” he asked, surprised.

“Not yet. I'll explain when I get in.” He hanged up and looked at Trubel, but she raised her arms before he could say anything.

“Yeah, I'm staying here. I'm tired, and I'm hungry.” She went to the fridge and he arched his brow at her.

“It’s like you when you were a teenager,” Kelly said a touch wistfully. Adalind chuckled a little.

“I wasn’t that bad…” he muttered.

“You ate everything in sight for a while. Speaking which, finish your breakfast before you go.”

“Yes, mom…”

“Yeah, that tone doesn’t work when she’s actually your mom,” Adalind said.

\---------------

Billie’s parents were a bust. Or more accurately, they were more proud than worried for their daughter being a domestic terrorist. Nick made a note of that for later—they might be part of this, or they might need to be taken down a peg from their wealthy upper-middle class lifestyle. When they went to update Renard, Wu rushed in saying that there had been an attack in the jail cells, where they’d placed Xavier after interrogating him at the spice shop last night. It was supposed to be a safe place for him.

When they got to the cells the jailer was screaming, his gun drawn and pointed at a coyotl that was repeatedly clawing at Xavier and bashing his head into the bars by pulling on his shirt. He had a shirt around his neck, tied to a beam above and Nick had a sneaking suspicion he’d played Xavier to get close enough to kill him by faking a suicide. The guard screamed about a monster and Nick and Hank tried to push his gun away, but it fired, striking the coyotl in the chest and sending him sprawling. Renard went in, his own gun drawn, and watch the man woge back. He looked the guns shot, gripping it with one hand. But it was only to get enough blood he could turn around and smear four marks on the wall with his fingers before dying. The guard was a blubbering mess on the floor. And Nick could see Xavier was dead, having been pulled repeatedly and strongly into the bars of the cell.

Renard marched angrily back to his office while barking orders at others work to get things sorted. “This was not a random act. This was hit,” he said more quietly. “They knew Xavier was in Custody.”

“How?” Wu asked.

“They must have somebody on the inside. Like with the group after Monroe and Rosalee,” Hank said.

“Don’t remind me,” Wu said, remembering Jessie Acker woging and talking about killing his friends.

“All right, from now on, we have to assume we've been compromised,” Renard said. “Anything to do with Black Claw, we deal with outside this precinct.”

They nodded and Nick pulled out his phone as it rang. “It's Monroe.” He answered, moving away a little. “Yeah?”

“You need to get down to the spice shop, like, as soon as you can,” Monroe said.

“What's the problem?”

“It's Black Claw, but we can't talk about this on the phone,” Rosalee said, sounding agitated.

“…Okay. We’ll be there soon.” He hanged up and looked at the others. “Rosalee has some kind of news about Black Claw.”

Renard sighed. “You two go. I need to clean up the mess here, one way or another. Wu, I’m going to need your help, there’s no one else I trust more right now.”

Wu smiled a bit. “Well, when you put it that way…”

Nick and Hank headed to the shop as fast as they could, opening the door for them and then immediately locking it. “Rosalee just heard back from Alexander. It's bad,” he said, not waiting for any pleasantries.

“How bad?” Hank asked.

She braced herself to say it. “The Wesen Council doesn't exist anymore.”

Both their eyes widened. “What?” Nick asked.

“They were all killed last night by Black Claw.”

“All except for Alexander,” Monroe said. “That's how we found out. Somehow he got out.”

“You don’t think he was in on it?”

“Never,” she shook her head. “That man considered the council his life, and I’m pretty sure he felt like Augustus De Groot was like a father to him…”

“De Groot was killed,” Monroe sighed. “He sounded really scared and shook up about it. They were meeting to discuss Black Claw.”

“The Council knew about Black Claw?” Hank asked quickly.

“Yeah, except they call it Schwarzkralle.”

“Means the same thing, they just like the German phonetic over there,” Monroe sighed.

“Well, where's Alexander now?” Hank asked.

“On the run,” Rosalee sighed.

“When word gets out the Wesen Council's been wiped out, I don't even know what's gonna happen,” Monroe said.

“I think Xavier knows a lot more than he's telling us,” she added, a bit of anger still there for the man that almost got them killed.

Hank and Nick looked at each other, then back at them. “Xavier's dead,” Nick said.

Both of their jaws dropped. “What?”

“We put him in a cell before we could Get him into protective custody. Somebody got to him,” Hank said.

“He was killed by a Coyotl who woged in front of the jailer,” Nick said.

Monroe shook his head as if to make sure it was on right. “Like, intentionally woged? Like he didn't care if anybody saw him or not?”

“Yeah,” Hank said.

“Oh, God. These nuts are woging in public? That means we've crossed a very dangerous line…” she said, shaking her head.

“Cruor House all over again…” Monroe said.

Nick felt his phone buzz and took it out. It was a text from an unknown number:

_Meet her. Alone._

_Prosecco’s Restaurant._

_Thirty Minutes._

_Don’t be late._

His heart lurched and he swallowed. “I need to go.”

“Now?” Monroe asked incredulously.

“I just got a text. I'm meeting Juliette,” he said, putting his phone away.

“What?” Rosalee asked.

“When?” Hank asked.

“Right now.” He turned to head to the door, but Hank got in front of him.

“Oh, we got to back you up!”

“No, no, no, I have to go alone,” he said. “They'll know if I don't.” 

“Hold on. You trust this? After yesterday?” Monroe asked.

“Nick, what if it's a setup?” Rosalee agreed.

“Then I'll handle it,” he said impatiently, trying to get around Hank who didn’t budge.

“Nick, wait a minute,” Monroe said. “You don't know what you're dealing with here. This woman is not exactly in the most stable place right now. She just killed a whole bunch of people, albeit to save our lives, but...You know what? Maybe there is no albeit!” he said, his voice climbing. “Maybe saving our lives had nothing to do with it, you know? Who knows why she killed them?”

“Well, that's what I need to figure out,” he said, trying to stay calm.

“Nick, why?” he asked desperately.

“Because she might know where Sloane is!” he said. The others paused and looked at one another, then back at him. “I need to know if I can save her…and then one way or another, I need to bury Juliette, once and for all.”

They hesitated but Hank finally sighed and moved out the way. Nick left quickly before they could stop him.

“So not cool,” Monroe sighed.

“No,” Hank agreed.

“I feel what he said. I want to know too. But this just doesn't feel right,” Rosalee sighed.

The sun had finally set when Nick got to the restaurant. Prosecco’s was a nice, upscale wine and dine sort of place that he’d meant to take Juliette too before. He’d thought about proposing there. But it was crowded and didn’t seem like the place she’d try to kill him, so that was encouraging. Getting inside, he felt a little under dressed but no one hassled him. He scanned the crowd of people in cocktail dresses and suits till he spotted a white head sitting at a back table. And Juliette’s face stared back at him. Taking a breath, he walked through the crowd towards her. He could feel his emotions rising as he did—anger, remorse, pain, disbelief—and he stared at her a little when he got to her. She stared back, her face a complete blank.

“I thought you were dead,” he finally managed, his breath shuddering in a tight chest. He sat down, looking her over. She was perfectly fine. Even if the white hair threw him a bit, it was obviously a wig up close. And the little black dress she wore showed enough he could tell she was whole. He swallowed his heart, trying to get his mind and his breath under control. “Juliette…”

“My name isn't Juliette,” she said. Her voice was perfectly controlled. In fact, it was fairly emotionless. Like a robot. It actually dampened the emotion slightly and he was able to focus.

“What am I supposed to call you?” he asked.

“They call me Eve.”

“Why Eve?”

“Because I'm starting over.”

Nick felt his jaw twitch. This was…wrong. He’d thought, maybe worried, he’d still have those warm feelings for her. But seeing her now and seeing her so…blasé made his gut twist in anger rather than love. Hornets, not butterflies. “Do you really think it's that easy?” he asked.

“It wasn't easy.”

He narrowed his eyes and leaned in. “You want to know what isn't easy? Knowing that you set me up...And that you tried to set up my mother. Cost her, her eyes. And then whatever it is you did to Sloane…” She stared at him placidly and he grit his teeth. “What, are you gonna pretend like you don't remember?”

“I remember everything,” she said. “I would have killed you.”

He sat back and huffed. “Well, the night is young.” She looked away then, scanning the room with her eyes. And then back to him. Methodical. No movement wasted. He was reminded again of a robot and it gave him and eerie feeling. “What did they do to you?”

“What they had to.” She looked like she was remembering something for a moment before looking back up. “They saved me.”

“Did they?” he asked, not quite believing her.

“And I saved you.”

“Why?” She looked away again, her eyes trained on something and he leaned in. “Tell me why,” he pressed. She didn’t turn back, and he slapped a hand on the table. “Look at me!” She did, but she didn’t look scared, or frightened, or remorseful. She looked like she was just…there. “Why did you even agree to meet me here?”

“Because they need you.”

“For what?” he asked, looking confused.

She didn’t say anything else as she rose, grabbing her coat. Nick was about to ask her what she was doing when he saw she was following a group of three men as they were leaving from a nearby table. The one she’d been likely watching all night. She pulled her coat on, then pulled up the hood to cover her hair and cast a shadow over her face. Nick couldn’t see, but the way her head tilted he had a feeling she woged. The man in the cream suit, between two in darker suits, was on his phone but slowed his walk. His hand went to his head and he grunted, looking pained. He dropped his phone, clutching his skull with both hands now before his ears erupted in blood. He woged briefly into a Schinderdiv (warthog-like) wesen before collapsing, dead.

The two bodyguards woged into schakals and turned, snarling at Juli…Eve, and drawing their guns. Everyone in the restaurant began to panic and run, screaming and yelling. Nick rushed over and kicked one schakal before he could shoot, punching the other one. The roared and tried to fight him, knocking down servers and patrons alike. Nick managed to toss one away and grabbed a steak knife off the table— “ _Throw it like you would a baseball,”_ Sloane’s voice came into his head—and let it fly, striking one in the chest. The other tried to get to his throat with his teeth but Nick tussled with him and then threw him out the window. A shard of glass was in his neck and he unwoged as he closed his eyes, likely dying quickly.

He looked back into the restaurant and saw Eve was nowhere in sight. He ran for the door, finally hearing the sirens through the blood in his ears as two cop cars pulled up as he got to the street. One officer from each got out, pointing their guns. “Police! Let me see your hands!”

Nick grabbed his badge and held it up. “Hey, police, hey! I'm on the job. There was a man attacked inside the restaurant.”

They glanced at one another but quickly holstered their weapons to follow him. “How many we looking for?”

“Two. One of them's right there,” he said, pointing at the first schakal. Easy to say they did it, given they were dead. “There's another one inside also dead. Both weapons are inside on the floor. Threat's over but secure the area. There are some people inside. I want to get them out,” he said as he walked inside.

“You off duty?”

Nick thought quickly and shook his head. “No, I was meeting one of my CIs. That's the victim there,” he said, pointing to the man in the cream suit. “First suspect's right here,” he pointed to the man with the knife in his chest.

The officer stared; a bit awed. “You do that?”

“I didn't want to risk shooting in a restaurant,” Nick said evasively.

“Wow…”

Nick’s phone rang and he pulled it out, happy to have an excuse to not talk to the officers while he looked at the man Eve killed more closely. “Yeah, Burkhardt.”

“It went well.”

Nick paused and then growled under his breath and started looking around, expecting he was nearby. “Meisner.”

“The man is Samuel Rankin, one of the organizers for Black Claw. This was the one opportunity we had. The others are his bodyguards. You probably figured that one out.”

“A lot of innocent people could've been hurt,” Nick growled.

“That's why we wanted you to be there.”

“What the hell is this, some kind of test?”

“It was. I'll be in touch. Sorry about the mess,” he added before hanging up. Nick glared at his phone but sighed.

\-------------------

He told the others and Renard about the meeting turned assassination. All were troubled—both by what they put Nick through and what Juliette— _Eve_ —did to the man. Nick suggested pinning the murder on Rankin’s bodyguards since they couldn’t bring Juliette in and they were black claw anyway. Renard agreed, but pointed out they needed names to go with their suspects. Thus, began their hunt for the two Schakal’s identities.

“I got nothing on any of the victims,” Hank sighed.

“The fingerprints don't match anything we got,” Nick sighed back.

Wu walked up, setting a folder down with his own sigh. “They located a rental car that we matched to the victims, but the ID used to rent the car was stolen. So was the credit card. What do we do next?”

“Always dental records?” Hank suggested.

“I doubt they were local, or national,” Nick said.

“I thought you were going to say you doubted they went to the dentist and was ready to agree,” Wu said.

“Hey, Nick!” They all paused and looked up to see Trubel jogging up, her helmet under her arm. It had been a couple of days since she turned up, but she was already nearly healed thanks to Adalind. “I've been thinking about what happened to you last night. Hey, Hank. Hey, Wu. Are you pissed? I'd be pissed. I am pissed. They should've told you.”

Nick arched his brow, wondering if Trubel had gotten into his ultra-caffeinated coffee he kept for all-nighters. “It would've been nice to know who I had to kill.”

“That would be Samuel Rankin's two Schakal bodyguards.” She looked at the photos and picked one up of the man he’d killed with the knife. “Sig Ganz. Czech national, 32. Not that he was using that name. Born in Tuchomence, recruited by Black Claw three years ago.” Nick’s eyes widened and he looked at the other men who were equally surprised. “And Otto Gruenwaldt...” She found his photo and held it up, the broken glass still in his neck. “36, born in Woltersdorf, East Germany. His father was Stasi. Black Claw enforcer, recruited four years ago.”

“You know anything about Samuel Rankin?” he asked, holding up the picture. It was nice for a well of information to just spill over them.

“Oh yeah. Real name Rolf Kleinager. One of the _founders_ of Black Claw. I mean, we're pretty sure he met with Alva Zajic and Arnaud Dubois ten years ago at the thermal baths outside of Bad Zurzach.” They looked at her blankly. “…It's a small Swiss town on the edge of the Black Forest.”

“Not the part that confused me the most, but thanks,” Wu said.

“Look, Kleinager was a big kill for us. I get why they did it when they could, even if I don’t like them involving you without you’re okay. Oh, and, um, Meisner called. That's why I'm here. He wants to talk to you.”

Nick sat up straighter. “When?”

“Now. But alone still,” she added, looking at Hank and Wu regretfully.

They didn’t look happy, but Wu held out a pen and paper. “Write down those names again so we can cover Nick’s ass and I’ll let it go. For now.”

She nodded, quickly doing so and they headed out. Nick followed her motorcycle in his jeep, following her into the woods. It was actually more than an hour outside town, hidden in the woods near Tillamook. He saw the compound—it looked like an old water treatment plant. But Trubel headed to a secret entrance at the side just barely big enough for him to drive down into the tunnel. The tunnel closed behind him. He got out, looking towards the sliding door with a frown. Then lights came on behind the columns at the side and he walked over to Trubel. “Obviously, we're not alone.”

“No. You're not.” He looked up and saw Meisner come out from one corner, walking towards them. Nick glared and he sighed. “There was no other way. But you proved yourself.”

“To who?” Nick challenged.

“Eve.”

Nick narrowed his eyes again but Meisner turned and headed for the elevator at the end of the hall. Trubel followed and Nick followed her. They went up to another floor in silence. Once they got to wherever they were going, Trubel got out and led them both through an austere concrete hallway full of doors. She stopped at one and opened it up. She set her helmet on the bed, patting down one corner of the blanket. Nick walked in and the bedroom was sparse. A bed, a set of drawers, a closet, a rack of armor, and an even larger wrack of weapons. A sniper rifle, knives, guns, shotgun, sub-machine gun, crossbow, arrows, and grenades were all hung on the wire holder and he was surprised.

“This is my room,” she said, a little awkwardly.

Nick looked around and couldn’t help but feel this was too much like a prison cell. It was maybe a step above, but it was still claustrophobic in just how much it shut out the world outside the compound. And he knew there was a camera there, he could hear it. “This is where they put you…”

“This is where they put all of us,” Meisner corrected.

Nick turned to look at him in the doorway. “Who is "they"?”

“Branch of the Federal Government. Don't try to find it. It doesn't exist,” he said knowingly.

“So, I suppose I've never seen any of this?” He asked, looking to Trubel. She nodded, though shrugged as well, knowing it was a little cliché. “Where's Eve? And will you tell me where Sloane is now?”

Meisner looked at Trubel who shook her head. He sighed gestured to follow him but Trubel hanged back. “I'll be here, Nick.” He nodded and she sighed, sitting down as he left. Nick had a bad feeling but followed Meisner out.

“So, Renard told me you worked for the Resistance,” Nick said as they walked down the hall.

“I did. But this is much bigger than that.”

“How high up does this go?”

“I don't know. But as you can tell, we're not without funding. And don't ask me where that comes from either. 'Cause I don't know.” He walked to the door at the end of the hall. “She's inside. I'll give you a few minutes.” He knocked on the door.

“Enter.”

Meisner walked away and Nick looked at the door. Grabbing the handle, he hesitated before taking a deep breath and opening it. Eve stood across from the door. She was dressed in a black shirt and leather pants. The wig was gone, and her hair was still red underneath though it looked darker. To the side was an open closet with clothes, and an array of wigs. The white-blonde one was near the side on its mannequin head. He stepped in. “You wanted me to prove myself?”

“You did,” she said, no emotion in her voice.

“You should've told me.”

“We had to know how you would react. If you let your emotions get in the way, you'd be no good to us.”

Nick glared and walked towards her. “You really believe in all of this.”

“Not at first. I didn't believe in anything.”

“What about now?”

“I found a reason to live.”

Nick set his jaw and turned away, pacing a little. “Do you feel remorse for anything you've done?”

“You mean what she did.”

“What you did,” he growled, turning to her.

“You still think you're talking to Juliette,” she said.

He looked at her face and shook his head. “I don't know who I'm talking to.”

“Yes, you do. You just won't accept it.”

“Maybe I can't…” he rubbed over his face before sighing. “Where’s Sloane.”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t give me that! After what you did—”

“What Juliette did—”

“Say it however you want, but Hadrien’s Wall took her at the same time they took you and I haven’t seen her since!” he yelled.

“…You thought I was here the other night. I heard you call her name. You sounded desperate for it to be her.”

Nick looked away. “…The wig threw me. I thought it might be in that light.”

“…You miss her.”

“Of course, I miss her!” She stared at him and he huffed. “Look…whatever you think, Sloane and I didn’t do anything behind your back. We didn’t do anything at all!”

“This doesn’t matter to me. Juliette was the one who was angry at you about that.”

“Well it matters to me that you know I never cheated on Juliette. Not willingly. I loved her. And she was the one that turned her back on me and our friends. And hurt Sloane. And whatever happened, Sloane didn’t deserve what Juliette did and now I want her home safe so if you know anything, you better damn well tell me because whoever you want to call yourself now, you admitted you _remember._ It was those hands that did it _._ ”

She was quiet a moment, looking at him stony-faced before speaking. “If we're gonna work together, you have to stop living in your past.”

“What do you mean, "work together"?” he snapped.

“You're here for a reason.” She moved to step past him and paused. A small bit of emotion leaked into her voice. “My only regret is that you didn't have a chance to bury Juliette.” Nick felt his heart twist, but she kept moving out the door. “There's more for you to see. Your questions will be answered there.” Nick followed, not bothering to close the door.

He followed her down another hallway. Some men were guarding a door that was made of a metal grate that he could see through before they unlocked it. It was a room filled with metal tables, computers, a huge TV on one wall playing footage from various news channels, other monitors showing maps from all around the world. Trubel was there, searching on a laptop, and Meisner looked up and went to meet them. “This is one of HW's command centers,” he explained when he saw Nick’s bewildered look.

“There are more?”

“Oh, yeah. This is a war. It's happening all over the world.”

“And we're fighting it,” Trubel added.

“Take a look at this,” Meisner grabbed a pad and pressed a few buttons, bringing a world map onto the biggest screen at the front. Several cities were marked and lit up. “The hot spots are Wesen uprisings: Brazil, Northern Ireland, Turkey, Syria, Yemen, Pakistan, Ukraine.”

“That's all Wesen related?” Nick asked, shocked.

“All of it. There are people displaced all over the world because of what they're doing.”

“No one understands the real reason behind any of it,” Eve added.

“Which is what?”

“A world run by Wesen. It’s been tried several times in the past. Alexander the Great, Genghis Kahn…The most recent was Hitler. Black Claw is trying again.”

Nick tried to absorb that all, looking at it all with a mix of awe and fear. Meisner nodded to the door. “Let me show you something.” He walked out and Nick cast another look at Eve before following him. Meisner actually exited the building through a side door into the woods and Nick blinked at the sudden burst of natural light before his eyes adjusted He followed him a way off, to an area where they could see they had been digging. “What is this?”

“It's our graveyard. Chavez is here. The ones you were supposed to meet are here too.”

“So, you cleaned it up,” he said, looking at him.

“We had to.”

Nick sighed and looked around. “Why bring me here? …” His eyes widened, and he suddenly got a sick feeling. “I…is Sloane here?”

He shook his head. “No.” He pulled out the tablet again and brought up a report. “When we took Ms. Larson from your home, she was catatonic. Whatever Juliette did, it wasn’t something we could visually assess. So, we diverted her car to head to a medical facility we have our hands in north of here. On the way however, something happened that caused them to wreck. Everyone was alive, but she wasn’t found. According to their reports, Ms. Larson attacked them and then fled the scene, appearing disoriented.”

“…Well, you did kidnap her,” Nick pointed out, reading over the reports.

“To get her treatment,” he stressed. “I understand why you aren’t keen on trusting us. What we did with Juliette was what we felt was the best at the time to keep her from going down a much darker path than she already had. We’re not sure, but we believe that a powerful Hexe or Zauberbiest is pulling some of these strings. If Juliette had joined him, we would likely be overwhelmed. Turning her into Eve has given us the best chance of keeping her alive, as well as combating him. Ms. Larson…Sloane, was in no danger from us.”

“You kidnapped Trubel. Pushed her into this.”

“Chavez was insistent, I admit. She’d already lost several of her own agents and was keen to get someone who could actually put a dent in Black Claw. Sloane was her first choice, by reputation. But she would not have harmed her, or Trubel, to get them on their side. Eve’s condition was by orders of those pulling our own strings. It was that or let her die and then she would be here,” he gestured at the ground.

“…So, you don’t know where Sloane is?”

“No. We are looking for her, but she’s still in the wind. I didn’t think she’d go far but she’s still managed to evade our searches. I don’t know why she hasn’t returned home… I’m going to keep trying till we know where she is or what happened to her, but I can’t keep constant manpower on it. Not while Black Claw is also killing people in the streets.”

Nick was quiet, looking at the report. There was a picture of Sloane in the car, eyes closed, looking asleep or dead. But also, a video showing the wreck from the driver’s perspective and he saw Sloane running into the woods as if her life depended on it. He frowned deeply.

“We want your help,” Meisner said more gently. “We need it for what's coming.” Nick eyed him and handed the tablet back. Meisner took it and headed back to the compound while Nick sighed, pacing a little as he thought over the video. Why was she running like that? Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. But he had no idea where to start trying to find her.

\----------------------

“So, she could be alive?” Rosalee asked.

“Yes…but then, the question is why she hasn’t contacted us in three months?” Nick said, looking at the table pensively. “If she was trying to escape, she did. But she hasn’t come back.”

The others he’d called to meet at the shop all looked at one another worriedly.

“Maybe she’s hurt somewhere…” Hank said.

“If she was hurt in the woods, I don’t know if we can find her,” Wu said.

“Hey, she’s a Grimm, she’d figure out how to survive,” Monroe said.

Adalind was quiet. “…Maybe I shouldn’t move into her house. She’ll want it back I’m sure…”

“…We don’t know when that will be,” Nick sighed. “You said that they were talking about taking Diana further away. I don’t want you to miss out on getting her back again. Sloane wouldn’t either.”

“Yeah…Sloane would understand,” Rosalee agreed. “As long as I know there’s a chance she’s out there, I can breathe a little easier. We just have to find her.”

“I already called and explained things to Bud,” Nick added. “He’s going to start tomorrow. He says he thinks it’ll take another month to get everything sorted. We just need to go and get Sloane’s stuff.”

“We’ll help with that,” Monroe said.

“Okay. I can store it at my place. I’ve got plenty of room downstairs…”

\-------------------

Packing up Sloane’s house was hard.

They all went to get it done as fast as possible. They all ended up crying a little at one point going through her pictures, souvenirs and room. Nick found the box of things she’d brought from her house in Wildred and the stuffed rabbit inside. He was surprised but smiled a little. He needed a good cleaning for sure. Rather than put him back in the box or leave him for Diana, which maybe would’ve been good but didn’t feel right, he took him with him up to the loft and cleaned him up. His dingy grey fur was surprisingly a bright sunny yellow when he got it clean. He hanged him up to dry.

After that, Bud got to work. It was a month of cleaning, pulling up and replacing floors, replacing windows and walls, fixing wiring and ensuring everything else was structurally sound before it was ready. Adalind paid for the renovations despite Nick offering to help. She then bought furniture for the back room—Now with a more fortified window—suitable for a toddler. Kelly moved what little she really had out of the loft into the guest room, and Adalind moved into the master. Everything was ready when it turned four months since Sloane had disappeared.

Adalind paced back and forth, antsy. Henrietta and Kelly—who were getting along swimmingly much to their surprise—sat on the couch waiting. She’d asked the others to wait, not wanting to overwhelm Diana or scare whoever was bringing her. “Where are they?”

“I’m sure they aren’t far,” Henrietta said.

“Considering it’s not time yet, you need to relax,” Kelly added.

“But it’s close enough!”

Henrietta sighed and stood, going over to pat her back. “Adalind. Breathe.”

Adalind frowned but took a deep breath. Then the doorbell rang, and she ran over to it, nearly throwing it open. She jumped when she saw who it was. “Meisner…?”

“Adalind,” he smiled. “You look well…”

“Really, because she was kind of frantic a second ago,” Kelly said, standing.

“Kelly. So, you really are staying here as well?”

“Not a whole lot of options for a blind Grimm.”

“Ah…Well, I know someone will be happy to see you both.” He stepped aside and Diana looked up at them all in confusion.

“Diana…sweety,” Adalind said, moving towards her. She then quickly hid behind Meisner again and Adalind paused, trying not to look hurt. “Honey…I…”

Meisner gently picked her up. “Diana…I know things were scary last time you and your mommy got together. But that won’t happen this time. You’ll be safe here; we’re going to make sure of it.”

Diana looked at him, her eyes still so intelligent for a toddler. Then back at Adalind. “…Mama?”

Adalind felt a few tears escape again. “That’s right, honey…I swear, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Not again. This is going to be our house for a while. You’ll get to stay here. And Kelly is too.”

Kelly smiled and waved. “Hey, Kiddo…”

“…Kiki?”

They all paused for a second before Adalind looked at her. “Kiki?”

Kelly flushed just slightly but smiled. “It’s what I was trying to get her to call me instead of “mama”. Didn’t feel right to take that title from you. My sister used to call me that when we were children…”

“…It’s cute,” she smiled.

“Kiki owie,” Diana said, covering one of her eyes.

“Yes, sweety. Big owie. But I’m going to be okay,” she said gently.

“And this is my friend, Henrietta,” Adalind said.

Henrietta smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Diana.”

Diana’s eyes glowed briefly but then she nodded.

“I’ll be visiting on and off too while you get settled. It’ll be me or Susannah. She wanted to be here, but we urgently needed her expertise elsewhere.”

“…Nick told me a bit about what’s going on,” Adalind said. She smiled when Diana reached for her and pulled her in to hold her close, protective. “Wesen are really rising up everywhere?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “As Susannah suggested, we may come to you for advice on certain things. You as well, Ms.…”

“Just Henrietta,” she said. “But from what we’re told, you managed to get a Hexenbiest working with you…under questionable means.”

“Very questionable,” Kelly added.

Meisner coughed slightly under the judging gazes. “I would like to say, once more, I was not keen on the plan. But…Eve is proving invaluable. The amount of people we’ve saved thanks to her…makes it worth it. At least in my book.”

They looked unsure but Adalind gave him a hard look. “As long as she’s not coming after me or Diana again, you can keep her.”

Meisner nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ve made sure she understands, you are off limits.”

“Good…Diana, you want to see your room? I started decorating it myself.” Diana looked curious and Adalind headed down the hall, smiling happily.

“She’s probably going to be sleeping in there with her for the next few nights…” Kelly said.

“I can’t blame her…but she’s held up well. She’s very strong,” Meisner said.

“That she is,” Henrietta smiled.

“Ms. Larson is as well. I believe she is still out there,” he said.

“We do too…it’s finding her that’s the problem,” Kelly sighed.

“We will keep looking and let you all know if we find anything. You’re son has not given us an answer as far as working for us.”

Kelly smiled. “He’ll do what needs to be done, just leave it at that.”

Meisner smiled, not arguing with her.

“It’s been almost three months though, since Sloane went missing,” Henrietta said.

“We’ll keep looking, no matter how long it takes.” He reached into his pocket. “I have a phone for each of you. If we need you, or if anything comes up, we will contact you through this phone only. No one else will know the number, and you should not use it to contact anyone else.”

“Oh, very covert,” Henrietta smiled, taking it. “If a little outdated, a flip phone?”

“I promise, it’s not a normal flip phone,” he smiled.

“Meisner! Do you want to stay for lunch?” Adalind suddenly called.

“Oh, I shouldn’t…”

“Nonsense,” Kelly smiled. “You’ll want to say goodbye to Diana after all, won’t you?”

He nodded slightly, though it felt a little like he’d just fallen prey to the lions at the watering hole.

\----------------

The first few days alone in the loft, Nick didn’t really know what to do. He hadn’t lived alone in years. Even while Juliette had left, it hadn’t felt like he was alone because she was everywhere even when he wanted to forget her. Now, he had the whole of the loft to himself and it felt…quiet. Not in a relieving way, but more in an encroaching way that made him feel alone.

He set up an area to work out down in the garage of the loft to try and take his mind off of things. Pull-up bar, punching bag, weights, all the things he really needed to try and focus on getting stronger. Because he knew Black Claw wasn’t gone—likely, they were just getting started.

One night he thought he saw a shadow in his window through the shade. Something large and monstrous in the light of the streetlight. He grabbed his gun, walking over to it—but it swiftly moved away before he could open the shade and see. He decided he was tired and needed sleep, not hearing the sound of claws on stone as it ran away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, Sloane is MIA...for now. Any bets on what Juliette did to her? What the shadow following them is?  
> I added in a bit more things here as far as action and dialogue to expand things, not just about Sloane but in general I wanted more info so I filled in the gaps myself XD Kelly will get a bit of sight back eventually, but it's never going to be 100% again. I especially wanted her around for more future plans for original stuff.
> 
> Hope everyone is staying healthy!


	29. Beastly Burdens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a beast in Portland! A strange animal has been seen the last few months in the woods and the city, and it's drawn the attention of a famous hunter. But after Bud has a close encounter, he's not so sure it's a monster and let's Nick know. It's now a race to try and get to it before it ends up as a trophy on the hunter's wall. Things aren't always what they appear though and the stakes might be even higher than they realize.

**_“Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill! You knew, didn’t you? I’m part of you?”_ **

\---------------------

**Beastly Burdens**

\---------------------

Larry Messina woke with a start when he heard the alarm go off, almost falling out of his chair at the security desk. He quickly sat up, looking at the video screens, almost knocking over his mug of cold coffee with the _Marston Chemicals_ logo printed on the side. An onboarding present that most kept their pens in, but he actually put to its intended purpose most nights. It would help if the coffee in the office was better.

Looking at the monitors he saw a shadow passing through the back and quickly got up to go to the back door. Several people in black were taking boxes and barrels from storage, rushing them out to an unmarked truck. “H-Hey!” He raised his gun. “Stop right there!”

They stopped and looked up. “The rent-a-cop is here…” one of them muttered.

“You all, get down!” Larry yelled. He tensed when he felt a tall, broad presence behind him.

“No…you get down.” Larry turned and screamed as the man turned into a bear and grabbed him, sinking teeth into his shoulder. The others went back to loading their stolen goods onto the truck without a care for the mauling in front of them. When they were done, one of them sprayed four lines over the garage door before they rode off, leaving Larry’s body in front.

\---------------------

“So, she’s settled in alright?” Rosalee asked, watching Diana play on the floor of the living room.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I know she was still a bit nervous last time, but I think she’s really settled in well.” She looked at them with a little bit more guilt. “I know it must be weird for us to be here…”

Rosalee sighed. “It’s…okay. The house is paid for, fixed up, all that. And Sloane isn’t dead, but we can work that out when she comes back…I refuse to believe she won’t.”

Adalind nodded, sighing. She knew the more time passed, the harder it was to believe that. But she hoped it was true. “When she does, I’m happy to work something else out. I’ve got Diana now, that’s all that matters to me, so as long as we stay together I’ll do what I need to.”

“How’s job hunting going?”

“Uh, not bad…my old firm showed some interest.”

“Oh, that’s good right?”

“…Not…exactly…”

“Why not?”

“That firm was very wesen oriented. If they find out I’m currently…not at my A game, they might not be as keen…”

“Oh…”

“Plus, there’s Diana—I’m not sure what to do yet about that. Kelly of course is great, but I don’t want her to feel like a live-in nanny or anything…”

“I think she enjoys it,” Rosalee smiled. “But it shouldn’t be hard to find a babysitter with the suppressant on her too.”

As she said this, Adalind saw Diana’s eyes glow and one of the blocks begin to rise out of the corner of her eye. She as nonchalantly as she could put her foot on it and pushed it down. “Yes, that’s true…”

“We were working on the whole ‘don’t do this in public’ thing when I was traveling with her,” Kelly said, sipping her tea. She had a new eyepatch—a custom order from a friend in Bavaria that worked with leather. Brandy brown leather with embossed scrollwork and braiding around the edges. She’d wanted a skull but determined that might be too pirate-like after talking with Nick. (She got the skull too anyway, she figured it would be a good special occasion type.)

“Yes, and I appreciate that,” Adalind said honestly.

“Are these “Hadrian’s Wall” characters still around?” Rosalee asked.

“Susannah and Meisner check in at least once a week. But neither Henrietta nor I have gotten calls about consulting like they said. I’m guessing Juliette is managing…or Eve or…whatever her name is.”

“That’s a whole other issue,” Rosalee sighed.

“Tell me about it…”

“…I’m worried about Nick,” Kelly said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have left…”

“You think he’s doing badly?” Rosalee asked.

“Not badly, but I’ve been talking with Hank and Wu. Nice boys by the way.”

“We like them,” Rosalee smiled.

She hummed but went on. “Nick hasn’t been…social. It seems he just goes to work, then goes home. If the work isn’t wesen related he’s not quite as into it, and even then if it’s not Black Claw he’s a bit less pressing. But I know for a fact he’s been training when he’s not at work. He wants to take them down, but I think he wants to prove to Hadrian’s Wall he can do it without them…”

“Why though?” Adalind asked, frowning.

“…I’m worried he’s throwing himself into Black Claw and training to not think about Juliette and Sloane. I told him he needs to just confront those feelings, but I don’t think he’s fully healed. Then again, I probably haven’t either. I took a lot of pleasure killing Kimura and the others for what they did to my husband and friend…”

“Um…not that I’m not happy for you, but we agreed to downplay the whole “illing-kay” in front of Diana,” Adalind said.

Kelly smiled. “Sorry, it slipped.”

“…Should Nick see a therapist about all this?” Rosalee suggested.

She sighed. “Honestly, we all could probably use some therapy, but I don’t know any who could help with Grimm issues…I think if he could just get closure, for both of them…”

Rosalee grimaced but nodded. “I guess…we just keep taking this one day at a time. I mean, we have to have some kind of break through about Sloane soon…”

\-------------------------

Nick was punching the bag he’d hung up in the loft, some ACDC playing in the background to try and keep his thoughts at bay. The music was interrupted when his phone rang and he sighed, stopping the bag from swaying and going over. Hank’s work number came up and he answered it. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey. Got a case…and a mark was left,” Hank said.

Nick’s hand balled up. “So, they’re finally back after being quiet a couple of months…”

“Yeah. I’ll text you the address. We gotta body with it.”

“I’m not surprised…I’ll see you there.”

“See you.”

Nick hanged up and went to jump in the shower and get dressed to head out. When he got to the chemical company, he found Hank and Wu around the side at the loading docks. One of the doors was obviously forced open and nearly crushed, and it was also the one with the four-line claw mark across it. The body of the night watchman was in front, his shoulder bleeding but it looked more like he’d been crushed to death.

“Hey,” Wu said, waving as he walked up. “Just got info on the vic. Name’s Larenzo Messina. 24, originally from southern California. No priors, comes back clean. Guy’s the night security guard, only been here about a year. Seems he surprised a bunch of thieves…”

Nick frowned. “What was taken?”

Wu sighed and looked at his notes. “According to them, a large amount of Vanadium—used mainly as a catalyst in Sulfuric Acid production they said—and Iron Powder. Everything else is…kind of beyond me.” He showed them and Hank raised his eyebrows.

“That’s a lot of words I don’t know…”

“No kidding,” Nick said. “What would Black Claw want with all this?” he asked quiet enough only they could hear.

“No idea, but it can’t be good,” Wu said.

They nodded and Nick sighed. “Let’s start looking everything over. Figure out what these are used for after we’ve cleared the scene.”

They nodded and started looking everything over. As Nick was going around the side he noticed a flier taped to the bulletin board that showed a monster-like silhouette roaring at the viewer, with the city on one side and the forest on the other. Blinking, he grabbed it and read it more clearly.

 _The Hunt is On!_ It read across the top. _We’ll get the Willamette Wild Thing, dead or alive! If you have information, contact H. Rider Grosvenor at news@ruggedrider.com! Cash reward possible for verifiable information! Videos welcome!_

“What the heck is this?” Nick asked, frowning.

“You haven’t heard?” Wu asked. “The Willamette Wild Thing?”

“…What?”

Hank shook his head. “You haven’t watched the news enough lately. It’s been a big thing the last few months. People have been seeing this “monster” at night. Both in town and in the woods.”

“Monster?”

“Yeah. I was thinking of asking you about it—considering things like the Chupacabra ended up being wesen,” Wu said. “But you’ve been kind of…Distant, lately.”

Nick flinched a bit and sighed. “Yeah, sorry, I just…haven’t really felt up to socializing…”

Wu and Hank shared a look but didn’t press. Wu took the flier to look at it and frowned. “This Rider Grosvenor guy…He’s that crazy rich guy that likes to hunt. Owns like a huge camping and outdoor survival company.”

“Yeah, he got in trouble for killing a rhino a couple of years ago, right?” Nick asked, remembering the name.

“Yeah, but if you got enough money your PR team can work to bury it. Now he wants the Wild Thing though…”

Nick looked at it again and frowned. “…Has it hurt anyone?”

“Nah. Just scared them, but no one’s gotten hurt that we know of.”

“You worried about it?” Hank asked.

“Well…what if it is some kind of wesen? If it hasn’t hurt anyone, does it really deserve to be hunted down like this? My ancestors might think so, but I don’t.”

“I’m not sure it’s even real,” Hank said. “For all we know it was just a cougar. It’s rare to see one around here but then people might not recognize it.”

“That’s true, but Nick still has a point,” Wu said. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this “dead or alive” thing either. Gonna be real awkward for everyone involved if it is wesen and turns back to a human after they kill it. Not sure Grosvenor’s PR team can fix that…”

Hank grimaced, remembering the Wildermann incident. Nick nodded and folded up the flier, putting it in his jacket. “Let’s ask Monroe and Rosalee about it. I want to update them on Black Claw later anyway.”

“Yeah, guess we can’t ask to deal with one problem at a time…” Wu sighed.

\----------------------

Bud was on the north side of the city, dropping of some paint to a recycling center. It was the middle of September and the weather was dipping more and more into the cool fall temperatures. More so now in the evenings after the sun set. Halloween decorations were already being put up—paper leaves and carved pumpkins and monsters that were honestly laughable given some of the wesen he knew. His wife had wanted him to wait, but he wanted to get it over and done with. The leftover paint had been sitting in his garage for a couple of months now after finishing fixing Sloane’s house up for Adalind and he decided it was time to clear it out. He just had forgotten about late afternoon traffic.

As he was heading back to his car, he heard footsteps behind him and paused to look back hesitantly. Nothing was there and he breathed out. But when he turned back around, he gasped when he was confronted with three men. They didn’t look friendly—in fact, he’d call the thugs. Just not to their faces. “Oh, uh, hey there…didn’t see you come up.”

“You get any money from the recycling enter, old man?”

“Old…well, I wouldn’t say I’m old. Uh, but I also didn’t, no, I was dropping off paint and they actually make you pay for that.”

“Well, you got any cash on you?”

“…N-no, um, not really a cash person. You know, I gotta get home. The wife and kids are probably worried about me,” he stuttered, trying to move around them.

He yelped when another put a hand in front of him. “You got a debit card then? Maybe you can be a good Samaritan. Get is a little cash for the needy.”

“I…um, well, I try to be charitable…” he said, swallowing.

“That’s what we like to hear.” Bud started towards them, then turned and began running. “Hey!”

_Nick’s place is near here, I can get there, and it’ll be safe!_

He heard them running after him and Bud grimaced, wondering if he was being dumb running. Then he tripped over a box in one of the alleys and yelped when he fell.

“You should’ve just played along, old man!”

Bud looked up as they advanced down the alley and felt his heart hammering in his head. “H…Help! Someone!”

“I’m going to shut you up for good—” They all paused when they heard what sounded like heavy footsteps above. Then something roared and landed between them. It rose on its hind legs and the boys paled and backed away as it growled like thunder from a storm threatening the horizon.

“What the hell is that?!”

“Monster!”

It snarled and advanced and they turned and ran, screaming. Bud was frozen on the ground. He could see the creature’s back—a long black coat tinged in snow white, but with scaled, spikey ridges up the spine that looked black in the dim light of the alley. It was the size of a Grizzly bear, at least eight feet tall when it stood on its hind legs, but built like a cross between a bear, cat and dog. Large forelimbs and chest sloping back to smaller but no less powerful hind quarters. Pointed ears flicked back and forth as it watched them run, listening for danger. It slowly relaxed down onto all fours. Then it turned and Bud gasped and backed away, woging with a short scream. The scream was cut off mid pitch when he saw something he didn’t anticipate—but before he could say anything the beast leapt up high and an actually climbed up the brick exterior of the building before running away across the roofs. Bud stared after it before standing to run away again.

\-----------------

“They stole a bunch of chemicals?” Monroe asked, chewing around a bite of the vegan pasta bowl he ordered while the rest of them ate pizza at the shop.

“Yeah. We sent the list to local universities but while some interact with each other, there’s no poison or other kind of things they know of that would cause these interactions,” Hank said.

“That they know of,” Rosalee sighed. “You have the list?”

Nick pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to her. “You think you can find something?”

“I’m better with herbs, but I might be able to figure a little out and ask around.”

“I wish we had more to research with,” Nick sighed. “The trailer’s still gone, we only have a few of Sloane’s books…”

“Hey, not sure this would be in the books either,” Monroe pointed out. “I mean, you were updating yours but think how much we’ve learned on our own.”

“The Library would be more useful…” Nick sighed. “Last I heard, they’re still looking for a new Librarian. I asked mom if she wanted to do it but she said Aunt Marie trained as a Librarian and she’d have to find someone willing train her with half her vision gone…Grimms are still kind of behind with accessibility it seems.”

“Not that surprised, sorry,” Monroe said. “But still, we’ve done a lot without it.”

“True…speaking of things I don’t know though,” he fished into his pocket and pulled out the flier. “What do you think of this?”

“Oh, the Wild Thing,” Monroe said, giving a tight smile. Rosalee looked equally put out. “Bringing all the crypto kooks back again…”

“Crypto kooks?” Wu asked, arching his brow.

“They came looking for Big Foot before, then aliens—”

“Which were the Wildermann and the Glühenvolk, respectively,” Rosalee interjected.

“And they’re going to come in acting all crazy and trouncing through the forests and causing damage and ruckus and it’s going to be awful.”

“And that’s not taking the hunters into account,” Rosalee said in disgust. “I’ve got nothing against hunting for food obviously, but trophy hunters are awful. Like that guy who wanted to skin the Glühenvolk—even the baby!”

“Well, some big trophy hunter’s after this one. Rider Grosvenor?” Nick said.

“Ugh, him,” she sneered.

“Guys a jerk,” Monroe nodded. He pulled out his phone and did a quick search before handing it to Nick. “This is him. And what he has to say about the Wild Thing.”

Nick took the phone and arched his brow at the man on screen. He was older than Nick expected, with silver hair and a well-trimmed beard. He struck him as being very Sean Connery like, but the cocky look was more off-putting than charming. He pressed play on the video and the man started talking with a thick French-Creole accent. “Good morning, my friends. Your uncle Rider is here to tell you I’ll be going on a new adventure to Portland, Oregon, this week. There is a beast on the loose! Something that looks very different to anything we’ve seen before!” The video cut to another video taken on someone’s shaky phone, showing a big shape in the distance of the woods and the person on camera screaming and running when eyes shining in the camera light turned to them without showing much detail. “But what makes this even more interesting is how bold this beast is! It is even hunting in the city!” Another video popped up, showing a large creature jumping between rooftops and more people screaming in fear and excitement. “They’re calling it “The Willamette Wild Thing”. Tres droll, yes? Well, I’m interested! So, I’ll see you there, mon amis, as I hunt this creature down! Now I will try to take him alive, and if so, give him over to the Oregon Zoo. If I can’t and I have to shoot it…well, I’ll make sure he gets where he needs to go. As always, you can find updates here on the Rugged Rider website, along with everything I use and my own products.” A logo popped of the company name that looked as though it was in the jaws of a ferocious animal.

The video stopped and Nick frowned deeply, going back to look at the videos. “How did I not hear about this?”

“You’ve been preoccupied,” Monroe said gently.

“But this is near my home!” he said, rewinding to the shot of the city.

Monroe looked surprised and took the phone back, watching it. “The loft?”

“Yeah! It’s like a block away!”

“You ever hear anything?” Hank asked.

“…Just raccoons. I thought.” He sighed and rubbed his temple. “I think I’ve been preoccupied with Black Claw too long before now…But I was going ask if this thing is a wesen.”

Monroe and Rosalee looked at one another and then both shook their heads. “I don’t think so. I mean if it is, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. Those videos make it look huge! But it doesn’t move like a Wokenkratzer or a siegbarste,” Monroe said.

“It’s like a big animal,” Rosalee agreed. “If it was a wesen, a smart one at least, it wouldn’t be coming into the city like this either…”

“Yeah, out in the woods it’s one thing to free the beast, so to speak. But you can see what it’s caused here.”

“Still…I don’t want someone like Grosvenor to get it,” Rosalee sighed. “He’d probably kill it and stuff it, regardless of his zoo talk. If it is a rare wesen or animal or anything…Gah! I don’t just want to sit by and let him do that!”

Monroe smiled both fondly and wanly. “I know, hon, but this is a bit different than before. I mean, we can’t just catch a giant animal.”

“I know…and I really don’t want to protest. I’ve seen the people that are and they’re…”

“Crazy hippies?” Wu guessed.

“Yeah, kind of,” she nodded.

They all chuckled a little and kept eating. It was only a few minutes later they heard someone pounding at the door urgently. Monroe frowned but stood, motioning the others to wait as he walked over. Nick was standing, ready to fight though in case it was Black Claw. Monroe pulled the shade up and then relaxed. “It’s Bud.”

He opened the door and Bud rushed in. “Monroe! Is Nick here!?” Monroe just pointed behind Bud, rather used to his anxious entrances. Bud turned and rushed over. “Nick! Nick! You will not believe what just happened.”

“What?” Nick asked.

“Y-you heard of that thing, right? The Wild Thing?”

Nick looked at the others and then nodded. “We were just talking about it…”

“Well I just saw it! Up close and personal!”

They all were alert then. “You what? How?” Rosalee asked.

“I was dropping some stuff off at the recycling center near Lexington when these—these hoodlums came out of nowhere and started threatening me! But I didn’t have any cash. They started talking about ATMs and I knew that might not end well if I went with them, s-so I ran.”

“I heard there was some guys making trouble, but I hadn’t caught them yet,” Nick sighed. “Are you okay, Bud?”

“No, yeah, I’m actually pretty fast. No one expects it. But then I turned down an alley, near King street—”

“That’s near where the video of the Wild Thing was,” Monroe said.

“Yeah! I didn’t think I’d see it in person though! But then I tripped into garbage!” He gestured, showing he was still rather filthy from his spill. “I thought I was going to end up with them beating me up or worse, but then the beast, it…”

“It what?” Nick asked, worried.

“Well, it jumped down from above somehow, between them and me. Like wheeew, BAM! And it roared really loud and it scared them off. Scared me pretty good too, I’m not ashamed to say! It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen! Huge, and hairy and the claws and teeth—”

“Did it hurt you?”

“No! No, it didn’t hurt anyone, just scared them! But Nick, that’s not the important bit!”

“There’s more?” Wu asked, disbelieving.

“Oh yeah! Nick, this thing turned to look at me and I woged I was so scared.”

“Well, that’s understandable,” Rosalee said.

“Yeah, I’d probably do something a lot worse,” Hank said.

“That’s not the weird part!” He said, impatient with them. “Nick, I saw it’s eyes when I woged. And they turned black like a Grimm’s!”

\-----------------------------

Adalind smiled as she carried Diana to her crib from the reading corner in the room. She had decorated the nursery herself after Bud finished fixing the house up. Walls were painted a soft lavender-tinted gray that made the white furniture pop without being too dark. She put up a few cute pictures of various animals—one that made her chuckle was several climbing a ladder to grab a star, including a fox and a wolf. Rosalee had actually gifted her a mobile for her—it had a silver crescent moon with little white stars on the arms around it. She’d found a dark gray semi-sheer curtain she attached to it to create a canopy at the head of the bed. A soft lavender rug over the hardwoods was littered with a few toys and she kicked a block out of the way before she tripped on it with a sigh.

“Alright, we had a nice bath and a story and now it’s time for bed,” she said, laying Diana down among the lavender bedding. She whined a little but Adalind smiled and stroked through her hair. “You can argue with me about the time when you can say more than five words.” Diana smiled at the teasing tone and Adalind kissed her forehead and tucked her in.

Turning, Adalind sighed and began picking up the blocks and other toys left from playtime earlier that day. As she put them in the old toybox she’d found and fixed up, they began floating back out and lazily around the room. Adalind turned and walked over, seeing Diana’s eyes open and glowing while she sucked on her thumb. “No no no,” she said gently, pulling one block out of the air. “Don’t make things float, honey…” Diana whined again and Adalind frowned and stroked through her hair. “I know. While I was older than you, I wanted to use my powers a lot when I first had them…but I told Mr. Meisner and the others I made it so you couldn’t. I don’t want to do that, because what I had to do to myself for it isn’t fun. But you’re so strong they might take you away…I can’t go through that again. You gotta be careful when you use them.” She looked at her, wondering if it was silly to talk to her like a grown up. “Do you understand?”

Diana sighed but then her toys all floated to the toy box, shut the toy box, and her eyes dimmed to normal. Adalind smiled and leaned down to kiss her again. “Thank you, sweetheart…I promise, while in private you can do a little magic for fun. But we can’t rely on it and you can’t let anyone else see.” She yawned and settled into the crib and Adalind smiled and turned on the starry sky nightlight she got. “Sweet dreams.”

\-----------------------------

At the shop, everyone’s eyes widened, and they looked at each other. “I…Bud, are you sure?”

“Absolutely! I kept thinking about it running over here, but I wasn’t imagining it! Just black, and that weird feeling I get when you do it!”

“You ran here?”

“I…was a little too scared to get back to my car. My phone’s there too. When I saw Nick wasn’t home, I figured you were probably here. Let me tell you, I got my exercise for the day…you got a water or anything?”

Rosalee stood and quickly got him a bottle of water from her mini fridge so he could drink it up. Nick sat down, thinking over what he said. “Why would it have a Grimm’s eyes?”

“No clue. But I mean, it doesn’t seem bad,” Bud said, after taking a long gulp. He saw the flier on the table then and hummed, tapping it. “I heard about this. Nick, I don’t think they should get capture the beast. It could be important!”

Nick nodded slowly. “Yeah…Not only that, but they might find out a bit too much.”

“Are we joining the hunt?” Hank asked.

“Not much choice. Wu, can you find out about where that video in the woods was taken?”

“I think I can, yeah. The group who filmed it had an interview and the original video is up on that site,” he nodded.

“Good. Bud, I’ll drive you back to your car, but on the way you’re going to show me where it was.”

“O-okay, if you’re sure…” he said.

“I’ll come with you,” Hank said, standing.

Monroe stood as well. “I’ll come too. See if I can get this thing’s scent.”

“Okay,” Nick nodded. They headed out, Hank riding with Nick and Bud and Monroe following in his car to head home afterwards. Getting back to his neighborhood, he followed Bud’s directions to the alley and got out.

“I slipped here,” he said, pointing an area near some garbage cans. “The guys trying to rob me were coming up that way. And then I heard something up there,” he pointed to the top of the building. “And it jumped down here!” He pointed in front of the trash cans.

“And where did it go after?” Nick asked, looking around.

“Back up! Jumped higher than anything I’ve seen, grabbed onto the side and just pulled itself up!”

Nick looked up, finding it hard to believe as the building was three stories tall. But he walked over and pulled down the nearby fire escape ladder to head up. Getting to the top, he walked around the edge looking at the waist-high build up around the sides. —and then froze. He looked close at one area and was shocked to see deep marks like claws in the stone caps to the brick wall. He quickly grabbed his phone and took a camera before looking around. Nothing was on the roof with him. But walking over, he realized he could see his loft from here pretty easily.

_That’s a little weird…_

“Nick?” Monroe asked, climbing up to the roof with him.

“Hey. Something was up here.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me,” he said, sniffing. “Smells like…wet, musty yak-dog up here.” He frowned, sniffing a little more. “Something familiar too…but mostly getting a musk of some kind.”

“Think you could follow it?”

He scented the air, following it around before shaking his head. “I think this thing is jumping a lot to get around. If it’s jumping between roofs, I don’t think I can get a good track on it.”

Nick sighed. “Well…we know it’s in the woods too. Let’s go out tomorrow, see if we can find it there.”

Monroe nodded, heading back down with him. “…You know…I think I might’ve seen this thing near the shop.”

Nick looked up, surprised. “You did?”

“I think so. I remember taking out the trash a couple of weeks ago and I saw…something on the roof, looking down at me. I thought I imagined it at the time…”

Nick frowned more. “Why is this thing hanging around us…?”

“Well…if it’s something to do with Grimms, maybe it wants to get to know you.”

“Not sure how I feel about that,” he said, jumping to the ground a few feet away.

“Well, you’re a popular guy,” Hank said, having heard them in the echo of the alleyway.

Nick gave a humoring smile before sighing. “I don’t think that thing is still around here tonight though…Let’s start fresh tomorrow.”

“Do you, uh…need me for that?” Bud asked.

“Not right now, no,” Nick said. “I’ll drop you off at your car.”

“Thanks, Nick, I appreciate that,” he said honestly, probably more relieved they didn’t need him for anything else. Nick took him back to his car and let him know to contact them if he thought of anything else.

\-----------------

“Bosch! You got everything?”

The men were unloading the truck and the large man stepped down from the platform to meet with the man at the door. “Hey Mike. Everything on the list.”

“Good. Our deadline’s been moved up a bit.”

Bosch arched his brow and looked towards the door. “And how does our “guest” feel about that?”

The man laughed. “He doesn’t get a choice, does he?”

“Nah, not really,” Bosch laughed. They both jumped when they heard a loud bang and glass break. Cursing, they ran in to see a man was running the opposite way, after having broken the door somehow. Bosch growled and woged into a Blutbad, running after him.

“Don’t kill him!” Mike reminded him.

The man rounded a corner and Bosch rounded it faster, catching up to him and tackling him to the ground. He snarled, bearing his teeth, and the man under him cowered. He was tall, thin, reedy and pale, with short brown hair, but then he woged into a pale grey rat-like wesen with red eyes. “P-please! Please don’t hurt me!”

Bosch huffed and changed back. “You don’t want us to hurt you, don’t run.” He hauled him to his feet easily and dragged him back to the room with an arm around his neck as he also woged back. “How the hell did he get out?”

“Looks like he rigged some kind of explosion…Guess that’s a chemist for you.”

“Please…please let me go,” he said again.

“Now, Dr. Ahn,” Mike said sweetly. “We can’t do that. We need you your help.”

“I don’t want to help with this! It’s madness!”

“Madness? No, no, it’s progress,” he said. “We’re just helping things along. Now, you can assist us with that, or we’ll find someone else. But then we won’t need you. Or your family. Your son, he’s very young still isn’t he?”

Dr. Ahn shook softly but then slowly nodded. “Please don’t hurt them…”

“We won’t. But no more escape attempts, hm?” He nodded and Mike smiled. “Good. Now, we’ll get a new room ready for you. Bosch, stay with the Doctor till it’s ready.”

“Don’t worry. I got him,” he said, tightening his grip. The doctor winced but closed his eyes in resignation.

\-----------------

“You want to go track down “The Wild Thing”?” Renard asked, arching his brow.

“I know it sounds stupid, but we have an eyewitness that saw it,” Nick said.

“…I fail to see how it’s a police matter,” Renard said.

“It’s not. It’s a Grimm matter.”

“Bud said he saw this things eyes look like a Grimm’s eyes,” Hank explained.

Renard straightened, surprised. “…Well, that’s a bit more interesting, I admit.”

“You can make it some time off if you need, but I want to go track this thing down.”

“And what about Black Claw?”

They sighed. “Security footage yielded no leads; they were all masked. Or woged, probably, but we’re saying masked. And until we can figure out what they need this stuff for, we can’t really predict where they might hit next,” Nick said.

“So, we’re stuck waiting for them to make the next move,” he sighed as well.

“We can shift gears real quick,” Hank said, pulling out the flier. “But this thing is being hunted by someone else. If it’s something that needs to be protected or could help us, we need to move on it now.”

Renard looked at the flier and then looked put out. “H. Rider Grosvenor…”

“You know him?” Nick asked.

“Yes.” He sighed and stood. “Let me come with you. Maybe I can talk to him.”

Hank and Nick looked at one another but didn’t argue. They headed out to the woods per the map on the flier and found what looked like a command center set up, running off of high-end generators and even some solar equipment. Around it was several other campers and RVs set up. Several people had large dogs with them and eyed Renard as he walked in with his suit and tie. Nick and Hank had at least changed into woodsier clothes, knowing they may end up out there.

They heard a commotion just as they entered and saw them pushing a few homeless people away towards a van. “What’s going on there?” Nick asked

“We’re the St. John’s bridge—probably there was a homeless camp nearby. And Rider had them moved because they’d ruin one of his shots…” Sean added.

Nick frowned and then looked around a bit more. One of the homeless persons was still at the edge of the camp, watching what was going on. He slowed down, looking them over. Jeans, ill-fitting flannel shirt, hooded sweatshirt with the hood up to obscure their eyes and hair, but the strange thing was the bandana around their face. Like an old-time robber. But there was something familiar about them. When they turned their head to see him they tensed, and then turned and ran deeper into the woods as if scared.

“Nick?” Hank called. Nick hesitated but shook his head and followed. He figured it was just a homeless person that didn’t want to deal with cops since their badges were still on full display. _Or it could be someone from Black Claw…Am I just being paranoid?_

As they approached the central most trailer, they could hear raised voices inside.

“…may be the last of its kind! You cannot under any circumstances kill it!”

“I’m not going to be told what to do! This is my show, and I’ll make the call if that thing needs to be put down or not!”

“There have been no reported attacks! All of your publicity is treating it like a man-eating animal! It’s obvious you intend to kill it! And then what, stuff it and put it on your mantle?”

“No…I’ll obviously put it in my office. Maybe charge to have pictures with it.”

“You slimy, piece of—”

“Careful, son,” he warned.

Sean knocked on the door and the quieted before a woman opened it. “I-I’m sorry, we’re a bit busy—”

“He’ll make time for me,” Sean said. “Rider!”

The man in question quickly walked over and looked down from the top of his trailer steps. “…Sean?” He laughed and walked over, clapping him on the shoulder. “Sean! Good to see you!”

Sean smiled tightly. “You too. But I’m not entirely happy about the circumstances.”

“Ah, c’mon! I’ve made a good business doing this! “Rugged Rider: World Hunter”! Nice ring to it, yeah?” He smiled, stepping down.

“More like “Rugged Rider: Species Eradicator,”” a snide voice said. They looked up to see a man stepping down dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, with red-brown hair and brown eyes.

Rider glared at him. “The rhino incident was sanctioned! Everyone blew it way out of proportion—”

“That’s not your only crime against nature!” he said.

“Um, who’re you?” Hank asked.

He flushed and sighed. “My name is Clifford Pinchot. I work for the Portland Zoo, and I’m trying to convince _Mr._ Grosvenor that killing this animal would be a huge blow to wildlife conservatory!”

“This is a large, dangerous animal!” Rider said, getting hot under the collar again. “It’s getting into the city, letting it run loose isn’t an option!”

“Then capture it and bring it to the zoo like you said in your video!”

“If that is the option, yes, but not if it tries to kill me or my men!”

“I thought it hadn’t hurt anyone,” Nick said, interjecting.

“It hasn’t!” Clifford said.

“ _Yet._ ” He looked at Renard. “You understand, right?”

“I understand there’s a lot of concerns here. Mine is: Do you have a permit for this?”

Rider just laughed. “Ah, always a stickler for the rules.”

“It’s my job. I’m a police captain now.”

“Surprise, surprise. Darla!” Everyone winced at the loud yell. The woman quickly stepped down and over to him. “Where’s that permit?” His assistant quickly flipped through her files in her arms with her fingers and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it to him to read over. “Really though, Sean, I’m doing everything on the up and up.”

“Hunting down a potentially endangered species doesn’t strike me as up and up,” he said in a bored tone, still looking through.

“Thank you!” Clifford said, throwing up his hands.

“…How’s your mother doing?” Rider asked Renard.

“Fine,” he says a bit more curtly. Nick and Hank look at one another, getting an idea how he knew the man. Renard sighed and handed it back. “This looks in order, I admit. How many palms did you have to grease?”

“Now, now, no need to be so touchy! We’re going to take every safety precaution out here.”

Nick looked out at the men looking over their guns. “I’d certainly hope so…”

“You can’t stop them?” Clifford asked.

“I’m afraid it is in order…But I still question if this requires such a big reaction?”

“Ha! It certainly does.” He gestured and led them over to a table where apparent evidence of the creature had been found. Clifford followed. “While it’s a bit more “bigfoot hunter” than I like—no offense to my friends out there that think this is related—we found this.” He picked up a plaster mold showing a huge paw print. It was the size of a bears for sure, but rather it looked more like a cat or a dog’s footprint with the paw-pad shapes. “If a mountain lion was this size, even that would be amazing! And this is the front.” He grabbed up another mold that looked like a fist print. “It walks almost like a primate, with its knuckles! Which implies it may have opposable thumbs! A large primate like this is unheard of in the United States.”

“…You know a lot about animals,” Nick said.

He smiled, setting the molds back down. “Just because I hunt doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

“It just means you’re happy to get this stuffed and mounted like a trophy,” Clifford said a little more snidely.

Rider smiled and a little of the pride they expected seeped out. “I want proof it exists. And if it’s the only one in existence, I want it for myself.”

Clifford scoffed in disgust and was ready to fight him on that, but Renard put his hand out. “Your PR team ready this time?”

“Now Sean—”

“I’m just saying. You kill the only specimen of a rare animal; you’re going to be rolling in angry letters from animal lovers. Again. How were your sales after the white Rhino fiasco?” He looked at his assistant. “I’m betting you or everyone else has tried to tell him that.”

She flinched slightly and looked away when Rider glanced at her. He sighed and gestured for her and the others to leave them. “…This thing may not have hurt anyone, but it is dangerous. It’s size, it’s speed, it’s strength—when it turns to violence it’s not going to be pretty. We can’t just let it run around where it can get to people.”

“Then help us trap it and take it to the zoo!” Clifford said.

“That would be much better PR,” Renard agreed. Nick looked at him but didn’t argue, despite thinking that was not a better option for them.

Rider laughed. “Ha…you know what? No. As I said, I want it. If I were to catch it alive, I would take it with me. Maybe start a circus or a freak show. The kind with shock collars and tiny cages!”

Clifford glared and actually got in close. “I’ll catch it myself then.”

“You?” he snorted.

“I’m more of a wildlife expert than you any day. And I’m younger and not trying to be some low budget, gritty version of Steve Irwin with half the charm and none of the integrity. I’ll catch it and it’ll go into a zoo, protected from psychopaths like you that compensate for something with their guns!” Rider blushed and looked ready to yell but he was already marching away. “And I’ll make sure they know you failed!”

Rider glared after but took a deep breath. Then he swore a blue streak in creole French before breathing again and his face rippled as he woged into a Rißfleisch. Greying but still vibrant orange fur with stripes of black and tufts of white around his jaw and ears, long and strong canines, golden eyes and sharp claws that left a small indent on the table when he gripped it. Nick had seen pictures in his books and remembered it because he’d loved tigers as a kid, and they were also his high school mascot. “I hate these young little bastards who think they can say and do what they want without making their bones in the world!”

“Rider,” Sean snapped.

“You be quiet! Your mother isn’t here, I don’t need to keep the peace with you!” he snapped, his words having an almost booming roar to them.

Sean glared and woged back. “Maybe I don’t want to keep the peace either.”

“Whoa, okay, nobody start fighting please,” Nick said.

Rider looked at them and his eyes widened before he woged back. “A Grimm?!”

“Yes, but I’m not here to hurt you or anyone else. I just want to ask you don’t kill whatever this is because it might be…important.”

Rider eyed him, then Sean and Hank, before snorting. “Yeah, sorry. I’m getting that beast. You want to stop me, get to it first. Or try and kill me, Le Bourreau.” Nick glared at the taunt, but Rider was moving past them. “Now if you’d please leave, I need to film the opening for this webisode. That’s what they call these things on the internet, ain’t that cute?” he smiled, turning back to his affable “Uncle Rider” persona. He held the door to the RV open and Sean sighed but motioned for them to follow him out.

“…That guy and your mom…?” Hank started curiously.

“Yeah. I didn’t like him as a kid, I don’t like him now. His idea of bonding was survival training—usually so he could leave me alone in the woods while he went and drank with the boys and girls at the hunting lodge. Then threatening to “lose” me if I told my mother. She figured it out on her own though. He’s lucky he can still walk honestly…”

“His luck isn’t our luck,” Nick sighed, pulling out his phone. “I’m going to call Monroe and Rosalee.”

“Why?” Hank asked.

“You heard the man. He challenged us to find this creature before he did. I say we take that challenge. And we need to get it before anyone from the zoo does too.”

“While you do that, I’ll make a few calls. My friend Andrew Dixon is running for mayor, he might enjoy a little animal lover PR by calling this guy out,” Renard said, heading out of the tent as well.

\------------------------

Susannah smiled as she sat with Diana, playing with some of her toys. She did a perfect imitation of an ambulance siren driving by to pick up an injured frog.

“I thought an ambulance was driving through the living room for a second,” Kelly said, walking in.

“Ah, sorry. I like doing sound effects.”

“…Penas Do Arco-íris?”

Susannah looked up at her then laughed. “Wow, you can still do the Grimm identifier, huh?”

“I just know a lot,” she smiled, sitting down. “That imitation talent must come in handy though.”

“I definitely have found a lot of uses for it. Disguises mainly, but it’s a great distraction too.” She held up a doll and spoke for it without moving her lips. “Especially when you learn ventriloquism and throwing your voice.” Diana giggled, reaching for the doll.

“Impressive,” Kelly smiled.

“I confess, I got a bit of the idea from _Police Academy_ ,” she smiled. “If I ever get tired of covert ops, I’ll be a fantastic stand-up comedian.”

“Good to have a backup plan,” she smiled.

“…What do you think you’ll do now?” Susannah asked carefully.

“…That I don’t know,” she sighed. “My sister trained to be a Librarian, but I didn’t…not sure I want to do that anyway. I never really had a back-up. Though I suppose…”

“You suppose?”

“…I posed as an antiques dealer once. Had a good time doing that,” she said, smiling fondly.

“Really? I mean…I didn’t imagine that.”

“It’s how I met my husband,” she smiled. It turned a little sad. “He was a professor of history at Vassar College. I was trying to get information on an old scroll I found, and he ended up helping me.”

“…You go for the nerdy type?” she asked, even more surprised.

“You ever watch Indiana Jones?” she smiled. “Think that, but just a little less Hollywood.”

“Oh, okay, I got it now,” she nodded. “So, he was cool with the Grimm thing?”

“He…adapted well,” she smiled. “Reed was surprisingly easy going, while also being quick on his feet. …The fact it’s my fault he’s gone…”

“…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“No, it’s okay,” she sighed. “I…to be honest, I need to talk with Nick more about him. But it’s hard sometimes. He has a version of his father and me in his head from when he was a kid and…there’s a lot of hard truths I never told him. But I think he should know.” She turned her head to Diana and sighed. “Not going to be much easier for this little one…Has Renard come?”

“Not yet,” Adalind sighed, walking in with some tea for all of them. “I’ve…been a little indirect with him about getting her back.”

“You don’t trust him?” Susannah asked, taking a mug.

“I don’t know if I ever can trust him completely again,” she sighed. “And that’s my issue, but it’s…hard to face him again.”

“Well, he’s going to find out eventually Diana’s here. Nick or someone is going to let it slip if they haven’t already,” Kelly pointed out.

“I know!” She sighed and took her own sip. “…I guess I should get it over with. I’ll call him tonight and figure things out…”

“That’d be good,” Susannah nodded. “But hey, I’m happy playing babysitter if the grown-ups need to talk.” She smiled at Diana who smiled back.

“You’re older than I am…” Adalind muttered. Susannah blew a raspberry, making Diana laugh again.

\---------------------------------

“You want to go hunt this thing?” Monroe asked, a bit shocked. They were at the shop, discussing what they’d found out meeting with Grosvenor.

“Not hunt, exactly. More like capture,” Nick said.

“Yeah, well, you have to hunt it to do that,” he said blandly. “I know you said you want to investigate the woods, but I didn’t think that was going to involve actually like trying to take it down!”

“This Grosvenor guy is going to kill it if we don’t do something,” Nick sighed.

Monroe and Rosalee looked at one another, neither wanting that, but still hesitant. “What are we going to do with it when we catch it? We’re not keeping it here.”

“I…can take it. The downstairs part of the loft is pretty big,” Nick said.

“It’s a wild animal!”

“It saved Bud though,” Hank pointed out. “So, it understood he needed help, then ran away rather than attack or chase anything.”

“He has a point,” Rosalee said, nodding. “I mean, this might be a wesen that’s in need of help.”

“Grosvenor is Wesen too,” Nick said. “A…Rißfleisch, I think it’s called.”

“Nick says it’s a tiger?” Hank said.

“Oh God, of course he is,” Monroe sighed. “Those guys are notorious cutthroat businessmen.”

“Literally, sometimes,” Rosalee sighed. “They don’t like competition…My father knew one years ago that ran a landscaping business. One of his employees tried to branch off and start his own business, and they found him dead in a patch of elephant ears with his neck broken and his guts everywhere,” she grimaced.

“If he’s trying to get the Wild Thing, he’s going to do whatever he has to do,” Monroe nodded

“Then we have to save it,” Rosalee said.

“Yeah, who knows what he’ll do to it,” Hank agreed.

Monroe blew out a breath but nodded. “Alright…You all make good points. I’m in. When do we want to do it though?”

“I need to get a tranquilizer and a gun is the thing…Juliette always got the tranq doses for us before.”

They all looked at one another, a little uncomfortable. “…I guess you could ask Hadrian’s Wall?”

Nick frowned. “I’d rather not…God, I wish I had the trailer!” He groaned.

“We’ll figure something out,” Hank said, patting his shoulder. “I don’t think Grosvenor is going to find it in one night, so let’s ask around. Maybe Fish and Wildlife will loan us one…”

Nick sighed and nodded.

\-------------------------------

Clifford was moving through the forest late that night. He knew that whatever this was, it was likely nocturnal giving that’s when all the footage was taken. So, he needed to be out there in the dark. He’d gotten some night vision goggles from the zoo and a tranq rifle. A lot of his coworkers thought the was crazy and they higher ups of course didn’t condone this, so it was all on the sly. But he was determined to keep whatever this creature was alive and bring it back. Both because it deserved not to just be killed, and because his curiosity was through the roof. Maybe if he discovered a new species, he could name it!

As he was thinking on that he heard something walking up ahead. He readied the rifle and pointed it but relaxed with disappointment when he saw it was a buck. Then he tensed again when he saw something moving in the shadows around it. It was much too big to be another deer, but it moved quietly around where the deer was. _Is it hunting? This is a predator then! But why hasn’t it attacked a human?_

He readied the gun again and aimed where the creature was, seeing the shine of its eyes in the light. “Holy crap…” he gasped, seeing it’s face through night scope. “What are you…?”

There was a snap and the buck’s head shot up before it bounded away, and the creature was gone in the moment as well, rushing back the other way. Clifford cursed till he realized the snap came from behind him. Turning, he only had a moment to scream before teeth and claws filled his vision.

Rider sank his teeth into Clifford’s throat hard enough his larynx cracked under his jaw’s strength. If that didn’t kill him, the two-inch fangs puncturing his carotid did in a matter of seconds. He stood, wiping the blood from his mouth. Then he proceeded to slash at the man’s body, trying to bloody him up more. Woging back, he sighed and cracked his neck. “You shouldn’t have insulted me, boy. But I do thank you for your sacrifice.”

\--------------------------

Adalind paced a bit before sighing and looking at the phone again. She knew she had to do this. It just still stung a bit. But Renard deserved to know Diana was with her and staying. _And that if he does anything to jeopardize that I’ll skin him alive, powers or no powers…_

Dialing the number, she took a deep breath to prepare herself.

“Adalind?”

“Yeah…hey, Sean.”

“Hey…How are you?”

“I’m…great, actually.”

“Great?”

“Yeah…um…so, I’ve been meaning to call for a while. I was just…”

“Just?”

“…Chicken,” she sighed.

“…Okay, why?”

“Well…I have Diana.”

There was a long pause before he asked urgently. “You do?”

“I do,” she smiled. “It’s been a couple of weeks…” _Months_.

“I…how? I thought Meisner…”

“Meisner and another friend he works with, Susannah, fought to let me have custody of her. They keep an eye on us though, just to be sure no one tries anything.”

“I…God, I’m so glad,” Renard sighed. “For you and knowing she’s safe…Where are you?”

“I actually moved into Sloane’s house.”

“Sloane’s?” he asked, surprised.

“It was Kelly’s idea. She’s also staying here, as added protection and because she and Diana have surprisingly great relationship…Well, not that surprising I guess, all things considered.”

“…I am sorry about that.”

“…I know,” she sighed. “I don’t want to be angry with you anymore though. Because I know you care about her too and…I don’t want to deny her getting to know you.”

“I appreciate that…can I come visit?”

“Yeah, of course. Um, it’s a bit late tonight though.”

“Tomorrow then?”

“Yeah…I think we’ll all be ready for that then,” she nodded, even though he couldn’t see her.

“Alright. I’ll bring dinner, if that sounds good.”

“Sounds great. I’m still learning how to cook properly…”

He chuckled. “Considering you burned a waffle that time…”

“You will not let me forget that, will you?”

“It was a toaster waffle, so no.”

She laughed a little as well and couldn’t deny, it was nice to laugh with him again. “We’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow.” They hanged up and Adalind sighed, glad to get that over with. Now she just had to worry about him coming over.

\-------------------------

Nick had finished his early morning workout and showered before grabbing breakfast. He was just tucking in when his phone rang. “Burkhardt.”

“It’s Renard,” Sean said, sounding tense. “I need you to get to Forest Park, immediately.”

“What’s happened?” Nick asked, stopping from taking another bite.

“I’m sure you’ll see it on the news if you turn. Channel 3.”

Nick frowned and turned on the TV. He turned it to 3 and the reporter was finishing one story when a familiar face popped up on screen in a box next to the reporter’s head.

“The body of Clifford Pinchot was discovered early this morning.” Nick coughed and quickly swallowed and drank down some of his milk as the story continued. “Mr. Pinchot was one of Oregon Zoo’s large Mammal specialists. He was found in the woods of Forest Park, apparently attacked by an animal, by the crew of visiting wildlife expert Henry Rider Grosvenor.”

It cut to a video of Rider speaking to a reporter, looking contrite but also determined. “It’s a damn shame…I was talking to Mr. Pinchot the other day, debating your local “Wild Thing” that I came to find. He believed he could catch it to take in himself. I warned him it was too dangerous, but he did not listen! Now, I found tracks near his body. I think this Wild Thing didn’t take kindly to Mr. Pinchot trying to catch it and it attacked him. This is what I’d been saying—anything this large and unknown is too dangerous to let roam around! Now it’s killed someone. It needs to be brought down one way or another, and I will do it. To make sure no one else ends up like Mr. Pinchot.”

The footage cut back to the reporter. “While this story is ongoing, the coroner has confirmed that Mr. Pinchot died from an obvious attack by a large animal. We are advising that any visits to Forest Park or the surrounding area be postponed till further notice.”

“So, you saw it?” Renard asked.

“Yeah…The Wild Thing killed him?”

“I doubt it,” Renard huffed.

“What do you mean?”

“Grosvenor likely killed him.”

Nick was surprised a moment before his mind caught up. “A Rißfleisch doesn’t like competition…”

“No, he does not. I think that’s part of why he didn’t like me as a kid—I was competition for my mother’s attention.”

“That’s sick…”

“He’s a sick man. But him killing Pinchot gives him several advantages. One, Pinchot’s gone. Two, it discourages anyone else from trying to catch his quarry. And three, he can blame the death on the Wild Thing.”

“Making more people agree it needs to be killed,” Nick sighed.

“Exactly. This is the kind of thing he would pull for sure. I pulled some strings and got you and Hank as the detectives—you need to get down their fast.”

“On it, let me get dressed!”

He hanged up, wolfed down his breakfast and finished getting ready, rushing out the door. When he got to the park, Hank was waiting at the edge of the woods with Wu.

“Hey. Renard fill you in?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, and I saw the news…”

“The news was the first call Mr. Grosvenor made,” Wu said dryly. “Then the police.”

“How considerate,” Nick said.

“We did manage to keep the area contained luckily.” He led them deeper into the woods. “According to Mr. Grosvenor, he was taking a hike to find likely areas the “Wild Thing” might be living when he found Mr. Pinchot’s body. He surveyed the area, then rushed back to camp to make the call.”

“Nothing in the area?” Hank asked.

“Nothing he mentioned. But if he saw a certain creature, would he let us know?” Wu said.

“My money’s on no,” Nick sighed. It was a bit of a hike to get them to where the attack happened. Crime techs were going over the scene and taking picture of the mangled body on the ground. Nick grimaced at the messy wounds and sighed. “This is definitely an animal attack…”

“But what kind?” Hank agreed quietly.

“I’d think it was obvious from the tracks.” They looked up to see Rider on the edge of the scene.

“Mr. Grosvenor, should you be here?” Hank asked.

“I’m on the other side of the tape, boys,” he smiled. “Plus, I found the poor man. As I was saying, I’d think the tracks make it obvious what did this.” He pointed and Nick could see several tracks on the ground much like those Rider showed him at his camp. He frowned and looked more closely. “Like I said. This thing is dangerous. It needs to be taken down.”

“…Well…I think you should have an easy time of it,” Nick said, standing and glaring at him as he walked over and spoke more quietly. “Considering it has two left feet.”

Rider’s smile faded. “…You can tell that, hm? Here I thought you were just a city cop.”

“I’m a very good city _detective_. Just like I can say I’m pretty certain that paw print might match the one you have a mold of at your camp.”

“Well, if you’re so certain, are you going to accuse me? Of what, ripping that man’s throat out with…my teeth?” He smiled, showing off his human teeth. Nick glared again and Rider laughed. “That will be interesting, won’t it? But then you ain’t got proof it is that paw print. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta get ready to track down that big monster. If you want to take the chance it isn’t a cold-blooded killer, go ahead, Le Bourreau!”

“…Did he just call Nick a “burro”?” Wu asked quietly.

“I think it’s the French word for Grimm,” Hank said back.

Rider laughed, having heard them. “Oui, though perhaps a “burro” is not far off. I dare you to make an ass of yourself, my friend,” he said, smiling maliciously.

Nick looked ready to do just that, but Hank put a hand on his shoulder. “Too many reporters around, man. He wants you to get in trouble and hung up for assault so you can’t stop him…”

“Ah, was I that obvious,” He laughed. “Not that you can stop me. But it would make my life easier.” He turned and heading back to camp and Nick let out a breath.

“I really hate that guy…”

“None of us want to give him a prize either. But we need to focus. Let’s go through the scene and maybe we can figure out more.”

Nick huffed but nodded, going to look things over again. They found a tranquilizer rifle nearby that Pinchot must’ve intended to use on the creature. Whatever got him stuck from behind they were fairly sure. Took out his neck, then shredded his abdomen. But didn’t eat any bit of him it looked like.

As he was looking the scene over, he decided to train his ears around and see what he could hear. Nothing stood out at first, but further out, he could hear quiet footsteps. Cautious. Looking that way, he could barely make out a figure in the trees. It was that same person from yesterday, the one in the old ratty clothes and bandanna around their face.

“Hey…Hey you!” Nick called, moving towards them. They quickly turned and bolted, and Nick rushed after them, Hank and Wu calling after him. They were fast whoever they were, Nick having to work to catch up. But when He rounded one tree, they were gone. “What the hell?” he muttered, looking around.

“Nick? What’s going on?” Hank called, catching up to him.

“I saw this person…I saw him yesterday too. There’s something weird about him.”

“Weird?”

“He was wearing a mask…” he gestured over his face. “A bandana. I couldn’t see his eyes…”

“Okay, that is kind of a weird…” Hank nodded.

“I thought they were one of the homeless people they pushed out yesterday, but he keeps going deeper in the woods. He ran when he saw me yesterday too.”

“You think he knows you are?”

“Maybe…But as a cop or a Grimm?”

“Good question…If you see him again, point him out and we’ll help get him.”

Nick nodded, heading back with him. He didn’t see the figure up in the tree watching them. When they were far enough away they jumped down and kept rushing farther away, breathing fast.

\-----------------------

Adalind answered the door when she heard the knocking and opened it to see Renard standing, dressed down, with a big stuffed purple penguin in his arms. He was also, surprisingly, wearing flannel, jeans and boots. “…Sean?”

“Hey…thanks for agreeing to meeting earlier. I still brought dinner.” He held up a bag. “From Rigoletto’s.”

“Good choice…and the penguin?” she said, smiling as she stood aside to let him in.

“For Diana. Why, did you want it?”

Adalind snorted a bit and took the food. “No, but it’s bigger than her I think…”

“Oh…is that bad?” he said, looking at it worriedly now.

“No, it’s fine. Why a penguin though?” she asked, setting the food on the kitchen counter.

“I thought it was cute…It was that or a tiger, but I’m not a big fan of Tigers lately…”

“Yeah, I heard Grosvenor was in town,” she said sympathetically.

“And up to his old tricks. I’m going with Nick and the others tonight to try and help.”

“Ah, that explains my next question about the clothes,” she smiled. He smiled back and then looked up when he heard footsteps down the hall. Kelly walked in, holding Diana who rubbed her eyes.

“I heard you come in, so I got her up from her nap. It was about time anyway.”

“Thanks, Kelly,” Adalind said.

Renard nodded, looking at Diana in a bit of awe. She looked back at him, blinking at him in confusion. “Hey…Diana…” he smiled and walked over. “I know you probably don’t remember me, but…I’m your father.”

She stared a bit and then surprised him by reaching for him. Kelly smiled and moved to help hand her over after Renard hastily put the penguin on the couch. She looked at him before smiling a little. “Da!”

“I…yes,” he said, smiling.

“She’s special in more than just her powers,” Kelly said. “Smart and a good memory…It’s almost a little scary if she wasn’t so cute.”

Renard smiled and sat with her on the couch. “I’m glad though. To be remembered by her.” He smiled and pulled the penguin over. “I brought this for you. What do you think?”

She squealed and clapped, reaching for it from where he supported her on his lap, and he smiled and brought it closer. Adalind smiled as she plated the food and watched them. “He’s a hit I think.”

“You mean the penguin or Sean?” Kelly asked, coming to get some tea to drink.

“Both…I’m glad I finally invited him over. You think Diana’s going to be a daddy’s girl though?”

“Eh, you both just need to do your best and not spoil her too much.”

“Yeah…I know…” she sighed a bit, thinking on the suppressant she had hidden in the cabinet above the fridge. She wasn’t sure how long it was good for and knew she needed to see about getting Diana to take it. But she still hesitated. _I used to be a lot more assertive…but I don’t want her to hate me…_ She looked at Sean and smiled at how he was playing with her. _When did he get to be a good dad too? Jeeze…Nothing is going how I thought it would a year ago. But I guess it’s not going badly…_

\------------------------

When night came, Nick, Hank and Wu returned to the woods with Monroe and Rosalee. “So, you’re sure this thing didn’t kill a guy?”

“Pretty sure,” Nick said.

“Pretty sure isn’t completely sure…”

“Renard is sure.”

“Because he doesn’t like Grosvenor?”

“Because I know his MO.” They all jumped and looked up in surprise as Renard walked up. He was dressed in jeans, boots, a long sleeve flannel and a blue vest. “When I was younger, Rider promoted his business through wildly exaggerated magazine articles. When a fellow adventurer called him out, that man was found at the bottom of a cliff with claw marks all over him. Rider gave his condolences…then released a line of “bear mace”, saying it could’ve helped in an unfortunate attack.”

“Wow,” Rosalee said, galled by the amount of arrogance that took.

“I know. He’s an underhanded man to say the least.”

“I’m more shocked by what your wearing, sir. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not in a suit…” Wu said.

Renard rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to dirty one of my good suits trekking through the woods when I know I can change.”

“…And the glitter?”

He blushed and looked down at the shirt, brushing it off. “…I visited my daughter. She had this doll with a lot of glitter on it. At least it’s small and kid friendly I’m told.”

“Oh! You got to visit Diana? That’s great!” Rosalee smiled.

“Yes…am I the only one that didn’t know she was there?” he asked, a little testy.

Nick looked a bit chagrinned. “Adalind didn’t want us telling you till she was ready…”

He sighed but nodded. “I figured…But back to the matter at hand. I came to help because I know Grosvenor better than you all. He uses a lot of traps and other underhanded techniques. Maybe I can help keep an eye out for them.”

Nick nodded slowly. “Okay…thank you.”

He nodded back and they started through the woods to the crime scene. It’d been cleared already—after all, it was the woods. Keeping things as they were when the murder happened was probably not going to happen. Monroe began scenting the air. “I got blood for sure…two scents under that. One kind of earthy, came from that direction,” he pointed back from where they came. “The other…I’ve scented big cat wesen before, smells a bit like that. Came from that way, went back that way too I’m guessing,” he pointed towards another direction.

“Towards Grosvenor’s camp,” Nick nodded.

“Looks like the Captain called it…” Hank nodded.

Monroe kept scenting, moving further towards a small clearing. “Deer…racoon…few other animals…Got it! That scent I found on the roof is around here,” he said, getting to the other side of the small clearing from where Pinchot’s body was found.

Nick thought back to the body and aimed with his hand. “If Pinchot was going to shoot something from where he was, it would’ve probably been in that direction I think…”

“Can you follow the smell?” Wu asked.

Monroe scoffed. “Well yeah, but are you sure we should?”

“I got this,” Renard said, bringing out a dart rifle. “I have a contact at a wildlife rehab, and they let me borrow it. It’s the best I could do as far as a tranq gun. Air powered, so we need to be in about 300 ft…”

“That’s still a bit too close for my comfort…but alright.” Monroe began following the scent. Further into the woods. At one point though, Renard quickly got to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Wait.”

“What? Did you see something?” he asked, tensing.

“Yes…not an animal though.” He grabbed a branch off the ground and walked a few paces ahead, bringing it down. An iron spring-jaw trap clamped shut, splintering the bark almost all the way through. “I knew I saw one of his little toys…”

“Oh, that is barbaric,” Rosalee said, glaring. “That can break bones and cause bleeding! They’re illegal!”

“In Washington, yes. But not here,” Renard sighed.

“Ugh, that’s awful…Now I want to save this beast from him. And clear its name if we can.”

“Easier said than done,” Nick sighed.

They kept moving, Renard keeping an eye out for mother traps. Monroe kept following the scent and paused. “It goes a couple different directions here…Like it has a route it takes to some place…” Breathing deep, he nodded slowly and then turned one direction. “I think it’s freshest going this way.” It was just a little further ahead when they came out of the woods, coming to the edge of the Willamette River with the lights of the city glittering on the other side. Just ahead was the Burlington Northern Railroad Bridge to the side as well, giving a way to cross into the city. “Oh…well, I guess it went to town…”

“Let’s hope it hadn’t gone to town in town though…And no trains are coming,” Wu said.

Monroe kept sniffing and sure enough the scent led to the bridge and across.

“Not to be a whiner, but feet are starting to hurt…” Wu sighed.

“Same…” Hank sighed. “Glad we wore our hiking shoes…”

“Getting back to the cars is going to be a pain though,” Monroe sighed. All of them grimaced but kept going. Once they hit the city, Monroe frowned and kept sniffing. “It gets faint here…or it could just be all the city smells getting in the way.”

“We can’t exactly search the whole city on foot…” Rosalee sighed.

“…Let me see what I can hear,” Nick sighed. He closed his eyes and Renard quirked a brow, but the others just nodded to let him know it was on the level. Nick concentrated, trying to see if anything stood out to him. He frowned when he heard what sounded like baying dogs not far in the distance—then a gunshot. “Wh…this way!” Nick ran, the others following. Down a couple streets nearby they found Rider’s men with dogs off their leashes rushing around and with guns drawn.

“What the hell are they doing?! This is the city!” Renard hissed, moving to confront them. Hank put a handout to stop him.

“Careful, sir…they don’t look like they’re thinking anything through right now.”

Nick watched the dogs—circling near the base of a building. The men were trying to pull them away. “What the hell is wrong with them?”

“I don’t know! The thing was on the ground a second ago, but they keep acting like this!” another said.

Nick frowned and looked up at the building they were interested in. Briefly from their angle across the street, he saw a large shadow above. “…There’s something up top of that building…”

“Nick, I know what you’re thinking—” Monroe started.

“Wait here,” he said, quickly and quietly making his way to the door.

“Dammit!” he hissed.

Nick got the door and managed to break the lock and get inside. He quickly headed up the stairs, managing six flights without breaking a sweat and getting to the roof door. It was also locked, which surprised him a little, but he managed to get that open as well and slowly open it up. He could hear pacing steps, like a large four-legged animal moving over the concrete roof. Swallowing, Nick unclipped his gun just in case and took a deep breath before pushing the door open.

The first thing he thought when he saw it was _Oh shit, that is big!_ It was an animal unlike anything he’d seen before, in a zoo or on TV. Long black fur, but with scaly spiked ridges down it’s sloping back. Powerful shoulders tapered into a svelte body and then to equally powerful hind legs that were similar to a big cat’s, while its forearms reminded him of a gorilla. Like Rider said, it walked with its knuckles. Around its neck and down part of its back were V-shaped white strips, and large pointed ears swiveled around as it listened to the commotion below. It seemed frustrated, huffing and pacing near the far end of the building.

Nick tried to be quiet as he eased past the door, but he didn’t see a stack of old pipes next to the door that fell over with a loud clatter.

The creature turned around and Nick sucked in a breath. It’s face was…it was hard to describe. Cat or dog? He wasn’t sure which it resembled more with its long muzzle ending in a V-like snout. But the colors were the most striking thing. A bright vibrant red went from nose up to its brow, fading into a deep dark blue, then framed in white hair. After the colors though he belatedly noticed the very large teeth jutting out from the underbite—at least six large fangs jutting out from the curled snarling lips.

But when it saw him, the snarl abruptly smoothed out into what he could only describe as a look of shock. And maybe fear?

Meanwhile, on the ground, Grosvenor was marching forward from where his truck parked. The others quickly ducked back, trying to make sure they weren’t seen. “Who is the idiot that fired a gun?! I heard it as we pulled into the city!”

“It was an accident, sir,” a man said quickly. “One of the men saw it. He fired on reflex.”

“Did he hit it?”

“No, it got away.”

“Well…that’s lucky for him. Because if he’d killed it before me, I’d have him stuffed and mounted in my office instead.”

It wasn’t an idle threat and the man swallowed. “W-we’re working to track it down again. The dogs seem very keen in the surrounding area here…”

Grosvenor sighed, looking around. “…The footage we saw showed it jumping from a rooftop to another, yes?”

“Yessir, but these are several stories tall and it was on the ground…”

“As if that matters,” he sneered. “Find it! Start searching the buildings if you have to, before someone else finds it! This is my hunt. Be it in the forest or the city, I’ll kill that thing myself!”

“We gotta warn Nick,” Monroe whispered.

Hank nodded. “You and I will go. You guys stay here, keep out of sight.”

“Be careful,” Rosalee hissed.

Monroe nodded. Hank grabbed trashcan lid from nearby and peeked out. Making sure they wouldn’t see him, he through the lid as hard as he could further up the street. The dogs all barked and bayed and they men quickly went to investigate. Hank and Monroe quickly rushed across to the building Nick went into.

“Shouldn’t we call for back up?” Wu suggested.

“Not if the creature’s here, that could get dicey…” Renard sighed.

Grosvenor paused in following the others and turned back. After a moment he checked the rifle on his shoulder. “I’ll get to some higher ground, see what I can find there. Keep searching here.”

“Sir,” He nodded.

Rosalee and the others held their breath as he headed up the street towards the building Nick went up. But instead he went just past it, to another that was slightly taller right next to it. Which meant he’d be able to see Nick and the others from the roof.

“Oh no…We have to stop him!” Rosalee said, moving to follow the man.

“Rosalee, wait!” Wu hissed. He and Renard shared a look before following her.

And up on the roof of the first building, Nick was easing towards the beast slowly. “Hey…uh, hi…Can you…understand me?” he said. The creature whined slightly, ears flattening and backing away slightly. “Hey…hey, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, trying to gentle his tone and take a few more steps forward. “I’m here to help. You want to help people, right? You help a friend of mine.” The Wild Thing eased slightly, watching him carefully. “There’s some others who want to hurt you…if you come with me, I can hide you for a while. Figure something out.”

Nick tensed when he heard running footsteps behind him but looked to see Monroe and Hank coming up the stairs. “Nick, we saw Grosvenor—OH MY GOD!!” Monroe swore, nearly knocking Hank over as he backpedaled.

Hank managed to grab the door frame to stay up but was gaping at the creature as well. “It’s real…”

“Guys,” Nick hissed, a little annoyed at their interruption. The creature whined again, looking at the side of the building as if contemplating jumping. There was only a much shorter building on that side though, and a taller to the other. “Look, we’re not here to hurt you,” he tried again. “We just want to know what…who you are. Are you wesen?”

The creature looked at him again and hesitated before making a low, rumbling whine. It tried again, and Nick could swear it was trying to speak. But he couldn’t understand it.

“What is it…?” Hank asked.

“Hell if I know…” Monroe said. “I’ve…never heard of anything like this. I mean, folkloric animals exist to some extent but…I don’t even know what this could be…”

“It’s not trying to attack us. That’s the important thing,” Nick said. He turned back to it and edged closer. “Please…we just want to help. I want to understand you…”

None of them knew that Grosvenor was looking down on them at that moment, his scope to his eye, aiming at the creature. “Oh…thank you for finding it, mon amis. But I’m afraid it’s time to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye!” He yelped when something grabbed the back of his hair and pulled hard. With a snarl he flung his arm back, striking Rosalee and sending her stumbling away. “ _Putain!_ What do you think you’re doing?!”

“We’re not thinking a whole lot right now, let’s be honest,” Wu said, raising his gun. “Put down your weapon. You’re not firing off any more shots in the city, Mighty Hunter.”

Grosvenor sneered. “And you think you two will stop me?”

“We’ll sure as hell try!” Rosalee said. She woged then and bared her teeth.

“Oh, a pretty little fox! Here I thought the only _Renard_ I knew was little Sean.”

“Oh, I’m not a fox.” Grosvenor jumped and turned only to be decked across the face by a woged Sean. “I always did hate you calling me that though.”

“Still a bastard though, I see,” Grosvenor said, rubbing his jaw. Renard glared and moved for him again, but he woged and clawed him across the chest. He’d moved back in time so that the scratches were light, and he only lost a button, but had to move again when he lifted the rifle to try and bash him.

“I said put the weapon down!” Wu yelled. He then cursed when Grosvenor pulled a large knife from his belt and threw it, having to duck out of the way. Rosalee yelled and rushed him, managing to get her arms around his neck and sink her teeth into his shoulder. Grosvenor roared, moving back to strike her against the raised stone edge of the roof to make her let go. She did with a gasp as it dug into her ribs. Then he grabbed her, turned, and threw her over his shoulder. She skidded over the side of the ledge.

The loud scream made everyone in the area look up to see Rosalee hanging from the side of the building across the street from the roof side, almost seven stories up. She’d caught herself on the other ledge below, but it was thinner, and she was having trouble pulling herself up.

“ROSALEE!!” Monroe screamed.

“Help!!”

Wu and Renard rushed over, trying to extend their hands down to her. “Grab on!!”

“I can’t!” she said. Rider had moved back, trying to keep from being seen by the others.

Monroe was looking around, trying to find a way across. “Rosalee, we’re coming!”

“We can’t get there in time!” Hank said.

“I’m slipping!” Rosalee screamed, trying to hold on.

They were all panicking when a huge shape bounded past them, to the edge of the roof they were on, and then springing off it. Rosalee screamed as her hands slipped and she began falling, only for it to be cut off as the Wild Thing grabbed her mid fall in one arm, the other sinking the claws of its right forearm into the brick. The claws were so strong they left deep rivets in the stone but eventually it managed to stop them moth as it tensed its legs against the wall. Rosalee gasped but grabbed on instinctively, shaking at the adrenaline pumping through her.

“That…it saved her,” Monroe said, breathing out in relief and shock.

“It jumped over thirty feet across!” Wu said, gaping.

They all gasped as Rider came to the edge then and aimed his rifle down. “Good evening, my ugly friend!”

Nick didn’t think as he grabbed his own gun and shot. He didn’t hit Rider because the distance was too far to be accurate, but it made him cruse as it cracked the stone ledge next to him. Renard then struck him across the face, sending him reeling but still standing and tussling with him. The beast meanwhile released its grip from the building with Rosalee in its arms. She screamed again as they fell, the beast controlling the fall with a lighter scrape of claws down the side. By the time they got to the bottom, Rosalee had fainted from the shock. The beast made a concerned sound as it tried to shift her around gently.

“Get that thing before it kills her!” Rider yelled down, ducking away from Wu trying to pin him to the ledge with Renard. Several of his men positioned nearby stormed the alley with guns, and another unleashed several dogs that snarled and ran for the beast and Rosalee.

“No, she’ll get caught up in that!” Nick yelled.

The beast turned and let out a loud roar that made the hair on the back of their necks stand on end, its eyes turning black. The dogs whimpered; their tails tucked in as they turned to run away. Before the men could reached the beast picked Rosalee up over one shoulder and took off in a fast but awkward loping run while supporting her.

“No!” Monroe yelled, rushing for the stairs, the others right behind him. They could hear gun shots from inside the building and it made them all rush faster, worried about Rosalee being hit. By the time they got to the street level though, the beast was gone and the men chasing, and firing had stopped, some returning.

“Where is it?!” Rider shouted, coming out from the building he was in at the same time. Wu and Renard were following.

“It got away, sir…”

“You!” Monroe shouted, rushing to him. “You were shooting at my wife, you bastard!”

“…You married that thing?”

Monroe woged and grabbed him by his jacket. “My wife is the one who fell trying to stop you and you did nothing!” he snarled.

Rider woged back, roaring back. “The little fuchsbau bitch got in my way!” Monroe snarled louder, baring his fangs.

Nick barely managed to run over and push them apart. “Monroe, stop!” He looked at Rider. “Where did it go?”

He huffed, whiskers twitching before changing back. “Hell if I know! We need to track it again! Get the dogs!”

“Uh…The dogs aren’t any good, boss,” one of his men said.

“What do you mean?!”

“It scared them into hiding. They won’t come out of the trucks.”

“Useless…Which one of you can track then?!” They all looked a bit hesitant, also spooked as they eyed the claw marks in the brick. Monroe quickly moved away, rushing to where the beast ran off. “Hey! That Blutbad—dammit, get me a tracker with some balls!” Nick rushed after him, with the others close behind.

“Monroe, wait!”

“No! That thing has Rosalee!”

“It’s not going to hurt her!”

“You don’t know that! If it does hurt her though, I’m sorry, but I’m tearing it apart!”

“Not before I do!” Grosvenor yelled.

Renard grabbed him by the shoulder before he could follow. “No. I’m afraid you and your “production” are in a lot of trouble. That agreement you showed me was for hunting in the woods. Not the city.” Grosvenor glared at him and Wu who was ordering the others to stand down while calling for back up as Monroe and the others kept running back towards the bridge.

\------------------

Adalind jerked awake, breathing hard. Getting out of bed, she quickly rushed down the hall to Diana’s bedroom. Opening it slowly, she breathed out when it was fine. No fire, no men in black. Walking over, Diana was fast asleep in her crib. Adalind gently reached down and stroked her cheek, smiling at the little huff she gave. Kissing her head, Adalind tucked her back in and headed to the door.

“Adalind?”

She looked up, seeing Kelly at the door to her own bedroom. “Yeah, it’s me,” she sighed. “Did I wake you?”

“It’s alright…Are you okay?”

“Just…had a bad dream. Wanted to check on Diana…”

“…That’s normal,” she sighed. “I had nightmares after my husband was killed. Nightmares about him, and about Nick.”

“…Does it get better?” she asked quietly.

“It does. But it takes time,” she sighed.

She sighed, rubbing over his face. “I keep dreaming about losing her again…I know Hadrian’s Wall is probably looking for a reason.”

“Meisner and Susannah believe in you. But you should probably think about giving her that suppressant if you don’t want to risk it.”

Adalind looked up in surprise. “I…you knew?”

“I’m half blind, Adalind, but I’ve been with Diana long enough she’s comfortable with me…She likes to make her dolls dance. I can tell that even with a bad eye.”

Adalind sighed. “I know…I know I need to…the fact they haven’t found out I didn’t for a couple of months is just luck on my part…But I don’t want her to hate me…”

Kelly sighed and walked over, patting her shoulder. “I worried Nick might hate me when I came back…and I worried he might hate me when he was a child. I think a lot of parents feel that way when they have to do something they know is best for the child that won’t make them happy. Medicine. Discipline. Having to leave…It’s not easy. My father definitely took discipline a little too far sometimes. Things I wouldn’t do to Nick. But there’s a balance. And sometimes, you have to do what feels like being the bad guy to keep them safe.”

Adalind sighed but nodded. “Right…I’ll…I’ll try to do it soon. I need to figure out how she’ll drink it without realizing. It’s not a taste a kid will want, I know that…” She looked at the clock. “Renard told me about the hunt tonight…”

“Nick told me too,” she sighed. “I wanted to join, but…I think I need to train on how to do this with low vision. Which isn’t easy. I’ve never known a blind Grimm…”

“Well…you’re only half blind?”

Kelly snorted. “More like 3/4ths right now…but I’ll figure it out. For now, go to sleep. Nothing’s going to happen to Diana with us both here.”

Adalind smiled and nodded, heading back to the master.

\------------------

It took less than five minutes for the first cop car to arrive at the scene, but within thirty it was a good 10 including animal control. The dogs were rounded up, all of them surprisingly docile.

“Get off me!” one of the men yelled. The others were being cooperative, but this one was suddenly being very obstinate. “None of y’all have any right to stop us! We’re trying to save your asses from a wild animal!”

“Sir, stay down!” one of the officers said. He tried to sit him back down, but the man just socked him in the jaw. The other officers were on him in a moment, while a couple of other hunters tried to surge up to start a brawl. The brawl lasted a few minutes, but the officers managed to overwhelm them with numbers and force them down and handcuff them. Renard and Wu had been in the thick of it and came away a little scuffed up but alright.

Renard was coordinating them being processed and questioned regarding the gunshots. But as he was looking over the men, he realized something was very wrong. He grabbed an officer passing by. “Where is Grosvenor?”

“He’s over…there…uh…” The officer paled, looking around. “He was right there, sir, I swear!”

Renard cursed. “The tussle was a distraction so he could get away! I should’ve known. Wu!”

Wu looked up from finger printing one man and rushed over. “Sir?”

He dropped his voice as he leaned in. “Grosvenor got away. He’s likely heading back to the woods, but I don’t think we want others seeing Nick and Hank there already…”

Wu grimaced. “Yeah, that’s no good…Think they can handle him?”

“I think so…but let’s get this done and get back to them as fast as we can.”

\-----------------

Rosalee groaned softly as she came back to her senses. She tried to remember what happened and sat up with a gasp when she remembered the fall, the beast, and Grosvenor aiming a gun at them. She hissed and brought up her arm when she felt a sharp pain. For a second she wondered if the beast had scratched her, but it was a single line across her shoulder. Gunshots were firing she remembered. _Was I hit…no, it’s just a graze…it’s already been wrapped?_ That confused her, who had wrapped it up?

 _Furthermore, where the hell am I?_ She looked around. It was dusty, ill-kept and a little drafty, but it looked like a house of some kind. She was in the old bed and had been covered up with a relatively clean blanket. Someone was trying to take care of her…Looking out the window, it was still nighttime, so she didn’t think she’d been out too long. She pulled her phone out of her pocket. No signal, but it showed it was almost four in the morning. It’d been a little after midnight when they got to the city she was sure, so only a couple of hours.

There was the sound of something moving beyond the bedroom door. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and walked as quietly as she could out into the house proper. It was quaint once she was sure, but it looked like no one had actually _lived_ here in a long time. Yet the furniture was still there, as were lots of little figurines and other knick-knacks. Rounding the corner, she quickly ducked back when she saw a large, furred back moving in the kitchen. Swallowing, she moved so just her head was around the corner. She could see the front door, if she could just get to it—

She paused when she heard a kettle whistle, and blinked. Looking back at the kitchen, she saw there was a hotplate on the stove heating the kettle and a clawed hand delicately turned it off and grabbed the handle to pour over two mugs. The cord ran to a plug at the window with another cord running out to what sounded like a generator of some kind. Rosalee’s jaw fell. _It…knows how to use a hotplate? How?_ She moved forward a bit, confused and a bit in awe of an apparent animal doing this. Its ear flicked back, and it turned its head to her. She gasped when she saw its face properly. It ducked back quickly and fumbled, grabbing a sheet lying on the floor nearby. Wrapping up in it, it then gently grabbed the tray the mugs were sitting on and turned, shuffling almost comically carefully out of the kitchen towards her. The whole thing made her relax a little as it was obvious this wasn’t a bloodthirsty animal. As it got close enough, it held out the tray. She realized there were teabags seeping in the hot water.

“…Thank you,” she said, taking one. It said _Neither Rain nor Sleet nor Snow, but I need my Coffee_ on the side, with a picture of a stamp. Weird. Smelling the tea, she was surprised to find it was a chamomile blend she liked. She looked up at the creature. “…You saved me, right?”

The creature huffed a bit, setting the tray on the coffee table and grabbing the other mug.

“…Who are you?”

The creature hunkered down more, its grip on the cup tightening till it cracked at it hissed at the hot shards.

“Oh! Are you okay?” She moved towards it, but the beast backed away, shaking. “…Hey…Thank you, really. I know that was all scary, but we—my friends and I—we’re not here to hurt you. We want to help you.” She hesitated and then woged so only a Grimm should see, moving to see its eyes. It turned, the black of its eyes sinking into her. “You really do have a Grimm’s eyes…how…?”

The creature quickly pulled the sheet more over its face, rumbling as it backed away. It sounded almost mournful. Rosalee changed back and frowned worriedly. Then it’s head suddenly whipped up, ears twitching, pulling the sheet off, it moved to the door, looking out the window next to it. Rumbling, it turned back to her and motioned with its front paw—flat and gesturing at the floor.

“…Stay here?” she guessed.

It huffed, nodding.

 _It’s definitely human…it must be…_ “…Okay.”

It eyed her but then quickly opened the door and moved out, closing it again behind it. It didn’t lock though because it was apparently broken. She could leave if she wanted to, without much trouble other than not knowing where this place was or how to get back. Rosalee watched as it ran into the woods.

\------------------------------

Monroe was frantically sniffing, moving through the woods. “Where is this thing?! It’s been hours!”

“Monroe, we’ll find her,” Nick said.

“But what if it’s hurt her!? What if it…”

“It hasn’t hurt anyone before. It saved her from falling,” Nick said, squeezing his shoulder. “I was face to face with it and it…I swear it tried to communicate with me. It’s not a monster.”

“It looked like one…I say that after seeing plenty of them,” he said, calming only slightly.

“I know…but so did you the first time we met,” he pointed up.

“…Fair enough, I guess.”

“Just breath and focus,” Nick said.

“Yeah, man…if you get distracted, we’ll keep going around in circles again,” Hank nodded.

Monroe sighed and nodded, trying to center himself. He breathed in deeply, parsing out all the different scents coming to him. “…I got it. This way.” He headed forward and the others followed.

After a little while Monroe looked around and frowned. “This place…looks familiar.”

“Are we going in circles again?” Hank sighed.

“No, not from tonight…”

Nick came to a stop when he saw a clearing up ahead. In the clearing was a small cabin that was a bit dilapidated but no less familiar. “No way…it’s…”

“The house!” Monroe said. “From our first case together!”

“Oh yeah…” Hank said. “I remember it too…I thought you were nuts when you brought me here looking for that little girl…”

“It’s scent is super strong here though…” Monroe said. He then perked up. “And Rosalee’s…I got her scent, she’s here!” Monroe quickly began running towards the house.

Nick heard a gun clicking and barely managed to grab Monroe and pull him down before a shot struck a tree.

“That’s close enough, my lupine friend…” They looked up to see rider stepping forward, reloading his rifle.

“You…How did you get here?” Nick glared.

“I followed you. I figured you lot would find the creature eventually. My sense of smell isn’t the best—accident from a hunt. But my eyes and my ears work spectacularly. All I need to be a great hunter.” He raised the rifle. “But I don’t need help or witnesses to take my prize.”

Nick reached for his gun even though he knew he could draw in time. But he didn’t have to even try. A growl above drew all their attention and Rider swung the gun up just as the creature dropped down onto him. He screamed as it snarled and struck him—but rather than swipe with claws it punched him hard across the face. It then took the gun and smashed it against the tree, breaking it. Rider didn’t get knocked out though, instead he woged and they began rolling across the floor, snarling and yowling as they fought, clawed and bit at one another. Nick drew his gun, pointing it at them, but with how they were moving he couldn’t get a clear shot at Rider.

“Shoot, Nick!” Monroe said.

“I don’t have a clear shot!”

\---------------------

After the creature left, Rosalee looked at her phone again. She moved around, trying to get a signal, sighing as it remained unconnected. She wasn’t sure where she was, though the little figurines on the mantle struck her as creepy serial killer vibe for sure.

Moving further in, back towards the bedroom, she noticed another door. The cabin was small, but she could see the bathroom across from the room she woke up with the door off its hinges. So, this was another bedroom? Walking over, she tried the door and found it opened but the door a little swollen. Pushing, she got it open. It must’ve been the master at one point—there was a bed in the center with a dresser, freestanding closet, table, chair and rug all in place. They were nice once maybe, but the bed was broken and resting on the ground now. The sheets showed someone slept there though. Or something. There were clothes in a pile there as well, looking worn. What would the creature need with clothes?

Moving around, she could see a battery powered lantern on a nearby dresser and clicked it on. When it illuminated a wall of drawings she gasped and backed away a little. But then paused and leaned in. “That’s me…” She said, putting a hand on one of the drawings. “Nick, Hank, Monroe, Wu, Renard…Trubel? How…why?” she said, getting a little freaked out. There was more though. Pictures of wesen. Familiar styles to the sketches made her pause.

Then she saw a notebook. It looked like it had been fished out of the garbage but was still whole. Opening it, she flipped through.

_April 28_

_It’s been over a month since that night. I’ve gotten supplies on a previous trip, including the generator and hot plate. I stole them, but hey, do what you gotta do. I was worried I’d be seen, but I managed to keep to the shadows I think. A couple of times I went, and I scavenged for some food and other supplies. I found this notebook and some pens this time. I’m going to write things down. I’m hoping it’ll keep my mind sane for longer than a few hours._

_I don’t know what’s happening to me exactly. Only she knows for sure, and she’s dead. I can’t control myself during the day. At night, I turn into this…thing…I have my mind but not my voice. My reflection during the day taunts me, and this one is so terrifying I’d be shot dead if anyone saw it! What the hell do I do? What do I do?_

_What do I do what do I do what do I do…?_

Rosalee frowned, the phrase repeating and getting more and more off kilter and scrawling, as if the person was breaking down as they wrote. She flipped to the next page and felt her stomach dip when she saw what looked like blood.

_The pain is giving me a little clarity. They won’t leave me alone. I can’t think clearing enough to get help…when I get close others, awful thoughts are repeating to me. They tell me to hurt people, kill them—strangers, and the people I love! I attacked a man that first time in the city! I didn’t even realize! Why would she do this to me?! Did she become a monster?! Am I a monster?!_

A _YES_ was written in blood over that part.

There were more and more entries like that. Many short. All ticking between sanity and the kind of scrawls she’d expect from a Lovecraftian insanity.

_I miss my friends. I saw Monroe and Rosalee today._

That made her freeze and reread before going on.

_I’ve been going to the city more. For supplies yes, but to check on the others too. I’ve gone to Monroe and Rosalee’s house. They seem to be doing well. Why does that make me sad? I guess I just wonder if they miss me…_

It skipped forward a bit to another day.

_I went to the shop just to try and see Rosalee and Monroe. I saw them closing up. Monroe came out to take the trash. He was right below me. Dammit, I give him so much grief still, but I would give anything for him to talk to me! He looked up and I ran before he could really see me. I wanted to call out to him, but I knew it’d only sound like an animal. I don’t know how to tell anyone who I am. If he tried to attack me…I don’t know what I’d do. If he called Nick and he saw me, I think I’d rather they just kill me…_

Rosalee felt her heart ratcheting up and turned to the next entry.

_Nick’s not at his house! It has a sold sign! Shit, shit, shit, where is he!?_

_Maybe I should let them go. Maybe I am nothing but a monster now. Monster or an insane woman, both of those are awful choices. I’ll live as an animal or in an institution. Hell, with this transformation, maybe I’d be better off dead._

_June 29_

_Nick was at my house. I was debating breaking in to get some things, maybe see if I had anything left I could research to break this curse. Likely my day self would destroy it, but it’s worth a shot. He was there. He seemed upset. I don’t know why, but he was crying. Does he miss me? I feel bad that makes me happy. Could I figure out how to tell them? I thought about it, but he noticed me. I barely was able to get away. But I followed him. I’m a bit shocked I kept up with a car, but I managed to trail it back to what I guess is his new home. It’s like an old paint factory? Strange, but interesting. I wish I could see inside, but Kelly is there too. I have no idea how to explain this to her either…I’ve started sketching them. My mind is getting worse during the day. I’m scared I’m going to forget them…forget myself…_

“Oh my god,” Rosalee said, covering her mouth. She felt tears coming to her eyes. “Oh my god…”

_July 27_

_Adalind moved into my house. I wasn’t happy at first. I’ve been upset for a few days; I wasn’t sure why they were fixing up my house but for someone else? But then I peeked into the new window and saw the crib, and a bunch of cut letters on the wall. ‘Diana’ it said. Adalind is getting her baby back. That’s good. I want…I want my home back though…this place isn’t my home…this isn’t my mind, my body…help me, please…someone help me…_

Rosalee turned one more page and sobbed at the hard-scribed message, the pen raking across the page in big letters and there were splotches of ink like it broke in the writer’s hand from the pressure.

_YOU’LL DIE ALONE_

She sat down on the chair nearby, looking at the book with a cold realization. Then she heard a gunshot. Jumping up, she rushed out the bedroom door and to the front of the house. As she got outside, she saw the creature fighting with Grosvenor, who was woged into his Tiger form. Nick was aiming his gun at them.

“Shoot, Nick!” Monroe yelled.

“I don’t have a clear shot!”

“Just shoot!”

“No!!” Rosalee screamed, running towards them. “Don’t hurt her!”

“Rosalee?!” Monroe cried out, rushing to her.

Rosalee moved past him and pushed Nick’s hand down. “You can’t hurt her, Nick!”

“Her? What?” Nick said, confused.

There was a snarl as Grosvenor got the creature on its back, moving to bite its neck. But it got its legs under him and pushed sending him flying across the clearing. He rolled but then stood, fangs barred. “You put up a good fight, monster! But I’m taking your head with me, and then the rest of you will be collateral! I’ll have killed the maneater!”

“You can kill him though!” Rosalee said.

Nick didn’t need to be told twice, raising the gun and firing. Hank did as well, both firing twice at the man. Rider was hit in the chest and he staggered in shock. Then he dewoged and looked down. “I…you…”

“Go to hell,” Nick said.

The man glared but dropped to his knees and then onto his side, his breath coming in slow spurts before stopping.

The creature huffed, catching its breath and shaking its head. A claw mark was across its muzzle, not too deep but enough to have blood running down its face. It looked at the others. Rosalee quickly went over before they could stop her and hugged it around its neck. It looked surprised as the others were. “You’re alive…you’re really alive…”

“Rosalee? What’s going on?” Monroe asked.

Rosalee pulled back, looking at the beast’s eyes. And she knew them—she knew those eyes. “Sloane…you’re alive…”

The men’s jaws all dropped. “I…what did you say?” Hank asked.

The creature looked at him, then at Rosalee. Then at the book in her hand and rumbled. Rosalee smiled. “I know…usually reading someone’s diary is bad, but I know it’s you now…I know it’s you.” She wiped at her eyes. “I thought you died! I really thought you might be dead!”

She rumbled again, then whined and pressed her head to Rosalee’s. Rosalee laughed and cupped her beastly face gently. Her best friend was alive! Even if she wasn’t human, she was alive!

“Sloane?” Nick said, moving forward. “I…this can’t be…”

Rosalee looked at her and then flipped open the book, holding it out to him. “Look for yourself.”

Nick frowned and picked it up, looking it over. His eyes widened as he read the passage. “I…but how…”

“How could she write this? Because that’s my first question!” Monroe said, looking at it as well. The beast rumbled and actually rolled her eyes. “…Okay, you know what, I think it is her. Only she gives me that look.”

She huffed, giving a toothy grin. Nick was still shaking his head. “I just…I can’t believe…”

The grin faded, ears flattening back. Then they perked up again and she looked in one direction as the sky began lightening. Rumbling, she quickly stood up, getting loose from Rosalee and moving for the house quickly. Part way there though, she collapsed. Rosalee stood and they all rushed over as the light fell across the clearing. As it touched her body, there was a deep guttural shriek—like a howl and a roar merged as one, but it ended in a familiar voice. The creature’s body began to shrink, the furred skin sloughing off and turning into black smoke when it hit the ground. Pale human skin was beneath it. The hind legs cracked and reformed into human legs. The forelimbs shrank down, turning to hands again. The teeth, the face, the ears all receded with more grunts and guttural groans they’d only heard in horror movies.

Finally, Sloane Larson laid curled up on the ground, naked and shaking in the echoes of pain and shivering with sweat.

“Oh my God…it is her…” Hank said.

“W-wait here!” Rosalee ran inside and came out with the sheet the creature—Sloane had used before, laying it over her. Sloane groaned at the feeling. They noted with a touch of surprise that with her hair growing out, her natural color was showing down the center as a deep, dark brown for about three inches to the matted platinum blonde they knew around her shoulders. But one section at the front was still platinum all the way up to the roots.

Nick knelt next to her once she was covered, looking her over as if he couldn’t believe it was her. He really couldn’t, actually. How could that large animal be Sloane? In fact, she looked smaller than he remembered. Thinner. Tired. The claw marks across her face were little more than scratches now, shrunk down by her transformation. But there were other marks on her, old and new. He frowned but then moved her slightly and saw the scar on her chest. The one she’d given to herself to keep from hurting him. Healed over now into a thin white line just below her collarbone. “Sloane…” he said, kneeling down to pull her up into his arms and hug her, feeling a knot his gut had tied releasing.. “Oh my God…”

Sloane grunted and cracked her eyes open. “Nick…?”

“Hey…”

“Nick…no!” she said, quickly scrambling back, surprising him and wrapping the sheet around her tighter. “No no no, you can’t be here! None of you should be here!”

“Sloane? You brought me here,” Rosalee said.

“Because it was safe, but I was going to lead them back to you and you’d go and—you weren’t supposed to know it was me!” she said, her hand pulling at her hair. She quickly grabbed the sheet again when it started to slip, tying it around her like a toga.

“Sloane, it’s okay,” Nick said, standing to go to her.

“Yeah, we don’t care you turn into some kind of monster. I mean…” Monroe said.

“What he means is, we’re just glad we found you,” Hank said, smiling in relief.

Sloane looked pained rather than comforted, shaking her head. “But I’m not going to stay like this…”

“We’ll find out how to stop the transformations,” Nick said.

“No! You don’t understand, that’s just part of this!” she said, shaking her head.

“Then explain it to us,” Nick said, grabbing her shoulders before she could back away again. “We’re not letting you go again. Let us help.”

Sloane looked at him and he was shocked when he saw tears in her eyes. “I don’t even know if this is real anymore…”

Nick frowned. “What do you mean? It’s real…we’re here.”

Sloane gave a shuddering breath, closing her eyes. “I don’t know that for sure though…”

“…Guys, where did Grosvenor go?” Monroe asked. They all looked back, shocked to see he wasn’t there.

“Son of a…Okay, we need to go,” he said, tugging at Sloane.

“I can’t,” Sloane shook her head, moving away. “I just…Guys, I’m coherent now, but it’s not going to stay that way!”

“What do you mean?” Hank asked.

Sloane sighed and looked at the house. “…Let’s go in. I need…clothes. Then I’ll explain as best I can.”

They nodded and followed her in. “You know, we’ve been here before,” Nick said with a wry smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah. This is the Postman’s house. From the first case I ever had as a Grimm.” _And where I tried to fight Renard that one time…_

“Wow…I just found it. Thought I was lucky it was at least a roof over my head.” She headed for the back room. “I’ll be right back.

Nick hesitantly sat down on the old, musty couch, rubbing over his face. _She’s alive…we found her…but this curse, it’s not like anything we saw before now! What do we do?_

A few minutes later Sloane shuffled back out and Nick sat up straighter when he recognized the clothes. “You…I saw you at Grosvenor’s camp, too…You ran from me. The second time too.”

Sloane hesitated but sighed. “I didn’t know if anyone would recognize me…I didn’t want to be found. And when I saw you and I panicked. But I still…”

“What? Why would you panic?” Monroe asked.

“…Let me start from the beginning,” she sighed.

\----------------------------

_Six months ago_

She was in a car. She could tell that much. But she was lying flat. There were people around her. They were talking about her—something about her blood pressure rising. Was that good? What was happening? _Juliette…Juliette did something to me…God, the pain was awful! I’d never felt that before, nothing Dierdre ever did prepared me for that. It still kind of hurts…it still…_

She groaned, feeling the pain rising again, but it was concentrated in her head instead of all over.

“She’s waking up,” someone said.

Sloane cracked her eyes open. There were people around her—in suits, not dressed like paramedics. Something wasn’t right. Who were they? Where was Nick? And Juliette?

“Ms. Larson? Can you hear us?” one of them asked.

“What’s going on?” she muttered, trying to focus her eyes.

“We’re taking you somewhere for medical treatment. You’ve been out for a couple of hours. Can you tell us how you feel?”

“Like I got hit but a bus…” she muttered.

“Well, it would be what you deserved.”

Sloane froze at that and cracked open an eye. Through the people, down near her feet, she saw another figure hunched over. They looked familiar, with dark hair and tan skin, but wearing a pink top and jeans that stood out. “What…? I…know you, don’t I…?”

“What?”

“Who’s she talking to?”

“Ms. Larson? You shouldn’t know any of us.”

“Not you, the girl,” she said, trying to sit up. The suits tried to keep her down and Sloane looked up to tell them off but froze. Their faces were like nothing she’d seen before. They were black bottomless pits—like pools of ink where their faces should be.

“Ms. Larson?” the person closest to her asked again, his voice echoing like it was coming from within a cave.

“What…what’s wrong with your…”

“You really want to know?” Sloane turned to the girl again and she raised her head, so her face wasn’t hidden by her hair. Sloane drew in a sharp breath when she saw the bullet holes in her chest and the dead eyes staring at her. “But then…you probably already do.”

“M…Maria…?”

The agents looked at one another, confused. They couldn’t see anyone else in the car. But Maria was looking right at her. The girl Sloane had shot and killed more than a decade ago by accident trying to save her sister. “They want to help you…but do you deserve that?” Her eyes turned red, like blood, and she grabbed Sloane’s leg. “Do you?!” she screamed, her mouth opening wider than it should.

“Let go of me!” Sloane yelled, fear coursing through her. She kicked out and began struggling and the agents all tried to hold her down. “Let go!” She pulled her hand up despite one trying pin her arm and punched the closest man to her. Another tried to stop her, and she grabbed his shirt and managed to shove his head right through the glass between them and the front of the car. The driver cursed and they began swerving. Sloane kicked the others off her and sat up. “Let me out!”

“Ms. Larson!”

She slammed her elbow back in trying to get away from the girl in front of her and hit the driver, who jerked the wheel again by accident. They went off the road and slid to the bottom of the hill, hitting a tree. Everyone was stunned, groaning after being thrown around. Sloane was still moving though, climbing out of the car. She quickly ran for the woods, but she could still hear Maria’s voice in her mind. More voices were joining it and among the trees she saw shadows moving—too many to be real, all bleeding and all someone she knew she must’ve killed as surely as she knew they couldn’t be real. But they felt real.

“You can run, Sloane. But your past is going to catch you.”

“I didn’t…I was just…”

“Just what? Can you say we all deserved this?” A man asked, his throat bloody.

“Are you going to blame your training again?” A woman asked, a hole in her chest.

“I…” She yelled, doubling over as pain coursed through her body. The night was dark, but she could see fine as her fingers began to elongate, grow claws, grow fur. “Wha-what’s happening?!”

“You always thought of us as monsters…”

“Now you get to see what it feels like. The mind of a human, the body of an animal…”

“Till the daytime. We’ll be there to remind you why you deserve this.” The faded from view but Sloane’s body kept burning as she burst through the seams of her shirt, her paints, felt like her bones were growing and deforming, her skin stretching and growing fur. It was a pain she’d never felt before and couldn’t describe, and as she screamed it turned into a roar.

When the pain finally receded, she laid for a while trying to get her bearings. When it seemed like the pain was gone, she tried to stand only fall over. She felt heavy. Not just sluggish, but honestly heavier. Grunting, she looked at her hands again, and saw those claws and fur were not hallucinations. _What…what’s going on?_ She tried to get her legs under her, but the curve of her spine made it hard to stand up straight. _No, this can’t be right…first I’m seeing things, now I’m…I’m some kind of animal?! How can this be happening?! It’s gotta be a dream! But the pain was real…_ It took several tries to get to all fours and figure out how to move. _This can’t be real! I’ve never heard of a curse or spell or anything that does this!_

“Ms. Larson! Sloane! Are you out here?” Someone was calling. Sloane looked over and was able to see perfectly through the dark that some of the people in suits were looking for her. She tried to speak, ask who they were, but only a deep rumble pitching up to a shriek came out.

“What the hell was that?!”

“A deer…maybe?” another said, sounding a little worried.

“No deer I ever heard…” Sloane could see him draw a gun from inside his suit.

 _I can’t talk…they might shoot first and ask questions later. I need to get out of here!_ Turning, she stumbled through the underbrush in an ungainly mass of limbs and fur.

Her night was spent trying to figure out how to move properly. She could barely walk before morning came and when the first bit of sun fell on her, so did that unbearable amount of pain. Her body shrank back down, and fur turned back to skin.

“Oh…thank god,” she groaned. “Except no clothes…great.” She huffed and started walking again, trying to find a way to get help.

It was about an hour into hiking when she heard something up ahead that sounded like a river. _The Willamette…maybe I can follow it upstream, get some help._ She headed for the water and sighed, kneeling. _I could use a drink too while I’m at it…looks clean enough._ _I’ve drunk worse._ Cupping her hands, she moved to bring the water to her lips…and immediately spat it out when she tasted the coppery, thick taste of blood.

“What the hell?” she gasped, looking at the red on her hands.

“Does it surprise you?” She looked up and stumbled away from shore when she saw Maria standing in the water. “It shouldn’t…you have so much blood on your hands…”

“Y…You’re not real,” Sloane said, closing her eyes. “You’re…”

“Dead. Yes, I know. And you’ve lived almost ten years more than me…”

“It was an accident,” Sloane choked out, spitting more of the bloody taste out of her mouth. “I…I told you not to come with us! Not to follow us!”

“So, it’s my fault you shot me?” Maria said coldly. Sloane watched as the red seeped out more from where maria was standing, the bullet wounds trickling down her front. “What about the others?” Faces started floating up to the surface like apples bobbing in a barrel. Or more like dead fish—glassy eyed, pale beneath the red. “Can you say everyone you killed _deserved it?_ Can you say it was their fault?”

Sloane tried to back away and gasped when one of the bodies grabbed her ankle and _pulled_ her towards the water. It was crying, the tracks cleaning the blood from its face. “Please…don’t kill me…”

 _No, it’s not real!_ She kicked out and quickly stood and ran back into the woods. She tried to catch her breath and looked at her hands again. Clean. Blinking, she looked back at the river to see it was clear. _It…it really isn’t real…but I felt…_

She felt breath on her neck near her ear. “You’re never clean, Sloane. Now that you can hear us, I’m going to make your daylight hours a living hell.”

“Collin?!” She screamed, turning around. Nothing.

_Oh god…what’s happening to me…?_

\-----------------

The rest of the day went similar. Sloane tried drinking from the river again and managed a few sips. Then she kept moving. Around ever tree she felt like eyes were watching her. She saw faces of people she killed. Some she didn’t even have names for. Some she didn’t remember right away. And they knew. And they berated her.

That night she changed again—trading her body for her mind it seemed like the visions didn’t haunt her when she was like this. She tried speaking but a muzzle wasn’t built to say human words. The big teeth didn’t help either. She kept moving through the woods, trying to think what to do. The rain wasn’t helping. Wet fur felt heavy and made it even harder for her to move on all fours. She found a place to sleep since that’s all she could do, and she was tired. And hungry. Before morning she filled her stomach with water again. Then she transformed. And it was another day of torment by ghosts and visions.

When she found the little log cabin on the third night, she was shocked. It was obviously abandoned—ivy was overgrown around the entrance, the logs of the cabin were black, and it had a general aura of abandonment. Moving to it, she awkwardly tried the knob. Her clawed paw was hand-like after all. It wouldn’t budge. Growling, she slammed her paw into the door and jumped when it cracked off its hinges. _Ah…well, that works I guess…_ Moving inside, she looked around. The place looked abandoned—but not moved out. Old furniture sat with dust and who knows what else collecting on it. Little figurines were around, dirty and some cracked and broken.

Moving past the mantle, she turned and caught her reflection in a mirror above it—and nearly fell over. _Oh my god! That…that’s what I look like?_ She groaned, reaching up to touch the mirror. The bright colors of her face were garish—red and blue and white. Like a clown, but more animal-like. And the teeth! Sharp, but sticking out at all odd angles from her lower jaw. No wonder it felt so heavy and awkward. _I look…like a monster…_ Her hand balled up and she roared and punched the mirror. It shattered, the pieces falling to the old wooden floor. Her hand wasn’t even hurt she realized, shaking it out. She then shook her head, feeling foolish. But she didn’t want to see herself like this.

Moving more listlessly, she went to the kitchen and began searching the cupboards. _C’mon…food…I need food…_ Nothing in the cupboards was any good though. Nothing was in the fridge either—and obviously it wasn’t even working. Groaning, she snarled and raked her claws across the cabinet.

Then she heard something outside. Huffing, she went to the door and looked out. Her ears swiveled—and that felt weird as hell—around to find the source of the sound. And then she saw it. _Is that…a wild turkey?_

Sloane felt like her jaw was suddenly aching. _I can’t…I can’t just—not with my bare hands and mouth like an animal! I can’t!_

\----------------

The feathers were a bitch to pluck after she caught it, but in the end she managed. She even found a way to start a fire and roast it, to keep a little of her standards. It fed her for a few days, along with some wild plants she recognized.

The house became a sort of home base. She found some old clothes—men’s, definitely—and at night took them to the river to wash them since the washing machine was busted. And the whole no power thing. She couldn’t wear them till the next day and kept herself in the house. She hoped maybe indoors would be safe from the visions. It wasn’t. Maria and the others constantly hounded her, and she saw more blood than she ever remembered seeing before. The next day wasn’t bad. She thought maybe they were quieting down. But then they came back when she woke to seeing a swamp of blood in the bedroom, with hands reaching for her. It disappeared after she closed her eyes for long enough.

Hunting again at night, she actually took down a deer. That would feed her for a while she knew, if she could keep the meat good. She mostly ate at night now. She tried to sleep during the day only to have nightmares that kept her up. So, she ate, slept, walked around for a bit, then tried to get a bit more sleep before the pain of transformation. That’s how she spent her first two weeks while she tried to figure out what to do. That was the routine for a while, hunting at night and staying locked inside during the day, before she decided she needed to try and get home.

So, she dressed and started out early in in the morning after changing back. She figured she could just tell herself it wasn’t real. No matter how disturbing it was, the visions couldn’t hurt her physically. She’d seen the bridge on a hunt before and crossed over, turning away from illusions of a line of judging, bloody faces all the way to the other end. _I just have to get home…I can contact Nick and the others, try to explain…_

When she got to the city proper, it was crowded, and she felt a bit of trepidation. But she took a dep breath and kept walking, sticking to some of the more deserted back ways and into the park. The boots she found were old, big, and not in the best condition, so she could feel them rubbing a few places. She didn’t have her wallet or phone—those had been taken she was pretty sure, either by Juliette or the people in suits. _Still want to know who whose guys were too…_

She was deep in thought on possibilities when she bumped into someone. “Hey, watch it!”

“Sorry…” She mumbled.

“Shouldn’t you be in an alley somewhere?” Sloane paused and looked down. She guessed she did look a little like a homeless person. But she didn’t want to deal with a jerk and kept trying to walk. “Hey, I’m talking to you, trash!”

The hand fell on her shoulder. Sloane tried to shrug it off, but the man pulled her back and actually pushed her into a nearby tree in the park. She actually looked at them now and saw they were a gang of some kind. Bunch of younger guys, not teens but not really adults either.

“Hey, c’mon man, she’s just a homeless woman…” one of them said.

“Actually, she’s not bad looking,” another said.

“Yeah, she ain’t,” the instigator smiled. He reached up and to cup her face. “Maybe we could have a little fun with her…”

“Dude…”

“What? She’s a homeless bitch, no one’s gonna give a shit! Can always take care of her if she tries to tell anyone.”

Sloane felt her blood start to boil. Then Collin’s voice was in her ear. “Would anyone give a shit about them? How many have they hurt do you think?”

The man smiled, reaching up to her shirt.

That was the last thing she remembered before coming back to her senses on top of the man, his bloody face coughing and crying. She was confused till her fist stung and she looked at it to see it was bloody. There was another couple of guys on the ground who had probably tried to stop her, groaning.

She jumped when she heard a scream and looked up to see a couple walking their dog. The dog was barking, snarling at her.

“N-No, I didn’t—they were—”

“We’re calling the police!”

 _I am the police!_ She thought about screaming but the dog was snarling at her like she was the monster.

“Why are you surprised? Violence is your answer to everything isn’t?” A voice asked. She could see from the corner of her eye a disheveled Lowan look at her with a bloody mane. “You always think they deserve it…but are you sure they did?”

Sloane blinked and looked down again. The man suddenly wasn’t dressed like before but instead was in a button up and khaki’s, crying and asking for help pathetically. Sloane felt her stomach turn.

“No…No, I didn’t…”

“You did.”

Sloane could hear police sirens and took off. She heard the couple yelling at her and the dog barking, but she managed to get away through the trees. Getting back to the streets, several people backed away from her and her bloody fist and clothes while she kept running for the bridge and back towards the woods. Once across, she shakily put her hand in the water of the river, trying to wash some of the blood away. “I didn’t…I didn’t want to do that…”

“You didn’t?”

“No! I mean, he was talking tough, and I was thinking I might need to defend myself, but I didn’t even realize I was…”

“Beating him to a pulp? Why feel bad, he’ll live. Might need a little surgery…” Collin said.

“…You’re dead. You’re not real. I don’t even know if what you showed me there was real, maybe he was trying to hurt me…”

“Or maybe he was trying to help you…”

Sloane blinked and heard the man’s voice change to concern in her memories. _“Are you alright? You don’t look so good, ma’am…”_

She felt bile grow in her throat. “That’s not what happened…”

“But are you sure?” Collin asked, leaning down to her ear. His breath felt real and she reflexively tried to push him away only to feel the air. “You don’t know what’s real anymore, darling,” he laughed, his voice floating in the rays of sun through the trees.

Sloane felt cold and like it was hard to breathe. She quickly stood and ran for the woods, back towards the house again.

\------------------

It was about a month later, if her tally marks on the wall in the bedroom were any indication, that she first tried to get to the city in her beast form at night. She wanted to try and get some more supplies. Things she wanted to at least try and feel like she wasn’t a crazy monster woman living in the woods. It was harder and more dangerous to go as a beast when others wouldn’t understand, but she could at least control herself and hopefully not hurt anyone.

She’d also gotten more control over this body. She could walk and run well, though on all fours. She could also climb trees lightning quick she found, thanks to her claws and some spring loaded back legs. Her nights needed to be filled out somehow and sleep wasn’t her first choice because these hours were the only time she didn’t feel like she was losing her mind. She hoped working through this and controlling her new body meant she’d be good at getting away if necessary when she went to town.

She crossed over the railroad bridge this time, figuring there was less of a chance of being seen that way. Once on the other side, she quickly ducked into the nearby alley. Moving through they backways and alleys, she got to one of the big box sports stores she was looking for. It was also closed. Not that she planned on waltzing in with being all hair and teeth, but it did make getting inside more difficult. It also had security cameras.

The first one was on the outside of the building facing the back door. Huffing, she tried to think how to avoid being seen. She paced a little, then paused and looked at the roof. _I can climb trees pretty well…could I climb a building?_ She wiggled her front finger-like paws, claws tapping on the concrete. Huffing, she geared up and jumped—and nearly got to the roof in one go. Shocked, she scrabbled and her claws actually dug into the brick and let her climb. It wasn’t graceful, but she got to the roof. Looking at her paw, her claws were fine as well. _I could really hurt someone with these…better be careful._ Moving to over the back door, she reached down and grabbed the camera, rushing it in her grip. _I’m strong too…if I didn’t look like a baboon’s ass this might not be so terrible. Ah! Shit, there’s an alarm to this door…_ she realized, looking at the wire running over the top. Growling, she looked around to try and figure something else out. She saw there was a skylight up top and moved to it. _No wires for an alarm, goes to the warehouse part in back…this’ll work._ Busting it open wide enough to jump down was easy. Her fur was also thick enough to protect her from the glass. _Better hurry._ She quickly moved around and grabbed what she wanted—a portable solar generator first and foremost. Expensive, but the best solution she had for power. And she wasn’t paying for it with the five finger (or claw) discount. Add to that a hot plate and electric kettle. There was pots and pans and other things still at the house luckily, but fires were a little dangerous to use all the time. She’d learned that after falling asleep and nearly burning down the yard trying to make deer jerky (which failed and wasted a good portion of her deer). She’d put it out with a blanket luckily. Which reminded her, she grabbed a couple of blankets.

_Okay…that should be enough for now. I don’t think they’ll miss this stuff too much, not like I’m stealing a couple thousand worth…how do I carry all this?_

Sighing, she added a wagon and bungee ties to her list. Loading it up and tying it all down, she wheeled it to the door and then braced herself before charging. The first hit didn’t do it, but the second hit broke the lock and started the alarm. Grabbing the wagon, she quickly dragged it out and ran for it. It was a bumpy wild ride for the wagon and for her running on three legs with one holding the handle, but she’d tied it down well with the blankets and chords to keep her ill-gotten gains together. _I know I used to steal things from those I hunted, but somehow this is just being a common thief…is that better or worse?_

Pushing aside the little moral question, she got to the bridge and took things a little slower to get the wagon all the way across. A good thing about the night was there was no train coming, and no ships to make the bridge raise itself. She managed to get the wagon all the way across. Sighing, she rested and then took her time getting back to the house. Then she collapsed and fell asleep.

\------------------

A few nights later she tried hunting again. She managed to get a few rabbits—smaller bits would last better she felt.

“Did you hear something, Jamie?”

Sloane looked up, ears twitching. Someone was in the woods. It was still a good several yards away though.

“You’re just imagining things. C’mon, we’ll get to the campsite soon.”

“You said that thirty minutes ago! You’re lost, aren’t you!?”

“No!”

“I knew we shouldn’t have gone for a hike at night!”

“You thought it’d be romantic.”

“I thought we might meet a serial killer!”

Sloane rolled her eyes, blocking the conversation out as she gathered her rabbits to head back. But her path took her towards the campers. _Oh great…better make this quick._ She began running.

“I hear something! What is that?!”

“Are you recording? This isn’t Blair Witch!”

“Don’t make me think about that!” She turned the phone around just as Sloane crossed their path and she heard the scream but just winced and kept running. Both campers were running away, which was for the best honestly as she made her way back to the house. She was sure nothing would come from that…

\------------------

The stolen items helped. The generator let her run the hot plate and kettle, boiling water. She felt better about drinking the boiled water. Returning to the city, she’d grabbed a five-gallon water jug from a grocery store chain and filled it regularly to have a more ready supply. She also found a large amount of old brown butcher paper, a notebook, pens, pencils and other goods.

She began recording things down in a diary. It helped her focus at times and remember what was happening. But more than that, a part of her was scared of forgetting things. She sketched pictures of people she missed from memory, but some never seemed quite right to her. Still she pinned them up on the wall of the bedroom and promised she’d find a way to safely get to them. A way she wouldn’t end up hurting them or worse—and vice versa.

Then another month later she broke the electric kettle when she threw it at a wall trying to get a spinnetod woman she’d killed on her wedding day to shut up. She’d saved her husband from being eaten like her last husband, she refused to be guilted by that. But a large spider woman in a blood covered wedding dress was always kind of freaky.

She’d wanted to get other things anyway, so she tried the same method on a different store, a more varied big box one. She managed to get the kettle, the toiletries and a few more things in an old backpack she’d found.

“Who’s there?”

Sloane straightened and turned her head, seeing a shadow coming through the shelves. _They have a night guard? Shit!_

Rushing for the door, she managed to get it open and rush out.

“Hey!”

Sloane didn’t slow but she could hear the man coming to the door. Without much else, she jumped and climbed to the top of the building with the bag in her mouth. He came out, shining the light around and dialing a number into his phone. _That was close…_ taking the bag out of her mouth, she cursed when she saw she’d put several holes in it. But she just sighed and waited. Unfortunately, the area was crawling with police in a matter of minutes. Growling, she tried to think of what she could do before eyeing the roof of the nearby building. Jumping across an alley wouldn’t be easy, not one this size made for trucks going between the buildings. But with the night dwindling she didn’t have a lot of choices if she didn’t want to be found naked on the roof of a building talking to nothing.

Backing up, she took a running start and leapt as hard as she could. Which was pretty hard apparently because she made it and then had trouble landing and rolled.

“You guys here something?” one of the officers asked.

“Not really, why?”

“…Nothing I guess.”

Sloane breathed out, then cursed when she realized the bag was now very ripped and several things had fallen out. She collected what she could and then made her way back to the bridge via the rooftops. It was actually kind of exhilarating jumping from roof to roof. Maybe this was the better option?

\------------------

Sloane tried again during the day to go to town about two and a half months later. She kept her head down, kept to only the most deserted areas, and moved quickly.

She wanted to see her friends.

She went to the shop first. It was early so she waited in the alley. Then she saw Rosalee drive up. She smiled and stood. _Maybe I can go…explain what’s happening…Rosalee will understand, she’ll help me…_

“And you’ll kill her.”

Sloane’s very human nails hurt when she gripped the wall. “I will not,” she hissed.

“You will,” Collin said. “You lost control before. You’ll lose it here.”

“I will not!”

“You’re talking to me like I’m here, love,” he said sweetly.

Sloane pressed her lips together.

“And you have a very sharp object in your hand already.”

Her eyes widened and she looked down to see she’d grabbed a broken pipe, the end sharp. It was real. She quickly dropped it and backed away.

“You don’t want to kill her, hm? What makes her special?” Maria asked, Sloane turning to see her at the other end.

“Please…I just want to…”

“What makes her special? How many foxes did you already kill?”

Several shadows appeared in the alley, all Fuchsbau or another kind of fox wesen in shape, and Sloane covered her eyes. “Stop it!”

“Why? Did you ever think you wouldn’t kill them? Everyone who loves you dies, you know. Dies or leaves you…”

“That’s not true—” She uncovered her eyes. And before her was Nick, Rosalee, Monroe, Hank, Wu, Renard, Adalind, Bud, Mim, Jean, Jacob—all of her loved ones, dead and covered in blood.

“And you’ll be the one to kill them soon…that’s how this ends.”

Sloane felt like she couldn’t breathe. Their glassy eyes were looking at her with such deep betrayal and anger. Turning, she vomited what little she’d eaten that morning over the street. Tears were running down her cheeks. “It’s not real…it’s not real…” she sobbed.

“But it could be. If you don’t want to kill them…you better stay away,” Collin said. The gentle tone was one he’d never used in life. But it mocked her all the same as she turned and ran back the way she came.

She hadn’t anticipated meeting anyone on the trail near the house. But she’d moved too far north and ended up meeting a homeless camp near the St. John’s bridge.

“Hey there!” Someone shouted to her. Sloane backed away a little but the man, an older man with a cap and beard, waved at her. “It’s okay! We won’t hurt you.”

She hesitated but moved slowly down to them. “What…are you all doing here?”

“What does it look like?” a woman asked.

“Don’t get snippy, Sweetpea!” the man said. “We’re camping here, hon. I thought you were looking for a place to stay?”

“I…no, I’m just passing through…” she said.

“Well, sit for a bit and have a little something,” he said. “You look like you’ve been through hell!”

“…Feels like it,” Sloane nodded, sitting. She was surprised when he held out a can of tuna to her and a box of crackers.

“Here you go! Have a little something to settle your stomach.”

“…You don’t have to—” she started.

“Hey, if we don’t look out for each other, who will. I’m Maurice by the way.”

“…S…Sarah,” she said, hesitated to say her real name.

“Nice to meet you. No go on, have a little.”

Sloane opened the can and started eating the fish with the crackers. “Thank you…”

“You’re welcome. So, got a story, Sarah?”

“…just…going through some stuff…”

“We all are,” the woman said, the others murmuring in agreement.

“…I’m not sure what to do about it…”

“Is it an addiction?” a man asked.

“Ah, no, it’s…”

“Mental?” Maurice guessed.

“…Yeah.”

He sighed and nodded. “It’s a tough thing to deal with. You got anyone you can go to?”

“…Not…kind of? But I don’t want to…”

“Just go,” Sweetpea said. “Better to go when you got’em.”

“She has a point,” Maurice nodded.

“It’s not that easy! I don’t want to burden them more! Or…” _Hurt them…_

“Honey, if they think you’re a burden, they’re the ones not worth it,” she sighed. “I thought like that too. Thought that way right out of my family’s life. Now I wish I’d just stayed and…”

“Slipping back is dangerous,” another guy said. “It happens. I mean we’re all here because of that for the most part, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s easier with people to help,” Maurice said.

“…Thanks. But I…it’s complicated.” She finished the snack and stood. “I should go…”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, I…I really do. But thank you.”

“Any time.” They waved as she walked up the hill and Sloane was worried they disappear as she left. But they were still there when she looked back. She headed back to the house and sighed as she laid down on the mattress. _Easier with people to help…I know that, but how? And isn’t it better I just stay away? Not hurt them?_

\-----------------------

She couldn’t stay away. She missed them. She missed them so desperately she was getting more and more prone to just staying inside whatever form. Seeing them would help she felt. So, she went a few days later at night to check up on Rosalee and Monroe. They were doing well it seemed. Most of her was glad, but there was a little part of her that felt a tinge of bitterness that they were apparently doing just fine. Were they looking for her? Were they still worried?

_Those visions are getting to me…I need to stop being so susceptible to those kinds of thoughts. I know they miss me…_

Sure enough, her insecurities came into play in the visions soon enough. Various faces from her past taunting her that she wasn’t missed. That they didn’t need her. She did her best to sleep through them and the nightmares to get her energy for the night.

When she went to check Nick’s house the next night, she paused when she saw a different car in the driveway. Two in fact. And a kid’s bike on the front porch. _What…?_ Moving closer, she managed to peek in. She saw a family on the couch watching TV in a newly decorated living room. Moving boxes were still in the corner. _He moved…where?! Where’s Nick?!_

She ducked down quickly when the young boy on the couch looked over to her. “…Dad, I think there’s something outside…”

“Something?”

“Like a big animal…”

Sloane quickly bounded off before the father could see her, but her heart was hammering in her chest. _Where’s Nick? Where did he go? H-he must’ve just moved. He’s got to be alright…I haven’t seen him since that night though…_ She whined a little, thinking, but ran off quickly towards the city again. She tried to search but she wasn’t used to tracking by scent. What did Nick smell like again? _Pine…gun oil…coffee…_ She sighed and shook her head. None of those were something she’d be able to find in all the other scents in the city.

She went back to the house but returned every night. She figured that eventually, Nick would show up at the shop. Monroe almost spotted one night, but she managed to duck away and out of sight she was sure. Finally, he did show up. She got there just as they were getting ready to leave the shop and she followed from the rooftops, not knowing someone filmed her that night as she jumped from rooftop to rooftop to try and keep up with their car. It wasn’t easy and she was winded by the time they turned off to head to the dump nearby. _The dump…? Why here?_ She had to catch her breath for a while and when she finally entered she couldn’t find them anywhere. But there was a lot of other scents in the air. _So many people…but it’s off…like…animals of some kind…_ She shrank back and hid among the garbage when she finally saw the others come out of a fridge of all things. It must’ve led to something under the trash pile.

Then the Reinegen appeared. _So that’s what I was smelling…There’s so many of them though, where did they all—HOLY SHIT!_ The last was her thought as she watched them all converge together and form a giant rat. _What the holy hell—how do they—wait! A rat king? That’s what this is, right? I heard Collin talk about this once…_ Her attempts down memory lane were cut short when the rat started going after her friends. Hank tried to shoot it, but it brushed the shot off like it was just a fly bite and then moved for them while they ran. _Oh no you don’t!_ Rushing out, she fit her mouth full of sharp teeth around the Rat King’s ankle. It screamed and tried to get away from her, but she locked her jaw. The taste of blood was disgusting, and she didn’t want to think about what kind of disease it might have, she just shook her head to try and shred muscle like a blender. It screamed again, the sound earsplitting. Then it swung its leg back and kicked—sending her flying into a pile of garbage. It hurt and she groaned as it all fell on top of her. _No…I gotta stop it…it’ll hurt them…_

She tried to crawl out and as she did, she heard a gunshot, then a scream and the lights around the dump flickered. Looking up, she saw the rat king fall after being hit by powerlines. _Ha! That’s my guys…guess you didn’t really need me after all…_ That unexpectedly stung to think.

“Nick?” Hank called.

“I want to check on what attacked him!” she heard him call back, hearing his footsteps coming right towards her.

 _No, no, no, he can’t see me! Not like this!_ Shuffling more, she managed to pull herself out from under the garbage and run back towards the other side of the dump and climb the fence as quickly as she could. She grunted when she landed and moved for the tree lined hill near the dump. Her back hurt a little bit from being thrown around but she didn’t think she was at any risk of a serious injury. From the tree line she looked back and could just barely see him and the others from the hill. _…Do you need me?_

“They don’t.”

She jumped and looked around. She thought she heard Collin’s voice, which shouldn’t be possible right now. Grunting at herself, she tried to get her mind back in order and headed for the bridge.

\-------------------

The next night she went to her house. It was still boarded up she noticed. No repairs had been done yet. In fact, it looked like no one had been here since that night. Her yard and the garden she’d started was overgrown with tall grass and weeds, but that worked in her favor to help hide her a bit more as she moved around the back. _I…don’t know why I came. My Grimm stuff isn’t here, and not a lot might’ve survived anyway…_ She stood to look through the window of her bedroom. Her other things were still there. _Maybe I just wanted to remind myself what I was before all this…_

She jumped when she heard a car pull up and hunkered down into the shadows. She was surprised to see it was Nick. _What’s he doing here? I mean, I gave him a key but why…?_ Nick went inside and she inched her head up so she could peek through the blinds. He was just…wandering around, looking at her things. But he seemed lost. He looked around her living room a while before going to the burnt area of the backroom. She went back and managed to see him through a small gap in the boards. He was looking at the damage sadly, then found the old notepad she’d used when she first came to Portland in the desk drawer. The one with the little crude map on it to find her car. She was a bit chagrined remembering the first impression she made, but he smiled at it fondly. He set it back in and walked away and she followed. She could see him sit down on her bed in her bedroom, staring at nothing for a few minutes before he leaned down and put his face in his hands. _Nick, are you…crying…?_ She’d wanted them to miss her but seeing Nick cry made her feel guilt more than anything. _I don’t…I don’t want him to see me like this…but I don’t want him to…if he stays here till sunrise, maybe…_

He didn’t though. It was maybe about an hour before he finally got his composure and stood. Rubbing over his face, he headed back to the front and Sloane followed without thinking—right in front of the French doors. Thoughts of showing herself to him fled when she saw that monstrous shadow. But more so when she saw Nick had paused seeing it. She quickly raced back to the tall grass, but he was walking to the door and unlocking it.

“Hello?” he called. Sloane crouched low, backing away. Nick squinted in the night, seeing the grass move no doubt. “Who’s there?”

Sloane resisted trying to talk and turned to run around the back of the house. She heard Nick following and cursed. Getting to the fence, she leapt and vaulted over the side facing the street. But she didn’t run far. She went just enough that Nick wouldn’t see her right away as he climbed in his car.

 _This is going to be an endurance run…Let’s go!_ She followed his car from the shadows, jumping to the roofs when she got to the city and keeping him in sight even when he was ahead of her. She was scared she lost him a couple of times but found him again before she lost him for good. Eventually he finally pulled up to what appeared to be an old paint factory. She cocked her head but watched as he went inside. She waited a moment, then got to the building next to it and leapt onto the roof. Getting to the side, she lowered her head enough while bracing herself she could see into the windows at the top. She surprised to see it was actually outfitted to live in. _This is where he’s living now? Interesting…_

She gasped when she saw who was at the counter eating a grilled cheese. _Trubel? Oh, she’s okay! Thank God…I just kind of vaguely remember her getting captured too, I’d hoped she was okay._ She eased down a little, watching them for a time through the windows. Nick came in then and she ducked her head back up before he noticed her. _So, this is where he is…good. I just wanted to be sure he was okay…_ It was mostly the truth. She’d been worried about him, and more so when she couldn’t find him.

Settling down for a bit, she perked back up only a little while later when she heard his car leaving again. _What now? Should I follow?_

“Is someone there?” Sloane’s eyes widened and she turned to see Kelly at the entrance that led down to the loft. She hadn’t heard her come up—she still had her stealthy abilities it seemed, even with an eyepatch. Her other eye must not have been perfect either as she was squinting hard in the dim light. “Who’s there?”

Sloane turned and leapt from the loft roof to the next one. Looking up, she saw Kelly moving to where she’d been, running a hand over the ledge. Rumbling, Sloane turned and headed back for the woods, making note of where the loft was for future reference.

\--------------------

When she came back after a few days, she saw that her house was being renovated and fixed up. That made her happy, but she noted also that all her things were gone. That made her worried. She visited Monroe and Rosalee’s, then went to the loft to make sure Nick was alright. She noticed he seemed on edge the last few days, though she couldn’t tell why.

It was a month later she saw that Adalind had moved into her house. For a moment anger flashed through her—that was hers! That was her home, her safe place! She was coming back someday! There was a huge temptation for her to bust in and roar and stake her claim like an animal. But then she saw the back room. She was in the middle of painting it, but one wall was done and had the name _Diana_ on it in big puffy letters. A crib was being assembled too. And Kelly was moving into the other room it looked like.

 _She’s getting her daughter back…that’s good…I guess…one of the others probably suggested this. Maybe they think I’m dead…maybe I’m not coming back. They think I’m not coming back I mean._ She moved away from the house then, heading for the loft. Nick was alone now. Sloane watched him for a bit as he used the punching bag downstairs, then came up and had a beer before bed. She jumped to the loft roof when he did. She wanted to stay close but drew the line at watching him sleep.

 _…What if I don’t get better? What if I’m like this the rest of my life? Am I always going to be on the outside, looking in?_ The questions kept coming, her heart drumming in her ears. She began pacing the roof of the loft like a cage as she tried to think about what to do. _I should go…I shouldn’t be here!_ She jumped back to the other building and turned, looking at the loft again. She didn’t realize that her shadow was being cast by the streetlight nearby till she saw Nick’s moving inside. She considered letting him see her a moment but saw from the way he held his hand he had his gun ready. Not feeling like ending up shot, she turned and raced back for the woods.

\--------------------

Sloane waited a few days before going back to get food. She decided she needed to only check on in the others on occasion. She didn’t want to be a stalker and constantly check in on them. A part of her remembered the time she told herself she relished being alone. _You just didn’t want to admit you were lonely._

She also got together food and dropped it off at the homeless camp while they slept. A little like Santa Claus maybe, but she wanted to look out for them too. They seemed nice. But she was too scared what her delusions might make her do. Considering what it made her see regarding her friends, strangers were not safe.

It was maybe two months later that she went back to see Nick’s apartment at night. She sighed when she realized from the dim lights he likely wasn’t home. _Should I check on Monroe and Rosalee? What else can I do here?_

She heard a crash while she was thinking and looked towards an alley a couple of buildings over. “You should’ve just played along, old man!”

She sighed and started towards it. _Crime never sleeps…yeesh, I sound like Batman or something. What kind of assholes attack an old man—_

“H…Help! Someone!”

Her eyes widened when she recognized the voice. _Wait…that’s my eisbieber!_ She took off faster, getting to the edge and looking down. Three younger men were advancing on Bud Wurstner, who was prone on the ground trying to get up from the garbage bags he fell on. She could see one of them reach for a knife in his belt and felt her blood boil.

“I’m going to shut you up for good—” They heard her step up on the ledge and looked in time to see her jump and land between them and bud.

“What the hell is that?!” the leader cursed, packing into them. Sloane stood to her full height on her hind legs and it felt like looking at disobedient children with how she loomed above them. She pulled back her lip in warning.

“Monster!” one of the others screamed.

She snarled and took two steps forward, and that’s all it took for them to run screaming.

Huffing, she eased back down onto her haunches. _Chickens…_ Turning her head, she opened her mouth to try and say his name but only a dull rumbling screech leaked out. Bud was staring with wide, pale eyes before he tried to scrabble back, woging in fear. _Bud? Bud, it’s me!_ She reached towards him and he closed his eyes as if expecting death. Sloane’s clawed hand dropped. Then she turned and bounded to the nearby wall. She jumped and sank her claws into the stone side of the building, pulling herself up to the roof.

The fear on Bud’s face stuck with her. She used to somewhat enjoy striking fear into wesen’s hearts as a Grimm. But to see it on a friend’s face…to know he couldn’t understand her…

_I’m little more than an animal…what did I expect? A thank you?_

She paused going back over the bridge, looking down at the Willamette below. She could barely make out the lump of her reflection in the lights shining on the water. _…what am I doing? I can’t even be around people day or night. I’m a danger during the day and I’m a monster during the night…what’s the point?_

\--------------------

“There’s not much point tormenting you when you’re like this.”

Sloane opened her eyes and glared at Maria. “Then just leave.”

“I’m in your head, I can’t,” she said. “Are you just giving up?”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“What I want is for you to suffer,” she said, suddenly very close.

Sloane stared at her before sighing and turning over. “Yeah yeah…”

Maria glared and then reached out. Sloane gasped as she felt like something grabbed her heart and squeezed, curling up. Looking back, Maria had her hand inside her chest, squeezing. “I can make this so much worse for you.”

Sloane glared and kicked out. “I don’t remember you being this awful! You were a sweet girl!”

She moved back and laughed. “I was! Then you killed me!”

“It was an accident!”

“It was still murder! You murdered that sweet girl, and this is what I am now, because of you! Not just me, but so many others too! You Grimms claim to fight monsters, but you make so many more!”

Sloane covered her eyes, her head throbbing. “Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” she yelled. She dug her fingers hard into her arm. Sometimes the pain helped her focus. She had to get out of the house. Pulling on the hoodie she’d found in the trash; she pulled the hood up and then grabbed a bandana. She didn’t want to risk being recognized if someone saw her…

As she walked through the woods, she closed her eyes and went mostly by sound around the trees. It was a bit more calming this way. It took away a little power from the visions, though she still heard faint whispers as she walked.

“Get them out of here!”

She blinked and frowned at the yell. It didn’t sound like any of her usual horrific visions and it was quite a way a head she was pretty sure. Opening her eyes, she made her way towards the sound which was by the river. The frown deepened when she saw men tearing down the homeless camp near the bridge and pushing the others out.

“We weren’t doing anything!” Sweetpea said.

“We’re shooting here. I’m afraid you need to go,” A man in a hunter’s outfit said.

“Shooting? Like a movie or a hunt?” Maurice asked.

“Depends on how long you wait to get out of our way.”

Sloane glared and moved towards them.

“What are you going to do?” Maria asked, standing in the corner of her vision. “Kill the men?”

She paused and didn’t answer. She didn’t have to as another man came down the hill. He was older, with graying hair and a thick creole accent. “Jack! Where are your manners?” He sidled down and smiled in a friendly manner, but it felt like an act. “My apologies, mes amis! I should’ve been more specific about how I wanted them to ask you to move. Here, why don’t you come up and we’ll get y’all something to eat for the trouble, then we can go drop you off at a nice shelter in town?”

“We’d rather you piss off!” Sweetpea said.

The man kept smiling but there was an edge to his voice now. “I’m trying to be nice, my lovely lady. So please, join us for lunch. Or I might be insulted.”

Sweetpea looked angry a moment but Maurice put a hand on her shoulder. “Let us gather up a few things first…sir.”

“Of course, of course! These men will let you and then lead you to my camp. See you there,” He smiled and waved, heading back up the hill. Sloane watched him and then watched over the homeless folks as they gathered up what they had and were led by the men back into the woods. She didn’t like this and followed, just to be sure she didn’t need to intervene. She watched them be led to get some sandwiches and eat, watched over rather menacingly.

The camp itself was strange. A couple of large RVs, several cars, men, and a whole pack of dogs. One of the dogs looked towards her and growled but she glared at it and it quieted down when she tapped into her Grimm aura. _Still got it, at least…_

As they were eating, a range rover pulled up to the area and another, younger man hopped out. He looked angry from what she could tell from his body language. “I’m looking for H. Rider Grosvenor!”

The men at the camp stood and met him, putting hands against his chest to stop him. “Hold it there, buddy. We’re not taking any more visitors today.”

“I’m not a visitor, I’m a conservationist at the zoo and I want to make a complaint!”

“Oh God, not again,” one of the men groaned. “Every freakin’ time…”

The others sighed as well but kept a handout. “Regardless, you weren’t invited. This is trespassing.”

“The hell it is, he doesn’t own this forest! And if he doesn’t want me lambasting him over every bit of social media possible, about how he hasn’t met with _anyone_ from the zoo regarding this, he’ll meet with me now!”

The men glared but a woman was walking over quickly. “S-sir, please, just calm down…what is it you want to speak with Mr. Grosvenor about?”

“What else? This farce of a PR stunt he’s putting on! He’s going to hunt s-some unknown animal in the woods? This isn’t the heart of Africa circa 1886!”

“Please, calm down,” she said again, looking a little more desperate. “Mr. Grosvenor is very busy, I’m afraid you can’t just come and expect a meeting…”

“Oh, is that true?” the older man from earlier said.

“M-Mr. Grosvenor,” the woman said.

“Now Darla, I can’t just turn away someone with questions, can I? I’m all about education and healthy debate.”

“I bet you are…” the man mumbled.

“And who are you again?” Grosvenor said, smiling amiably.

“Clifford Pinchot. I work at the Portland Zoo.”

“Ah, of course! I should’ve guessed you were a conservationist.”

“I am. And I have a lot of concerns regarding this…set up.”

“Complaints it sounded like,” one of the men said.

“Those too. You put out all those fliers about hunting this “Willamette Wild Thing” everyone’s talking about without ever consulting us! Not about taking it, helping you, anything like that! It’s raised a lot of alarms with us!”

Sloane frowned. _Willamette Wild Thing? The hell is that?_

“I’m sure, I’m sure,” he nodded. “But my friends here were just finishing a nice complimentary breakfast. Why don’ you and I go talk over here in my trailer?” He put a hand around the younger man’s shoulders, smiling all the while as he led him away. Sloane didn’t like this Grosvenor man. He gave her a bad feeling. But her concern was still with Maurice and the others.

As they were finishing eating and ushered towards a van, three new individuals walked into camp—and Sloane forgot to breathe.

 _Hank, Renard…Nick…what are they doing here?!_ When she realized Nick was looking at her, her heart leapt up to her throat.

Then his face suddenly began to turn into a black dot. The dot got bigger and bigger, taking up his face like a black hole. “It’s because of him you’re like this,” Collin hissed in her ear. “If you hadn’t have tried to help him…stayed here…fallen in love, you wouldn’t be like this now. It’s his fault. You should just cut him out of your life…or cut him up.” Sloane quickly turned and ran as she felt her mind starting to cloud over, trying to get away from the voice. “What’s the matter, Sloane?! You had no trouble shooting me in the head!”

 _God, even as a hallucination you’re a self-centered asshole…_ she thought, but kept running. She didn’t want to risk getting too close or Nick figuring out who she was.

Getting back to the house, she felt her frustration mounting and threw off the bandana.

“Welcome back,” Maria said, taunting.

Sloane glared at her but then went to sit in the back room. She pushed the bureau in front of the door and then laid down, curling up on the mattress again. _Just let me sleep…_

She managed to sleep the rest of the day, till sunset and the pain making her wake up. Grumbling to herself, she considered staying indoors but there was a guilty feeling that she needed to be productive. So, she went out to walk around, maybe hunt something for future food.

It was maybe three in the morning, judging by the moon, and she’d caught a few rabbits and birds. Enough for a while she felt. But seeing the deer in the clearing gave her a bit of a thrill and temptation. _I wonder…is this what wesen feel sometimes? When they hunt in the woods?_ She hunkered down, stalking around it. She really didn’t need the deer. Likely she might scare it and let it go, but the practice was worthwhile.

Then she and the deer heard a twig snap. The deer bounded one way and she turned to head off to the next, not wanting to meet an illegal hunter or something else that night. She paused when she was already a few hundred feet away when she heard a scream and a snarl like an animal. _What…shit, what else is here?!_ Turning, she went back and then climbed up the trees nearby to get a better look. She was shocked to see a Rißfleisch tearing at a man on the ground. The man was definitely already dead, but he was carving him up still. _Son of a bitch!_ She growled, her instincts screaming at her to take him down, but she resisted. They were near that big camp, if she was found she’d be shot on sight she was sure, even without mauling the man.

 _Wait…come to think of it, that hunter…that’s the guy who said he was part of the Zoo? What’s he doing out here…and the Rißfleisch, that’s the other guy!_ She realized when he unwoged. _What the hell is going on? Wha the heck is he doing now?_ She watched as he pulled something out of a bag in the bushes nearby. He was pushing some kind of paw print into the ground around him. _Trying to throw the blame on something else? Typical…_

She huffed a little and waited till he was done and left before jumping down. She looked at the body again before sighing. _I’m sorry…if I can figure out how to get the truth out, I will. As it is, I’m stuck here…_ She padded back into the woods, heading for the house.

The next day she went out again with the bandanna around her face. She knew likely there was going to be a commotion near the body and sure enough, it was crawling with police. And sure enough, Nick and Hank were there. She felt a pit of longing as she watched them work the scene. Longing for friends, home, even the work…Normalcy, as much as it was for her being a Grimm.

There was also a longing she didn’t want to acknowledge. But she felt it seeing Nick look over the scene. _I miss you…God, this is why I hate having romantic feelings for anyone!_

“(You think you’d learn.)”

Sloane’s eyes widened. That was a voice she hadn’t heard yet, speaking in Japanese. Soft but husky, and a little lyrical. It was a voice that made her stomach drop—not in disgust or fear but in bitterness.

“… (You can ignore me all you like, but I’m still here).”

“No, you’re not,” she muttered, keeping her eyes down even as she felt a phantom hand on her shoulder.

“(Won’t you look at me…You keep acting like I never existed. It hurts…)”

Sloane gritted her teeth. “You’re not real…”

“Hey…Hey you!”

Sloane looked up and gasped when she realized Nick had spotted her. She turned and ran, but he was chasing her. _No no no! he can’t catch me! He can’t know and he can’t!_

“That’ you’re crazy or that you turn into tall, dark and ugly at night?” Collin sneered as she climbed a tree. “Oh, and up you go—you might be staying a bit more animal during the day lately.”

 _Can’t believe I ever thought his accent was cute…dumb teenage me…_ She hoisted herself up into the thickest part of the branches and pressed herself against the trunk. Nick came into view but hadn’t seen her go up, so he was looking around in confusion.

“Nick? What’s going on?” Hank called, catching up to him.

“I saw this person…I saw him yesterday too. There’s something weird about him.”

 _Him?_ She looked down. _Well, I guess I am a little androgynous in this get up…_

“Weird?”

“He was wearing a mask…” he gestured over his face. “A bandana. I couldn’t see his eyes…”

“Okay, that is kind of a weird…” Hank nodded.

_I’m doing it precisely so you two don’t recognize me!_

“I thought they were one of the homeless people they pushed out yesterday, but he keeps going deeper in the woods. He ran when he saw me yesterday too.”

_Ugh, you gotta be smart too…_

“You think he knows you are?”

“Maybe…But as a cop or a Grimm?”

“Good question…If you see him again, point him out and we’ll help get him.”

Sloane frowned and watched them walk back. When they were far enough away, she jumped down and headed back for the house. _Don’t be tempted…don’t be tempted…_

\-----------------------------

Sloane went out that night. She couldn’t stop thinking about Nick, but also about what was going on. Why had that Rißfleisch killed that zoo worker? What was this about a hunt? Nick obviously knew. Maybe she could figure out how to leave a message for him to ask for help. Six months and she was no better, so she needed someone’s help.

She’d already been heading towards the bridge when she heard a dog baying. Then several others joined it. She was confused till she saw men crashing through the woods with the dogs ahead. The same ones from that Rißfleisch’s camp…heading her way.

 _Wait…am I this “Willamette Wilde Thing”?!_ She’d never thought of herself as an animal, no matter what the form, so it hadn’t clicked. She quickly raced for the bridge across the couple of roads she usually more carefully crossed as they got closer. They stayed on her heels. She jumped when a gun shot fired and sent a spray of the sandy gravel at the river’s edge flying.

“It’s heading for the bridge!”

“Stop it!”

Sloane growled and jumped onto the tracks, using them to get more traction as she raced across. Another shot sent sparks flying on the side of the bridge and Sloane cursed. _I’m running a straight line with no cover—this isn’t going to work!_ She glanced side to side and groaned when she realized she had only one way out. _It’s just water, it’s just water…_ Another shot nearly hit her and she grunted. _It’s better than getting shot!_ She grabbed onto one of the cross bars of the bridge, thankful it was wide open between the supports on either side of the tracks. With a heft, she swung her body out of the gap and took a breath before plunging into the water. A few shots went in with her, but she managed to open her eyes—and jumped a little at the fact she had no problem seeing. _…Do I have a nictating membrane?! Geeze...never even realized…makes this better I guess, at least I can see._ She paddled through the water, able to go fast thanks to her large paws while they kept firing around where she’d gone in. She got nearly halfway from where she jumped in—so only a quarter left—before she had to come up for air.

“I think that’s it over there!”

_Dammit!_

“Follow it! I’m going drive around to try and cut it off!” the Rißfleisch yelled.

Sloane kept swimming, diving now and then to try and keep them from getting a shot at her, before she was finally able to crawl onto land. She shook off the dripping water and set out towards the streets as they followed. _Gotta find a place to hide! Or get away!_ Glancing back, she cursed when some of the dogs were getting close. Then another gun shot fired too close to one of the buildings. She cut down an alley quickly. _Screw it, up and over!_ She jumped up, singing her claws into the stone side of the building and then climbed it like a tree. One dog’s jaws snapped with an audible clack when she managed to move her back leg up out of the way in time. She scaled the wall, up to the roof, and sighed as she had a chance to catch her breath.

She’d dried quite a bit from her run, but the cool night air on damp fur made her shiver. She hunkered down, listening to the dogs below as they barked and circled. But the hunters apparently didn’t realize she was up there.

“Where did it go?!”

“I don’t know, Aaron shot at it and then it disappeared!”

“You shot in the city?!”

“Did you see that thing?! Grosvenor is right, we can’t let that thing run loose in the city!”

Sloane huffed, pacing a little and then sighed as she paced the roof. _I’m stuck here till they move on…damn! I should’ve realized, what else would they be hunting like this? But I haven’t hurt anyone! Not in this form at least…If I could see some of those visions now, I’m sure they’d try to denote the irony of a Grimm being hunted as an animal…_

She wasn’t sure how long she was pacing. It felt like too long. She was getting annoyed by the dogs barking and still trying to show them where she was hiding. _Too stupid to look up thankfully…_

Then she heard a clatter behind her—old pipes falling over by the roof door down to the building proper. She turned, hoping to scare off whoever was there, only to be faced with maybe the one person she didn’t want to see at that moment.

_Nick…no no no, what are you doing here?_

Nick looked shocked when he got an eyeful. How could he not be? But he didn’t turn away. Instead he was actually moving slowly forward. “Hey…uh, hi…Can you…understand me?”

Sloane whined. _Yes, I can understand you, but you can’t understand me!_

“Hey…hey, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, carefully and gently. “I’m here to help. You want to help people, right? You help a friend of mine.”

_Bud? Did bud tell you? What am I saying, of course he told you…probably told half the city by now…_

“There’s some others who want to hurt you…if you come with me, I can hide you for a while. Figure something out.”

She looked at him, tempted but still unsure how to get across to him why that might not be a good idea. Then she heard more footsteps and tensed till she saw Monroe and Hank come up behind him. “Nick, we saw Grosvenor—OH MY GOD!!” Monroe swore, nearly knocking Hank over as he backpedaled.

Hank managed to grab the door frame to stay up but was gaping at the creature as well. “It’s real…”

“Guys,” Nick hissed.

Sloane looked to the edge. _Would a fall from this height kill me?_ She thought idly, wondering if this was worth it. The shorter building on the side was a bit of a jump though, and the other was a couple stories taller.

“Look, we’re not here to hurt you,” Nick said again, drawing her attention. “We just want to know what…who you are. Are you wesen?”

Sloane stared a moment before taking a breath and trying very hard to say her name. _Sloane. Sloooaaaane…no, yeah, I sound like a dying whale put through a bad speaker at a night club…_

“What is it…?” Hank asked.

“Hell if I know…” Monroe said. “I’ve…never heard of anything like this. I mean, folkloric animals exist to some extent but…I don’t even know what this could be…”

“It’s not trying to attack us. That’s the important thing,” Nick said, trying to stay patient with them. He looked back at her. “Please…we just want to help. I want to understand you…”

 _God…I want you to, too…_ she thought, her heart clenching. She felt like crying and wondered if she even could in this body.

Then they all jumped when they heard a scream. Sloane looked up and her heart clenched again and dropped when she saw Rosalee hanging from a small ledge on the other building, at least seven stories up.

“ROSALEE!!” Monroe screamed.

“Help!!” she yelled.

Sloane could see Wu and Renard extending their hands down to try and get her, but they couldn’t quite reach. “Grab on!!”

“I can’t!” she said.

Monroe was looking around, trying to find a way across. “Rosalee, we’re coming!”

“We can’t get there in time!” Hank said.

“I’m slipping!” Rosalee screamed, trying to hold on.

Sloane didn’t think. She took a few steps back then took a running leap from the edge. Her legs felt like pogo sticks and sent her flying up. Rosalee screamed as her hands slipped and she began falling, but Sloane was in time to catch her and clutch her close with one arm. The other she slapped against the side of the building, her claws extended and raking against the stone. The vibrations made her teeth tingle but she managed to stop their descent quickly with her hind legs also digging into them. Rosalee gasped but grabbed on instinctively, shaking. Sloane rumbled low, giving her a squeeze.

When she heard a gun cock her head whipped up to see the tiger-hunter aiming down. “Good evening, my ugly friend!”

_Oh hell!_

Another gun fired first though, making the hunter curse and back away when it struck the roofline close to him. Sloane could see Renard grab him and start fighting. With that opening, Sloane knew they needed to get out of the line of fire. Holding Rosalee tight, she eased back her close and they started sliding rapidly down the side of the building. Rosalee screamed and it hurt Sloane’s ears, but she had no way to tell her she was in control. When they got to the ground she moved to put Rosalee on her feet but realize to her horror she was passed out.

_Oh no…c’mon, Rosalee! This isn’t the best time! Since when were you afraid of heights?!_

“Get that thing before it kills her!” The hunter at the roof yelled down, ducking away from Wu trying to pin him to the ledge. She heard the boot steps of the other men coming to either end of the alley, guns raised. Another let go of the dogs and they were running right for Sloane with Rosalee still in her arms. Rosalee was going to get caught in the crossfire, which really defeated the purpose of saving her. But it did make Sloane angry.

Summoning up her Grimmness as much as possible, and covering Rosalee’s ears, she let out a roar to put any mythological beast to shame. It sounded like a jet engine, all the way up to the screech on the end. The men all paled and their guns went slack while the dogs whimpered, tucked tail and ran away. But the men weren’t cowed for long and repositioned their guns. That moment of hesitation was all she needed though to pick Rosalee up over her shoulder and make a run for it, jumping over the group of men on one side and heading back for the bridge. She could hear the yells and shouts and gunfire behind her, but she moved as fast as she could on three legs while supporting Rosalee.

Sloane managed to get back to the house with Rosalee before they could follow. When she found the graze on Rosalee’s arm, she bandaged it with an old first aid kit and let her sleep on the bed in the guest room. Sloane took a rest as well for a couple of hours, exhausted from her mad dash from the city.

\-----------------------

“…and you know the rest,” she sighed. She hadn’t gone to quite as much detail in some parts of course, but she managed to tell them what had happened up to that point. “I heard you guys getting close, so I went to check, figuring I’d lead you to Rosalee. But I saw the old man following you, so I was waiting to try and the best way to get you out…while following you for two hours.”

“Hey, your beasty scent is all over the place, give me a break,” Monroe said. “But you know…I should’ve realized your scent was under that one…I just didn’t…”

“…You guys should go. I can’t go with you like this…” she said.

“No,” Nick said. “Sloane, you can’t keep living out here like this either. Come back with us.”

“Did you not hear the whole ‘Volatile Tendencies’ and ‘loss of control’ thing?” she snapped.

“Doesn’t matter,” Hank said. “You’ve been out here six months with no progress and no help. You’re coming back and we’re going to figure out how to undo this like we usually do.”

“Like we usually do? With no trailer and my collection gone?”

“We’ll find a way.”

“And my house? Where am I going to stay?”

“With me,” Nick said readily. Sloane looked at him. “I’ve got an extra room with my mom staying with Adalind. And I got plenty of room for your, uh…other…look.”

Sloane stared a moment, looking hopeful before shaking her head and looking down. “…I don’t want to end up hurting you…any of you,” she said. “I’m scared of myself…”

Rosalee moved in and hugged her, petting through her hair. “We’re not scared of you…We’re not going to just let you hurt us either.”

“Yeah, we’ve been through hard bits before. We’ll get through this too,” Monroe agreed.

Sloane sighed, closing her eyes before nodding. “Okay…Let me get a few things then…”

Rosalee nodded and let go and Sloane stood to go to the back room again.

“You really think we it’s safe,” Monroe whispered when she was gone. “She’s not one to blow things out of proportion…this is probably bad.”

“I don’t know, but we have to try…” Nick sighed.

Sloane pulled down the drawings, from the wall, stuffing them into a bag. She didn’t really want to leave them behind.

“You think they’ll really be able to help you,” Maria asked. Sloane just kept folding the pictures and putting them in the pack. “You’re not going to be able to ignore us forever…we’re here to stay. We’re in your _head._ ” Sloane flinched when she felt a phantom finger dig into her temple almost like a real one. “You might be able to get us out if you put a hole here though…

Sloane shook her head and finished packing the pictures and a few other things before heading back to the others. They smiled and Rosalee took her hand as they walked back through the woods in the early morning light.. _I just have to stop listening…_

Nick’s phone rang when they were nearly to the cars and he picked up. “Wu?”

“Yeah, hey, are you guys okay? I’ve been trying to call you all night!”

“Yeah, reception out here is spotty at best…but we’re fine. Better than fine.”

“You got the beast?”

“Uh…in a way,” Nick said, glancing at Sloane who quirked her brow back. “We found Sloane.”

“…You…Oh my God,” he breathed. “She’s alive?”

“Yeah. She’s also the Wild Thing.”

“…Come again?” he said, relief replaced by utter confusion.

“It’s a lot to explain. Meet us at my place later and we can go over it.”

“Okay…but she really is alive and well?”

“She’s alive…” Nick said. He couldn’t say well. Even he knew she was pretty underweight, tired, and worse after living rough for six months.

“Okay. I’ll see you guys later—Oh, Grosvenor got away! That’s part of why I was calling, to warn you.”

“Yeah…we met with him out here. Hank and I shot him, but I think he was wearing a bulletproof vest. So, he got away from us too. After threatening to kill us all.”

“Great…we’ll keep an eye out I guess…” Wu sighed.

“All we can do for now,” he sighed back. “Talk to you later.” He hanged up and their cars came into view. “Sloane, you can ride with me.”

“…Okay,” she nodded.

“We’ll follow you guys,” Monroe said. Nick realized he still hadn’t had them over since he moved and nodded.

They headed to the car and Sloane clicked the seat belt on. Nick did the same but paused before starting the car to look at her. Sloane looked back. “…What?”

“…I’m…glad you’re here…glad you’re…”

“…You thought I died?”

“I…didn’t want to believe it. There was a point I did. When Trubel came back, she said she’d heard you “didn’t make it” and thought that meant you died. Ends up they meant you didn’t make it to where they were taking you.”

“…The guys in suits…who were they?” Sloane asked, frowning as she remembered.

Nick took a breath and started the car, backing away from the forest lot. “A group called Hadrian’s Wall. Trubel joined them when she went to Philadelphia. It’s the group Chavez was part of, trying to get you two to join.”

“…huh…so she got Trubel?”

“Yeah…but…” He started explaining what had happened on their end the last few months, the things she wasn’t there for. Chavez dying, Black Claw, the cases they’d worked. Sloane listened, shocked at several points but following along. They reached the loft first and Nick parked inside.

“…I see you set up a gym,” Sloane said, eyeing the weights and other apparatus’s with approval.

“Yeah…needed something to keep me occupied. C’mon, this way,” he led her to the elevator, typing in the code and heading up. Sloane felt a little antsy being there, and fearful. But she couldn’t deny she was excited and happy too. When they got to the loft proper she looked around.

“Wow…it’s a lot nicer from the inside.”

“Thanks. You want something to drink?”

“That’d be great, yeah,” she sighed. “Water’s fine.”

He nodded, grabbing glass and getting her some ice and water. “Sit on down.”

“Oh, I…don’t know if I should. I mean I feel bad enough about your car, but I’m kind of…rank,” she said, looking down at her shabby clothes with embarrassment.

“…I got your stuff downstairs. I can look through it for your clothes.”

She looked up in surprise and swallowed the sip she took. “You have my stuff?”

“Yeah. We cleared most things out when Adalind moved in aside from the big furniture items and kitchen things she could use. I have your clothes, pictures, knick-knacks…I was saving them for you.”

“…Thank you,” she said honestly, accepting the glass.

He smiled. “It’s the least I could do…” He jumped at little when his security system beeped and went to look. “Ah, Monroe and Rosalee pulled in.” He hit the intercom as well as elevator button to send it back down. “Hey! Come to the elevator, I’ll bring you guys up.” He waited till they were in and then hit the button again.

“It’s pretty secure here, huh?” Sloane said, watching.

“Yeah, I…got a little paranoid, I admit,” he smiled. “I wanted a place I could fortify easily.”

“No, I like it,” she nodded. “After all the BS we’ve put up with, I get it, trust me…”

Nick smiled and then looked up when the elevator doors opened again and Monroe and Rosalee came in. “Wow…nice,” Monroe nodded, looking around. “Bit more industrial, but cool.”

“Yeah, sorry I haven’t had you over sooner…”

“It’s okay, really,” he said.

“Sloane, how do you feel?” Rosalee asked.

“…Not bad actually,” she said, looking around. “I’m not seeing anything…”

“That’s good,” she smiled. “Maybe having us around does help?”

“Maybe,” she smiled. “I, uh…I’d like to get cleaned up though to be honest. I can’t help but feel a little gross now that I’m not some place I gotta worry about raccoons coming through the walls or whatever…”

“Oh, let me go back down, I’ll find some of your clothes,” Rosalee said.

“Nick told me had them…thanks.”

“Bathroom’s over here,” Nick said, leading her over to it. “You can use any of my stuff.”

She smiled and nodded, heading in. Sighing, she looked at herself in the mirror and grimaced. “Yeesh, I am looking rough…” She looked at her matted hair, the dark circles under her eyes, the various cuts and bruises across her body, and the overall dirt and grime. Sighing, she opened a few of the drawers and then pulled out a pair of scissors. She looked at them a moment, waiting to see if someone decided to mess with her…but no voice or vision came. Taking advantage of the quiet, she began work on her hair, clipping away the matted bits of platinum blonde. _Man…I haven’t had my natural hair showing in years. Come to think of it, my hair was feeling a little rough even before from all the bleaching and dying. Maybe this is good in a way…_

She was trying to figure out how to do the back when there was a knock at the door. “Sloane? I found your jeans a shirt.”

Sloane opened the door. “Thanks, Rosalee—”

“Oh!” Rosalee sucked in a breath when she saw her.

“…That bad?”

“Uh, well…Here.” She handed her the clothes and then went and grabbed a stool from the kitchen with a smile to the curious guys still in the kitchen. Going back, she sat it down and gestured. “Let me help with that before you look like a Hari Krishna.” Sloane smiled and sat. Rosalee grabbed Nick’s comb and tried to pull it through the hair only to have a hard time with it. Sloane was wincing a lot as she tried to detangle it. “…Might need to wash it first actually.”

“Ah…Okay. Let me do that and then I’ll call you back in.”

“Alright.” She nodded went back out. As she was closing the door she paused when she saw Sloane remove her shirt—and could see her ribs and spin much more prominently. Rosalee swallowed and close the door before heading over. “…Is it too early to order pizza?”

“Uh…yes. But breakfast would be good,” Monroe said.

Nick nodded and looked around. Hank was there yet. That could be good or bad. Grabbing his phone, he dialed him up. As he did he heard the shower start and glanced over to it before nodding to himself. _Nothing weird about this…Nothing weirder that is._

“Hey man. You guys home okay?”

“Yeah, but where are you?”

“Stopped to get food. Thought I’d surprise y’all with some breakfast tacos.”

Nick smiled. “You’re psychic.”

“No, just a great detective. I think I know what everyone wants.”

“Get double for Sloane!” Rosalee said.

“Okay, can do. I’ll see you in a bit then.”

“See you then,” Nick said. He hanged up and sighed. “…Double for her?”

“She’s lost a lot of weight…” She said more quietly, worriedly. Nick frowned a little and looked towards the door.

Sloane meanwhile washed thoroughly. It was the first time she was cleaning with water not from a lake. And being hot water. She sighed at how good it felt and how she was able to actually watch the layer of dirt melt off her skin. She used Nick’s shampoo and worked out the nots while it was wet, managing to finally get them out after a lot of picking with her fingers in some areas. She could tell she did get her hair pretty raggedy and sighed. _I guess I should’ve washed it first…_

When the water began to cool she sighed and turned it off. Grabbing the towel, she dried off enough she could get her clothes on without too much discomfort. But then looked at them with a frown. _These are mine? They’re almost hanging off me…I guess I wasn’t eating that great…_

Rosalee knocked on the door. “Sloane?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

She came in and smiled. “Feel better?”

“A lot, yeah,” she smiled.

“Good. Then let me see what I can do with your hair…”

“You know how to cut it?”

“My mother was a hairdresser. She taught me enough I think I can make you look decent for now,” she said. She started trimming the ends in the back, getting rid of the rest of the platinum blonde. “…I knew you dyed your hair, but I didn’t realize you were a brunette.”

“Yeah…Except for this,” she said wryly, tugging at the streak of white at the front.

“That’s always been there?”

“Since I was about 8…it’s genetic. Oma had it and Dierdre has it. Some of the men have had it she said too. I’ve been dying it for almost a decade though. It stands out too much.”

“I think it’s cute,” Rosalee smiled.

“Kids used to call me Bride of Frankenstein and “Skunk”.”

“Kids are idiots,” Rosalee said automatically. Sloane chuckled, letting her tilt her head this way and that while she cut.

“Okay, I think that’s good for now…eventually you can see a real professional though.”

Sloane looked up and was surprised. It was short, but stylish. It reminded her a bit of Audrey Hepburn, and the white streak swept across her brow. “I think you did pretty good, especially for a non-pro.”

She smiled and then hugged her close. “I’m just so glad you’re back…I missed you.”

Sloane smiled, sighing. “I missed you too…”

Rosalee smiled and gave her a squeeze. “Hank came with breakfast tacos by the way, come on out and eat.”

“Let me finish freshening up a bit.”

She nodded, heading back out to the others. Sloane looked at herself in the mirror again and sighed. “I’m okay…I’m okay, nothing is happening. I’ll be fine…”

Blinking, she opened her eyes to see Dierdre in the mirror in front of her. “You’re going to kill them all. Then you’ll be who you’re meant to be.” She lifted her hand, showing a bloody knife in her hand—the knife she’d used for years that Dierdre had taken with her. “Like mother, like daughter…”

Nick and the other jumped when they heard the breaking glass and rushed to the bathroom. Sloane was breathing heavily, her bare fist against the glass, bleeding down the glass in rivulets of red, her eyes black with an expression of pure hatred on her face. “Sloane!” He quickly pulled her arm away and she jolted, looking confused.

“I…what?”

Nick grabbed a towel and held it around her hand, making her hiss. “I have a first aid kit in the kitchen, in the pantry!”

“On it!” Hank said, rushing back.

“What happened?” Monroe asked, looking at the mirror in confusion.

Sloane groaned, covering her eyes. “I…the mirror, I saw…I didn’t even realize I tried to punch her…”

“Her?”

“Dierdre, she was in the mirror—I saw…” Sloane shook a little and Nick was surprised to realize she was crying. “I shouldn’t have come back…”

“Sloane…It’s okay, it’s just a mirror. I’ll replace it.”

“But what if it’s not a mirror next time?!” she shouted. “I can’t be around people! Not like this! I have no control! I need to go!” Nick grabbed her tighter when she tried to get away. “Let go! I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Then don’t leave!” he said, squeezer her. He was a little surprised at the desperation in his voice. “We’ll get through this.”

Sloane eased slightly and Hank came back and knelt down in front of her. Nick took the towel away and Hank looked at her hand. “Okay…good news is I don’t think it’s gonna need stitches. But we’ll need to bandage it up good.”

They didn’t say anything, everyone helping to clean the cut along her knuckles, apply a disinfectant and bandage it up. Nick held her the whole time and she calmed down but looked tired. When Hank was done he squeezed her shoulder. “Think you can eat something?” He asked.

“…Okay…”

He helped her up and they brought her to the kitchen, watching her eat. Nick looked at Rosalee. “Can you…call Adalind? Maybe she can help.”

She nodded, pulling out her phone. Nick watched Sloane eat slowly and felt his heart clench at how small she looked. He hadn’t anticipated her coming back like this. But he knew she was still herself—the visions, the transformations, they didn’t change that. She was scared to death of hurting them. He wouldn’t let that happen, but he was going to get her better. This wasn’t psychosis, it was a literal curse, and curses had cures.

\-------------------

Bosch walked into the lab they’d set up, looking around. “Well, how’s the set up, doc?”

Dr. Ahn looked up from going over his notes. “…It will do, for what you want.”

“Good. Got everything you need?”

“Almost…”

“Almost? We don’t like almost, Doc,” he sneered, leaning over him. He smirked when the doctor flinched and hunched over more. Reinegen of any variety were always so easy to spook. Even these “smarter” varieties. “Especially if we think you’re just stalling for time.”

“I-I’m not, really,” he said quickly. “I need abrin.”

“Abrin?” he asked, quirking his brow.

“It’s a poison…”

“Poison? We’re not asking you to make poison.”

“I’d argue that point…” Bosch glared. “B-But I won’t. Abrin is a poison, but it’s essential to create what you want. It prevents cells from causing certain proteins, usually causing painful dryness and dehydration, so if I utilize that with some of the other chemicals and herbs I can create a reverse—”

“Spare me the details,” he sighed, waving his hands. “Where do we get it?”

He swallowed. “The best source would be a plant. The Rosary Pea.”

“Rosary pea, huh?”

“Yes. It’s native to Australia and Asia…Getting an already extracted source would be rather difficult here.”

“Well, that’s not too big of a deal. We’ll get you a whole crate of them if we have to. Nothing’s too hard for our big boss,” he grinned. “You better just have everything ready to start testing it when you get them.”

“I will…” he said, nodding.

“Good. We want a batch done in time for Halloween. Give the Kehrseite a night they won’t forget!” he laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one took me a bit. I kept flip flopping on what I was going to do with (to) Sloane. My first plan was her seeing the visions and really being very mentally unstable...but I worried that would be a bad representation of mental health. Then I thought about the beast idea and liked it a lot, but wondered if that was jumping the shark. Then I remembered, I'm writing this, I can do what I want! So I decided to do both. Kind of like stories like Swan Princess and another version of Beauty and the Beast where the "Beast" turns human for a little while at night. (Movie version I remember was called the Polar Bear King I think...). So Now Sloane has to deal with a lot of bloody, guilt tripping visions and turning big scary at night! Huzzah!
> 
> Grosvenor is based on Sean Connery--as Fictional legendary hunter Allan Quartermane in League of Extraordinary Gentleman. But a huge asshole and Cajun. His name comes from the author of Allan Quartermane, H. (Henry) Rider Haggard, and the last name Grosvenor is a Norman French name from "Le Grande Veneur" or "The Master Huntsman". Clifford Pinchot is a play in Gifford Pinchot, a famous nature conservationist.
> 
> I also created a tumblr for Sloane's stuff! https://sloanescasebook.tumblr.com/ You'll find links to the chapters here but with some additional comments, as well as some old photo edits, drawings, casting ideas etc. I'm still getting some stuff together to upload so more is coming, including more illustrations of original wesen from the story! And Sloane's beast form soon too and such.


	30. Phantasmagoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sloane is back, but there's still the probably of her curse. Nick calls in Adalind, Henrietta, and another old acquaintance to try and figure out what to do. He's hesitant to leave Sloane alone, but more and more incidents keep cropping up--from lake monsters to human sacrifice to Black Claw planning something on Halloween! In between it all though, Nick is starting to realize just how important Sloane is to his life...
> 
> Contains rewrites of A Reptile Dysfunction and Star-Crossed as well as an original case!

**_“And it was a mixture of baying and bellowing_ **

**_And a drawn-out screeching and a stormy roaring,_ **

**_And in every change in the howling, a challenge was hidden,_ **

**_An appeal and, more than anything, a prayer._ **

**_And more than anything, the prayer terrified all hearts,_ **

**_Because it recalled a human weeping.”_ **

\---------------------------

**Phantasmagoria**

\---------------------------

  1. Rider Grosvenor was not a man that gave up. He was tenacious to a fault. But he wasn’t stupid either. He’d had a bullet proof vest under his shirt for protection and it kept him from being killed by the Grimm. Sometimes a gun wasn’t the best choice if you wanted to make sure something was dead. But lying down to fake his death and calming down, he realized he was outnumbered. And a battle of numbers could mean defeat even if your skill and tenacity were higher.



So when he knew they were distracted he managed to get to his feet and get out of there. It made his inner Rißfleisch cringe, and his desire to bag his trophy was still strong. But live to fight another day and all that.

Getting back to his camp took a little longer than he’d like and he growled when he saw it was still empty. He forgot most of his men were arrested. Damn Renard! He’d hated him when he was a child and he grew into a little prat as well. Getting to the trailer, he pulled off his shirt and then grunted and took off the bullet proof vest. He’d have some bruises but better than wounds he knew. Getting a bottle of bourbon from his cabinet, he sat and drank straight from the bottle. He then went to talk a shower and a nap. There wasn’t much point in getting his men sprung from jail now. Not without a plan. And his chest hurt like hell.

He woke up when he heard his trailer door open and cracked one eye.

“Rough Night?”

Grosvenor turned his head, his eyes turning gold. “The hell are you doing here?”

Donovan Bosch smiled. “Just checking in.”

Grosvenor swore in French. “I shouldn’t have joined you lot, you keep “checking in”. I’m a busy man.”

“Obviously.”

He glowered and grabbed the bottle of bourbon, taking another swig. “What is it now?”

“Well, we want to be sure you’re doing alright.” Bosch toed the bullet proof vest with mock sympathy. “Seems you might not be.”

“A set back,” he spat.

“Well, we’ve got a job for you.”

“I’m busy!”

“With what? Feeling sorry for yourself in your old age?”

Grosvenor growled and slammed the bottle down. “I would’ve had that beast if it wasn’t for the Grimm! Fils de pute!”

“I know that mean’s “son of a bitch” and I’ll try not to be insulted by that,” Bosch sneered. “The Grimm wanted the beast too?”

“Yes, but I don’t think to kill…they seemed to know it,” he said.

He laughed a little. “Oh, maybe it’s his escaped pet then!”

“Do Grimms keep animals the size of grizzlies as pets?”

“Don’t see why not. Probably feeds wesen to it. But regardless, leave it for a bit. You’ll need time to regroup, right?” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded-up packet of papers while ignoring the tiger’s glare. “You like Asia, right?”

“Not that kind of tiger…”

“I meant more as it being a place you visit and get your cheap ass gear made.” Grosvenor snarled but he went on. “And have contacts. Indonesia too, right?” He held out the packet and the man took it. “We’re working on a big project, but need something. A plant called the Rosary Pea. It’s native to Indonesia.”

He quirked a brow. “I know it. It’s also an invasive species here in the US, down south east, especially in Florida.”

“No kidding? Heh, I forget you’re a smart old guy.” Grosvenor glared in warning and Bosch laughed. “Sorry, just giving you grief. But if you can get this, I think the man in charge might be willing to reward you…”

Grosvenor sobered and looked at the details. “How much do y’all need?”

“As much as you can get within a week. The more you get, the better the reward I’m betting. And you can take time to figure out how to deal with the Grimm and your beast.”

“…Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll need to deal with some things here first though.”

“Don’t worry, we’re already helping with that. But you should lay low away from the city a bit. I don’t think you won anyone over firing in the city proper.”

He smiled. “What can I say? When I hunt, the prey is all I think about.”

Bosch laughed a little as he headed for the trailer door. “Man, you sound like one of those old-timey explorers. You were born in the wrong time, man.”

Grosvenor sighed as he left and took another swig. “Don’t I know it…”

\--------------------

Nick opened the elevator for Adalind. “Hey, thanks for coming…”

“Of course, yeah. Your mom’s watching Diana but wanted to come too…” She paused when she saw Sloane sitting on the couch and smiled. She was different—her hair was dark with a white streak over her forehead now instead of the platinum bob for one. And she looked run down, tired and skinny. But it was her for sure. “You did find her.”

“Yeah…But whatever Juliette did is…bad.”

Adalind frowned and walked over. Sloane looked up at her and smiled wearily. “Morning…”

“Morning,” she nodded, sitting down. “…You look scared…?”

“…There’s a drangzorn behind you I killed…”

Adalind looked behind her quickly, then back to her when she saw nothing. “What?”

“She sees dead people,” Hank sighed. “But like, people she’s…”

“Killed,” Sloane sighed. “But not just that. I hear them. They show me fake things. I’ve…seen visions of the people I care about dead…I black out sometimes and wake up after having hurt someone…Sometimes myself.” She looked at her hand, which was bandaged from her wrist up through her fingers. She’d punched the mirror after hallucinating seeing her mother with a bloody knife in her hand. Her thoughts had been to protect the others and they had taken over her mind so much she didn’t stop herself from punching the mirror and didn’t realize till Nick pulled her away.

“Oh…wow…”

“That’s not all,” Monroe said.

“There’s more?!”

“Oh yeah…”

“I change at night…” Sloane said. “I don’t see the visions and my mind is fine. But I turn into…Well, it’s not like anything I’ve seen.”

“Or us,” Rosalee said. “It’s an animal…of some kind.”

“That’s…worrying,” she nodded.

“Have you ever heard of anything like this?” Nick asked hopefully.

She sighed and shook her head slowly. “Not exactly. I mean, I’ve heard of spells to make people see things. Spells to change someone’s form exist—I mean, you know that, but going between species is a lot harder. There are families that specialize in that sort of thing, but they keep their spells very secure and secret. Because otherwise, this happens…”

“Then how did Juliette do it?” Rosalee asked.

“I don’t know…she’d be the one you need to ask. Or Eve, whatever her name is.”

“…Sorry, what?” Sloane said.

“Ah…we hadn’t explained that yet,” Nick grimaced.

“Explained what? Juliette died…didn’t she?” she asked. She did remember seeing her get shot before passing out completely.

“Not exactly…I’ll explain in a bit.” He looked at Adalind. “Is there nothing you can do?”

She sighed. “I’d need to know exactly what she did…I can call Henrietta, see if she can help. We might need to see this change too.”

“No problem happens every day at sunset…” Sloane sighed.

“Can’t wait to show that off again, huh?” Maria said in her ear.

She flinched and moved away from her. Nick noticed but didn’t say anything. He could tell she didn’t want to let on just how bad it was affecting her still after breaking the mirror. But he couldn’t help but worry.

“I’ll come back around then with Henrietta then,” Adalind nodded. “If you can copy down what you see and feel today that might help too.”

Sloane nodded. “Will do.”

“…I, um…I’m currently in your house. I know that might seem weird, but I—”

“I know,” Sloane said, holding up a hand.

“You do?”

“I went to check one time…it’s alright. I saw you had Diana.”

“Y-yes…I’m glad it’s alright then,” she sighed. “Of course, when you want to get back, we’ll figure something else out.”

“I think it might be a bit before then…” she ended in a yawn.

“I think we could all use some rest after last night,” Hank sighed.

“Yeah, I am a little bushed,” Monroe said.

Rosalee looked hesitant to leave, but Sloane smiled and patted her hand. “…We’ll be back later too.”

Nick knew not to argue. “That’s fine. I’ll be here.”

The all gave Sloane a hug and she smiled as they did and they left. Eventually it was just Sloane and Nick and he sighed and sat down. “…I’m glad we found you.”

“…I’m glad too. As worried as I am, I…missed you all a lot.”

He smiled and then reached up to flick the streak of white in her dark hair, making her blink. “This is going to take some getting used to though…”

“It’s genetic,” she said, tugging at it. “I was telling Rosalee my mother and grandmother had it on back through the generations. Men too. It appeared a little before I started seeing wesen…” She looked at him and smiled. “Did you prefer me as a blonde?”

Nick blushed a little and shook his head. “No, it’s not that. You look really good.”

“I was just teasing,” she smiled. She didn’t really believe him.

Nick blushed more, realizing how desperate he sounded trying to clarify himself. “…I remember going to your house while you were dying her hair once. Wasn’t it hard to keep it up for so long?”

“A little,” she nodded. “But the streak was too identifiable when I was traveling as a Grimm. I tried dying it dark but it never looked right. Too big to just cut it all the time too. Plus…”

“Plus?”

“…It was hard to see it in the mirror sometimes. Reminded me of my grandmother…and of Dierdre.”

Nick frowned in sympathy. How hard was it, he wondered, to look in the mirror and see a feature that reminded you of someone you loved and missed dearly, and someone who hurt you so badly through most of your life. Sometimes he got a little sad when he’d see his father’s eyes in the mirror and wondered what he would be like today.

Sloane yawned again, her eyes heavy. Nick stood and offered his hands. “C’mon, why don’t you go lay down to rest?”

Sloane hesitated but reached up with her unbandaged hand and let him help her up. “…I can’t always sleep well during the day…”

“That’s okay. I’m here if you need me.” She smiled a little and followed him as he led her to a nearby bedroom. “This was originally my mother’s room, but she took the guest room at your place and so I kept it just in case someone needed it…” It was a little industrial but had the same windows that ran around the room that could be shuttered with metal shutters if needed. There was a dresser, a closet, a rug with a modern design woven into it, and a bed with simple sheets and a comforter.

“It’s nice,” she smiled.

Nick smiled back and then gently hugged her a moment. “Rest up.”

Sloane leaned her head against him a moment but then pulled back. Nick closed the door as he left and she sighed before sitting down on the bed. She was hesitant to sleep but she laid back with her hurt hand on her stomach. She closed her eyes, trying to breathe deeply and slowly and clear her mind. Slowly her tired mind finally wound down and let her sleep.

\------------------

Nick sighed as he sat on the couch. He was tired too, but not too bad. He’d sleep eventually when Sloane was settled.

He jumped when he heard his phone and scrambled to answer it so it wouldn’t disturb her. “Burkhardt.”

“Nick! It’s Wu.”

“Hey, yeah, hi…”

“The captain’s here too. Because you said you found Sloane?”

“Yeah, we did…she was out in the woods. Actually squatting at the old cabin there, the one the postman lived in.”

“That’s a fortunate turn of events to say the least,” Renard said, sounding relieved.

“Yeah…but she’s also the Wild Thing.”

“…Wu thought you said that and I thought we must be too tired and heard you wrong.”

“No, I’m afraid not. It’s the curse Juliette put on her, before Trubel came that night…”

“Geeze, that’s one heck of a curse…” Wu said. “How do you know it’s her?”

“She’s human during the day. But she…sees things. It’s hard to explain,” he sighed. “I called Adalind, she and Henrietta are coming by tonight to take a look and help figure things out.”

“Can I come by? I want to see her…”

“That’s fine. …Captain?”

“I’ll come by too. I might have someone who can help too. But till then we’re still dealing with a little fallout. A high-priced lawyer came by to bail out most of Grosvenor’s men.”

“And we still haven’t found the man himself. All of his stooges here are saying he was never there and they acted without his consent to fire in the city.”

“They can’t think that will work?” Nick asked.

“Unfortunately, we could only say Wu and I were there due to coincidence. We can’t say we saw the beast, trespassed, or anything like that. So it’s our word against the word of about two dozen…”

“Fantastic,” Nick sighed. “Why are they even loyal to him?”

“It’s not loyalty I think. They seemed more scared than anything…I’m not sure why. Certainly he’s intimidating when he wants to be but they out number him.”

“Maybe he has something else,” Nick supposed. “Something over their heads.”

“More than likely…We’re going to hold on to as many as we can but right now best we have on them is illegal discharge of a weapon and disturbing the peace.”

“Yeah, working on this whole “don’t tell them what wesen are” thing kind of blows sometimes,” Wu said dryly.

“Trust me, I know,” Nick said. “I’d like to stay here with Sloane right now though.”

“That’s fine. We’ll update you if anything else happens,” Renard said.

“Thanks. Bye.”

They hanged up and Nick sighed a bit. He shouldn’t be surprised a guy like Grosvenor had lawyers on retainer. Still, the frustration was palpable. Turning on the TV, he leaned back to watch some TV and catch up on current events.

\-------------------

When Sloane opened her eyes again, she frowned because something was wrong. This wasn’t the room Nick left her in—it was even more plain. Just a bed and a single window inside plain white, boring walls. Sitting up, she looked down and frowned further at the fact she was wearing what looked like plain white pajamas instead of the jeans and a T-Shirt. “What…?” Standing she looked around and then noted there was a wire mesh over the windows. Looking out, she saw a green lawn with similarly dressed people walking around in the sun. Some seemed happy, others seemed almost lost as they moved like zombies.

“Where am I…? This isn’t right.” Turning, she headed for the door only to find it was locked. Pounding on it, she called out. “Hey! Hey, why am I locked in here?! Hey!”

She moved back when the door opened and a man in blue scrubs stood there. “Miss Larson…you don’t seem to have calmed down.”

“Calmed down? What are you talking about—where am I?”

The man sighed. “Miss Larson, you know where you are.”

“The hell I do!”

“Language,” he said, writing something on the clipboard. “If you keep being belligerent, we’re going to have to put you in solitary again.” He paused and then walked past her and grabbed a sheet of paper from her wall—a drawing she remembered doing at the cabin of a Blutbad. “You’re drawing them again?” he said, sounding impatient. “Miss Larson, you know you’re supposed to stop drawing these creatures. The doctors are going to be disappointed in you.”

Sloane stared a moment before turning and running out the door. She could hear him call after her but she kept running. She slowed when she passed by a sign. _Sage Grove Mental Health Hospital? This…this is where they took me after Oma died…_ _How did I get here?! Where’s Nick and the others?!_

As she rounded a corner, she nearly knocked someone else down. Hands steadied her and she looked up to see Nick. “Nick! Oh thank God!” she said.

“Miss Larson? What’s wrong?”

She froze and then realized he was wearing scrubs and a white coat. “What…Nick, why are you wearing that?”

“Miss Larson, you’re not supposed to call me that…” he said, frowning.

The orderly from before ran up, sighing. “Doctor, I’m sorry. I was looking at this and she made a runner.” He held up the drawing and Nick sighed.

“You’re drawing them again…”

“Them? Nick, you know what they are—”

“Miss Larson, my name isn’t Nick. I’m Dr. Daniel Berkin. We went over this before.”

“…No, that’s…that’s not true,” she shook her head. “Where’s Monroe and Rosalee?!”

“Monroe and Rosalee got better and were able to go home,” he said calmly.

“Went home…? They weren’t here! This isn’t where I’m supposed to be! This isn’t real!” She shook her head, moving away from him.

“Miss Larson, Monroe had clinical Lycanthropy. We were able to help him realize he wasn’t turning into a wolf. Rosalee was able to finally heal from her time with addiction. These are good things.”

“No…this isn’t right…”

He sighed and gave a subtle nod to the orderly. “You need to rest some more.” The orderly gripped her arms and Sloane reacted on instinct to turn and slam her elbow into him. He shouted and Nick—Dr. Berkin—tried to grab her but she slipped away and ran for it. “Miss Larson! Sloane!”

She kept running, her feet were softly hitting the floor in non-slip socks but still echoing in the sterile whitewashed halls. A few people looked at her and their faces were familiar—Ryker Dowling, Frankie Gonzales, Peter Orson, and several others all dressed as patients. She saw Wu and Renard in the distance dressed as an orderly and a doctor.

“Miss Larson?” Renard said, eyeing her. Dr. Berkin came up and sighed as he came to a stop. “…Is she having a relapse?”

“…Yes.”

“She got violent, sir,” the orderly said.

He sighed and nodded to Wu and the other orderly, who closed in on her. “Wu, please…” Sloane said.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” he said. She tried to get away again but Wu grabbed her left arm and the other orderly grabbed her right.

“Let go!” she struggled but they held on tight.

“Nurse! Get some sedation!” Renard ordered.

“Yes sir!” Sloane was surprised to see Adalind coming from a station with a syringe in hand. She struggled more but she stuck her and Sloane felt something burn as it was injected.

“Get off!” she shouted, nearly bucking them all off.

“Take her to solitary!”

“Dr. Reese, is that necessary?” Dr. Berkin asked. “She’s already been sedated; it’ll take effect soon!”

As if on que Sloane started feeling weak and she dropped to her knees. _No, it shouldn’t go this fast…this isn’t real…_

“She dangerous wound up,” he said. “I know you hoped to do a gentler method, but she’s been here since she was a child, Dr. Berkin.”

_Since I was a child…? No…Dierdre got me out of here…but it feels real…I left…didn’t I? Did she never come? But then how did I know about wesen? But why are they here?_

“I was making progress! I don’t know why she relapsed. But solitary might undo that.”

“She called me “Wu”, it’s already been undone,” he sighed, pulling her up with the other. 

“Dr. Berkin, I think we may rethink you being her doctor. She’s gotten too attached,” Dr. Reese said. “And vice versa.”

“I’m just trying to provide the best care and support I can,” he said defensively. “So she has a better chance of being released.”

“It’s been 20 years, Dr. Berkin…”

“Yeah, she’s probably not getting out of here ever,” the other said. Sloane didn’t recognize him but the words cut through none the less.

 _No…no no!_ She managed to get a surge of adrenaline and shook them off, starting to run again.

“Sloane!”

Sloane kept running, managing to find a door and push through—but it was a door to the outside on the roof. She heard them coming after her and looked around but the only way to go was up. She managed to grab the edge of the building and climb, getting to the very top of the roof.

“Sloane! Get down!” Dr. Berkin yelled.

“No! This isn’t right! You’re not this! This isn’t right! I’m not crazy!”

“Sloane, it’s not being crazy! You’ve been traumatized by your grandmother’s death! You saw her killers as monsters—you were a child! It’s understandable! I’m just trying to help you put things in enough perspective you can go live your life again!” He started climbing after her and she scrambled back on the incline of the roof. “I just want to help you…I let you think I understood, but that might’ve been a mistake.”

Sloane shook her head, feeling the panic bubbling up. “No…it was real…you’re a Grimm and Monroe and Rosalee wouldn’t leave me and…”

“Sloane…I’m sorry…” he said.

“You’re going to leave me too…”

“It’s not up to me…” he said. “I want to help you though.” He moved towards her.

She tried to move back again but didn’t realize she was at the edge and her foot slipped. She felt herself tipping back and tried to regain her balance but saw that she was falling several stories to the ground below. But as she hit, the ground gave way like water. It was a shock, but not as much as when black, skeletal hands grabbed her, pulling her deeper. She screamed but couldn’t hear it, fighting against them, trying to get back to the surface. _This is the only way out, Sloane. Give in._

\----------------------

It was maybe a couple of hours after he sat down Nick nearly threw the remote when he heard a scream. It took him a moment to realize it was Sloane because he’d never heard her scream like that—pure terror. He scrambled up and rushed to the room. Sloane was wasn’t in bed and he panicked a moment before he scanned the room and saw her on the other side of the room, breathing deeply and shaking. “Sloane? Sloane, what’s wrong?” He went over but she shrank back as if trying to move through the wall away from him. He hesitated but then backed away and sat down. “Sloane?”

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply and trying to calm herself down. Nick let her, watching her worriedly. Finally she was breathing more evenly and not shaking as much. “…Where am I?”

He frowned but tried to stay calm. “My loft…we brought you here this morning.”

“Monroe and Rosalee?”

He nodded. “Yeah, and Hank. Adalind was here for a little while. What happened?”

“…Bad…dream,” she sighed. “Felt so real…but I’m not hurt or dead so I guess it wasn’t…”

Nick’s heart lurched a little. “Hurt or dead? Sloane, how bad was this?”

“…bad…” she shook her head and curled up more, hiding her face. “I’ve had rough ones before. Memories and scenarios. Like the opposite of that dream world. Death and darkness. This one…messed with me more. Made me think I was crazy…that I…never left the mental hospital they took me to as a child…that none of you were my friends, just patients or doctors…that it was all in my head.” She gripped her hair. “Only way out was dying…I fell from the roof. Trying to get away from you.”

“From me?” he said, shocked.

“Yes—no…no, “Dr. Berkin”. They wanted to put me in solitary. They did that a lot when I was a kid because I kept getting scared by everything…at one point I started to believe I really was crazy... I …don’t even know any more if I’m not,” she sobbed.

Nick slowly scooted forward till he was next to her. He reached his arm over, setting it over her shoulders. “This is real, Sloane. I promise. I’m real. I’m real and I’m not some doctor who doesn’t believe you. I’m a Grimm. Same as you. I don’t know everything you’ve been through, but I can relate to a lot.” He squeezed her when she looked up, her eyes red and tired. “And I promise you, we’ll figure this out.”

She sighed, then tensed when he pulled her in to rest against him. Slowly she relaxed though as he rubbed over her arm, trying to comfort her. Her eyes still looked heavy and he had a feeling this wasn’t the first nightmare she’d had that had her waking up like this. _And she had to manage it all alone before…she probably hasn’t been sleeping well in months…_ He stroked his fingers through her hair and pressed his forehead to her crown. _We’ll figure this out._

\-----------------

Sloane had spent the rest of the day with Nick on the couch, also catching up on current events. She was chagrinned finding the reports about the Wild Thing. “I thought I was being careful and got out of the way fast enough…”

“Hey, not everyone gets to say they’re a cryptid,” Nick smiled. He smiled more at the flat look of disapproval she gave him. But he sighed as well. “…You said you saw Trubel here before.”

She muted the TV and nodded. “Yeah…and you said she was part of the group that took me.”

He nodded. “Hadrian’s Wall. That’s what they call themselves.”

“After that wall in Britannia?” she asked, arching her brow.

“I guess they wanted a name that sounded like they were defending something.”

“Huh…I think Aegis was cooler.”

Nick smiled. “You’re a little biased considering your Grandmother was part of it.”

“You’re point?”

He snorted but sighed. “…They took Juliette too.”

“…I vaguely remember what happened after she…” she shuddered. “Didn’t she get shot?”

“Yeah. By Trubel, with a crossbow.”

“Oh…” she said. “That’s right…” He looked at him with sympathy. “I’m…sorry, Nick.”

“…Well, she’s alive still.”

Sloane tensed but then shook her head. Nick realized she was scared. The fact she was scared of Juliette would’ve been strange a year ago but he couldn’t blame her. “I…how? Why?”

He put a hand on hers. “She’s not going to hurt you. Not that I’d let her, but…When Hadrian’s wall took her, they did something to her. I don’t know what but it’s like they…reprogrammed her. She’s devoid of emotion and just does what they tell her to do. She calls herself “Eve” now. As if she’s become a new person…” he added bitterly.

“…I don’t want to see her.” Nick looked at Sloane in surprise at the quiver in her voice. “I’m sure it will come up. That she could help me. But I really…really don’t want to see her.”

“That’s fine,” he said quickly, squeezing her hand again. “I don’t blame you. I don’t either. She saved my life but after what she did I don’t want to see her either. The fact she’s saying she’s someone else and that “Juliette did that, not me” pisses me off too.”

“Yeah, it’d piss me off too,” she said, sneering a little.

“The guy in charge of the branch here isn’t bad though,” he admitted. “I mean, he’s a bit more open than Chavez was.”

“Chavez?”

“Yeah, uh…this was the organization she was part of. The one she tried to recruit us too. Well, you and Trubel first since I wasn’t a Grimm at the time. Trubel did end up joining when she went to Philly.”

“…I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“…Chavez died.” She looked at him. “I went a little nuts after what happened to you and Juliette. I thought Chavez was behind taking you both and in a way I was right. But I didn’t go about it very well. I might be on the FBI watchlist…”

“Well…I mean, I probably am too. In some way, shape or form. You’re mom definitely is.”

Nick smiled, not surprised. “I confronted her and then I kidnapped her.”

“You what now?” she said, shocked.

“I was desperate to find you!” He blushed a little at the admission and Sloane looked surprised as well. “I mean…I was convinced they took you. And they did. She arranged a meeting with more members of Hadrian’s Wall but they were killed, and we were ambushed. She fought really hard but they ended up killing her. Clawed through her…”

“…Damn,” she sighed. “I didn’t like her, but I didn’t think she deserved that…”

“She didn’t. But she told me to get out of there before I was linked to it. I found out later from the other man in charge, after Trubel came back, that the people responsible are part of basically a Wesen Terrorist cell. They call themselves Black Claw.”

Sloane frowned and turned more towards him. “What do you know about them?”

Nick took a breath and went over what they had—the marks, the attacks on shop owners, Xavier and his betrayal, the trap “Eve” saved them from, all of it. Sloane listened intently, frowning further on occasion but nodding by the end. “…and that’s where we’re at right now. They hit a chemical company two days ago but we don’t know why.”

Sloane sighed, rubbing over her forehead. “I’m not sure either…Did you call Gallin?”

“Gallin?”

“Yeah, she knows a lot of people through the library. She might be able to find someone who knows something.”

“…I didn’t think of that…also, I don’t know if I have her number.”

“I’ll call her then…did they ever find my phone?”

“Yeah, it was in Juliette’s car. I have it in a box with some other stuff of yours like your wallet.”

“That’s good,” she sighed.

“Yeah. I also have your car in the garage downstairs with your other stuff. I tried to keep it all together for when you came back…”

“…You were sure I would?” she asked.

Nick looked at her, knowing the question under that one. _You were sure I was alive?_ “Yeah…I was sure you wouldn’t die for one thing. Pretty sure you’re going to live forever,” he said with a wry smile.

She smiled a little. “Well, nothing’s killed me so far, so that tracks.”

He chuckled. “And I was sure you’d come back. And I was right.”

“…Took me a while,” she said softly.

“Yeah, but that’s not your fault…” he said, rubbing over her arm again.

She smiled and a little more. Nick got her phone for her a few moments later and plugged it in to charge after realizing it was dead. He set her keys and wallet with his on the table by the door.

When the sun started getting low, the knocks on the door started. It should’ve been a party with how many people walked in but the mood wasn’t light enough. But relief was still the overall feeling.

“Oh my God, I’m glad to see you,” Wu sighed, hugging Sloane when he came through the door.

“I’m glad to see you too,” she smiled. “I realized I didn’t know where you lived while I was…y’know.”

“You really turn into the wild thing?” he asked, surprised.

“Boy does she,” Monroe said.

“…Is it bad I’m excited to see it?”

Sloane rolled her eyes. “I’m hoping it’ll be one of the last times…”

“No, yeah, same, but like this sounds different than a woge.”

“It definitely is,” Rosalee sighed.

“It’s painful…” Sloane muttered. Wu’s excitement dimmed and he frowned worriedly.

The elevator started up again and Nick sighed. “This should be Renard, Henrietta and Adalind…”

“Good, I was getting impatient,” she sighed. The elevator came back up and sure enough there were the three they expected, and one more.

“Angela?” Nick asked, surprised.

Angela Tien smiled as she stepped off the elevator. They hadn’t seen her in almost two years, since the incident where her book of shadows was stolen, but she hadn’t changed much aside from her glossy black hair being longer down her back. “Hello again. Long time no see.”

“Yeah…um, what…”

“Angela’s talent is body modification if you remember. While this might be more extreme, I thought she might have more insight,” Renard said.

“I agreed,” Henrietta said. “The Tien family is well known for that talent, though it’s usually beauty spells.”

“We know,” Nick said.

“We had to get her book back from a very insecure woman who wanted to be pretty at any cost,” Hank said.

“ _Any_ cost,” Sloane added.

“Don’t worry, I’m not planning on using parts of people to help you,” Angela said. “I’m here to return the favor you did me from that case.”

“Okay…” she nodded slowly.

“Kelly wanted to come too,” Adalind said. “But she’s watching Diana. She’s really glad you’re okay though.”

Sloane smiled a little bit then sobered when they came closer to where she was sitting at the island. “First, let me take a look at you now before you change,” Henrietta said, walking forward. “It sounds like your current state is more up my alley from what Adalind told us.” Sloane looked up at her as she leaned in. She examined her similar to a doctor—feeling over her head and neck, looking in her mouth, and then taking out a flashlight to look into her eyes. “What do you normally see?”

“Dead bodies…see those a lot. Sometimes just dead, sometimes they talk to me. It’s people I know…usually people I kill. Sometimes…people I miss or people I…” she looked at the others and then down. “People I don’t want to die. Usually I don’t in the hour before I change so I wasn’t expecting it…”

“I see…I mean I don’t, but that’s interesting. You said they talk to you?”

“Guilt trip me. I mean, I know some of them did deserve it—but not all…”

“Yikes,” Wu muttered.

“Sometimes they try to hurt me physically.”

“Illusions?”

“Yeah. The feel real sometimes though. One of them put their hand in my chest. I mean _in_. I felt it around my heart.”

“Oh my God,” Rosalee said, closing her eyes as her stomach dipped. Nick was also shocked. He hadn’t realized how bad it was.

“And I have dreams. Kind of like before, where it feels real, but they’re not good dreams…”

Henrietta was frowning as she spoke. “That’s a lot…I’m impressed you’ve kept it together as well as you have.”

“Doesn’t feel like I am,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes. “We Grimms can go without sleep for a while okay but I’m starting to feel it…” She paused and looked out the window. “…I need to take these clothes off.”

“Whoa, is that the visions talking?” Monroe said, several of them blushing.

“No, it’s the fact I know I’m about to change talking. Last time I changed while in clothes, it was uncomfortable and ruined them and also nearly choked me.”

Angela nodded. “Would you be alright if we all went into a bedroom so we can see? Just us Hexenbiests?”

“…Grimm instincts say no, all things considered, but okay,” she sighed, standing. Nick watched them all head to the second bedroom and sighed.

“She’s feeling these things?” Rosalee hissed.

“I didn’t know that. I knew about the dreams…she woke up screaming when I convinced her to take a nap earlier.”

“Man…I wish we could do more for her,” Hank sighed.

“We’re doing what we can. Hopefully the ladies can do more,” Renard said.

Sloane meanwhile took off her clothes in the bedroom, tossing them aside.

“…You’re all scratched up,” Adalind said. She was looking mainly at scratches along her arm that matched up with her own fingers, as though she was clawing at her skin.

“…Sometimes pain helped me focus,” Sloane said, not looking at her.

“I have a good cream to help scars,” Angela said, looking sympathetically at her skin.

“Some of these are older than what’s happening now,” she sighed, grabbing the sheet so she could finish undressing. Tossing her jeans and underwear on the pile, she sighed and sat down under the blanket to keep a bit of her modesty. They could see the sun beginning to dip even lower and she groaned as she felt the familiar full-body cramping coming over her. She curled up on her side because it felt like her whole body was on fire. Like she was being melted down and remolded. Her bones cracked in the fire, expanding, shifting, changing. The follicles in her skin thickened and the hair lengthened and turned into the black and white fur of before. Her face and jaw ached like they were being pulled as they shifted into the beast-like snout. The sounds she made dipped from human sounds of pain to low growls and shrill whines of an animal.

The witches watched in shock and a little awe as she changed. When it was done Sloane managed to get to her four feet and turned to them.

“…Holy shit,” Angela managed. Sloane huffed a bit, shaking out her fur. The witches moved towards her, not afraid.

“I’ll be frank, I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Henrietta said.

“Me neither,” Adalind said. “I mean, shapeshifting into an animal is hard. This is…”

“Expert. But not flawless, I think,” Angela said, looking her over. “I think this is a combination of spells. One to make you crazy, one to make you…this.”

“Layered spell work…that’s dangerous and unstable,” Henrietta sighed.

“Describes Juliette pretty well at the end there,” Adalind said. Sloane rumbled in agreement

“Is it alright if I take some samples?” Angela asked. Sloane almost managed a quirked brow but finally huffed her consent. Angela plucked some hairs and managed to cut through a nail with some strong pliers she’d brought. “This one might be harder…” she pulled out a syringe and Sloane rumbled. “A little blood would go a long way, I promise.” Huffing again, she brought her arm up and she took that sample.

“You obviously keep your human mind like this. Do you still have visions?” Henrietta asked. She managed to shake her head as Angela finished up and put all her samples into a bag to take with her. There was a knock at the door that made them all look up.

“Ladies? Everything okay?” Nick asked, trying to keep his tone light.

Henrietta looked at Sloane. “You okay going out to them?”

She sighed but headed for the door as she opened it. Nick jumped a bit seeing her again and she looked away as she padded out.

“Whoa…” Wu said, backing up a little. “I…Is that really you, Sloane?”

She made an affirmative sound, her footfalls heavier over the floor as she walked to the living room. She eyed the couch but then huffed and sat down next to it instead. Renard was also looking at her with wide eyes. “I can’t believe it…”

“Believe it, we watched her change,” Adalind said. “We were just discussing that we think this is two spells on top of one another. Insanity and this. Insanity I know about…” She glanced apologetically at Hank. “But the other is a bit out of my depth.”

“Ours too, to be honest,” Henrietta sighed.

“You know…I think I do remember a family that specialized in spells to change people into animals,” Angela said thoughtfully. “It’s pretty frowned on though. It’s seen as darker magic because of the requirements and the whole turning people into beasts thing. So they usually practice in secret. I don’t know how this Juliette person could get ahold of the spell to do it.”

“I was wondering that too,” Henrietta said. “She must’ve needed time to prepare and a recipe to work from. No matter how skilled, she couldn’t do this on the fly.”

“…Could she have gotten ahold of a book?” Hank guessed.

“I mean, it’s a possibility, but this family isn’t one to let their books out. And stealing one…well, there’s a story I heard about one turning a man into a mouse and then turning themselves into a snake…” Angela said.

“And I don’t need to hear more of that,” Monroe said, shuddering.

Adalind sighed but looked at Nick. “I know you don’t want to talk to her, but… “Eve” might be your best bet to get more information.”

Nick frowned and looked at Sloane. She looked put out but sighed and nodded. “…Alright,” he sighed. He went to his room to grab the phone Meisner left him, sitting on the bed as he dialed.

“Nick. Surprised to hear from you,” he said. “Have you given any thought to our offer.”

“I’m afraid I’m still not into playing secret agent,” Nick said. “But I need to talk to Eve.”

“Ah, I’m afraid she isn’t here. She’s been assigned a mission across the Pacific. That’s all I can say.”

Nick cursed. “When will she be back?”

“That falls outside the “all I can say”.”

“Meisner, I’m serious!”

“…What’s this about then?”

Nick hesitated but sighed again. “We found Sloane.”

“You did?” he asked, shocked. “She’s alive?”

“Yes. But she’s suffering from a curse Juliette put on her. I need to talk to her to find out what it is so we can fix it!”

Meisner sighed now. “I want to help, Nick…but to be honest, because of the sensitivity of the mission and the amount of security she faces, Eve has been ordered to do minimal contact. I won’t be able to contact her till she contacts us. And that could be a while.”

He groaned, pulling at his hair. “…what about a book? Did she have a book when you grabbed her?”

“A book…? …Yes, actually. A small book. Filled with spells from the look of it.”

“Can you get it?”

“I can try. It was sent to lock up. I’ll see if I can get it sent up if you think it will help.”

“I’d appreciate that,” he said honestly.

“Bear in mind, I might need a favor too.”

Nick frowned. “What sort of favor?”

“Think of it like a partnership. We both want Black Claw taken down. I’ll keep you more in the loop on what we know if you do the same. We might be able to figure things out better that way given our individual resources.”

Nick pursed his lips. He hated that it made sense and was a fair deal. Meisner seemed okay, but the whole thing with Hadrian’s Wall still rubbed him the wrong way. _It’s for Sloane though…_ “I can agree to that.”

“Great. I’ll give you a call when I have word on the book, it should only take a day or two.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you want me to tell Trubel she back?”

“…Yeah. Yeah, I think she’d want to know. Just tell her she’s going through a lot right now.”

“Will do.” They hanged up and Nick sighed again. Standing, he went back to the living room to see Wu and the others looking Sloane over curiously. She looked a bit uncomfortable with all the attention but was putting up with it.

“We saw you jump before. Your legs are pretty strong,” Renard said.

“No kidding! The claws are too,” Monroe said, holding her front arm. “Ours are strong but these are like knives!”

Sloane’s ears flattened. Nick could tell she was feeling uncomfortable with all the attention to her animal-like features.

“Okay,” Nick said loud enough to draw their attention. “So I talked to Meisner. Eve is out of the country on some assignment, they don’t know when she’ll be back and can’t contact her while she’s there.”

“What?” Rosalee said, looking perturbed.

“I know. But Meisner said they do have a book she had with her when they first picked her up. He needs to get it from storage, but it might help.”

“It’s a start,” Henrietta sighed. “Let us know when you can get it then.”

“I’ll go take a look at this. I have some old friends in the medical industry who should be able to let me use their lab.”

“Medical?” Hank asked.

She smiled wryly. “I was in the make-up business before I went on my own. One of the big ones. We have to test and make sure things work and don’t have adverse side effects. I was more on the business end but I still have friends there.”

“Thanks, Angela,” Nick said.

She nodded and the three witches headed out first. Rosalee sat on the arm rest of the couch, looking at Sloane. “You want us to stay?”

Sloane make a throaty sound then sighed.

“Yeah, hard to join in the conversation, huh?” Monroe asked, wincing in sympathy.

She rumbled again. Rosalee gave her a hug, her arms barely going around the thick neck of muscle and fur. Nick sighed and hoped that they would be able to figure something out soon when he saw melancholy look in that bestial face.

\-------------------

Adalind sighed as she walked back through the door. Kelly was sitting on the couch, having already put Diana to bed. “Hey. How is she?”

“Not…great,” she sighed. “What Juliette did is impressive. I think it’s going to take all three of us to figure out what to do about it.”

Kelly frowned and sighed. “I wish I could be of help…”

“I think she’d like to talk with you. Just as a friend,” Adalind smiled.

Kelly smiled back and sighed. “You need to give Diana the potion still...she put on a lovely performance earlier making her dolls dance, but it was sort of lost on me and that made her a bit unhappy…I think I found all the other toys she sent flying.”

Adalind grimaced. “I’m sorry, Kelly…”

“It’s alright. If all else fails, I can give it to her.”

“You?”

“Yeah. At least then she would be upset with her mother.”

Adalind felt a little choked up but nodded with a smile. “I appreciate the thought…I don’t want her to be upset with you either though…Especially with all the help you give me.”

“Well, someone will have to do it soon.”

“I know…Maybe I could ask someone she won’t be around much to do it…”

\------------------

Nick woke up at sunrise when he heard the sound of Sloane changing back. Monroe, Rosalee and the others had stayed a while longer before leaving and they’d had a rather awkward rest of the night. Ultimately she’d gone and curled up on the floor of the bedroom to avoid breaking the bed and Nick made sure she had blankets and a pillow to rest on. She didn’t have to worry about hunting or checking up on them now. She could sleep without worrying about nightmares, and told her as much so she’d slept all this time to the best of his knowledge. Till the sun signaled her change back.

He got up and quietly padded to the other room. Cracking the door, he saw Sloane had finished changing and was curled up on the rug. He’d just wanted to make sure she was okay. But he’d forgotten she’d be nude when she transformed. She was facing away thankfully, but the sight of her naked back rising and falling in harsh breaths made him blush and swallow. He quickly but quietly closed the door again. _She’s fine…let her rest a bit more…_

He went to start making coffee and something to eat since he didn’t feel like going back to sleep. After a little bit, Sloane came out in a shirt and pair of shorts from the box of clothes he’d brought up from the garage. He smiled. “Good Morning…did you not want to sleep in?”

“I smelled coffee…” she said, yawning. “Plus, I slept better than I have in a long while…rather enjoy the time before the visions start than sleep through it.”

“Fair enough…” He poured her a cup and set it down, then grabbed two sugar packs and handed to her. It was how she usually took it. She smiled and shook them out before tearing them open and pouring them in.

“Been a while since I’ve had coffee…It was easier to make tea when I could.” She took a sip and sighed. “The caffeine hit would’ve been nice.”

Nick smiled and sat down with her. “…You probably shouldn’t return to work huh?”

Sloane paused in taking a sip and looked pensive. “…No. Too dangerous.”

Nick nodded, the unspoken possibilities of giving someone seeing violent hallucinations a weapon hanging between them. “I can take off for a while then.”

She looked at him and frowned. “I appreciate that, Nick, but you told me about everything you have on your plate last night and…I don’t think you should drop it for me.”

“I wouldn’t be dropping it, just…setting it down somewhere.”

“And picking it up again might be hard.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “I can’t go help you, but I don’t want you putting your work and others at risk for me. I’ll get back out there with you when this is over.”

Nick smiled and put a hand over hers. “I look forward to that…” She smiled back. Nick felt something _flutter_ inside him and he cleared his throat.

“Oh, yeah, my phone,” Sloane said, also looking away. She went to pick up her phone. “It’s like 9 something in Texas…” she muttered, doing the math in her head as she dialed.

“Sloane? Hey! Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Yeah…a lots happened.”

“Uh oh, that doesn’t sound good…” Gallin said, sobering.

“It’s not…and honestly it’s a lot to go over now that I think about it…”

“…Why don’t you email me the explanation. I have a feeling you called with a question?”

Sloane smiled a little. “Thanks, that’d be easier…maybe…But yeah. Is there any sign of the Library here reopening? We need some resources…”

“I know, it’s been a process,” she sighed. “I didn’t think it would take this long either. But I do have good news.”

“You do?” she asked hopefully.

“Yeah. We found someone—it’s actually an old friend of my family’s. She’s been doing research abroad for a long time and I’ve been messaging her about Gwen’s research. I had copies of the best notes.” Sloane hummed a little in disapproval. “Hey, I stand by some things can be helpful from what she did! And I’m determined she’ll never get credit for them.”

“Alright….so this person is coming here though?”

“Yeah, the more I told her the more interested she got. I guess she’s curious what’s got all these Wesen so drawn to Portland.”

“I’ve wondered the same thing…”

“She’s also, um…a Grimm.”

Sloane blinked. “I…wait, an actual Grimm? Not just a relation?”

“Yeah. She’s untraditional—to be honest, that’s part of why I’ve hesitated recommending other candidates. With how you and Mr. Burkhardt work, I was a little worried there might be friction if I just got a usual Librarian. But I think you’ll get along after talking to her.”

“…Good thinking,” she said, realizing she was right. “So this one isn’t going to cause friction?”

“I don’t think so. Her name is Dr. Victoria Hier. She’s retiring as a doctor and coming to take over as the librarian.”

“Great, when will she get here?”

“Uh, well…it’ll still be about a month…” she said.

“A month?” she asked, disappointed.

“Yeah, she needs to finish up some business in London and get her accommodations ready in Portland, getting the clearance and the keys and contacting the above ground Library…”

“So it’s a lot, I get it,” she sighed. “Well, can you let her know to contact us when it’s ready?”

“Yeah, of course. I let her know you two actually are rooted in Portland so she’s looking forward to meeting you. But she wants to wait till she’s settled there I think—moving is already hard I can tell you.”

“No, I get it…Thanks Cynthia. I’ll email you later.”

“Should I read it with a glass of wine to spit out?”

“Might need a bottle,” she smiled.

“Oh, that bad…?” she grimaced.

“Yeah…take care, we’ll catch up more later.”

“Sounds good.”

She hanged up and sighed.

“I think I get the gist from your side of the conversation,” Nick said. “So no access for at least a month?”

“At least,” she nodded, setting the phone back down.

“Well…Adalind and the others might figure something out. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Yeah…”

Nick frowned and walked over. “You okay?”

“…Just remembering the fact my collection is mostly gone…” she sighed. “The library will help but…It’s like a part of me burnt up too. Some of the bad parts maybe but…was it all bad? Should I be happy, starting from scratch?”

Nick thought about it then shook his head. “I know you did stuff I don’t agree with…but you’ve also made a lot of changes. You’re not the same person you were before—well, more accurately, I think you’re allowing yourself to be the kind of person you actually are. Instead of being just this loner hunter killing anything you think is a threat. And that’s good. But it’s still your past. It’s still stuff that belonged to your family. That’s not something you can just say goodbye to and be alright I think…I mean, I’m getting my Aunt’s trailer back, one way or another. But that doesn’t mean I want to be a traditional Grimm. That make sense?” he asked uncertainly.

Sloane smiled gratefully and nodded. “I think I get it...thanks.”

Nick smiled and felt the urge to hug her. Sloane wasn’t always big on physical affection though so he hesitated. She went to go keep drinking her coffee and he watched her go, wondering if the moment had passed. Would it make her uncomfortable? Freak her out? Or would she like it? _Or would she get confused about how I feel? How do I feel?_ By the time he considered just going for it, his phone rang and he sighed and grabbed it from his room. “Burkhardt.”

“Nick. It’s Renard. How is she doing?”

Nick looked at her at the island, staring pensively at her coffee again. “She’s not doing badly…”

“I’m glad. However, I’m afraid we have a situation…”

Nick frowned. “Is it Black Claw?”

“I don’t think so, but it is a case that requires your…expertise.”

Nick sighed. “Sir, I don’t think this is the best time…”

“I understand and I wouldn’t have called you in, except a man is dead. Violently killed by a “monster” in front of his wife at Diamond Lake.”

“It didn’t kill her?”

“No. The Sheriff has asked for help, your help, specifically because of you and Hank and Sloane have such a reputation for solving “weird” cases.”

“Sloane can’t go though and I don’t know if I should leave her alone—” He jumped when the phone was plucked from his hand.

“He’ll be there in a bit, Renard,” Sloane said.

“Sloane!” Nick said, looking at her askance.

She hanged up and looked right back at him disapprovingly, putting her hands on her hips. “We agreed you wouldn’t drop things for me.”

“But I haven’t even taken this one up!”

“I’m not a child, Nick!”

“Obviously! But you are going through some pretty bad hallucinations!”

“I’ve handled it for over six months on my own!”

“But you shouldn’t have and you don’t have to anymore!” he shouted. Sloane flinched a little and he paused and took a breath. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell…But I’m worried, Sloane. That nightmare you had yesterday really shook you up.”

Sloane looked away, crossing her arms. “I’m already over it…”

He frowned, not sure that was true. “Be that as it may, I’m worried what else you might see…”

“Nick, I appreciate you’re worried,” she said, sounding sincere but frustrated. “But you said Trubel may not be here and I’m in no condition to go on a hunt. You’re the only Grimm we have right now and you can’t just let a killer wesen stay on the loose.”

“…You need to stop listening in on phone calls,” he said, smiling wryly.

“Not my fault Renard speaks so clearly over the phone,” she sniffed.

Nick smiled but sighed again. “…I’ll go. _If_ you agree someone comes to check on you during the day.”

“Nick…” she warned.

“Because I can see your arms.”

She froze then looked down. She forgot she was wearing short sleeves. The deep scratches along her arms were still healing and with them crossed, it wasn’t hard to tell she did them herself. She put her arms down, flushing a bit. “It cleared my head when it got bad…”

“I don’t want you having to clear your head like that,” he said seriously. “Someone can come check on you and make sure nothing’s wrong. I’ll feel better that way. Monroe, Rosalee, someone you know obviously.”

“…Fine,” she sighed.

He nodded and went to get dressed. Sloane looked up and narrowed her eyes at Collin, who had been behind Nick. “Trouble in paradise, love?” he asked snidely. “Or are you worried what you might do to him if you’re together all day?”

Sloane didn’t answer, going to finish her coffee.

\-----------------------

When Nick got to the precinct, Renard called him and Hank into his office. He turned on the TV he had wheeled in that was usually used for presentations. “This just came on, regarding why I called you in.” He turned it on and brought up a saved news story from just a little while ago.

“The Diamond Lake Monster: fact or fiction?” the reporter said to the camera, standing in front of an old cabin that had advertisements for boat rentals all over it. Canoes, row boats and the like were set up outside, as well as life vests hanging from a display.

 _Diamond Lake Monster? Seriously?_ He thought.

“Early this morning, Allan Eiger and his wife were out fishing on Diamond Lake when he was confronted by that very question. The answer cost him his life. Some locals claim this gruesome attack is the work of the mysterious Diamond Lake Monster. Much like the supposed Willamette Wild Thing, a creature spoken of but usually dismissed—until a body was discovered.”

Nick and Hank both frowned, knowing the truth, but Renard held up hand to let the story finish.

“Could this be a local legend come to life? The victim's wife took this startling image during the attack.” The screen went to a side by side view of the reporter and a photo of what appeared to be a man with scales and spines swimming in the water of the lake. It wasn’t completely clear because as fast as he was going, a bow wave was being sprayed up over his face. But it was obvious whatever this was, was not completely human.

“Are you kidding me?” Hank asked, looking at Renard in disbelief.

“No. Everyone was already on edge because of the Wild Thing, this has made them even more on edge.”

“But Sloane didn’t kill that man! It was Grosvenor!” Nick said.

“But we have no way to prove it,” he sighed. “This one though, isn’t Grosvenor. I got word he’s actually left the country.”

“What? Why?”

“That I don’t know yet,” he sighed. “But I doubt he’s going to just give up. Whatever got him to do it must’ve been important. Now we have this to deal with though,” he gestured at the photo. “I got a call from Sheriff Parcell. He knows you've had luck with some of these…strange cases. He requested your help on this, and that’s why I called you in.”

“Thinking this lake monster is Wesen?” Hank asked.

“I don't believe in monsters unless they're people. And this one is guilty of murder.”

Nick sighed and nodded. “We'll check it out.”

They headed to the lake straight from the precinct. On the way they passed a sign for Diamond Lake that had a green, scaley creature on it reminiscent of the _Creature from the Black Lagoon,_ and all too similar to that photo. It looked older though, at least a couple of decades. They met Sheriff Parcell there, who was an older man with salt and pepper hair and hawkish features. He gave them the details on what happened: Allan and his wife Elizabeth had come to the lake to do some fishing and enjoy nature. Elizabeth says they saw something in the water and it was swimming around them before hitting the boat. Allan had a gun in his tackle box and fired a few shots in hopes to get it to leave mainly. But then it hit them harder, causing her husband to fall in, where he was attacked and killed.

Nick looked out on the lake, which seemed peaceful now even with all the police cars around. Deceptively so. But it reminded him of the memory he’d seen in Sloane’s mind before, of Diedre “teaching” Sloane to swim by just tossing her into the lake. _Sloane isn’t a fan of lakes and oceans…probably good she didn’t join us for this one, even if I wish she could._

“Do you think it was a monster?” Hank asked, drawing Nick’s attention back to the conversation as they walked towards where Mrs. Eiger was being looked after by some of the paramedics more to help her nerves.

Parcell sighed and shook his head. “I don't know what to think. This lake monster's just a local big fish story like the Loch Ness Monster or Ogopogo. Somebody shot a blurry photo back in the '60s, started the whole legend.”

“Has this legend ever attacked anybody before?” Hank asked with a quirk of his brow.

“I checked the records. There were a half dozen sightings over the last 40 years, but nobody was ever hurt. Working theory is that somebody dumped a pet gator that got too big. Fish and Game's out on the lake looking for it with sonar.” He nodded to boats currently slowly trawling the lake. “There was another sighting last week. I figured it was someone using the interest in that “Wild Thing” running around to try and drum up interest.” He glanced at the boat rental shop again. “But now I don’t think that’s what it is. Killing someone is too far.”

Nick nodded in agreement. “We'll talk to the victim's wife.” Parcell nodded, going to help with some of the other parts of the investigations. They walked over to the car where Mrs. Eiger was waiting with a blanket around her, looking very shocked and stricken. She looked up at them uncertainly when they got to her but answered their questions as best she could. Essentially something in the water kept bumping their boat and circling them and her husband took the handgun from his tacklebox and fired. Then the creature rammed them to force him in the water, and killed him there.

“I got a theory,” Hank said as they were walking towards the shop where they rented the boat.

Nick quirked his brow. “What?”

“She's Wesen.” His other brow went up but Hank pressed on. “Kills her husband, dumps the body overboard, blasts off a couple rounds, blames it on the Diamond Lake Monster.”

Nick considered it but shook his head. “That doesn't explain the photo she took.”

“Well, somebody's Wesen.” Nick couldn’t argue with that.

They went into the shop, which was bustling with activity. Nick knew it was an inevitability that tragedy and mysterious deaths would bring the morbidly curious and adventurous in flocks.

“Lake monster sure isn't hurting business,” Hank said, noting the people coming and going, getting T-Shirts and hats and other paraphernalia with the monster already printed on it. Given the age of the sign it was possible they were already made up, but it felt a touch gruesome still. Inside some people were browsing and checking out, and two men were behind the counter. They were both similar with their wheat-blonde hair and beards, one a bit taller and reedier than the other. Nick went up to them, nodding. “Hey. I'm Detective Burkhardt, this is Detective Griffin. We need to talk to you.”

The men immediately looked a little antsy. “Um, we're sort of a little busy,” the taller one said, looking at all the people in the shop.

“Well, you rented the boat to the victim,” Nick pointed out.

“We just have a few questions,” Hank added.

“Okay, okay, hold on,” he said. He was a bit flustered but finally looked at the other. “Uh, just take over.”

“Okay…” He said hesitantly. The taller man came around the side and led them over to a corner of the shop to talk.

“What's your name?” Nick asked.

“Wayne Dunbar. That's my brother, Oliver,” he gestured back at the man checking people out. He quickly went on before they could ask a question. “Look, we heard what happened, and it's terrible. And we called 911.”

“Did you or your brother see anything unusual on the lake this morning?” Nick asked.

He shook his head thoughtfully. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” He looked at them and again went on before being prompted. “Well, the Eigers took the boat out about 7:30. About an hour later, we heard gunshots, then we heard her screaming. And we ran down to the water, called 911. Our first thought was she shot her husband!”

Hank looked at Nick who resisted rolling his eyes. “So you don't believe in this lake monster?”

He smiled wryly. “Well, we do sell a few items that suggests that it does exist…But have I ever seen it? No.”

“You have a pretty brisk business here,” Hank pointed out.

“A lot of gawkers showed up after the attack, folks looking to get a glimpse of the monster. It's pretty macabre, but we appreciate the traffic,” he admitted.

“Yeah…interesting it showed up when everyone was getting into that “Wild Thing”,” Nick said.

Wayne flinched a little but smiled tightly. “Well, ours has been around longer. It just…stayed quiet for a while.”

Nick was pretty sure he hit a nerve but nodded. “How long have you owned the business?”

He sighed, thinking. “Parents opened it about 50 years ago…Me and my brother took over about five years ago after they passed away.”

“Your parents ever see the monster?” Nick asked.

He laughed a little. “Oh, my dad swore that he did. Twice,” he held up two fingers for emphasis. “Yeah, he's the one that started the whole hat and T-shirt thing.” He turned and walked over, reaching to grab a photo from the wall near the office door. “This is a picture that he took of it right here. All my life, I wanted to see this thing…”

They all looked back when they heard something shatter. Oliver had been picking up a mug with that same picture on it from counter in the back of the register and dropped it. “Oh, sorry!”

Nick watched as he moved to pick up the pieces, but then woged—brown fur, weasel-ish face, but short almost flat ears. _Otter? Wait, I’ve seen that one before…_

“Oliver!” Wayne sighed in frustration. “Excuse me, I got to help my brother.”

Nick and Hank headed out the door and Nick spoke quietly once they were away from others. “Brother's Wesen.”

“What?” Hank asked in surprise.

“The one who dropped the mug. He woged when he bent over to pick it up.”

“Look anything like the lake monster?”

He shook his head, frowning. “No. I think he's a Luisant-Pêcheur, looks sort of like an Eisbiber. More otter though.”

“You think they're involved?”

“I don't know. I mean, they sure are benefitting from it.”

Hank nodded, heading for their car. “Let’s go check them out.”

\---------------------------

Sloane sighed as she flipped through the channels. One thing she didn’t anticipate was being _bored_ now that she was back in the city. But without being able to go on cases or research, or hunt and gather, she didn’t have enough to take her mind off of the fact she felt useless. And the visions were being strangely quiet.

The doorbell buzzing made her sit up and go look to see who was there. She smiled when she saw Monroe, Rosalee and Trubel all gathered at the front door. She was about to hit the button to let them in when she heard a voice behind her. “You sure that’s them?” She hesitated and frowned, resisting glancing back. “Sloane…you can’t trust your own eyes or ears right now. How do you know it’s them?”

“…The same way I know you’re dead, Antonio,” she sighed.

“Who’s fault is that?” he whispered in her ear and she flinched a little at how close he felt. Her skin prickled like it really was his breath on her neck.

“You wouldn’t say that to me,” she said, shutting her eyes tightly. “You’re not real.”

It went quiet and she sighed and pressed the button to let them in and sent the elevator down.

When they came up, Trubel smiled widely and ran over. “Sloane!”

She smiled back and hugged her hard when she threw her arms around her. _Yeah, this is real…_ “Trubel!”

Trubel squeezed her. “I’m so glad you’re okay...I mean…”

“Monroe and Rosalee told you?” she sighed.

“She came by the shop,” Rosalee said.

“Yeah, Meisner told her you were alive but she ran off before he told her where you were or what’s happened, apparently,” Monroe said.

“I thought you might be with them,” Trubel said, shrugging a little.

“Well, you weren’t far off,” she smiled, ruffling her hair a little.

Rosalee smiled and tilted her head. “Huh…you know, with your natural hair color, you two really could pass for sisters now.”

Sloane and Trubel looked at one another. “I’m good with that,” Trubel said, smiling a little tentatively.

“Me too,” Sloane chuckled. Trubel smiled more and hugged her again with one arm around her shoulders. “I figured you guys would check up on me too.”

“Well, Nick did mention we should drop by…” Rosalee nodded. “How are you doing?”

“My demons are behaving for the most part,” she said.

“So, wait, they said you were seeing things?” Trubel asked.

“Yeah. People I’ve killed mostly…”

“That sounds…bad,” she said, flinching at the somewhat underwhelming word.

“It is…sleeping brings some pretty vivid dreams too…”

“Oh, I brought this,” Rosalee said, reaching into her bag to pull out a cannister. “Mix a tablespoon with water, it’ll help you sleep.”

Sloane smiled. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” She set it down in the kitchen. “You guys want lunch? I was going to make something. I’d like to catch up more too.”

“Sure, sounds great,” Trubel smiled. Sloane nodded and opened the fridge only to gasp shrilly and close it again fast.

“Sloane?” Monroe asked.

“…So…I disposed of a guy in a fridge once…”

“…You saw him in there?”

“Yeah…I…I know he’s not actually there,” she sighed. “I do. But it caught me off guard…Especially when he said the milk’s gone off…”

“It’s okay,” Rosalee said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We understand…”

“Yeah. Why don’t I go pick us something up? You girls have…girl time.”

All three looked at him uncertainly but Rosalee smiled and patted his arm. “Sounds great, sweety, thanks.”

He nodded, heading back to the elevator. Sloane sighed and they led her to the couch. “I hate this…No matter how many things they show me, or telling myself it’s not real, it just keeps throwing me off…”

“Hey, I spent years thinking I was seeing things. I get it,” Trubel said.

Sloane smiled a bit but sighed, fingering one of the scratches on her arm. _If I found out this was real though…I’m not sure what I’d do._

\--------------------------

Nick and Hank ran background checks on the Dunbars when they got back to the station. It was easy to determine they were pretty heavily in debt and in trouble with the IRS. They owed enough taxes there was a lien on the boat shop and the house they lived in. It was obvious that the monster was drumming up business at a suspiciously opportune time. But Nick was sure that neither were their killer given the picture Elizabeth took. When Hank proposed maybe they hired some outside help, Nick nodded in agreement. But they needed to know what kind of wesen they were dealing with.

Nick dialed Monroe. “Hey Nick!”

“Hey. Are you guys at the shop?”

“Ah, no, we’re still with Sloane at your place. We’ve been hanging out and she’s doing pretty well we think. Few minor moments where she say she saw something but we got her through it.”

He sighed a bit in relief. “I’m glad to hear that, but I need your help on a case now. Did you hear about the Diamond Lake Monster?”

“Oh yeah,” he sneered. “I mean, we’re becoming a regular Cryptid Cavalcade here.”

“Well that’s the case Hank and I got called in to look at. We’re positive it’s Wesen, but we’re not sure what kind.”

“…Well, Sloane’s right here and it’d be whatever’s in her books, you want me to ask?”

“…Okay. I’m going to text a couple of pictures.” He pulled the phone away to quickly text the photo the victim’s wife shot as well as one he’d taken of the sign and a T-shirt. He heard Monroe bringing the phone over to her and Sloane’s voice came through a moment later.

“You’re on speaker. So this is what you think you’re dealing with?”

“Yeah. Seen one before?”

“Unfortunately yeah,” she sighed. “Pretty sure this is a Wasser Zahne. It’s like if a Skalengeck grew webbed hands, gills and became even more insufferably prone to fighting. These things can kill unprovoked and provoked they’re even worse.”

“I think I saw one of those in South America,” Nick heard Trubel say.

“Trubel?”

“Hey, yeah. I booked it over here when Meisner told me the news. Well, I went to the shop first and then Monroe and Rosalee brought me over.”

“That’s good,” Nick nodded. “They fill you in on everything?”

“I think so. Oh, and Meisner is getting that book Jul…Eve had when they brought her in. He should have it by tomorrow.”

“Great,” he sighed. “That’s some good news.”

“Not that I’m not relieved too, but back to this case,” Sloane said. “Nick, Wasser Zahne are near unbeatable in the water. You need to fight this guy on land. Don’t engage if he’s in the water, okay? He’ll be fine but it would slow you down.”

Nick nodded. “Makes sense…I still have to find out who it is though. We’ve got a couple of Luisant-Pêcheur brothers running the boat shop making money off of interest in the creature.”

“Those I’m not as worried about. Though they are fast in the water they’re not nearly as dangerous.”

“Good to know. I’ll be home a bit later; we can’t do much with the boat shop closing for the night. I’ll bring some dinner. Chinese sound good?”

“Sounds great,” she said, smiling.

“Monroe, Rosalee and Trubel should stay, I’ll get them something too.”

“You sure? We don’t want to impose,” Rosalee said.

“It’s not imposing. I haven’t had dinner with you guys in a while, it’ll be good.”

Monroe smiled. “Sounds great then.”

“Little Beijing is on the way home, text me your orders.”

“Will do.”

Nick hanged up and looked at Hank. “Feel like Chinese and a big group dinner?”

“Sounds great to me,” he smiled.

Nick nodded and looked up when he saw Renard walking out of his office. “Where’s the Captain going?”

“I think he’s been helping out with the campaign his friend is doing. That Andrew Dixon guy.”

“Oh yeah…seems like a good guy. Wonder why he’s friend’s with Renard…”

“Hey, he’s not that bad,” Hank laughed.

“He’s not exactly upfront about what he does usually,” Nick said. “I can’t help but feel he thinks of us like puppets…or chess pieces.”

“Chess pieces sounds classier at least.” He sighed. “I get what you mean though…He always seems like he’s got his eyes and hands everywhere.”

“Not to mention how he was when he got those coins…I wonder if that’s his real personality sometimes.”

Hank shrugged. “As long as he’s on our side, is it a bad thing?”

“I think he’s on Renard’s side…”

The headed out after finding appropriate places to stop for the day and grabbed the food after ordering online. Nick was happy to get home and have everyone greet him. It was the first time in months he was looking forward to dinner. He didn’t really have a dining table but Sloane had the idea to grab a blanket and the pillows and have an indoor picnic in the living room.

“This was great idea,” Rosalee said, smiling as she ate out of her container leaning against the pillows.

“Oma would do this when it rained sometimes,” she smiled.

Nick smiled, thinking about some of the memories of Sloane being younger he saw when he was in her mind.

“So…Trubel told us a bit more about Hadrian’s Wall,” Monroe said.

Nick paused and glanced at her, and Trubel quickly chewing her bite of sesame chicken. “Did she?”

“Yeah. Apparently they’ll be contacting us soon now.”

“What?”

“They want to see if they want to come onboard,” Trubel said. Nick frowned and she held up her hands. “Not my idea. I mean, I know you guys can hold your own, but you help Nick enough already. But since you now have firsthand knowledge of Black Claw, they thought you might be able to help more.”

Sloane frowned. “I’m not sure I like that…”

“Me neither,” he agreed.

“Have you decided if you’re going to join? It’s been months,” Rosalee asked.

“…Honestly, no.” He looked at Trubel. “I’m glad you’re doing well and getting paid and all that, but after what they did to “Eve”, I’m just not sure how I feel about them…”

“I know I feel leery as hell,” Hank said, not mincing words. “I mean, they took Sloane too…were they planning to reprogram her after they got her checked out?”

Sloane frowned. “Not liking that idea…”

Trubel nodded slowly. “I understand…it kind of shook me up a bit. And I know they do want Sloane to join too. It’s you guys’ choice what you want to do, I don’t blame you if you want to stay free agents, so to speak.”

“Yeah, we're feeling a little tentative,” Monroe nodded.

“I think whatever we decide, we all decide the same thing,” Rosalee said.

Hank nodded. “We are in this together.”

They toasted with their takeout containers and nodded in agreement.

\----------

Grosvenor came off his private plane on the secured hangar, stretching. Bosch was waiting for him, arms folded. “You came back quick.”

“It wasn’t that hard,” Grosvenor said. Behind him, two burly men opened the cargo hold and began pulling out barrels. “You got me through customs after all.”

“I just had a lovely distraction for them. Several pounds of heroin in a random passenger’s luggage does that.”

Grosvenor laughed but motioned for one of the barrels to be brought over. He used his strength to pull the lid off without much problem and handed it to the man. Inside was thousands of small, red, round bead-like beans. They were bright red, like fresh blood, and for a moment Bosch’s eyes matched them but he huffed and shook his head. Grosvenor smiled and dipped a hand in, pulling up a hand full. “Like the color, my friend?”

“I just want them to work.”

“What are they supposed to do?” the hunter asked, letting them trickle out of his hand back into the barrel.

“Bunch of scientific mumbo jumbo. We found a doctor that can utilize it for us.”

“They remind me of black-eyed peas…Makes me want to break out the cornbread and hot sauce,” he joked.

“I wouldn’t eat them. Very poisonous apparently,” Bosch said.

“Duly noted…You’re not poisoning a bunch of people are you?”

“Not exactly. If you want to see, I’ll send you the address and you can come by soon to see the testing phase. If you’re not busy hunting down the beast again.”

“Well…I have a few leads at least,” he smiled.

\----------

In the morning, Nick heard Sloane change back again. She’d changed and stayed in the room after the others left just before sundown. He wasn’t sure how to approach her when she was in that form still so he let her and went to bed early as well. On the bright side he got a decent amount of sleep for once. He was fixing coffee when his phone rang—there had been another attack late last night according to Sheriff Parcell. A teenager. Sighing, he said he would be there soon. He walked over and knocked on the bedroom door. “Sloane?”

There was a bit of shuffling and he heard her on the other side. “Yeah?”

“I got a call that there was another death at the lake. I’m going to head out. Coffee’s brewing in the kitchen.”

The door cracked open and Nick froze when he realized she hadn’t changed into clothes yet after changing back. The sheet was wrapped up and it reminded him of statues in museums where the fabric was draped tightly around them. Strangely it was more attractive than he remembered, but part of that might’ve been the barest hint he could see through the crack in the door making it feel so private yet mysterious. “…Should I come with you? …Nick?”

“Huh? Ah! Um, well…I think there’d be a lot of explaining if you did…” he said, looking away awkwardly.

“…Yeah, you’re right,” she sighed, looking down. She looked frustrated and disappointed, but also resigned.

Nick flinched, not liking that expression, and reached up pat her hand on the door frame. “I want you out there with us, trust me. But I want you at your best—when you don’t have to worry about what you’re seeing or hearing. I’ll be alright.”

She smiled tiredly and nodded. It wasn’t happy but it was accepting. “I’ll see you later then.”

He nodded and went quickly to take a cold shower and get dressed.

When he got to the lake, Hank met him and they met Parcell. Apparently a group of college freshman had come out for the weekend the night before, thinking the monster was just a story. A girl, Lea Sommerby, had swum out to tease the boy she was trying to flirt with, Kevin Williamson. She’d thought there was no danger as she taunted him to follow her. The horror when she saw something swimming around him made him think she was just acting—until he was pulled under. She’d been too scared to swim back, screaming for her friends until someone finally heard her from the campsite and they called for help. They recovered Kevin’s body early that morning.

Nick wanted to confront them, but didn’t want to show his hand as a Grimm too soon. Sloane was on some serious time restraints. But there was a third option in town still luckily. And Trubel was all too happy to play the part of a Grimm bounty hunter looking for a Wasser Zahne come evening. The Dunbar brothers never expected that and it was easy to intimidate them into giving up their plan—but no one was supposed to die. The man they hired, Logan Cobb, went too far. And now he was extorting them. Cobb was returning at around 11:30 that night to get more money out of the brothers, but the money was hers if she took care of him. She said she’d be back then and went back outside. Hiking a short way up she got back into Nick’s car to relay the information. She asked what they should do and though Cobb murdered two people, they couldn’t prove it was him or arrest him. So that left one option really…

They didn’t count on Wayne Dunbar being as underhanded as he was though. He’d hoped to have Cobb kill her brother, then Trubel would kill Logan and he’d be the sole survivor and get all the money for himself to go start over. He hadn’t counted on Nick, Hank and Trubel watching as Logan arrived early and interrupting that. He wasn’t surprised she was there—Wayne had warned him saying Oliver hired her—but he was surprised she was a Grimm. After a skirmish on the shop floor, wrecking several shelves, Trubel broke Cobb’s neck with her bare hands. Wayne slid the money over—then another bunch as payment if she killed his brother. Oliver was shocked, but both were when Nick and Hank burst in. Wayne tried to pin Logan’s body on Trubel, but they didn’t buy it. Revealing Nick was also a Grimm, Wayne woged then panicked and ran to the office door from where he was behind the counter, locking the door behind him. Oliver said there was a back door through the office and they should head around to catch him. Nick and Hank did, Trubel staying with Oliver just in case. They saw Wayne shedding his clothes haphazardly as he ran for the closest dock. Woging, he dove in to try and swim away.

“No way am I following him in there,” Hank said, eyeing the murky dark water.

“He’s gotta come up some time,” Nick said.

“I see it, it’s there!”

Both their eyes widened as search lights on the fish and game boats lit up and then gun shots rang out, firing into the water. “…How do we explain this?”

Nick grimaced and sighed, knowing this wasn’t going to be a rough morning in the making. So they decided to call it a night and act surprised when the call came in tomorrow. Oliver was distraught that his brother was dead, but resigned as well. The last moments together were not exactly full of brotherly love. After a bit of muscling by Trubel, he agreed to pin the idea and the monster on his brother and Logan wearing prosthetics and taking things too far, then jumping into the lake to try and get away after accidently killing Logan in a fight.

When Nick got home it was nearly two in the morning. He figured Sloane was asleep in her room, but was surprised to see her large bestial form stretched out in the living room. She was softly breathing in sleep. He hesitated a moment but walked over to her. The TV was on, set to the classic movie channel. _I guess she couldn’t sleep? How did she turn the channels?_ He looked around and found two pencils—and a couple of broken ones—and the remote on the floor. He picked them up and then had to smile as he realized she used the pencils to hit the buttons with a little trial and error. He looked back at her and knelt down by her face. She wasn’t a cute beast. She wasn’t even “handsome”. But he didn’t see her as ugly or terrifying. He’d seen much worse wesen—though there was usually still a hint of the human beneath. Sloane’s curse pushed her all the way into an animal form with the mind of a human.

Reaching out, he hesitated but set a hand on her back. _Her…fur, I guess, is soft…_ Sloane groaned slightly at the touch and flinched. She cracked an eye open, then started when she saw him. “Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to surprise you…”

She huffed slightly, then yawned. He got a good look at her teeth when she did and besides the larger ones that stuck out from her mouth there were several other sharp fangs and crushing molars inside. She could really do some damage. She gave a curious whine and he sighed and sat down next to her. She looked surprised but settled back while he got comfortable next to her. “It didn’t go how we’d hoped…”

\-------------------

Nick woke up on the living room floor. He hadn’t remembered falling asleep, he’d just been telling Sloane about what happened he was sure. But thin morning sunlight was streaming through the windows now and he grunted as his mind started cranking up. When his eyes focused, he could see Sloane’s human face just a few inches from his own.

His eyes widened. When had she changed back? He hadn’t heard her. Usually it was such a painful process. But she was there, sleeping peacefully, wrapped up in a blanket again. He reached up slowly and moved the white lock of hair aside to see her face better. She didn’t wake up this time, still sleeping deeply. He smiled a little, glad she was resting up so well. She’d seemed pretty tense still last night. The smile faded a little when he saw a scar along her shoulder. And another along her side. _She’s had to deal with a lot over the years…it’s no wonder she sees such gruesome stuff in her visions. I wonder how she’s managed to live so long like this…_ He wasn’t really thinking as he trailed his fingers over the scar across her shoulder. Much too close to her neck. She hummed then, shifting a little and Nick felt his heart rate speed up as the blanket started slipping—

Nick’s phone rang and he cursed, quickly turning to grab it from his pocket before Sloane woke up and saw him being creepy. _What the hell was I doing?!_ He heard her groan as she woke up and he sat up and answered the phone. “Burkhardt…”

“Mr. Burkhardt? It’s me.” Meisner said.

Nick calmed. “Meisner.”

“I have the book. Where would you like me to bring it?”

“Um…I’ll be heading into work soon; can you drop it off at the station?”

“…I can try. Have you given thought to our offer?”

Nick sighed. He glanced back at Sloane, who was sitting up with the blanket wrapped tightly around her, rubbing her eyes. He stood and headed for his room. “I still have a lot of reservations…”

“Regarding Eve?”

“Among other things,” he said, losing patience a little bit. “I’ll help where I can with Black Claw, but don’t go printing my name on a membership card or whatever.”

“I understand. We’ve been tracking more and more activity coming towards Portland by Black Claw. You don’t have to join officially, but a…alliance would be beneficial for both of us. I’ll let you know where to meet for the book.”

“Thanks.”

They hanged up and Nick sighed a little as he got some fresh clothes and walked out. He was sure he’d be getting a call about Wayne Dunbar and Logan Cobb soon too. Sloane was walking towards her room with the blanket around her but froze when he came out. “Uh…Good morning…”

“Good morning,” he said, trying to stay calm. “You…sleep well?”

She nodded. “Y-yeah, um, I guess we both fell asleep in the living room, huh? Uh, but you had a busy night, I don’t blame you. Not that there’s anything to blame you for…”

Nick blushed and coughed. “Yeah, nothing at all…Um, I’m going to head into work, I’ll grab breakfast on the way.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later.”

“Right.” He headed to the elevator, waving a bit as he headed down. He still felt a bit strange for what he did but he told himself it was just a strange moment.

Sloane went to get dressed while he left.

“You knew he was touching you,” Collin said.

She paused and then sighed. “It was just on my shoulder…”

“You’d have still killed a lesser man…”

“He’s not a lesser man then.”

Sloane gasped when it felt like dozens of hands were suddenly on her, brushing over her skin all over. “Maybe you like it…I used to say you were a cold fish, but maybe there’s a bit of a slag in you after all.”

“Stop it!” she shook herself, shuddering as the hands left. “You always pestered me for it! Hated taking no for an answer! Is it any wonder it was a turn off!?”

She didn’t hear an answer and looked around. Collin was gone. He was dead, she knew, but she still felt dirty. _I need to take a shower…_

Nick meanwhile got to the station with coffee and doughnuts for him and Hank and sure enough, got the call about Wayne and Logan’s body. They’d had to wait till morning to fish Wayne out of the lake and everyone was shocked to see he was the one that was shot. Nick was a bit worried leaving the station because he didn’t want to miss Meisner’s delivery of the book. But he wasn’t sure how long he could stall.

“Detective Burkhardt?”

Nick looked up, surprised to see a delivery person in a brown uniform. “Uh, yes?”

“Here you are, sir,” he handed him a letter. Nick took it and looked at it curiously, but the delivery man left before he could ask.

“Getting love letters at work?” Hank teased.

“I don’t think that’s what this is,” Nick said, opening it up. He took out the note which said _Meet Me Outside, corner by the flower shop. Hydrangeas._ “…Gotta make a quick stop before we got to the lake. I’ll meet you at the car, it’s nearby.”

“Okay…” Hank said, eyeing him. They headed out and Nick quickly walked across the street and down to _The Flower Spot,_ looking up what the heck a hydrangea looked like on the way. He walked in and saw Meisner pretending to browse nearby. Meisner looked up, but didn’t acknowledge him, instead moving further down. Nick walked over to the Hydrangeas he’d been in front of and saw hidden among the tightly packed sprays of blue and pink blooms was a small green book splattered in what looked like dried blood. He tried not to grimace but reached out and grabbed it to quickly put it in his jacket pocket.

“Finding everything alright, sir?”

Nick tried not to jump and turned to see a female employee looking at him curiously. “Uh…yes, fine. Just…trying to pick out flowers for my girlfriend.”

“Special occasion?” she smiled.

“Uh…no?”

She smiled. “Well, how lucky she gets flowers for no reason! Do you know her favorite?”

“Honestly, no…um, it’s…new. The relationship I mean.”

“Okay…well, if it’s new, I think roses might be a bit intense. And overdone, to be honest.” She walked over to a fridge and pulled out a small bunch of pink and white flowers that had many petals all together. “Camellias I think are beautiful and send a more subtle message.”

Nick blinked. _I think…were those in that garden Sloane started at her house?_ “…Yeah, I like those.”

“Great! I think she will too.” Nick nodded, following her to the counter. He caught Meisner’s eye and he quirked a brow. Nick just shrugged, unsure how else to explain his presence. Meisner rolled his eyes.

After paying for the flowers, he went back to meet Hank at the car. Hank quirked a brow as well. “…I mean, I’m flattered Nick, but I’m more of a candy guy honestly…”

Nick rolled his eyes. “I had to meet Meisner at the flower shop to get Juliette’s spell book. The shop girl caught me off guard, but I got it.” He patted his jacket.

“Oh, that’s good.”

“Yeah. You think these will be okay in the car for a while?”

“Why, you want to keep them?”

“…I thought Sloane might like them,” he said, blushing a little on reflex.

Hank blinked now but smiled. “I think she will. And they should be fine while we wrap up things at the lake.” Nick nodded, setting them in the back before they drove off to basically lie through their teeth about what happened.

When Nick came home one day though things were a bit…chaotic.

“Whoa!” He froze when he walked in to see Adalind, Angela and Henrietta were in his living room, surrounding what looked like a giant mound of long, dark brown hair.

“Oh…hey Nick,” Adalind said, grimacing. The mound of hair seemed to straighten and then groan.

“What…is going on?”

“Uh…Attempted cure number one,” Henrietta said.

“…Cure for what, baldness?”

“Can it, Burkhardt…”

Nick blinked and then want closer, parting a bit of the hair—with a white stripe going through it—to see a very put out Sloane. “Oh…”

“Yeah, oh.”

“I was hoping this would at least stop her transformations, but it just ended up making her hair grow…Interesting though,” Angela said.

“Interesting is one word for it, I suppose,” she said tightly.

“You look like Cousin It’s goth sister,” Nick said, trying not to laugh. She shot him an annoyed look and he sobered. “It’s not going to keep growing is it?”

“No, we managed to stop it,” Henrietta said. “Though not before cutting all that off already.” He looked where she pointed and blanched at a large black garbage bag that had a few strands still poking out of it.

“Yikes…”

“Hey, look on the bright side, you don’t have to wait for your hair to grow out anymore,” Adalind said. Sloane sighed, trying to lighten up at least a little bit, but Nick saw the look of disappointment on her face.

“Curse breaking like this is a process,” Henrietta said gently. “We’ll keep working on it.”

“I might have a use for all this hair too,” Angela said. “I can run some experiments on it.”

“Great…”

“But first, let me give you a trim,” she smiled. “I know how to style hair really nicely, I promise.”

“Can’t get much worse than this…” She followed Angela into the bathroom.

Nick looked at the other two witches as they cleaned up a bit more. “So this was just the first attempt, right?”

“Right,” Henrietta nodded. “We’ll keep trying…we might need to find a sort of band aid for the time being.”

“Band aid?” Nick asked.

“Like a treatment, not a cure,” Adalind supplied, sweeping up a little more hair. “It won’t be permanent or fully effective but it would help.”

“Would the book Juliette had help?” He pulled it out and held it up.

“Oh, yes, it…would,” she said, taking it and then grimacing as she fingered the blood near the corner. “Wow…it’s, um…” Nick had the same look when he checked it out, realizing she must have had it in her jacket were the crossbow bolts hit. Henrietta sighed as well as she looked at it. Adalind opened and at flipped through a few pages. “…Oh, this makes a bit more sense…”

“What does?”

“I think this was a thief’s book. Basically someone must’ve been getting close to various hexe and copying their best spells for their own use. Really frowned upon.”

“Like stealing a chef’s secret recipe for your own book,” Henrietta explained.

“Okay…how’d she get it though?”

“My best guess would be Kenneth,” Adalind sighed. “Likely the thief put the book on the black market and Kenneth got ahold of it. Or he might’ve been working for him, who knows. But considering the timing I’m sure he had something to do with it.”

Nick nodded, having to agree. “So you can make a cure now, right?”

She sighed, Henrietta shaking her head. “We’ll try, but it’s not as easy as that. She’s combined spells I’m sure, which is complicated and means undoing it will be complicated too. But this will help for sure.”

Nick nodded, understanding but frustrated. “Do you guys want any dinner?”

“Thank you, but I have plans,” Henrietta said.

“I appreciate the offer, but I need to get home to Diana,” Adalind nodded. “I promised to grab dinner for your mom on the way home.”

“…Burgers?”

“Yep.”

“Her favorite,” he smiled.

The bathroom door opened and Angela stepped out with a long braid of hair in her hand. “I still think you should’ve gone longer…”

“I’d get too many questions eventually about it,” Sloane said.

“Hair extensions exist!”

“And again, too many questions about why and how and where and all that.” She stepped out and Nick smiled a bit at her hair being its original shoulder length again, maybe a little longer. That gentle wave was back to her hair again too. Even if the color was different, it gave her that same silhouette he remembered.

“I think it looks good,” he said. Sloane smiled at him.

“Okay, I know when I’m beat,” she sighed, dropping the braid into the bag and tying it up.

“Good news is we have the book,” Henrietta said.

“Well, Nick did,” Adalind said.

“Meisner got it to me,” he clarified.

“Oh, yay! That’ll make things easier hopefully, even if it’s just finding the band aid,” Angela said.

“I look forward to seeing what you come up with,” Sloane said honestly.

They nodded, heading for the elevator and waving on the way down.

Sloane rubbed over her hair. “…Does it really look okay?”

Nick looked at her and smiled. “It’s different, but it looks good. You want to dye it again?”

“…Maybe. It’s weird seeing this in the mirror,” she fingered the white streak. “I didn’t like it because it reminded me of Oma…and Dierdre.”

Nick sobered and reached up to brush his hand through her hair. “It’s up to you. You looked good as a blonde; you look good like this. Either way you’re still you.”

Sloane stared up at him then smiled a bit. “Thanks…little cheesy though.” He snorted and flipped her hair and she smacked at his hands with a laugh. “By the way, you’re home kind of early?”

“Yeah, not much as far as resolving the lake monster case. Then Meisner called and I got the book to drop off—Oh yeah!” He quickly went over to the elevator, Sloane watching him in confusion. He came back with the flowers, that were luckily still fresh despite being in the car half the day. He’d left them on the rail in the elevator in surprise when he’d seen the hair monster. He held them up, smiling.

Sloane was confused, looking at them with blinking, owlish eyes. “…Camellias?”

“Yeah, Meisner wanted to meet at a flower shop and there was some confusion but, uh…I thought you might like them.”

She was surprised but then reached up to take them slowly. Maybe she thought this was another hallucination for a moment, he wasn’t sure. But she gripped them and brought them up, smiling. “They’re…beautiful. My grandmother had them in her garden. They all ended up dying though when I left…”

“You were trying to grow some at your house though? I mean I thought I saw them.”

“Yeah. It was kind of nice actually, I used to help her in the garden when I was little…camellias don’t really have a scent but I think they’re as pretty as roses or prettier.”

Nick smiled. “Yeah…I think you’re right.”

\------------------

A week passed and Sloane and Nick got down a routine. Up at dawn, breakfast, a little time to chat, then Nick would got to work. Monroe and Rosalee would check in regularly via phone or in person at lunch. Depending on when Nick got home he would bring something as take out or he and Sloane would cook together before the sun went down. They had to forbid her from cooking alone after Rosalee came in and found she’d nearly burned down the kitchen because one of her visions tricked her into thinking things were fine. She hadn’t even smelled the smoke from the stove trying to make a grilled cheese. Sloane had been frazzled after that for a while and nearly ran away, fearing she’d do something else that dangerous. But they stopped her and calmed her down. Now they cooked together and it was actually even nicer. He hadn’t cooked much since living on his own. They’d agree on a recipe, Nick would hit the store if they needed anything, and they’d split up the work. Sometimes it didn’t turn out quite how they planned but they’d end up laughing at silly mistakes and it made him happy to see her feeling normal again for a while before she changed for the night. Even then she’d gotten more comfortable and after a few days wouldn’t hide in the room the whole time. They’d even started watching movies with her lounging on pillows on the floor and Nick on the couch. Some nights they made a game of seeing how much popcorn the other could catch with their mouth. Sloane had a slight advantage in her beast form though. And then it would cycle back around.

\---------------------

“There’s a tunnel here?” Sloane asked, watching Nick open the door.

“Yeah. And there’s a door at the other end. A big metal one.”

“…That sounds suspect as hell.”

“I know. But I want to know what’s on the other side.” He started climbing down and she peered down as he did, flashlight stuck in his waistband. When he tried to turn it on though it flickered and didn’t light. “C’mon…” he muttered, smacking it. When he had it on he jumped when he realized Sloane was right next to him. “Gah! You didn’t need to come down here…”

“Yeah, I did. This is the start of a horror movie; we’re not splitting up.”

“…Touché,” he muttered.

The light flickered again and Sloane held her phone up and turned on the flashlight. “There’s also this. Maybe you should have a more dependable light source if you're going down there.”

“Thanks,” he sighed, heading further down the tunnel. Sloane looked at the brick archway frowned a bit, wondering who built this and why.

“You sure about this?”

“About what?”

“Going down here…What if the door at the end of the tunnel isn't supposed to be opened? What if it's locked for a reason?”

“Oh, it's been locked for a hundred years,” he said, getting to the door. Sloane eyed it suspiciously.

“Some very bad things live a very long time…”

“That’s why I wanted you to stay upstairs and lock the door.”

“Nick,” she said, warning in her tone.

“I'm kidding,” he said, though he’d been slightly serious. “Look... if we ever do get in any problems here, I want to make sure we have another way out. This could be it.”

“…I do like the idea of secure escape route,” she sighed. He nodded, moving to try and move the rusted handle again. “…It kind of reminds me of a submarine. What if there's a lot of water on the other side, and we drown?” she asked.

“Not helping!” he grunted.

“Oh, you want help?” she asked teasingly. He grunted, trying to push the wheel again and summoning his Grimm strength. Sloane managed to set her phone against a few loose bricks where the light would reach them and got to try and help him, positioning her hands either side of his. Nick felt his heart beat faster as she had positioned herself basically _into_ him, with her back to his front.

“Um…maybe get on the other side and pull?” he suggested, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Ah, right.” Swinging around, he sighed in relief and they positioned their hands again. Taking a deep breath, they started trying to push and pull the wheel. Sloane grunted, trying to use her strength, but the wheel refused to turn. “Damn! This thing _is_ stuck! You sure it wasn’t welded?”

“I’m sure,” he huffed. “I’ll get some tools, maybe we can loosen it.”

“Oil would probably be good too…” she sighed.

He smiled and made a squeaky, almost rusty sound. “Oil can?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “You got too much heart to be the Tin Man.”

Nick blushed but then frowned. “Wait, are you saying I need a brain or courage?”

“Hmmm…Well, you are definitely ballsy, so…Scarecrow it is.”

“Hey, I’m very smart,” he said. Sloane was just smiling and then pointed to his cheek.

“You got a little something there…” Nick frowned and wiped at it, then realized he had rust all over his hands and likely smeared it on his face.

“Oh, ha ha…”

Sloane laughed, the sound echoing in the hall. They both gasped when her phone went out, the timer on the light done. “Shit! Hold on, I’ll find it…”

“Careful,” Nick said, trying to get his eyes to adjust. Even with Grimm vision it was near impossible to see down there. Maybe he should leave some better flashlights or some battery power string lights down there, just in case.

Sloane knelt down and felt where her phone should be. She frowned when she didn’t feel it immediately and moved a little further. Then she felt a hand around her wrist and gasped.

“Sloane?” Nick asked, still behind her.

 _Not now, not down here_ , she thought, closing her eyes. _It’s not real, it’s not real…_

“Sloane?” another voice asked in front of her. It was familiar and for a moment she smelled the scent of wisteria and cloves and it caught her breath. Her eyes popped open and she could see, in the dim light, the pale hand around her wrist. “Come back, please….Sloane…I’m sorry…” she said. The owner of the hand pulled on her hand, moving across the ground till she could see the long black hair. A pale face peaked out from behind the curtain of hair but even if she couldn’t see it clearly she knew who it was. But she’d never seen her in the white kimono she wore now. “I’m sorry…”

“Let go!” She yelped, trying to wrench her hand away. She landed back on her butt with a thump, breathing hard. She still felt pressure around her wrist and looked to see the woman’s severed hand still holding on. She screamed.

“Sloane?!” Nick said, moving forward.

“I’m sorry…” the woman said again, trying to pull herself forward. “Please…” Sloane felt her stomach rolling as she crawled up to her. Her teeth were black she realized, and her eyes white and lifeless. “Please…I love you…”

The light suddenly came back as Nick had found her phone, and the figure was gone. But Sloane was shaking, her eyes wide and tears coming to her eyes.

“Sloane?” he asked. She paled more and then stood, running for the ladder. “Sloane!” He was surprised to see her scale the ladder in a second and followed her quickly. When he got to the top, he heard the door to her room close. He went over quickly and knocked on the door. “Sloane? Are you okay?”

“Leave me alone!” she said. Nick was surprised, thinking she was almost crying.

“Was it a vision? Sloane, I…can I help?”

“No…I…I just need some time,” she said. “Please…Please leave me alone…”

Nick felt helpless. He was tempted to open the door anyway but sighed and rested his head against the door instead. “Okay…just…let me know if you need anything.”

Sloane didn’t say anything. She was resting against the door, trying hard to get under control. _It was a long time ago…she was never like that…she’s not even dead…why would I see her like that?!_ Realizing she was shaking she hugged herself and drew her knees up. _I just want this to be over! Every time I think I can handle it, they throw something new at me!_

She stayed like that for a while, maybe an hour, when Nick knocked on her door again. “Sloane? I got a call for a case…are you okay?”

“…Yeah…I’ll be fine…” she said, more tired than anything.

“Okay…I’m setting your phone outside the door. Text me if you need anything.”

“…Okay.” She heard him set the phone down and then leave. Sighing, she stood and to rinse her face, picking up the phone to put in her hoody pocket. She hesitated but sighed and took the elevator down. Going to her boxes of things, she started going through them till she found an old metal toolbox. Inside wasn’t tools though but pictures. Some were of her and the gang, others of places she’d visited, all put into bundles by some sort of theme. She pulled out one bundle and sat down, undoing the band and smiling at the first picture of a Japanese temple. Flipping through, she wrinkled her nose and tossed aside a few of Collin. This was where they had split ways, in a city down near Nagasaki called Oita. And flipping through, she finally found the picture she was looking for. It was of her and a Japanese woman just a little younger than her—she’d been 18 and Sloane was 20 when they met. She was wearing a cute outfit of a long skirt patterned skirt and orange sweater and Sloane was wearing her usual darker jeans and a T-Shirt. She was giving the peace sign and Sloane was smiling a little uncomfortably because she wasn’t used to having a selfie taken. On the back was a message in Japanese, but she could read it still.

_Sloane, smile more! I expect a big smile next time! Love, Kazumi_

She sighed, leaning back against the boxes with the photo in her lap.

She wasn’t sure how long she was down there—it only seemed like an hour—but she jumped when the garage door opened and instead of morning light it was late afternoon. _Shit, was I just here spacing out for hours?!_

“Sloane?” Nick asked, stepping out of the car.

“Hey, uh…I was just going through some stuff,” she said, putting the photos away. She hesitated but put Kazumi’s photo in as well and closed it up.

“Did you need help?” he asked, testing the waters.

“No, I found it. You did it by room after all.”

“That was Monroe’s idea,” he said with slight smile.

“Of course it was,” she said, amused as well. “…Sorry about this morning.”

“There’s no reason to apologize,” he said immediately. “I was just worried about you…”

“I know. I just…sometimes I need a little time to process what I see…”

“…It really seemed to affect you this time…”

“…It was someone…I hadn’t thought about in a long time. And she was pretty scary…Seeing her in person would’ve been a shock too…We didn’t leave things on a great note…”

Nick could tell from the look on her face she wasn’t ready to go further and put a hand on her shoulder. “Well…it plays on your fears. Maybe that’s part of it?”

“…Maybe…I wouldn’t even know how to get in touch though…”

“You’ll think clearer soon. Want to go make dinner?”

She sighed but nodded, heading with him to the elevator. She noticed he had a file in his hand. “You’re bringing work home?”

“Ah, kind of…I wanted your input on something.”

“Is it that Black Claw thing?”

“Not sure, exactly…We found, uh…a crucifixion?”

“…Huh?” Nick opened the file and showed her the picture to show her. Sloane winced and took it. The man in the photo had been strapped to a large wooden cross and then slicked across the abdomen to bleed out. “Oh damn…”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “We found this carved on the back.” He handed her another photo as they got to the top and stepped out. It showed a triangle carved into the back. “We were able to figure out it’s Greek, from like 495 B.C. and means water. Ring any bells?”

“…Actually…Yeah,” she said, looking at it and the picture. “I might’ve had something in one of my books, but I don’t know if it would’ve survived. But It feels like I’ve seen this symbol and a cross ritual like this in them.”

“Really?” he asked, figuring it was a long shot.

“Yeah, but I can’t remember regarding what,” she said.

“Well…what books we saved are at the shop. How about we go there tomorrow.”

She looked at him but her brow puckered in worry. “I don’t know, Nick…”

“We’ll all be there, it’ll be okay,” he said.

“…Okay,” she nodded, smiling. Nick smiled as well, knowing she was probably getting pretty stir crazy being in the house. Maybe a change might help.

“Let’s get cooking then, before you change.”

She sighed and nodded, setting the photos on the counter while they went to pick out what to make.

\-----------------------------------------

Nick came home a little earlier in the day to pick her up, with bad news. Another homeless man had been found in the basement of an apartment complex. He’d been there for at least a couple of weeks they determined and had been killed the same way, but with a different symbol left behind: Three swirls connected in the middle. A triskelion, Sloane knew, because Collin had a tattoo of one on his arm. A Celtic symbol that meant water as well—or, more specifically, 'the trinity of earth, air, and water’, dating back to at least 3,200 B.C. from what Nick found out.

Entering the Spice Shop’s basement, Hank was there already. Rosalee smiled and walked over, hugging Sloane. “It’s good to see you out and about!”

“Thanks,” she smiled, hugging her back. It made her feel better she had to admit.

“Nick mentioned something happened with your hair, I see what he means,” Monroe said.

“Not as bad as when I change into a creature,” she said. “Hair is _everywhere,_ then.”

“Preaching to the choir,” he grinned. He walked them over to the table nearby. “Hank showed us the pictures and…well, with these symbols... that cross almost looks like a...”

“I can’t believe it would be that,” Rosalee said. “That stuff's ancient history.”

“What is?” Nick said, still marveling at how they could read each other’s minds.

“Fuilcré rain rituals,” she said. “They involved runes and crosses and blood.”

“You know, the usual cult ritual hoopla,” Monroe added.

“Hey, what is a Fuilcré?” Hank asked.

“Kind of a bovine... ish, ox like fellow,” he said, looking at Sloane.

She nodded. “Sounds familiar…” Sloane said. Rosalee turned the book around. It was a little singed but showed a wesen with long, twisty horns and a bovine-like face goring a man on a cross to pour his blood on the ground. “That one, yes! Collin let me copy this page from one of his books. They did this ritual?”

“Yeah. Actually, they are one of the first to self-domesticate and cultivate the land for food instead of, you know, hunting Kehrseite. I mean, they’re not strict carnivores but they used to raid their villages for food till they figured out they could do it themselves.”

“…Progressive,” Hank said, looking at Nick and Sloane with an unsure look.

“Yeah, sure. Until you consider the human sacrifice factor,” Monroe said.

“Whenever the crops weren't doing so well, they'd perform this ceremony to bring rain,” Rosalee clarified.

“So it was a rainmaker?” Nick asked, slightly bemused.

“Supposedly works for droughts like the one we're in now. It’s been such a dry summer and fall…”

“Yeah, but guys, really, this stuff is seriously ancient history,” Monroe said. “I mean, the last Fuilcré ritual was like 500 years ago, give or take a century.”

“All right, so why'd they stop?” Nick asked.

Monroe and Rosalee looked at one another and Monroe sighed. “Grimms.” Nick and Sloane glanced at each other then back at him. “According to legend, any family that continued the practice was wiped out. I mean, like down to the last child wiped out. A little severe, but got the job done, that's for sure…”

“While I agree killing children is on the no list, you think that’s severe compared to this?” Sloane said, tapping the picture.

“…Point taken.”

Nick pulled the book over and pointed at two symbols on the other page. The triangle and the triskelion, among several others. “These two runes were at the last crime scenes.”

“This says, "The last recorded Fuilcré ritual was in 1596,” Monroe said. “I couldn’t read the passage though, it’s in like Middle Irish or something.”

They looked at Sloane but she shrugged. “I copied it from Collins’ book because it looked interesting but I never got the chance to translate it…”

They all sighed but Rosalee pulled it over. “Let me see…Well... "Do-fortbaither ind fhuil for talmain immar uisce," translates to "And the blood will spill on the Earth as water."” All of them blinked and looked on in surprise. “"Ocus dolbfait inna secht n-idbarta a narathar." "And the seven sacrifices will form The Plow," I think? I don't know, the next pages are burned.” She looked up to see everyone staring at her and smiled in a bit of awkwardness. “My mother's family is Irish. I spent a lot of summers there as a kid. …There was no TV.”

“Wow... just when you think you know somebody,” Monroe said, smiling dreamily at her.

“Wait, did you say _seven_ sacrifices?” Sloane said.

“Yes…” she said, checking again.

“Well, if we've found two, then there are five more,” Hank said, dread growing.

“I think you need seven to form The Plow...Whatever that means,” Rosalee said.

“Well, that means there's going to be five more murders, if they haven't happened,” Hank said.

Nick’s mind was racing, trying to find anything to grasp on to that could bring them a lead. “…Both crime scenes used the exact same type of wood. 6x6x12 beams, so if we're talking seven crosses, that means someone out there is buying a lot of that kind of wood.”

“I'll have Wu check the lumberyards,” Hank nodded.

“What can I do?”

Nick and Hank looked at Sloane and then tried not to grimace. “Um…well…”

“Coming here to research is one thing, Sloane, but I don’t think you’re ready to go in the field yet…” Nick said.

She glared a little. “You wanted me to help!”

“I did—I do,” he amended, holding up his hands. “But…look, it’s almost evening, I should get you back home. We can pick up food on the way and I…I’ll keep looking into things.”

She frowned but sighed and stood, heading up the stairs. Rosalee watched her go sadly and looked at him. “She’s still seeing things?”

“Yeah. She freaked out really bad a couple of times the last few days. I think their getting to her but she doesn’t want to admit it…”

“Are Adalind and the others making any actual progress?” Monroe asked.

“I think so?” he said, though he was unsure.

“I’ll come by tomorrow, see how she’s doing,” Rosalee said.

“I think she’d like that.”

They heard a crash and rushed upstairs to see Sloane pressed up against the wall, panting. “Sloane?”

She jumped and blinked, looking at the broken jar on the floor. “I…sorry, I just…thought I saw my grandmother,” she sighed, covering her face in a shaking hand. “I jumped and hit the shelf. Y…You’re right, I’m not ready…”

Nick frowned and went over, putting his arm around her. “It’s okay…”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Rosalee said, grabbing the broom.

“But the jar…” she said, looking at it guiltily.

“I’ve got more dried sea nettles in storage too,” she said. “Go home and rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She sighed but nodded, following Nick out.

“She’s pretty jumpy…” Monroe said.

“I don’t think she’s sleeping well, whatever she says,” Rosalee sighed. “I know she’s using the tincture I gave her…Then again, if I was seeing what she sees I’d be a nervous wreck too.”

Monroe nodded, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Hopefully something will help fix it soon…”

\---------------------

Dr. Ahn nervously shifted his feet, with Bosch next to him staring stonily at the window. The window didn’t look outside but instead into an airtight room with a man inside. The man was strapped to a chair and looked nervous as well, shifting and trying to get out of the straps.

“I-is that necessary?”

“You said it might make him unstable. Just a precaution,” Mike said. “Well?”

Dr. Ahn sighed and clicked the buttons in front of him. From a nozzle in the ceiling overhead, a fine orange mist sprayed down. The man ducked his head, the sound not traveling out thankfully as he yelled. The mist wafted around him and for a moment nothing seemed to happen. Bosch made a discerning growl and Ahn cowered for a moment. Then the man threw his head back and woged into a bauerswhein. He looked even more alarmed, trying to get out of the bonds. Dr. Ahn turned on the speaker. “Mr. Wexle?”

“What did you do to me?!” he yelled back. “Why am I woged?!”

Mike smiled wolfishly and turned the speaker off as he squealed. “And there we are…looks like you did it, Doctor. A forced woge.”

He swallowed. “Is this really something your group wants?”

“Oh yes. We’re not going to stay to the shadows much longer…Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to have a little “pulled pork”.”

Dr. Ahn paled and quickly backed out the room as Mike headed for the door to the testing room. He covered his ears to the screams and rushed back to the lab that was now his room. He hadn’t been home in weeks, had no way to contacted them. No way to warn them. Or to ask for help. He had to figure out something!

He paused though when the screams sounded different—not like the bauwershwein’s squeal but more like the frightened yelps and howls of a blutbad. Turning, he went back cautiously to the room. He gasped and fell back in fright when he saw the room splattered in blood. But rather than the blutbad, it was the bauwershwein sinking his teeth into flesh and ripping it up with inhuman strength. Mike’s screams turned to gurgling. The bauershwein took his mouth from his neck and looked up, eyes crazed. “I’ll kill you…I’ll kill all of you!” He slammed his body against the wall and Ahn gasped and tried to scuttle back but hit a pair of legs.

“What the hell?” Dr. Ahn looked up to see Bosch staring in shock at the room, Grosvenor next to him several others coming running. “Mike?”

“W-we have to get him out of there!”

Grosvenor shook his head. “I don’t think that will do much good…the man is good as dead.”

Bosch shook his head slowly. “What the hell is that pig doing?” They jumped again when he slammed his body against the glass again, breaking it. His arm was cut up but he tried push through, making them worse, focusing on them like he wanted to break them in two. Grsovenor pulled a gun from his waist band and fired. The first shot did nothing as he kept trying to push through, breaking the glass with his bare hands. Four more shots, one just above his eye, finally got him to stop and fall back into the room. “Okay…qu'est-ce que c'était que ça!? What the _hell_ was that?!”

“I-it must be a side effect! I-it’s like pcp, it increases aggression and dims the body’s pain and limit receptors! We cannot use this on anyone!”

“Well, how long will it take to work out?” Bosch asked.

“I don’t know! It was all theoretical before! I need time to research it and fix it!”

Grosvenor sighed, holstering his gun. “Well…that’s a bit disappointing.”

Bosh was shaking his head, thinking. “I told the boss it would be ready for the end of the month. For Halloween. That’s like a week away. We got a plan and everything.”

“Well, it will make quite a scary scene,” Grosvenor said blandly.

“Yeah…yeah, it will. So I guess we’ll just have to go as is.”

Dr. Ahn went cold. “Y…you can’t be serious…it could turn into a blood bath!”

“Agreed, bit extreme there,” Grosvenor said.

He shrugged, smiling as if he didn’t care that his friend was lying dead in the next room. “Well…it’ll get the message across. Plus, you might get some publicity. Save people from more monsters.”

Grosvenor quirked a brow but chuckled. “Well, when you put it like that…”

“Y…you’re both crazy!” Dr. Ahn said. “I won’t do it! Not anymore!”

“Oh, you will, Doctor,” Bosh said. “Or I’ll send some of my monsters to visit your wife and son.” Dr. Ahn shook and then looked down. Bosch smiled and patted his head patronizingly. “That’s what I thought. Now get to it. I got an idea how to spread this stuff around…”

\-------------------

This wasn’t a good idea, she knew. Leaving alone wasn’t a good idea. Nick, Hank and Wu could handle things. Another body had been found that morning and Nick had rushed to go check out the scene. He was keeping her updated and they’d already determined the man was another homeless person.

And that was bugging her. The fact that this person was targeting homeless people. They had a man, Mark Holloway, as a suspect but they’d brought him in the day before and had to release him because the new victim was killed just last night. Meaning that someone else was killing homeless people. Which reminded her of the camp near the bridge. Maurice, Sweetpea and the others. She just wanted to make sure that no Fuilcré was tempting them, maybe warn them to tell others not to go with anyone offering money for an unspecified job.

So after Nick left she found the keys to her car and drove towards the woods. _Just drive slow…slow and easy…_

“You know, this is dangerous. You could hallucinate an 18-wheeler coming at you. Or hallucinate not seeing that red light,” Antonio said from beside her. His shirt was still bloody from where Amy shot him.

“…Why would you warn me. You want me to freak out.”

“We can’t torture you if you’re dead,” he said. “But others could be at risk too…like that pedestrian.”

Sloane’s eyes widened when a person appeared suddenly and she slammed on the breaks. Several honks sounded around her and the person’s eyes were wide and their hands were up, looking confused. She ducked her head, shaking a little at how close she’d come to hitting him.

“Oh, so close,” Antonio said, sneering a bit.

Sloane breathed deeply and turned into the nearest parking lot, driving to the far end around the side of the building. She breathed deeply and got out. She was close enough; she could get to where she wanted to go from there. Grosvenor had forced them to move, but she found a nearby shelter where she hoped they’d be in the cooler weather. It wasn’t far really.

Yet she ended up lost downtown. She kept retreading her steps—it was as though the streets changed to make her go in circles. Groaning, she covered her eyes. “Why did I think this was a good idea…?”

“To be fair, do you ever think things through?” Maria asked, leaning on a wall. No one else paid the bloody girl any mind since she was just in her head.

Sloane ignored her and kept walking, trying to figure out what to do. She was hesitant to drive again even to get home. And she wasn’t even sure she could find her car. _Maybe I should call someone…Ugh, but Nick is on that case and would either give me an earful or be annoyingly sympathetic. I just wanted to do one thing on my own again! One thing to help!_

“That her?”

“Yeah, I saw her with that detective yesterday at that shop.”

Sloane heard the voices but it took her a second to realize they were real. By then, someone had tried to grab her and pull her back into an alley. A big hand was over her mouth so she couldn’t yell as they dragged her into it.

“Cuff her, quick!” The man holding her said. His assistant, a rather weaselly looking man, was moving to try and put handcuffs on her.

Sloane glared and brought her leg straight up then down in an axe kick on the man’s shoulder with a crack of collar bone breaking. He screamed, dropping the cuffs. Before the big man knew what was happening, she drove her elbow into his side, then brought her fist down into his crotch. He let go of her, hands going down to his bruised privates with a huff. Sloane grabbed his hair and lifted his head, glaring at him. “What the hell was this about?”

The man woged into a large malan fatal and his eyes widened. “Y-you’re a Grimm?! No one said there was another!”

Sloane glared and grabbed one of his sharp tusks. “Answer the question or I break your teeth!”

“I-it was Grosvenor! Rider Grosvenor! He wanted to know where that Wild Thing is so he sent us to get someone to use as leverage against that Grimm cop! We thought you were his girlfriend!”

Sloane glared and grabbed him by the shirt collar instead. “If you or anyone else tries something like this with me or anyone else Nick cares about, you’re all dead.” She then actually threw him down the alley. “Now get out of here before I just go ahead and do it!”

Both the men ran down the alleyway, limping and cradling their arms. Sloane watched them and then breathed out. She wondered for a second if she imagined that but hissed and looked at her hand. The Malan Fatal had nicked her fingers with that sharp tusk. _Real then…_ Sighing, she pulled out her phone and decided to dial Rosalee.

“Hey, Sloane. What’s up?”

“Um…I need a favor. Can you pick me up?”

“Pick you up?”

“…I tried driving. Didn’t work out. And it’s getting late,” she realized.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, no wreck. Nearly. But then I got turned around and…I can’t find my way back,” she admitted.

“It’s okay, find somewhere to wait and I’ll come get you.”

“Okay, thanks…I’m at the corner of Bell and Congress.”

“I can be there quick then. Why were you trying to drive though?” she said, grabbing her coat and keys from the sound of it.

“What Nick talked about reminded me of some nice homeless people I met when I was…living rough. I wanted to warn them and see if they knew anything, but that Grosvenor guy had them move. So I was going to check the shelter nearby and…stuff happened,” she sighed.

“…I can take you there. You should’ve asked for help.”

“I know, I just…thought I could do that much,” she sighed.

Rosalee didn’t press. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay…be careful though. I had another little problem I’ll explain when you get here.”

“Okay…Just wait there.”

Sloane sighed and made and affirmative sound before hanging up.

Rosalee came and got her with Monroe, who after a little hunting drove her car back home when they found it again. Sloane explained to them while they looked about the men that tried to grab her. Both of them were angry hearing about it but Monroe had to laugh a little that she still beat them pretty thoroughly.

Nick wasn’t amused though because he’d come home early to find Sloane’s car gone.

“Uh oh…you’re in trouble,” Rosalee said, wincing at Nick’s look.

“You make it sound like he’s my father…He’s more of a mother hen,” she added.

“He’s just worried about you,” she said, getting out of the car with her.

“Where were you?!” Nick said. “Do you know how worried I was when I came home and you weren’t here!?”

“…Okay, I see what you mean,” Rosalee said.

Sloane hummed but then sighed. “I’m sorry, Nick…”

He frowned but sighed. “I was about to blow up your phone. I just got here, so explain to me what happened?”

Sloane groaned at having to do it all again. “Can I get some water first?”

He nodded and then looked at Monroe and Rosalee. “You guys want to come up?”

“Yeah, sure,” Monroe nodded. “Did you find something out?”

“Kind of. But also, Adalind is here.”

“She is?” Sloane asked, looking up hopefully.

“Yeah. And she’s got something for you.”

Sloane immediately ran for the elevator. “Let’s get up there then!”

He smiled a little, glad she was excited. Heading up, Adalind was there and smiled. “Oh, hey, you’re back! I’m glad, Nick was freaking out.”

“I was not…”

“Were too,” she said. “You looked everywhere, even down in that tunnel thing, even though her car was gone. Yelling for her the whole time.”

Nick flushed. “I…was worried.”

Sloane smiled, feeling a little guilty for making him worry, and patted his arm. He looked down and smiled, patting her hand back.

Adalind eyed them both then looked at Monroe and Rosalee who seemed a bit surprised by how intimate it was as well.

“So…you got a little “Hexual Healing” for Sloane?” Monroe asked with a grin. Rosalee looked tempted to laugh but the others groaned at the pun.

“…I wouldn’t put it that way, but yes.” She pulled out a box from her bag. “We rigged this up over the last few days. Well…Henrietta and Angela did, I just offered to bring it. No magic. Anyway,” opening it, she pulled out black leather band with circular metal charm on it. The charm had several markings on it, but the main one that stood out was a vertical line with a smaller line crossing through at an angle. Sloane realized when she held it in both hands it was a choker of some kind. “It’s a band aid, so to speak. This has been enchanted to help mitigate your visions and keep you human at night.”

Sloane took it, looking it over with a bit of critique. “So this isn’t a cure…?”

“No, not yet,” she sighed. “Layered spells are hard to untangle. But wearing it during the day will help keep the visions back. You might see something out of the corner of your eye, but it shouldn’t be anything major. At night it’ll keep you human, but, uh…it won’t help the nightmares.”

“Great…” She sighed. “I’m sorry, that sounded ungrateful, I just…”

“I understand,” she smiled. “We want to get you cured too, but this is really hard to figure out. We’re basically fighting a curse with a curse at this rate, but it’s like a nice curse.”

“I think that’s called a blessing?” Rosalee said. Adalind shrugged, unsure herself since blessings were never her modus operandi.

“At least you’ll be able to sleep in the bed,” Nick said.

She nodded slightly. “True…Thanks, really. Do I just put it on?” She nodded and Sloane lifted the choker to her neck. She gasped as it suddenly clasped itself around her and she shuddered as she felt a wave of magic roll through her, like an icy breeze. The metal charm rested right in the hollow of her collar bone and the rune glowed briefly before dulling down to normal. “…Does this come off?”

“Not easily,” she admitted. “You can force it, but I wouldn’t. You don’t want it off right now anyway though, we’d have to rework it once it does. But it’s safe to shower in and all that.”

“It looks neat,” Rosalee said. “How do you feel?”

“…Actually…I feel good,” she nodded. “Pretty clear headed.”

“Good!” Adalind sighed. “We’ll keep working on an actual cure, but this will at least make things easier for you till then. Quality of life and all that.”

Sloane nodded and smiled. “Thanks, Adalind.” She smiled back, looking a bit proud. Sloane went and got a bottle of water from the fridge. “No bodies in the fridge, good start…” She grabbed opened the bottle and took a long swig.

“So, why were you out?” Nick asked.

She grimaced and sighed. “I got worried for some homeless people. All your victims have been homeless, and there were some nice ones that tried to help me when I was out in the woods. I wanted to warn them and maybe ask if they knew anything.” Nick softened a bit. It was a good reason really, even if he’d been pretty scared when her car wasn’t here when he got home. He’d worried something made her run away at best, that she’d be in a wreck at work.

“Victims?” Adalind asked.

“Yeah. We’ve had a string of ritualistic murders,” Nick sighed. “We’ve found two so far, men strung on up crosses with runes marked on the wood and gored.”

“…Like…with a horn?”

“Yeah. We think it’s a—” Monroe started.

“Fuilcré?” she asked.

They looked at one another then nodded. “Yeah. You know about that?”

She smiled a bit wanly. “When I was a Hexenbiest, freaky rituals are kind of our thing.”

“I had a passage on it but it got burned up a little,” Sloane said.

“We couldn’t figure everything out,” Rosalee nodded. “We know that there are seven sacrifices that form the image of a plow, but we don't know what the plow is.”

She sighed, accepting a bottle of water when Sloane offered it to her. “Well, Fuilcré religion revolved around stars and The Plow is what they called Ursa Major in England and Ireland.”

“Ursa Major like the Big Dipper?” Nick asked.

She nodded, taking a gulp. “Seven stars.”

“Wait…if they’re forming the image of “The Plough”…the killings are going to form a Big Dipper to match the constellation?” Sloane asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t know all the details but it sounds about right. You know, the Aztecs had this ceremony built around Orion's Belt. It was called "fire drill." Why they called it that, I don't know. But every time Orion's Belt rose above the horizon, they would sacrifice a man on top of a pyramid.”

“Well…we don’t have any of those thankfully,” Sloane said.

She chuckled and nodded. Looking at her watch she sighed. “I better get back home. I’ve been doing some notary work while I figure out a new job and I’ve got a few things waiting for me.”

“Thank you again,” Sloane said.

She nodded, heading for the elevator and waving as she headed back down.

“So…we got a pattern, so to speak,” Nick sighed.

“Think it will help?” Rosalee asked.

“Yeah, I just gotta think how…”

“Well, it’s getting close to dinner time. Why don’t we order something and I’ll pick it up and we can see if this does keep you human? I could go for some vegan Moussaka if Greek sounds good to everyone,” Monroe offered.

“Uh…sure, that’s fine,” Nick said. “I’ll just do a gyro.”

“Same,” Sloane said.

“I’ll go with you,” Rosalee said. “Let you guys talk some more.”

Sloane wasn’t entirely thrilled but sighed and nodded. They headed out and Sloane sat to drink more water and try and rest while Nick emailed Hank what he’d found out. Afterwards he looked at her and then sat next to her at the counter. “Is there more I should know?”

She hesitated but then sighed. “Yeah…While I was out, I did have an issue driving and had to pull over. Then I tried to go on foot and got lost…” Nick frowned and she sighed and held up her hand. “I know, I know, I shouldn’t have done it when I’m like this, I just…wanted to do something. I was getting really fed up just being on the sidelines.”

He sighed and eased up slightly, sitting next to her at the counter. “I get that. But you could’ve left a note or texted me or something.”

“…I hoped I’d be back before you got home. Ask forgiveness rather than permission?” she said, smiling apologetically.

“It’s not asking permission, I’m not your keeper,” he said. “I’m just someone that’s going to worry about you. I lost you for almost half a year, I don’t want to lose you again…”

Sloane felt her heart speed up and then looked down. “I know…Um, that’s kind of what I was getting too,” she said, getting back to her original topic and shoving that emotion back. “Some men tried to kidnap me—”

“What?!”

“Don’t worry, I broke one’s clavicle and the other is going to be walking funny for a long time,” she said, not really that worried.

“You don’t seem worried about this…”

“After months of seeing death and carnage that aren’t really there, flesh and blood men trying to accost me was rather refreshing,” she said blandly. “Also, not my first kidnapping rodeo. But they said they work for Grosvenor.”

A dark look came over his face. “So he’s back…and he figured out you’re the beast?”

“I don’t think so,” she shook her head. “One of them said that they saw me with you. They wanted me to use against you. I guess to try and keep you out of his way or tell you where the Wild Thing is.” _Not going to mention the girlfriend thing…_

Nick glared at the thought and stood to pace a little. “That son of a bitch…I’m going find him and skin that tiger myself!”

“Nick—” she started.

“No, that man is insane! He’s killed once already, I don’t want to know what he planned to do to you, but he’s going to pay for it!”

“Nick, I’m fine!” she tried again, standing to go over.

“Yes, but the point is they want to get at me. So I’ll get them first! I’m not letting someone hurt you again! Or anyone else because of me!”

Sloane set her hands on his shoulders, messaging them reflexively when she felt how tense he was. “Nick, I get your angry. I’d be too. But focus, okay? Grosvenor isn’t our immediate concern.”

“He tried to kidnap you!”

“I think it was an opportunistic thing by his lackeys, they weren’t prepared. They didn’t know I was a Grimm either. They only saw us at the shop, they don’t know where we live. And I sent a pretty strong message not to mess with me or anyone else in our circle.”

He calmed slightly. “But he needs to be stopped.”

“And we’ll do that. But you got maybe five more guys that might be in danger and a killer on the loose crucifying them. Focus on that.”

He huffed but relaxed slowly and nodded. “Okay…but then I track him down and go Grimm on him.”

“I’m fine with that. Heck, I might be able to help now,” she smiled.

Nick smiled back. They stayed a moment, looking at one another, Sloane’s hands on his shoulders. Almost like they were about to dance or maybe... But then Nick’s phone buzzed and he jumped a bit, prompting her to take her hands back quickly. “I’ll…get that,” he said, going to pick it up. “It’s Hank. He wants to come over, he has an idea.”

“I’ll text Rosalee to grab another Gyro,” she said, grabbing her own phone.

\-----------------

Grosvenor glared at the men across from him. “So let me get this straight…I send you to tail that Detective to see if he has the beast…and you decide the better thing to do is try and kidnap his woman?”

The two men looked down. “We thought it would make things go faster…” the smaller one said.

He growled, pinching his brow. “You two let your impatience almost get you killed, congratulations.”

“But boss, that’s the thing! She’s also a Grimm!”

He looked up, mildly surprised. “Hm…well, makes sense I suppose. Grimm and Grimm, seems natural. But again, you two messed this up. Because now the Grimm knows I’m looking for him, and looking for my monster. So I no longer have the element of surprise I was going for.”

“We’re sorry, boss!” The big one said.

“You will be,” he said, standing. He paced slightly. “I’ve got my advertisers breathing down my neck about the “Wild Thing” fiasco. Bad press, bad footage, and to top it off no trophy for my hunt. This? This added stress? I did not need!” He snarled, making them shrink. He sighed, stopping at the bar in his RV and pouring a shot of bourbon. “Did you find out where the Grimm lives?”

“No, sir, we didn’t want to push our luck…”

“Well, you better find out. Because now I expect you to get him, and find out where my beast is or I’ll hunt you,” he said, downing the liquor in one gulp.

They paled. “B-but sir, he’ll kill us!”

“Or she will! I got a busted shoulder; I don’t want to be killed!”

“You useless piles of slop would be better served dead!” He said, throwing the glass and making them flinch. “I asked for more help and Black Claw sends me Laurel and Hardy?! Honestly, grow some balls!”

“She nearly broke mine…”

“Then grow stronger balls! Go get the Grimm or hide your heads in the sand before I take them!” They both quivered and Grosvenor sighed. “You know what? Fine, I’ll make this simple. Get me one of his friends. I’ll take it from there if you’re too stupid to figure it out.”

“Y-Yes sir,” they said, quickly heading out.

\----------------

Hank’s idea was to start plotting the murders on the map, to try and predict where they might try next. They ate their late lunch while going over the information and trying to figure it out. Because of the shape of the constellation, they needed a reference point to figure out where it all it goes. It was Rosalee’s knowledge that saved them, knowing the last star in the handle of The Plow is the star Alkaid, which in Arabic means Chief of Mourners. (Sloane questioned how she knew that and Rosalee blushed and admitted to having an astrology phase during one of her visits to Ireland.) The closest cemetery was Huntington Cemetery, so using that for a reference they plotted out likely places to look and notified Wu. Nick also remembered there was a meeting for Black Claw happening that day and they agreed that Monroe would try and infiltrate it that afternoon and get pictures.

They got word back as the sun was setting that a fourth, fifth and sixth body was found in different jurisdictions, all lining up where they predicted. Monroe also called. He broke down the meeting but he hadn’t been able to snap any pictures due to a little drama. Mark Holloway had come to try and retrieve his son from the meeting and had ended up roughed up and thrown out while he watched. Monroe managed to defuse the situation and get Mark out of there. But he got the feeling they were planning something for the end of the month, at Halloween. There were a lot of vague allusions to something happening to prove wesen dominance, but the man giving his speech never specified what.

Nick thanked him and hanged up, looking over his map again. “We just need confirmation from Huntington…It’s in our jurisdiction, unlike the others,” Nick sighed. He looked up, watching Sloane who was watching the sunset. “…How do you feel?”

“…Nervous,” she admitted. “I feel fine, but…what if it doesn’t work?”

“Then they’ll keep working and we’ll figure it out,” he said, standing to go over to her.

Sloane looked up at him, looking tired. “…I’m so tired, Nick…”

Nick frowned and reached up to hug her. “I know…”

“Aren’t you? Having to deal with me like this?”

“It’s not “dealing” with you. I’m just trying to help and keep you safe.”

“You shouldn’t have to—” She gasped and froze a little, the medallion lighting up a moment.

“Sloane?”

She breathed deeply but didn’t start changing. The medallion slowly faded and she breathed out. “…I’m still human…?”

“You are,” he smiled.

Sloane laughed in relief, patting over her face and her arms. “I haven’t been human at night in months!”

Nick smiled and then hugged her again, actually lifting her off her feet a little. “This is great!” Sloane blushed but smiled and hugged him back.

Nick’s phone rang again then and he sighed at being interrupted once more. Setting her down, he grabbed it and answered. “Wu?”

“Got a call from Huntington—there is no body there yet! I mean, nobody on a cross—you know what I mean.”

Nick’s heart ratcheted up. “Okay, then the end of the handle is last. I’ll meet you there.”

“Sounds good. How’s Sloane?”

He smiled. “Still human.”

“Awesome! Oh, gotta go!”

They hanged up and Sloane looked at him and was about to say something when he held up a hand. “No, you stay here.”

“Nick,” she glared.

“I want to be sure this thing works all night. If you change suddenly out there, we’re all in trouble.”

Sloane glared but sighed. “I hate when you make sense like this…”

Nick smiled and grabbed his jacket. “I’ll see you when I get home.”

“Okay…”

Sloane watched him go and sighed, sitting down. She’d had a whole afternoon without visions, she was human, things should be fine. Nick was worrying for nothing, really. But she didn’t want to push her luck again today, so she sat down and turned on the movie channel. She paused it a couple of hours later when she heard an odd sound—then stared at the window when it started to rain heavily. “No way…”

\----------------------

Their perp ended up being Duncan Fargo, the man in charge of the lumber mill that sold the beams and also a Fuilcré. He had a man strung up and ready to sacrifice, but they stopped him in time. By killing him and spilling his own blood. The rain started soon after. If the stars wanted blood for their ceremony they weren’t picky about whose it was.

When Nick got home, Sloane was still up and still human. He explained what happened and Sloane sighed, glad at least no one innocent died again. She was hesitant to go to bed, since she was finally human full time again, but was yawning by the end with Nick. They went to bed in their separate rooms and Sloane sighed as she was finally able to rest on a bed again and curl up in the covers.

“Sloane?”

She opened her eyes and blinked. The room wasn’t the one she fell asleep in. But it wasn’t unfamiliar either. She sat up quickly, looking around in confusion at her old childhood room. “What…?”

“Sloane?”

She turned towards the door. “…Oma?” Standing, she opened the door and headed downstairs. It looked just how it did when she was a kid. This wasn’t right, she knew, but it didn’t feel like a nightmare.

“Sloane, Sunny, come outside!”

She paused at the stairs and looked towards the front door. Heading to it, she could see her grandmother waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “Oma? What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? C’mon! I want to show you something. I tried to get your attention earlier but you were so scared.”

She frowned. “What?”

“It’s a surprise! C’mon, step on down!”

“This…isn’t right…”

“Sloane, it’s me. C’mon!” she said, waving her arms to join her. “Oh, your white streak is back! It’s good to see it. Let me have a closer look.” She frowned but sighed and moved to step down. As she did her grandmother’s face twisted into a face she didn’t recognize—like hundreds of faces overlayed together—and the voice was hundreds of voices she had heard over the years from wesen and human alike. “C’mon dear…come where you belong…”

“Sloane!”

She gasped when she felt Nick’s arms around her, pulling her back. She blinked up at the rain, confused why she was soaked through. Then she realized she was on the roof. And she’d been just about to step off to fall three stories down. “W…What?”

Nick was panting, holding her close. “You were sleep walking!” She shook as she realized how close she’d been to a swan dive down to concrete and Nick helped her up and back down into the apartment. “What happened?”

“I…I was dreaming, but it was…it didn’t feel like a nightmare, not till the end…I didn’t realize…” She covered her face. “I thought I was okay now!”

Nick frowned and rubbed her shoulders. “Adalind said your dreams might still be rough…”

“She didn’t mention them trying to outright kill me!”

Nick nodded slightly and sighed. “…C’mon.” He pulled her towards the door down.

“Nick, I don’t think I can just go back to bed…” she said, shivering at the chill of being wet from the rain.

“You’re not. But you need to change. Get out of those clothes and I’ll be right back.”

Sloane sighed but did as she was told, grimacing as her clothes fell with a wet slop sound. Drying off with a towel, she put on warm dry clothes again and sighed as she rubbed over her eyes.

“Sloane? You decent?”

“Uh…yeah.”

He opened the door and walked in to take her hand. Tugging it, he led her from that room over to his room. Sloane was confused, and blushed when he climbed into bed and patted the area next to him. “Lay down.”

“I…Nick, you can’t be serious,” she said, feeling much warmer now.

“I am. In the bed, now.” She hesitated but ultimately sat down on the edge. He sighed and tugged her shirt. “I’m not going to do anything weird.”

“This is all weird,” she muttered.

“I’m serious. Lay down. I’m going to make sure you stay in bed. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

She looked back at him, feeling the earnestness in his voice. She slowly eased back and laid down next to him. It’d been a long, long time since she shared her bed with anyone. “…Goodnight?”

He smiled, nodding with determination. “Goodnight.”

They both lay awake for a little while, though with their eyes closed to try not to tip the other off. Eventually, despite her best efforts, Sloane fell asleep. And this time it was into a sweet, gentle, dreamless sleep.

In the morning she and Nick were cuddled close, his arm thrown over her and her body tucked against his. She blushed and tensed, her first instinct to back away. But another part of her, the part of her she’d tried to keep quiet, calmed her down and she slowly smiled and decided to enjoy the moment in secret. A little selfish moment to pretend again.

She didn’t know Nick had briefly woke up and thought the same thing.

\----------------------

The next day Sloane hung around the loft still, trying to be sure nothing was messing with her. But no visions came to her. No past victims whispered in her ear or popped up in the shower. No Collin mocking her, or Antonio blaming her. No one touching her, yelling at her, pulling, pushing her…No visions of blood and guts and gore.

No, they saved that for at night. She didn’t change into a beast anymore, but it couldn’t protect her from nightmares and sleepwalking. They’d hoped that first night was just a fluke, but the next night Nick had to woke up to hear her walking towards the kitchen. He’d hoped it was just her being a bit hungry but after he’d heard the roof steps come down yesterday he was still a bit worried. When he came out, she was like she was before—eyes closed, walking with a slight sway as though listening to music. And her fingers were running over the handles of the knives in the knife holder. She pulled one and set her other hand on the counter, positioning the knife above with a stabbing hold.

Nick ran over and grabbed her wrist it quickly before she did anything, startling her awake. “Sloane!”

She looked up at him, then at the knife and dropped it with a clatter onto the floor. “What the hell?!”

He breathed out and sighed. “You were about to cut open your arm…”

She shuddered a bit, hugging her arm to her. He didn’t know what she’d been dreaming but she looked sick. “…Is this better or worse than before?”

He sighed and put his arm around her. “C’mon…stay in my room again. Then I can make sure you don’t go walking somewhere.”

She nodded slowly, following him to his bed. Climbing in, she looked at him tiredly. “I’m sorry, Nick…”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“But…I’m such a burden for you. It’s like two steps forward, one step back and you still have to worry about me…”

Nick reached up and pushed her hair behind her ear to see her face better. She looked close to crying. “I worry about people I care about. That’s not new. I want you to be back to normal too, but I’m not opposed to making sure you don’t hurt yourself. You’d do the same for me. You did, in a way, when I kept losing myself because of the PTZD.”

She smiled a little. “…I had to stand on my own for so long. I know it’s okay, but I just…I want to be strong again.”

“Sloane, you are incredibly strong,” he said. “Anyone else I think would’ve been broken by now but you’re still going. You spent six months alone with this and still kept going. But you don’t have to be strong all the time. Let us take care of you…let me take care of you.”

Sloane looked up at him and then moved closer, tucking her head into him. “…okay.”

He smiled and covered them both up with his comforter so they could sleep.

\---------------

“It’s making you sleepwalk?” Henrietta asked over the phone.

“If it was just sleepwalking I might not be as concerned,” Sloane sighed. Nick was cooking breakfast and she’d opted to call one of their witches that morning to see what she thought. “The first night I tried to sleepwalk right off the roof.”

“What?”

“Yeah. And last night I sleepwalked to the kitchen and apparently nearly stabbed myself though the hand. Maybe the wrist, I don’t know. Nick was able to stop me both times.”

“Oh dear…I knew there was a possibility of your dreams not being safe, but I didn’t think the curse would twist that much…”

“Twist?” Nick asked.

“Sometimes trying to fix a spell with another spell just alters the effects. So instead of visions and a physical change, the spell now…wants to kill you.”

She frowned, remembering Antonio’s illusionary-self saying that they didn’t want that. But the rules changed it seemed. “But just when I sleep?”

“You experienced it firsthand before, when that woman poisoned you. Sleep is a time when we’re most vulnerable. The spell is working to keep you human and keep the visions away when you’re waking, but sleeping puts your mind in a different…box, let’s say. One it can’t reach. And now the visions are backing up and turning more volatile by trying to actually hurt you. Like a hose that had a kink in it being released and the water flooding out.”

“Then would it be better to take the medallion off and just working something else out?” Nick asked.

“No. That could have a similar effect—the curse might alter again and who knows into what. It could get worse.

“I’m not sure how,” he said.

“Never say that, because then it definitely will. Permanent visions, permanent beast hood, both, something completely different…”

“Okay, okay, point taken,” Sloane grimaced.

Henrietta sighed. “Are you getting any sleep?”

Sloane blushed, looking at Nick. “Um…we’ve figured out something, after it nearly happening…it helps.”

“Then do that for now. But honestly, I think we need to talk to Juliette. Or whoever she is now.”

Nick frowned but sighed. “I’ll see what I can do…”

“Okay. Find out what you can and get back to us. Till then, take precautions wherever you can.”

“We will. Thanks, Henrietta.”

“You’re welcome.”

They hanged up and Sloane sighed. “…You’re going to try and see her? ‘Eve’?”

“Yeah. I’ll contact Meisner, try to meet with her. Maybe she can just undo it for you…”

“That’d be nice…” she said. Her tone implied the _I’m not going to hold my breath for that_ sentiment she felt.

That night, Nick was laying down reading some news on his tablet when there was a knock. Sloane opened the door before he answered and looked hesitantly at him. “Can…I just stay in here tonight? Just in case?”

Nick smiled and turned the other side of his bed down. She climbed in and settled down. Nick turned off his tablet and settled down as well.

Strangely, Sloane didn’t dream and she didn’t get out of bed all night. She had the best sleep she’d had in months, and woke up cuddled next to Nick again.

This started a routine. Sloane began going on walks, doing errands and such while Nick was at work to finally get out of the house and feel human. With no more visions she even started cooking more, though they still cooked together too. She’d never been that keen when living alone but she wanted to thank Nick somehow for helping her through everything. She’d fill her day, catch up with Nick and the others in the evening, and then they’d end up going to bed together. Platonically. She never tried to initiate anything and neither did Nick. She didn’t want to take advantage of the situation and push him to something when things were still a bit strange and up in the air. But when she was with him, she slept soundly. She wasn’t sure why but she was grateful for it.

She also began training again. She’d neglected her routine for a while but went back to doing at least 100 sit ups and pushups and mixing in various other exercises. Nick came home a little early one day to watch her and smiled at how she was looking like herself again—confident and ready to kick ass. He jokingly asked if she wanted to spar, but she leapt at the chance. They ended up practicing against each other for a couple of hours with water breaks before he got her pinned. They were laughing as they did since they were certainly not trying to hurt one another. But the laughter quieted when they realized the position they were in. How close their bodies, and their faces were. Nick blushed and quickly got up and they went upstairs to cool down.

Sloane started driving again a few days into having the medallion and had no issues getting to her old house. Adalind was surprised when she answered the door.

“Sloane, hey, uh…”

“Sorry, I didn’t have your number in my phone or I would’ve called,” she sighed.

“That’s fine, just…what’s wrong? Is it the curse again?”

“No, no, I’m okay. Doing pretty well actually,” she smiled. “I actually just realized there’s some stuff they forgot to grab from here I’d like to get.” She held up a box she’d brought with her.

“Oh? Uh, sure.” She stood back, letting her come in. “I thought they were pretty thorough though.”

“They’d have trouble getting this without me.” She headed for the master bedroom and paused. It was a bit strange seeing Adalind’s decorations where her own should be. She seemed to like black and gold and hints of purple to her preference to blues and greens.

“You okay?” Adalind asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, just…jarring.” She headed into the closet, which was surprisingly sparse. “I thought you’d have more stuff…”

“I’m kind of on a tight budget,” she sighed. “I’m making what extra money I can, but without being a Hexenbiest my old work isn’t interested with me. And I’m hesitant to use them for references. Meisner got me some consulting work with that Hadrian’s Wall, but it’s off and on since they have “Eve” to help them…”

Sloane nodded slowly, moving to the side of the room. “Sorry to hear that. Hopefully something comes through.” She knelt down and dug her fingers into the carpet, pulling it back from the strips she used to keep it down and almost seamless against the base boards. Underneath was a safe she’d had imbedded in the floor when she first moved in, the dial recessed with a small plug of wood to keep it all flat feeling beneath the carpet.

“Whoa, I didn’t know that was there,” Adalind said in surprise.

“Yeah, it’s a secret for a reason.” She pulled the plug from the dial and spun out the combination (her grandmother’s birthday) and opened it up. She breathed out in relief to see what was inside was perfectly safe. She first grabbed the ritual jar Henrietta had made to protect her friends from Dierdre. It looked in good condition and she carefully placed it in the box. Adalind recognized Henrietta’s handywork and had been told about the incident, so she was glad it was safe too. Then Sloane pulled out her Grandmother’s journals. She was glad she’d stacked all of them in there instead of in the office where the fire happened. It was a huge weight off her shoulders to know they were alright. A few other odds and ends were inside like some of her personal documents (real and “real”) other things she wanted to keep extra secure.

“Okay, that’s everything,” she sighed. “If you want, I’ll leave you the combination to use it.”

“Uh, sure…I mean, aren’t you…” Sloane tilted her head curiously and Adalind sighed. “You’re going to want your house back soon, right?”

Sloane was surprised a moment before actually having to think on that. _…As weird as it was to see how they’ve moved in…I don’t know if I thought about it as my house for a while…my home…_ Part of her was a bit sad at the thought because this was the first place she’d thought of as home in twenty years. But now…She thought about the loft, and about Nick, and blushed. _Bit presumptuous of me…_ “I’m…not sure when that would be. You and Diana settled in here…” She sighed. “Maybe we could work something else out. Like I rent it to you, when you can pay rent. I’ll…think of something else as far as where to live.”

“I…are you serious?” she asked, hopeful but shocked.

“Yeah. I mean, really, the house was a bit big for just me anyway. And I can’t exactly kick a single mother and her kid out in good conscious. Kelly’d be pissed too. But get a steady job first and then we’ll talk about how we’ll work things out.”

“Okay…thank you,” she smiled, relieved.

“That is very generous.” Sloane looked up to see Kelly at the doorway and smiled.

“Kelly! It’s been a while.” She walked over to her and shook her hand. She hadn’t seen Kelly in person since she returned, just occasional chats on the phone when she called Nick.

“A bit, yeah. You’re feeling better?”

“A lot better, yeah. What about…?” she hesitated, looking at the eyepatch.

She shrugged. “I’m adapting. My hearing has gotten even better.”

“She knows when Diana’s feeling fussy before I do,” Adalind chuckled.

“I’ve wanted to visit too, but I worried I’d have trouble working you through any kind of episode…”

“Everyone managed to get me through, don’t worry,” she smiled.

“Can you stay and visit a bit?”

“Uh…” she looked at Adalind who smiled and nodded. “Sure, that’d be fine.”

She stood and took the box to set by the door. When she turned she was surprised to see Diana sitting on a playmat in the living room. Diana was looking at her as well and it felt a bit like a stalemate for a moment.

“…Sloane, you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, just…she’s gotten big?”

Adalind smiled. “Yeah, she’s almost two now…You’ve never really spent time with her, huh?”

“Not really, no…”

“…You look scared.”

Sloane screwed up her face. “I’m not scared of a baby…” Diana screwed her face up back and pushed herself up to toddle over to her. Sloane backed up as she did, surprised. “She can walk?!”

“She has been for a few months now,” Adalind said, trying not to laugh as Diana smiled and kept trying to get to Sloane who kept stepping away. “Seriously, you don’t need to keep backing up. She’s a baby, not a bomb.”

“I’ll be honest, I have more experience with bombs!” Sloane said. “I’m just…. I don’t know what to do with a kid this small…or even a little bigger…”

“Oh c’mon, don’t you remember being a kid?”

“My grandmother’s “games” were learning how to play hide and smack with foam bats and hunt things and I learned to throw knives when I was ten. I did not have a normal childhood,” she said with a deadpan look. She jumped when Diana caught her around a leg and giggled.

“Oh, she’s caught you,” Adalind smiled.

Sloane looked down and smiled just slightly when Diana looked up with a grin. “…Good job?” She giggled more as she dragged her, clinging to her leg, towards the couch.

“Sounds like she likes you,” Kelly smiled.

“I have no idea why. Horrible taste, that’s what she has.” She sat down and lifted her leg up slightly, Diana cackling more as she was lifted off the ground.

“Kids can be unpredictable,” Adalind smiled. “I’ll get some drinks. Relax for a bit.”

“Easier said than done…” she muttered. She quirked a brow when Diana patted her leg demandingly and lifted again, smiling faintly as she erupted into giggles.

\-------------------

Downtown, a convention center was hosting a horror lovers convention, RIP City Horror Con. It was only a couple of days before Halloween and the horror fans were flocking to see merchandise, exhibits, memorabilia and famous guests. Girls in skimpy clothing worked to draw attention to their booths. Oddities and crafts were also on sale, including costumes.

No one really paid attention to two maintenance men going to check on the furnace with a big duffle bag and two large boxes on dollies. They locked the door once in the furnace room and took out several tools from the bag. Then they lifted the fake boxes from what appeared to be two huge gas cannisters. Using a drill to make a hole in the ventilation system, he fed a tube from the canister to the system and then turned the knob on the cannister. The gas was pushed by the air to the vents in the main area.

There were a few moments where some guests felt something was wrong. A tingling sensation. As the area was further saturated though, several began to feel their heads clouding over.

“Hey, are you alright?” one of the girls asked her coworker when she grabbed onto the side of the booth.

“Some…something’s wrong…” Suddenly she woged into a Coyotle and her friend screamed. This set off a chain reaction of vendors and attendees alike woging uncontrollably. The screams caused them to snarl or scream back and people began running for the exits. When a dickfelig was struck he growled and charged, tossing people left and right. Others hid under tables, confused why they were woging and terrified. Pandemonium broke loose as people were knocked about, scratched and more.

Outside, Mike was watching and smiled. Taking out a can of spray paint, he drew the four claw marks across it. Then across the bottom he quickly wrote _You cannot deny us, we rightfully rule._

\------------------

When Sloane got home, Nick was there. She’d texted him she was going over to Adalind’s so he wasn’t worried. The fact she was stable helped too.

“Hey, have fun?”

“Yeah…what?”

“You…uh, have something…” He pointed to his cheek, trying not to laugh.

Sloane frowned and looked in a mirror by the door. “Oh hell!” she cursed, blushing at the sticker still her cheek. It had a unicorn licking an ice cream on it. “I drove all the way home with that on?”

“Apparently. Diana did it?”

“Yeah, she figured out I was “sick” for a while and gave it to me to make me feel better…”

“That’s adorable,” he said.

“Yeah, and I managed to not say these things are a lot more terrifying in real life…”

“…Unicorns?”

“Yeah. Abaths. They eat children. Well, the females do. The males are called Ruvas and…like virgins, we’ll say.”

“Yeesh…” Nick grimaced. “I forget wesen can ruin some pictures of “mythological” creatures…”

“Yeah…” Sloane looked at the sticker and subtly stuck it to one of the papers she’d brought in the box. “I don’t suppose you have a safe?”

“Uh…no. But if you want one we can look into it.”

“I would, honestly, to keep some things safe…But I don’t want to overstep, it’s you’re place,” she said quickly.

“No, it’s a good idea. And it’s your place too. I mean as long as you want it to be,” he added quickly.

She relaxed slightly, smiling. “Thanks…I’ll go find a safe place for these in the meantime.”

He nodded, watching her go. Sighing a little, he rubbed between his eyes. _As long as you want it to be? Really? I mean yes, but you don’t actually want her to go, do you?_

Nick’s phone went off and he sighed as he picked it up. “Burkhardt.”

“Hey Nick…we got a big problem,” Hank said.

“What kind?”

“The mass hysteria causing kind. Turn on the news, channel 5.”

Nick frowned and grabbed the remote to do so quickly. His eyes widened when he saw a scene similar to the vandalism Black Claw had done on the streets a few weeks ago, but this time in a small convention center. People were cowering on the street, many bloody and hurt. He turned up the volume.

“…created a panic, where several individuals were trampled. More than two dozen are at the hospital. Three were pronounced dead. No one is sure of the cause, but several individuals shared a similar story.”

It cut to a man with a gash in his forehead and a blanket around his shoulders. His eyes were wild and he gestured around. “They turned into animals! But not like the ones at the zoo, i-it’s like they were half animal, half man! All these different ones! And then we were all screaming and they were screaming, and there was yelling a-and they started attacking people!”

“What the hell…?” Sloane had come out, hearing the news and looking just as shocked as Nick. The camera panned over and he felt a chill when he saw a Black Claw mark painted across the wall.

“Police are investigating the cause of this incident as we speak.”

“You saw the mark, right?”

“Yeah…” Nick said, his resolve rising. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.” They hanged up and Sloane walked up to him.

“I’m coming too.”

“Sloane,” he started.

“It’s been days since I had a vision awake,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

Nick hesitated and sighed. “Maybe, but we’d have to explain where you’ve been and I’m not sure we can do that right now…”

She frowned. “You think I’m going to sit by while this happens? Or you think I’m useless still?”

“No! I mean, I never thought you were! But…”

“But what? You like playing the hero, helping the poor, broken girl?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Sloane, that is not what I’ve been doing,” he said, his voice getting its own edge.

“Then why are you so hesitant to let me help?!”

Nick sighed and pushed back his hair slightly. “I just—you’re still unpredictable! I’m worried! But I know you can handle yourself; I’m not saying you can’t. I just can’t help…being worried.”

Sloane eased slightly when she saw how distressed he was and sighed. “I know…sorry…But I don’t want to stay stuck at home forever. I’m a Grimm like you, and a cop, and I don’t want to just sit around and do nothing!”

“…I’ll go to the convention center. Why don’t you go to Monroe and Rosalee’s, see if they know anything or if they have any leads?”

“…Okay,” she sighed. “At least it’s helping, I suppose…”

“It is, really. I’ll let you know what we find out.”

She nodded and they got ready to leave, heading down to their cars together. She caught his shoulder before he left and he looked at her. “Be careful,” she said. “You’re not the only one that worries…”

He smiled a bit and nodded before they got in their cars.

Nick met Hank at the convention center and Nick arched his brow at the sign with a tombstone logo on it. “Horror convention?”

“Hey, there’s conventions for everything,” Hank pointed out.

“But I think they got a bit more than they bargained for this time,” Wu said, motioning them through the tape inside. “According to eyewitnesses, people began turning into “monsters”. Some got very ornery too. The panic caused a lot of injuries and unfortunately a few deaths…”

Nick frowned as he looked around at toppled booths and broken figurines or replicas. Even if it wasn’t his thing, this should’ve been a fun day for the attendees, not a day for real death. And then there was the question on all their minds: Why did a bunch of wesen suddenly woge?

As Nick was walking around for the second time, still not finding anything, he heard something shuffle beneath a display table. Moving a cardboard cutout of a monster out of the way, he lifted the skirt around the table up and came face to face with a woged Stangebär—and almost a few of its quills. “Whoa, calm down!” Nick said, holding back away.

“G-grim—”

“Shhh!” Nick said. “I’m not here to hurt you, I’m trying to figure out what happened! You can unwoge.”

He quivered a little and then shook his head. “I-I can’t!”

“You’re safe, I’m not here to hurt you,” he said patiently.

“No, I mean I _can’t_!” he said. “I’m stuck!”

“Nick?” The Stangebär cowered back as Hank walked over and he paused when he saw him. Nick could see he was wearing a _Friday the 13 th _shirt and dark jeans, but they were ripped up by the porcupine-like quills sticking out of him. “Whoa, okay, hi.”

“…I…was expecting more surprise?” he said, confused by Hank’s rather blasé reaction.

“Nah, I’ve seen worse,” Hank said.

“…Thanks?”

“Look, we handle a lot of cases like this, we’re just interested in finding out what happened and who’s responsible,” Nick said. “If that’s not you, we don’t have a problem with you.”

“…I-I don’t know what’s going on,” he said. “We were just having fun, talking about some of the old classics. Trivia and stuff. Then I started feeling like…like when you smell something really strong and it makes your head kind of spin? And then I just…” he gestured. “I woged! But I didn’t mean to. It just happened and a bunch of other people were woging and the others were freaking out and then some started fighting—”

“The wesen attacked people?” Hank asked.

“No! It was always after they’d been attacked, but then they just…it’s like they Hulked out! Just anger fighting. I hid, I didn’t want to get trampled or punched a-and now I can’t change back! What am I going to do, I can’t go outside like this!”

Nick and Hank looked at one another and then looked around. Nick grabbed a black sheet from under another booth and held it up. “Wrap this around you, we’ll sneak you out. I have a friend who might be able to help.”

“Is that code for kill me and mount my woged head on a wall?”

“It’s code for we’ve dealt with weirder shit than this and unless you want crime scene to find you and freak out…” Hank said.

“…Fair enough.” He took the sheet and wrapped it around him. His quills poked a few holes but he managed to get it around him and climb out. “Um…I’m Edgar. Edgar Rogers.”

“I’m Nick Burkhardt. This is Hank Griffin. We’re detectives and…”

“Wesen problem solvers,” Hank said. “And that’s wesen who are problems and wesen who have problems. You’re the latter, but I think you’ll help us with the former.”

“I…will try,” he said, still uncertain.

“Follow us to the back. I’ll bring the car around and we’ll take you to our friend.”

Edgar nodded and scuttled after them with the blanket tight around him. When they got out the back though, a surprise was waiting.

“Meisner?” Nick asked.

“Nick. I was just about to try and get your attention,” Meisner smiled. He quirked a brow at Edgar. “It seems you found someone we missed.”

“Missed?” Hank asked.

He gestured to the van nearby. “Come with me and I’ll explain and help.”

“Uh…I’m enough of a horror fan I’m a bit skeptical on the whole unmarked van thing,” Edgar said, taking a step back.

“It’s okay,” Nick sighed. “He’s trying to stop the people that did this to you, he probably knows more than we do.”

Meisner smiled. “We do.”

Edgard Hesitated but sighed and climbed into the van with Nick and Hank. He took one side, and they took the other to avoid the quills. The van was shut and they headed off. “So, care to explain?” Nick asked.

Meisner sighed and settled in as someone else drove. “Black Claw kidnapped a man several weeks ago, Dr. Hyun-Ki Ahn. He’s a Reinegen, but a researcher as well. We found out he’d determined a way to make wesen woge against their will and stay woged for an undetermined amount of time.”

“Undetermined?” Edgar asked, looking worried.

“Yes. He actually decided not to pursue this avenue in favor of researching another reaction—but it seems Black Claw found his initial discovery more intriguing.”

“And they got it,” Hank guessed.

“Yes, though with side effects. It seems if they are attacked they lose control and won’t stop till their perceived threat is dead…”

“That’s exactly what happened! I hid right away and was fine, aside from the woging, but anyone that got into a fight just went nuts!” Edgar said. “I saw a guy fly across the room. Got thrown by a freakin’ Gegenees I’ve met at other conventions. He’s usually the nicest guy…You know how hard six arms can throw you?”

Hank and Meisner looked at Nick who just had to shrug in confusion. They drove back outside of the city to the Hadrian’s Wall compound, stepping out.

“Mr. Rogers, if you follow these people they’re going to take you where we have a few more people we picked up around the convention center. We’re running tests to see how to let you unwoge.” From down the hall they could see a lab area where a few wesen were being looking over. Some were restrained as they tried to fight but others were placid as they were poked and prodded. Edgar hesitated but followed them down to the hall. Nick thought to follow but Meisner put a hand on his shoulder. “I need to talk with you two over here.”

Hank and Nick followed him to the room that had several monitors in it, showing similar events once again unfolding in other states. No one else was in the room at the moment though. “What the heck?” Hank said, watching footage of another convention devolving into chaos.

“We secured the footage from all venues. Last thing we need is the news getting this,” Meisner sighed.

“Is this another message from Black Claw?” Nick asked. He saw similar graffiti in several places to the one left at the convention center.

“Yes and no. They left their messages, but I think this is something much more insidious. I believe this is a subsect trying to flip the balance.”

“The balance?” Hank asked.

“They want to make wesen public knowledge. They believe doing so, wesen can essentially take power they believe they are owed as being stronger than Kehrseite.”

“Oh…great.”

“So they really are forcing wesen to woge?”

“Yes. We believe that it is a chemical weapon. They targeted small but packed areas and released the gas into the air vents to spread—we managed to find the evidence left behind in Seattle where they targeted a car show.” He brought up a video showing a quick and messy attempt to hide a hole in the air duct in a room. “We caught the men and got the cannisters from them. But they killed themselves rather than be captured. We’re going over their equipment for any other clues now and taking samples from the cannisters and victims. I’m confident we’ll be able to cure them but a cure doesn’t do much good in the heat of the moment.” He looked at Nick. “We could really use your help with this…Trubel is on another mission in Hong Kong that is of equal importance.”

Nick frowned, looking at Hank who was also concerned. “…I’m going to help, but…I can’t really join. I have a job and life here, traveling like that isn’t something I can do.”

“Nick—” Meisner started, but they looked up when the doors opened.

Eve stepped through, her face still as stoic as ever, but Nick felt his anger rise. She looked at him and nodded. “Nick…”

“Eve,” he growled.

\------------------------------

“I don’t know anything about this,” Rosalee sighed, watching the news report on the small TV in the back of the shop. “It sounds like a bunch of wesen woged at once in a small area, which is against council law—”

“There’s no council anymore though,” Monroe pointed out. Rosalee deflated and sighed and he rubbed her back.

“I just thought I’d check,” Sloane sighed.

“How are you doing?” Rosalee asked. “It’s been over a week since you got the necklace. Does it help?”

She smiled, flicking the pendant gently. “It definitely does…I just wish I didn’t need it.”

“You won’t someday, I’m sure,” Monroe said. “What about sleeping?”

Sloane froze a moment, her face heating up. “Um…fine. I mean, little trouble but nothing unmanagble.” She quickly took a gulp of her tea, not wanting to give away that she immediately thought about how she’d shared Nick’s bed for several nights.

“Well that’s good,” Rosalee said, noticing the blush but not pressing. They heard the bell in the front of the room and she sighed, standing. “I’ll be right back.”

Sloane sighed a bit and sat back. “…Hey Monroe…”

“Hm?” He looked up from drinking his own herbal tea.

“…Did you…I mean have you ever…” She looked down and sighed before looking at him. “You still get cravings for meat?”

Monroe was shocked a moment before gently setting his cup down. “…Sometimes. Why?”

“…I got the cravings as a beast sometimes…to just eat something I caught where I caught it, not mussing with cooking it. It kind of scared me…I dreamed about it one night…” It had been the night Nick had stopped her with the knife. She’d dreamed of carving up a dear right on the table and eating it raw. She hadn’t told him because it scared her more that she still didn’t wake up. She attributed it to nothing seeming wrong in a dream till you wake up but it lingered with her. The fear she might’ve eaten her own hand cropped up as well…

“Did you?”

“No, I managed to drag it back to my lair and cook it like a civilized monster,” she said a bit snidely.

Monroe shrugged, not rankled by her tone like he would’ve been when they first met. “Hey, I’ve eaten live game before. Woke up with a rabbit in my mouth when I had a relapse. Or what was left of it.” He sighed. “It’s part of why I do everything I do. Helps keep that instinct in check. My body is a temple, but my offerings are everything I can give it that won’t make me tempted. But you’re kind of a different story. It’s less like these are natural instincts in you and more like…I dunno, they were forced into you. It’s not really you that wants it. Me, it’s a part of me. It’s just the part I choose not to give in to.”

“Maybe…” she sighed. “Don’t mention it to the others though, okay? I don’t want them worrying I’m going to like make a stake smoothie or something.”

“I’d be impressed if you did, but got it,” he smiled.

They both paused when they heard Rosalee. “Sloane…can you come out here?”

Sloane quirked her brow, glancing at Monroe. He agreed that tone didn’t sound happy. Standing, she headed for the door and peaked out. And nearly broke the door frame when she saw the two men that had previously tried to kidnap her pointing guns at Rosalee. They didn’t look confident though, in fact they were rather jumpy.

“No sudden moves! We don’t want to shoot anyone unnecessarily!” the smaller one said.

“Y-yeah! Wait, that’s—”

Sloane marched forward and grabbed the barrels, forcing them up and away as the men panicked. The one with the hurt collarbone hissed in pain as well. “If you don’t get those guns away from my friends, I’m going to shove them down your throat and pull the trigger,” Sloane said darkly. She could feel her eyes going black and the men both paled and dropped the guns. She managed to grab one but the other slipped and went off when it hit the floor, thankfully only hitting an eave above and splintering it a little, but it made Rosalee jump and shriek in surprise. Monroe rushed out then, woging and snarling. The men backed up again.

“What the hell is going on?!” he said, advancing on them.

“We’re sorry!” the bigger man said.

“We’re just following orders!”

Monroe paused, confusion on his Blutbad face, before changing back and looking at Sloane. She sighed and picked up both rifles. “These are the guys that tried to kidnap me last week. Apparently they didn’t learn their lesson.”

“We learned it!” the smaller one said. “But we didn’t have a choice!”

“We need a hostage!”

“Excuse me?” Rosalee said.

They looked at one another then sighed. “We got in over our heads. We joined this group, Black Claw, it’s—”

“We know what it is,” Sloane said impatiently. “But I thought you were working for that Grosvenor guy?”

“We are. He works for Black Claw too.”

Sloane looked at Monroe and Rosalee, all of them a little surprised. “Well that explains some things maybe…So what do we have to do with that?”

“Grosvenor still wants that beast, the Wild Thing. He did that video online and with it being over a month his fans are getting demanding. Most of his guys are still wrapped up legally so we were sent to help him.”

“Mostly cause we were useless elsewhere,” the bigger man added under his breath. “We thought this was just people blowing smoke and stuff, we didn’t think they were actually planning to hurt people! But now we can’t get out!”

“Yeah, only way you get out is in a body bag,” the smaller said, shuddering. “Sometimes not even then, they just kill you and leave you somewhere.”

“Why hasn’t he come himself if he wants this creature?” Sloane asked.

“He’s been busy. Black Claw had him importing a bunch of seed things—”

“Danny!” the big guy hissed.

They both tensed when Sloane leaned down. “No…do go on.”

“…I-it’s something to do with chemicals and things,” he said. “That’s all I know!”

“…Your boss would know more?”

“I mean, yeah?”

Sloane looked thoughtful before going and putting the guns on the counter. “Fine. You’re not getting these back, but I’ll be your hostage.”

“Huh?”

“Sloane?!” Monroe said, looking at her in shock. Rosalee’s jaw was dropped as well.

“Grosvenor knows something about what’s going on. I want to question him and he’s giving me an invitation. It’d be rude to decline.”

“Sloane, are you sure about this?” Rosalee said, glancing at the choker.

She sighed, glancing at the men before leaning in to speak quietly. “I’ll be alright. Text Nick, I’ll turn on the tracker on my phone. It sounds like Grosvenor is helping Black Claw with whatever is going on. We need to make sure this doesn’t snowball more than it has and more people get killed.” They looked at one another then sighed and nodded. Sloane turned to the others. “Okay, boys. No cuffs, no gags, but I’ll follow you.”

The men looked more frightened by that than facing her head on but nodded and stood. “O-okay…I mean, can’t we like tie you up or something.”

“Not if you want to keep your fingers,” she said sweetly.

“R-right…” They led Sloane out to a van and she got in the back. She turned on her phone’s tracker like she said and sat back. Inside, Monroe and Rosalee immediately tried to call Nick.

\----------------------------

Nick and Eve were facing each other. She was as cold as ice staring at him, but he was glaring hotly. “…You’re angrier than last time we met.”

“Yeah. I am.”

Meisner sighed. “They found Sloane, while you were gone.”

“…I see.”

“Is that all you have to say?” Hank asked, also angry seeing her. “After what you did to her?”

“I take it the curse worked?” she asked, mor conversational than anything.

Nick glared. “Yes. It did. She’s seeing awful visions _and_ turning into a monster at night?!”

Eve didn’t look phased and nodded. “Yes. It was intended for you though.”

Nick reeled a little bit. Regardless of how everything was between them at the end, it was a harsh feeling of betrayal to know she’d been ready to curse him like that. “ _Me?!_ ”

“Yes. But then she made Juliette angry. So she cursed her instead and figured on killing you.”

Nick took a deep breath. His instinct was to gear up for a fight but he knew this wasn’t the place to start throwing punches at a hexenbiest. Words though were fair game. “She went through half a year of hell. Alone because she was scared of hurting us.”

Eve shrugged. “Suffering was the goal really.”

“Suffering? Are you serious? Why did you want us to _suffer_?”

“Nick,” Hank started, not wanting a fight to break out.

“Juliette saw her life crumbling. At the same time, she tasted real power for the first time in her life,” Eve said. “Knowing it meant losing you hurt.”

“I didn’t exactly have a chance to _try_ and get used to it,” Nick ground out. “You revealed it and then _left_.”

“Would you have gotten used to it? Could you have loved a hexenbiest?”

“Well, we’ll never know now, will we,” he sniped.

“You tried to suppress her power.”

“Is it any wonder when people were getting hurt? Starting barfights is a real nice use of that power, huh?”

“Is this the time to hash this all out again?” Meisner sighed.

“…You’re right. What’s done is done,” Nick said. “But she’s going to undo it. You cursed Sloane; you’re going to un-curse her.”

“Juliette was the one—” she started, still as calm as ever.

Nick snapped. “Stop saying her name like she’s someone else!” he shouted. “No matter what you say or what they’ve done to you, you did this! It was your hands, these hands, that did all of it!” He grabbed her hand and Meisner moved to stop him because honestly Eve could seriously hurt him. But she just froze in his grasp. “You don’t get to change your name and say it was someone else who killed and hurt and did those things to other people! To me! To our friends!”

“Sloane’s killed more people than I have,” she said.

“…Yeah. And she doesn’t act like she didn’t. She admits it and she feels bad or she feels justified but at least she didn’t turn away or deny it even when it might’ve done her better. Maybe her hands aren’t clean, but she doesn’t blame someone else. And she actually protects the people she cares about. So no, I’m not going to bother comparing you and her.”

“…Are you in love with her?”

Nick straightened, surprised. But Eve sounded more curious than accusatory. “…I told you before, nothing was going on with us.”

“I believe you. There would be no point in lying now. Juliette cared, I don’t.”

Nick twitched and breathed in deeply to try and control his temper again. “…Maybe I do. Maybe I am in love with Sloane, now. Maybe I have been for a while, I don’t know! But even if I wasn’t, nothing changes. You’re going to lift that curse.” Hank’s jaw dropped and he looked at Meisner who was looking uncomfortable and a bit exasperated.

“Or what?” she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Or I’ll find a way to make you. Or maybe they can order you to do it? That’s how this works now, right?” he said snidely. Eve didn’t glare but her fist tightened a little bit.

“Okay, please!” Meisner barked. “Nick, I understand you are angry, but this isn’t going to help us get Black Claw or help Sloane.”

Nick looked at Meisner. “Sloane gets cured, then I cooperate.”

“Are you serious?” Meisner said.

“Yes. Because honestly, we’re doing fine on our own with Black Claw.”

“We are?” Hank asked. Nick gave him a hard stare and he nodded quickly. “We are.”

Meisner sighed and looked to Eve. “…You can break the curse?”

“…I can. Easily,” she confirmed.

“Then do it.”

Eve was as unreadable as ever, only nodding. Nick sighed in relief. “Let’s go now then. Afterwards I’ll check with our forensics people and see what information we have and we’ll go from there.” Meisner nodded and they headed back up to the entrance to the compound. When he got outside, Nick felt his phone vibrate and pulled it out. “I’ve got several missed calls from Monroe and Rosalee…”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Hank said. Meisner and Eve paused as well.

Nick nodded, immediately dialing Monroe.

“Nick! Where were you, we were trying to reach you!”

“I was meeting with Hadrian’s Wall,” Nick said, looking at Meisner. “What happened at the convention center happened other places. It some kind of chemical attack forcing wesen to woge and then go into a rage if they’re attacked.”

“Oh, fantastic,” Monroe said blithely. “But that’s not why we were calling—Sloane went to meet with Grosvenor!”

“What?!” Nick barked.

“The guys that tried to kidnap her before came to threaten us. She got them to talk, he’s working with Black Claw—I think on this actually from the sound of it. The chemical thing. She went to try and get information from him. She said she turned on the tracker on her phone.”

Nick was worried but nodded slowly. “Okay…we’ll track her down and call you with anything else we find out.”

“Be careful, man. It’s Halloween, the city is going to be packed.”

“We will.” Nick hanged up and then clicked through his phone to bring up the tracker app. They’d agreed to use this in case one of them went missing months ago and he was glad they did. “Sloane’s gone to meet with Grosvenor. They think he’s working for Black Claw and has something to do with all this.”

“By ‘meet’ you mean…?” Meisner said.

“Two guys tried to kidnap her last week. Grosvenor still wants the Wild Thing. I’m worried he’ll get it if he’s not careful.”

“We’ll follow you,” he nodded, heading to their own SUV.

Nick headed for theirs, handing his phone to Hank while he backed quickly out and to the road.

“…Hey Nick…what you said in there, about, uh…” Hank said hesitantly. “I mean, are you and Sloane…?”

“…We’re not together,” Nick said.

“Okay, but do you want to be?”

“Is this really the time?” Nick asked, trying to concentrate of moving fast through the woods. It took an hour to get to the compound from the city, but he was going to make it in half that without killing them.

“I’m just saying, go for it,” Hank said honestly.

Nick frowned a bit, checking the mirror to make sure Meisner and Eve were following. “…It’s not that easy. I don’t know if she still feels that way.”

“Hey, I get that it can be nerve wracking—wait, still?” Hank stared and then his eyes widened. “You said before she disappeared someone told you they loved you…That was Sloane?!”

“Hank, this is really not the time,” Nick said again, blushing.

“…Fine, but you better work this out later. Cause I think you two might be good for each other.”

Nick glanced at him but then concentrated on the road.

\--------------------

Danny and Zeke were the names of the two men who kept making trouble for Sloane. An Ungeziefer Greifer and a Malan Fatal. She wasn’t sure why a weasel and a boar were best friends but she didn’t really care. They drove up to a luxury RV parked just off the woods near where she’d roamed for months. Sloane got out of her car and the two men rolled down their windows slightly. “H-he’s in there…” Danny said.

“Great. You two go.”

“…Really?”

“Yes. Go, leave Black Claw, find a place to make sure they don’t you and stay out of trouble from now on, alright?” she asked impatiently.

“W-we will, promise!” Zeke nodded. They rolled up the windows and quickly drove off again. Sloane sighed and walked up to pound on the door.

Grosvenor opened it and quirked a brow. “…No solicitors.”

“Cute.” Sloane grabbed the front of his shirt, surprising him, before flipping him off the steps of the RV on to the ground on his back. She may have still been a bit angry at the whole nearly killing her and her friends thing. Grosvenor had the wind knocked out of him for a second but then rolled and stood, woging and snarling. He paused though when he saw her eyes.

“You’re the Grimm…the other one,” he said.

“Yes I am. And you are part of Black Claw,” she said, cracking her knuckles.

“…I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” he sighed. “You Grimms always seem to find things out some way.” He eyed her again and his lip curled. “Not even armed?”

“Didn’t have time. But I think I can take you on.”

“Oh, you are quite brazen, aren’t you, _Cherie,_ ” he sneered. “I didn’t see you that night though.”

“I saw you,” she said, striding forward. “Now, you’re going to tell me how Black Claw caused that panic downtown and what else their planning.”

“Or what?”

“Or I skin a cat,” she said. He snarled and rushed her and Sloane ducked away, striking him in the chest. She did realize now not coming armed was a mistake since his claws could make mincemeat out of her, but she kept dodging.

“I have a counteroffer. You tell me where my creature is, and I won’t shred you to ribbons!” She ducked again as his claws scraped over the RV. Looking up, she got an idea. Dodging another strike, she jumped up on the ladder at the side and got to the roof. Grabbing the large antenna on top, she broke it off easily.

“Hey! I need that, you bitch!” he said, following her.

Sloane broke it further till the shaft was pointed and easy to hold. “En Garde, Tigger.” He roared and rushed her and she dodged and struck him, sticking him through the shoulder with the antenna like a fencer. He snarled, backing away as blood bloomed across his shirt. “I’ll say again, tell me what Black Claw is planning!”

He moved for her again, but dodged her strike this time. He then rammed her, making her have to jump and roll to the ground. He landed with a thud in front of her and kicked, making her curse when he caught her cheek. He grabbed her hair and brought her up to fit his teeth on her neck but she brought the rod up into his mouth. She then jammed her hand into the wound she already caused making him yowl and let go of her.

“You’re fighting dirty!” he spat.

“I’m fighting to win,” she said. “Also, you have no room to talk.”

He smiled. “I suppose that is true…” He held up his hands then in surrender. “Fine. I’m not interested in being a Grimm’s tiger skin rug. I’ll tell you what Black Claw is doing.”

Sloane eyed him but relaxed her stance. “Go on…but stay where you are.”

He sighed and stood, a hand going to his shoulder to staunch the bleeding. “It’s Halloween, yes? Tonight, they plan on releasing the gas in as many places as possible. They want to cause a mass panic, reveal wesen to the world.”

Sloane’s eyes widened. “What? Why?!”

“Ah, this part of Black Claw, they think Wesen should rule the world. I can’t say I don’t see their point, but it makes things so much more difficult,” he sighed. “I went along with it because they offered me more help to get the one that got away, so to speak. Instead they send me incompetent fools who I wager brought you here.” Sloane didn’t argue and he chuckled. “See? Useless bastards…”

“Where are they unleashing it?”

“I do not know, woman!” he snapped. “I got them some ingredients, but I don’t follow along. It’s not even good, it makes wesen unstable. Well, more unstable for some.”

“Where would I find out?”

“I suppose the lab they were using,” he sighed. He shuffled to the door. “I’ll write you the address and you can go kick their asses.”

Sloane eyed him, following him up the steps. He grabbed a pen and piece of paper, jotting down the address and handing it to her. “…How do I know this is write.”

“I swear on my mama’s grave it is,” he said, crossing his heart. “It just won’t do you much good.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’ll be dead!” Sloane cursed as he woged again, reaching for her, she brought the antenna up and through his arm, making him scream. But just as she did, his hand closed around her neck and squeezed. “I’ll have a Grimm for a trophy if I can’t have my monster!” Sloane glared and pulled the antenna out to drive it again through his leg. He yelled and she felt a scratch along her neck as he pulled his hand away.

Then she felt like the sky fell in on her. She staggered, gripping the counter of the RV. _What’s happening? Why—_

“Oh Sloane…you didn’t think you could run away forever? Don’t you have any shame? Starting fights like this again?” Maria asked.

Sloane’s eyes widened and her hand went to her throat. The choker was gone. She looked at Grosvenor, who had it caught in his claws. He was watching her in confusion though. “C’est quoi…what is happening to you?”

Sloane could feel the change happening even though it was only midday. She’d been warned something new could happen if the choker was removed and she gasped as she began changing. Grosvenor backed away, horrified as her body grew, her face elongated, shifted, grew teeth, her hands grew claws and the hair grew along her body. Sloane was almost too big for the RV like this, smashing into things as her clothes split, the spines along her back tearing through her shirt easily.

“The beast…it was you?” he said. He began laughing. “Oh, this is amazing! Yes! I’ll fix you up good and it will be a ratings bonanza!” He moved to grab his gun from the wrack and load it. But as he turned, Sloane was there. She grabbed the gun and forced it up like she had before with his lackeys. “Let go you stupid beast!”

Sloane snarled and opened her mouth and Grosvenor paled as lunged.

It was rather poetic justice that a man like Grosvenor died in the jaws of a beast.

Afterwards, Sloane managed to grab the piece of paper and her phone delicately in her claws and shuffle out, forcing herself through the small doorway. She whined when she realized she couldn’t talk or drive. But she saw the tracker was still enabled. Deciding that would hopefully work, she tied her phone to her with what was left of her shirt and headed towards town.

Just moments after she left two other SUVs pulled up. It was a fortunate coincidence in Nick’s opinion that the road to Hadrian’s Wall cut right through the woods there and they got to it very quickly.

“That’s her car,” Hank said.

Nick nodded, quickly parking. “Sloane!?” Nick yelled, getting out and rushing to the RV. He could tell there had been a fight. Getting inside, he gasped when he saw the blood along one corner. But his heart evened out slightly when he saw it was Grosvenor.

“Nick?” Hank called.

“It’s Grosvenor…he’s dead.”

“What about Sloane?”

“I don’t see her,” he said, both relieved and more worried. “Check my phone!”

Meisner and Eve stepped up to look inside, Meisner grimacing. “She did this?”

“I guess,” Nick said. “I’m not sure how though…”

Eve tilted her head and walked forward, kneeling to pick something up. “…There’s magic coming from this.”

Nick looked at felt his stomach drop when he saw the choker, broking and dangling limply in her hand. “No…Shit!” he cursed, pacing.

“What is it?” Meisner asked.

“Henrietta and some other hexe made that for Sloane,” he said. “It’ helped to keep her human and keep those visions away. But they said taking it off could have bad consequences!”

Eve regarded it then looked at Grosvenor’s body. “…It seems she may have changed and killed him with her fangs.”

“He likely deserved it,” Nick said, feeling no sympathy. “I’m more worried if she’s still in that form during the day!”

“Nick, she’s on the move!” Hank said. Nick rushed out. “She’s heading east, towards the industrial area!”

“She must’ve found something out,” Nick said.

“We’ll follow you again,” Meisner said. He nodded, getting back into the cars to drive for the city, lights flashing.

On the way, Rosalee called him again. “Nick? Is everything okay?”

“Not exactly…Look, Sloane’s on her way into the city, I think she found something. But something’s wrong too—I’ll call you when I know more.”

“But Nick—” He hanged up and sighed. He felt bad doing it, but he needed to concentrate.

Sloane meanwhile managed to stay on the roof and get towards the area of the city the note said. Down below she could see people getting ready for Halloween—costumes, candy, parties, the works. If she did stop this and they released that gas, who knows how many people would die, and how many might have blood on their hands they never wanted. Growling, she leapt to the next building, those below looking up but not seeing her even when her shadow passed them.

Finally she got to an old industrial building near the water. Despite looking abandoned, there were several men circling the area. She watched them from the alley and growled. _Great…how do I get in?_ She paused and looked down at herself. _…Ah, right._ Taking a breath, she ran out and rushed the first man she saw. He looked up when he heard her coming and screamed just as she slammed him to the ground. Another couple came running, frozen in shock a moment before she rushed them. They tried to woge—a schakal and a skalengeck—but she slammed one into the wall and bright her arm around to the other to punch him in the face.

Inside, Bosch heard a loud thud and frowned. “The hell was that?”

“Something fell?” Dr. Ahn guessed. He was working to fill several tear gas cannisters with the formula at Bosch’s insistence and others’ help.

“I’ll check it out…keep working, we need to get these out tonight.” Dr. Ahn frowned but kept working as Bosch left. Bosch could hear the sound of a fight from outside and frowned. “If those idiots started a fight club again on the clock, I’m going to tear their ears off,” he sighed. He moved to open the door only to then have it slam into him as what felt like a battering ram came through. He looked up and stared in shock at the creature before him, which had actually used McConnel—a Shinderdiev—to beat the door in. “What the hell?!”

It snarled, dropping the unconscious man and advancing on him. He scrabbled up and ran full tilt down the hall. Dr. Ahn jumped up as he rushed into the room and closed the door. “What is it?”

“Hell if I know! This, this _thing_ barged in and is taking everyone out!” He gasped as he door was pounded on. Dr. Ahn backed up, woging in fear. “…Give me that!” He grabbed the vial on the desk.

“What are you doing?!”

“Fighting crazy with crazy!”

“No, it’s too concentrated!” He tried to grab for him but Bosch shoved him away. He brought the vial up to his nose and breathed in deeply. Dropping it, he choked a bit at the fumes, feeling his brain grow hazy. Dr. Ahn quickly hid under a desk and the others ran for it as well rather than get in the middle of it all. The door burst open and Sloane stepped through but paused when she saw Bosch. He woged, howling and practically foaming at the mouth. When he saw her he roared and leapt at her. Sloane was surprised and moved away, but snarled when his teeth got around her forearm. Snarling back, she clawed at him and they started fighting in the hall. But when they rolled in and knocked the flash and several cannisters over, they started going off and filling the room. Dr. Ahn grabbed the ventilator mask on the table above him and quickly put it on while they others ran around through the door.

Sloane shoved the rabid blutbad away, panting. He was stronger than she anticipated. She paused though as a sweet, cloyingly strong scent like an industrial cleaner entered her senses. Whining, she shook her head. But it was started to get fuzzy. Not like she was going to pass out, this was different. _What’s happening…why…_ The blutbad went for her again and she backed away. _Danger…being attacked…I need…I need…KILL!_ She roared so deep it shook the room and tacked the blutbad, sinking her teeth into him. He still continued to fight as she did and she shook him like a rag doll. Others who had been exposed tried to come for her but she swiped and snapped and began turning the room into a morgue. Dr. Ahn was shaking and crawled towards the window nearby. Opening it, he managed to pull himself out. A reinigen had flexible bones similar to a rat after all and could squeeze tight spaces. He dropped to the ground and shook, trying to get his heart to calm down and his legs to stop shaking.

Nick and Hank pulled up to the building, startling him with the siren. He managed to finally stand and rushed towards them. “Help! Help me, please!”

Nick caught him as he ran up and looked at him. “Sir?”

He pulled off the mask. “My name is Hyun-Ki Ahn! Please, I’ve been kidnapped!”

“Dr. Ahn?” Meisner said, stepping out. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“You have? Well you found me! Please, get me out of here! There’s a monster in there!”

Nick’s eyes widened and he passed Dr. Ahn to Meisner before rushing for the door. He heard Hank yell for him but didn’t stop. He could hear the carnage from down the hall and rushed towards it. He saw the shadow of the beast shaking someone like a ragdoll in her jaws before tossing them away and the room grew quiet. Taking a breath, he moved to the door. Sloane was standing on all fours, panting. Her dark fur was matted and slick with blood. There were scratches all over her and he was anxious she might be seriously hurt. “Sloane?”

She turned, and he froze. Her eyes were so contracted they looked like they were only gold. She rumbled, turning towards him. Blood was dripping form her mouth and her claws as she faced him, lips curling back. “Sloane? It’s me—” he shouted when she lunged and moved out the way. “Sloane!” He kicked something and looked down to see the small gas grenade. He could smell something, beneath the blood in the room, that made his hair stand on end. Sloane snarled and head butted him, sending him skidding across the room with a shout. Her claws scraped against the linoleum as she advanced on him while he got his bearings.

“Stay back, Nick.” He looked to see Meisner in the room. Sloane froze as well, turning to him. Meisner had his gun raised.

“What’s going on?!”

“Whatever Juliette did made her like a wesen. Whatever’s effecting them, it’s effecting her. She’s a mindless killing machine now.”

Sloane growled and advanced towards him and Nick saw Meisner ready to pull the trigger. “No!” Nick rushed forward and grabbed Sloane around the neck trying to pull her back. Sloane staggered. “Don’t hurt her!”

“She’s not human anymore Nick!”

“Yes she is! She’s changed back before, she will again!” He tightened his grip. “Sloane, you have to stop! It’s over, Black Claw is down!”

She rumbled but then froze as her claws went towards him. Nick looked up at her and he could see she was trying. Her eyes were contracting and dilating and she whined as she backed away and shook her head. Nick kept a hold of her though. Meisner eased slightly, watching in confusion. “It’s okay…you did what you had to do. I understand,” he said gently. “You’re not a mindless killer. You never were. You did what you had to here to save people and defend yourself.”

The gold started turning green but then went back to being gold. Sloane was trying desperately to reclaim her mind and body but Nick couldn’t see all the people in the room standing, eying her with contempt.

“You think he’s right, Sloane? Are you trying to do better? Are you worthy of redemption when you leave a sea of bodies wherever you go?” Maria asked.

Sloane stared at her and then closed her eyes. _I had to defend myself!_

“Did you?”

 _Yes!_ It was a sob in her mind, and she tried to get out of Nick’s hold. To get away. Because even if she thought that, the blood on her was getting on him and she felt sick.

“But you still killed. Why do you still kill, still resist if you think it’s necessary?”

 _…I don’t know! But I’m sorry…I am…I’m sorry that I wasn’t more careful all these years. That I didn’t listen…I am trying to do better…but I can’t just not fight!_ She was whining and Nick held on tight. It was like she was trying to talk, but it sounded so scared and forlorn and desperate it broke his heart.

“Nick, are you sure? Maybe she can’t change back anymore—”

“I don’t care! I know her, I know she’s not a monster!”

Sloane felt calmer as he said that. _…I want to do better. Not to be forgiven but to just be better than I was…so that I don’t make these mistakes again but still fight…_

She opened her eye and saw Maria…smile. She was confused and then all the people in the room began to fade like mist. Sloane relaxed and Nick was surprised as he pulled back. “Sloane?”

Sloane shook her head, her vision finally clearing, and looked around. She whined, ears flattening, but Nick smiled and stroked her cheek. “You saved the day I think…It’ll be fine, we’ll figure this out.”

Sloane sighed as he pressed their heads together, calming completely. Meisner was shocked but finally lowered his gun as well. “…I see you were right again. I’m sorry…”

Nick sighed. “It’s alright. Just don’t point a gun at her again, _ever,_ ” he warned.

Meisner held up a hand, nodding as he put the safety on and holstered it.

“Oh my God…” Dr. Ahn said. He was shaking but walking in.

“It’s okay, she won’t hurt you,” Nick promised.

“She?” He looked at Sloane who huffed. “A-ah…Ah! We need to get the list!” He rushed over.

“List?”

“Dr. Ahn said that a few shipments went out already to other cities. He’s going to get us that information.”

“I saw Bosch do it dozens of times,” he said, typing the computer. “I posed being asleep over there sometimes to watch,” he gestured at a bed in the corner. He must’ve been kept there a long time. “I was hoping to figure out how to get it to someone who could stop them! They wanted to gas cities during Halloween celebrations! When children are out!” He looked up. “My son, my wife—”

“We’ll check on them and get you back to them after you get the list,” Meisner said. Dr. Ahn nodded, quickly working.

“So it worked?”

Nick paled and looked up to see Eve in the doorway.

“I told you to wait outside!” Meisner hissed.

“I wanted to see what happened to Sloane myself…I used several samples of wesen blood. Seems they made something interesting.” Eve regarded the beast in front of her with a detached look. Sloane felt her anger flair, snarled and then rushed, intent on striking her. Nick felt his blood run cold when Eve lifted a hand and that big body froze in midair. The sheet from the bed flew off in the same moment, wrapping around her. Sloane fought it, trying to pull it off of her with shaking claws. She yelped as it tightened and flipped her enough she was eye level with Eve.

“No! Don’t hurt her, please!” Nick said. Eve didn’t acknowledge him, setting her hand on Sloane’s face, over her eyes which were looking fearful and panicked now. Then there was a bright light and Sloane was shot back as if struck. “No!” Nick rushed over to her, his heart hammering away. She was lying on her side, crumpled into a heap, eyes closed. “What did you do?!” Nick said, trying to feel for her pulse through the thick fur around her neck.

“Give it a moment.”

Nick glared up at Eve. Then he felt Sloane shudder and looked down again. He watched as the fur began to break and fall away like dust instead of the painful sloughing off before. As it did, Sloane’s human form was revealed again. Nick was shocked and relieved, getting his arms around her and picking her up. All the scratches and blood were also gone, and the sheet was wrapped around her to preserve some modesty. She groaned as he did and her eyes fluttered open. “Nick…?”

“Hey,” he smiled.

“…I…I’m human?” she said, flinching and rubbing her forehead. “I…oh god, I did go nuts in here,” she said, looking around.

“It wasn’t your fault. The gas changed you,” Eve said. Sloane looked up at her and tensed a little. “…I lifted the curse.”

“…You what?” she asked, surprised.

“Nick said he would only help us if I lifted your curse. While we stopped Black Claw today, they’ll be planning more. Rest up. Oh, Hank called for backup. You might want to go.” She turned to head away.

“…I’m not saying thank you,” Sloane said. Eve didn’t even falter and just kept walking.

Nick helped Sloane to her feet. He looked at Meisner who nodded. “I’ll take care of it from here. When they police come, they’ll find a bunch of dead people and a gas that makes you crazy and see monsters.”

Nick nodded. “I think we can try and work with that. Call us when you have the next lead.”

Meisner nodded and Nick walked Sloane outside.

“Sloane!” Hank rushed over, hugging her. “Oh damn, I was worried there…”

“So was I,” she smiled tiredly.

“Eve broke the curse,” Nick said.

“Really? That’s great!” he said. “How do you feel?”

“I feel like I was literally put through a ringer, my whole body is sore…Can we go home?” She looked at Nick.

Nick smiled a little at her saying ‘home’ and nodded. “Yeah…”

“Go ahead, I’ll just say I got a tip and it was like this when I got here,” Hank nodded.

“Meisner said to blame the gas. I think we’re going with hallucinogen and domestic terrorism,” Nick said.

“Not that far from the truth,” Hank sighed. He smiled again and hugged Sloane one more time. “Catch up more later?”

“Definitely,” she smiled, hugging him back with one arm. The other had to keep the sheet closed.

Nick drove for the loft quickly and parked in the garage when they got there. Monroe and Rosalee were also there though and got out of their car when they pulled up. “You’re back, thank God!” Rosalee sighed, rushing up. Sloane smiled and hugged her when she came in for one, sighing in relief.

“We came here figuring you’d be back eventually,” Monroe added.

“Yeah, sorry I was short earlier…” Nick sighed.

“It’s okay—Sloane, why are you naked?” Rosalee said, pulling back and realizing.

“It’s…a long story,” she sighed, righting then sheet around her. “Let me get dressed and we’ll explain, okay?”

They nodded, heading the elevator.

\----------------------

Giving bad news to a superior was never a good thing. Giving bad news to a superior who could kill you with a snap of his fingers was worse.

The poor soul who drew the short straw took a breath before knocking on the door. “Yes?” a smooth voice asked. It was not at all the voice of a man ready to kill at a moments notice, but they new better. He swallowed and opened the door. The room inside was lavish, with a fireplace and a large comfortable wing back chair in red velvet. A pot of Turkish coffee was on the table and the hand that had just poured a cup was taking it to sip.

“…I…um, sir, there is reports from the “Trick or Treat” division.”

“Good news?” he said.

“No…It seems there was a raid of some kind. The production was halted, and those that were already being shipped have been intercepted. They got all the delivery information somehow. Only a few locations got some of the gas and they are also being picked off…What should we do?”

There was a deep sigh and then a sip, and the cup was set back down on the saucer precisely. “Unfortunate…casualties?”

“Heavy, from reports. Bosch and his team are all gone. Several other personal at the other locations as well. The media are also claiming it was just a hallucinogen that caused a panic. A prank gone wrong or a domestic threat that was foiled…And Grosvenor is dead. He was found by his assistant in his camper, apparently mauled by an animal.”

“Hm. Well, no matter,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.

He blinked, having braced himself when the hand waved. “N…no matter, sir?”

“Yes. Truthfully, I wasn’t keen on this plan. It was too…inelegant. Forcing woges, attacking random Kehrseite to declare our existence. On _Halloween_ ,” he sneered. “Disgusting holiday making fun of what they don’t understand, yes, but too pedestrian. Bosch loved the dramatic, over the top idea of it so I indulged him. A mistake I think. We’ll be moving forward with the original plan. How is Andrew Dixon doing?”

“Um…” He quickly looked through another file. “He’s up in the polls, sir. People like him.”

“Good. And Renard has been helping him?”

“Yessir.”

“Good. Then things are still according to plan.”

“I…I’m glad to hear that, sir,” he said in relief. It was more because that meant the messenger wasn’t about to get shot.

“If that’s all, you may go.”

“Yessir,” he quickly bowed out, shuddering as he closed the door.

Inside, the man in the chair steepled his fingers and stared into the fire. “Now…how to convince Renard where his place in this is…”

\-------------------

Nick woke up when he heard his door open. They’d spent the evening explaining what happened and there were congratulations all around on Sloane being officially cured. They’d had dinner and managed to relax for the first time, fully, in weeks. Then it was time for bed and he’d almost thought Sloane was walking towards his room, but she’d quickly course corrected and gone to her own. That was fine, really. He knew it was inevitable. So he was surprised when he turned and saw her in the doorway. “Hey…what’s wrong?”

“I…um…” she hesitated. “…I know I’m supposedly cured, but…”

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“No…I mean…I can’t really sleep is the thing,” she sighed. “I…Can I sleep in here one more night…?” Nick blinked but then nodded, making room on the bed. Sloane was blushing but walked over and climbed in. “Sorry…”

“Nothing to apologize for,” he said, settling down. “You sure you’re okay? It was a lot today.”

“…I keep worrying if this is real…” she admitted. “Maybe I’ll wake up to see more blood and guts. Maybe I’ll find out this was the dream and I’m stuck as a beast.”

Nick sighed in sympathy and then snaked his arm under her. She grunted in surprise but he pulled her close enough she could feel him breathing, feel his heart beating. She blushed but calmed as he held her gently. “It’s real. I promise. I know things may not be completely the same, but your back. And I’m glad to have you.”

Sloane looked up and smiled before settling down into his hold, resting her cheek on his chest. “Thanks…”

Nick stroked through her hair for a while, thinking on what Eve said and what he’d admitted, how he’d felt during the whole confrontation at the lab. “…Hey Sloane…I think I…” There was a soft snore and be blinked before looking down. Despite saying she couldn’t sleep; she’d fallen right off when she cuddled up to him. It was definitely real too; she wasn’t faking from how she snored. _Guess she feels safe with me…_ He snorted, having to laugh a little at her timing, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Love you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS IS LATE!
> 
> I wanted so badly to have this done by Halloween, but October ended being INSANE. Not in a bad way, just in a busy with with birthdays, house renovations, family stuff, etc. Hope you guys still enjoy the spooky, scary stuff I tried to include! (I got a thing for horror...)
> 
> The quote is from a very beautiful but sad Jewish poem called "The Wolf". It was a bit inspiration for Sloane's transformation to be honest.
> 
> And on a side note...I'm thinking on other pairings here and I'm not sure who to pair Adalind with...Renard, Meisner...Susannah? Thoughts?


	31. Tailored for Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 31 of the Casebook of Sloane Larson!
> 
> Someone is murdered under unusual circumstances--by what appears to be living clothing! The gang has to figure out who's doing the fashionable fatalities before the body count keeps rising. Nick and Sloane meanwhile are too blind to see they want each other, much to the annoyance of their friends. Getting jealous won't help either of them! And to complicate things further, an old friend of Juliette's has shown up and wants to know where she is...
> 
> Then, when Monroe's uncle comes across a stash of Grimm books, he's on the run! But there's more to that collection than meets the eye.  
> Contains an original case and rewrites of Map of the Seven Knights and Key Move (Part one)

**_“Strange to say, when she wanted to move to the right the shoes bore her to the left; and when she wished to dance up the room the shoes persisted in going down the room. Down the stairs they carried her at last, into the street, and out through the town gate. On and on she danced, for dance she must, straight out into the gloomy wood.”_ **

\----------------

**Tailored for Murder**

\----------------

Lydia Graham sighed as she headed out of the elevator and towards her apartment door. Her feet hurt from being in heels in court all day and she looked forward to unwinding with some wine and a hot bath.

“Oh, good Morning, Mrs. Graham.”

Lydia took a deep breath with her eyes closed, feeling her frayed patience close to snapping. “It’s evening, Mrs. Wright. And it’s Ms. Graham. I’m not married.”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” the older woman smiled, a little flustered at mixing up her times. Lydia hummed and tried to open her door quickly. “Oh, wait! You had a delivery today.”

She paused after opening the door and turned. “I did?”

“Yes. I brought it inside—we’ve had that string of people stealing packages lately. My daughter calls them porch pirates, but we don’t really have porches here, do we? Living in the apartments? So when I saw it, I thought ‘oh, I better keep this safe’—”

“I appreciate the thought, Mrs. Wright, but I’ve had a long day and would like to go sit down,” Lydia said impatiently.

The older woman flinched but smiled. “Oh, yes, of course. Big day in court, was it?” She knelt down and picked up a small package in brown paper, handing it to her. “Did you win?”

She smirked a bit, taking it. “I did indeed.”

“…So, they’ll be tearing down that rec center?” she asked, concerned.

“You mean the death trap? Yes.”

“It seems such a shame though…”

She glared, the tether snapping. “I’m sorry you disapprove, but the place was falling down and the lot was bot fair and square. There’s always losers and winners and it’s always a shame for someone but that’s life. Now excuse me while I go celebrate my victory on my own,” she said testily.

“I didn’t mean—”

Lydia was already inside and closing the door behind her and locking the two dead bolts she had installed. She sighed as she tossed her briefcase aside, hanged upper her winter coat, and then kicked off her shoes with a groan. Taking her hair down from the tight bun, she headed to the kitchen to pour herself that glass of wine, setting the package on the counter. As she took the first sip she noticed several messages on her answering machine. Pressing play, the automated voice rattled off the date and time before an angry, masculine voice came on.

“Lydia, you bitch! That rec center is all I have you can’t—” She sighed and pressed skip. “You think this is over?” the same voice said. “I’ll see you in court again, or in hell—” she skipped it again, rolling her eyes. “Put your client on a tighter leash, Darren,” she muttered, taking another sip of her wine. She noticed the package again and frowned, picking it up. It had no mail marks or anything, just her name written in the top left corner in fancy script. It felt soft as well so she wasn’t concerned it was dangerous. She’d gotten plenty of threatening notes and packages before. It came with being a lawyer that took on the richer clients trying to buy out the poorer areas. People called it gentrification, she called it progress. It came with making enemies who got creative, like putting actual feces in a package once. But this didn’t stink or feel like it would explode with glitter or otherwise so she used her finely manicured nails to open it.

From inside she pulled the most beautiful scarf she’d ever seen out. It was a pale silver, almost iridescent like mother of pearl. And soft as silk to the touch despite being thickly woven with animal fiber of some kind. She felt her annoyance and trepidation melt away as she held it between her hands. “Well! This is beautiful!” She glided it through her fingers before wrapping it around her neck. This must’ve cost a pretty penny. She looked at the package again, trying to find a tag or a card or anything. Nothing. Quirking a brow, she shrugged and left it on the counter. She poured another glass of wine and headed for her bedroom with a bath on her mind, petting the scarf as she went.

As she walked though, she felt a chill. Shivering, she brought the scarf more around her and looked at the thermostat by her bedroom door. She’d turned the heater on using the app on her phone to avoid the November chill but maybe it hadn’t come on. Except it said it was at 78 degrees like she set it and she could hear it kick on. Shrugging, she went into the room—only to stop when she felt like someone was tugging on her scarf. She looked around, confused. Then she felt it again—the scarf being pulled tighter. She tried to pull it back loose only for it to cinch even tighter, as though someone were pulling either end like a garotte. She gasped and dropped her glass of wine; fingers scrabbling to try and pull it away as her airway closed. But the scarf was almost fused to her skin with how tight it was becoming. She choked and gasped, crashing around as she fought it. But after a few moments her mind dimmed and her body grew weak. When she finally stopped moving and breathing, the scarf loosened. But she never drew in another breath.

From beyond the front door, the sound of someone walking up and whistling a jaunty little tune. The scarf then moved like a snake across the floor, slithering to the door and then under the threshold to a gloved hand waiting for it like a faithful pet. Rolling it up, the hand set it in its coat pocket and walked away. It had no idea someone had seen him, peaking from her door across the way…

\-------------

Sloane took a deep breath. It had been two weeks since breaking the curse. She was human all the time, she didn’t see phantom dead people everywhere, and she finally caught up on sleep and food. The only real change anyone would notice would be here hair, which she hadn’t redyed to her platinum blonde. It was dark brown with a white streak down the front and she sighed as she pulled it back over her forehead and from the right and to over her left ear.

“Nervous?” Nick asked.

“No…yeah,” she sighed. “I hate having to answer questions…I appreciate Renard covering for me, but this is going to be tough…”

“You usually moved on before a lot of questions were asked. But you’ll get through this, we’re right here.”

She smiled a little and nodded, heading in with him. She jumped when several cheers rang out, the station clapping.

“Welcome back, Larson!”

“Sloane! Good job!”

Others gave similar salutes and she smiled unsurely. “Uh…thank you?”

“Renard explained a bit about your case,” one officer said. “I’m impressed you stayed undercover for _six months_ with the guys who did that gas attack at Halloween _._ Wasn’t it hard?”

“…Very. Especially not being able to contact anyone back home,” she said honestly.

“Oh, that must’ve been awful…”

“The FBI needs to give you a commendation or something,” another said.

“Ah, well, I’m just glad it’s over and we got them…”

A few more questions were thrown about and Nick watched as Sloane managed to deflect them. “Glad she’s doing okay so far…”

“Hey, she waltzed in here like she was the captain that first day,” Hank smiled. “…So…you talk to her yet?”

“…I talk to her every day.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. About your _feelings,_ ” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

Nick blushed and gave him a dour look. “No, and not here please!”

“Oh c’mon, you two already live together,” he said quietly. “How have you not mentioned it?”

Nick blushed, remembering nearly telling her when she fell asleep in his bed. And truthfully, she still sometimes came in to sleep in his bed—though she was getting better at feeling safe in her own room. That shouldn’t disappoint him he knew… “It’s not something you just blurt out.”

“Didn’t she already tell you she felt something though?”

He blushed more as he remembered the confession in the dream world. He honestly could still recall it word for word. He’d never been told something that emotional and deep before. But that was months ago, when he was still confused about Juliette being a hexenbiest and hopeful things would work out between them. Now that was a no go for several dozen reasons. And after Sloane disappeared, he’d wanted her back more and more. To the point when even finding out about “Eve” didn’t bring him relief—he just wanted to know where Sloane was. That was the moment he knew at least he didn’t have feelings for Juliette anymore.

“I don’t know if she still feels that way,” he said honestly. And that was the scary bit. That maybe he’d missed his chance. And that telling her now would ruin things forever. He’d had so much heartbreak and drama and anxiety the last year (or maybe two?) that he wasn’t sure he could take it.

Hank frowned sympathetically and put a hand on his shoulder. “Well…you won’t know if you don’t say anything.”

“And that’s easier said than…said…” He sighed and then straightened when Sloane walked over with a small bouquet of mixed flowers.

“I’m glad people are happy to see me, but I wasn’t expecting all that,” she sighed, setting them down on her desk.

“They’re just happy Renard is bringing in lunch for everyone to celebrate your return,” Hank said.

Sloane chuckled. “I don’t like to be center of attention…And everyone keeps asking about my hair!”

Nick patted her back sympathetically. He paused when Renard walked up behind them and Sloane turned. “Oh, hey Captain…”

Renard smiled knowingly and then handed them a paper with an address and apartment number. “Welcome back. Sorry you won’t get much of a day to catch up on everything because we got a case I think you three need to take. I’ll save your lunches for you.”

They looked at one another but nodded and rose. Sloane opened her drawer and then paused and sighed.

“Sloane?”

“…I forgot, Dierdre took my knife,” she said.

“…You miss it?”

“It was a part of me for a long time.” She pulled out her gun with a frown. “I’m still not fond of these but I don’t have much else to work with either on hand…” She strapped the holster on and checked it out before nodding to them.

Heading to their car, Nick got the feeling he was being watched. He shook it off, but then heard someone walking behind them in the garage and turned to look. He was surprised to see a woman following him, more so that he knew her. “Audrey? What are you doing here?”

She didn’t smile, instead narrowing her eyes with nerves. She was a Chinese-American woman, dressed in jeans and sneakers, with long black hair tied back in a ponytail. “Nick…I want to talk to you.”

“Um…Now isn’t a great time, I’m just heading to a case,” he said.

“And what about the case you _should_ be working on?”

Nick blinked. “…What?”

“ _Juliette!_ ” she said, moving towards him. “Have you been looking for her at all?! It’s been _months_!”

Nick’s eyes widened. “I…I told you before, she left,” he said. He felt his heart hammering in his throat.

“And she hasn’t contacted anyone since she did,” she said. “She quit her job, she starts acting out, and then she just disappears?”

“That’s what happened,” he said, trying to stay calm. Sloane and Hank looked at one another and moved to stand with him.

“I bet,” she said, sneering.

“It is what happened,” Hank said. “And you shouldn’t be here. Police only.”

“That’s convenient. I guess that thin blue line is protecting you again?” she asked.

“What?”

“Did you do something to Juliette?” she asked, stepping towards him.

Nick’s jaw dropped. “I-what?! No!”

“Then where is she? Why would she just up and leave?”

“I…it’s complicated,” he said evasively.

“Why won’t she contact me? I’ve tried calling and her phone is down, I’ve tried emailing with no answer.”

“She wanted to start over!”

“Why? What did you do to her?”

“Hey!” Sloane barked, startling the woman. “What happened isn’t your business. Back. Off.”

Audrey bristled. “I’m Juliette’s friend!”

“So were we,” Hank said. “And we know Nick didn’t do anything to her. She’s going through some stuff, and who she contacts is her choice. Now I’ll say again: Leave. Before we let them know you snuck in here.” She glared but turned and stomped away back to the exit at the start of the garage. “Gonna have a talk with security about how she got in here…”

“Who was she?” Sloane asked.

“Audrey Zhao. She is…was one of Juliette’s friends. They went to vet school together and worked at the Roseway Veterinary Hospital. She contacted me shortly after Juliette first quit and I told her she was going through some things and just needed some time. Then again when she wasn’t answering her and I thought Juliette died. I didn’t know what to say so I told her the basic truth that she left me and I didn’t know where she was…Renard actually helped file a missing person’s report just to be safe after she first disappeared without even telling me. Trying to avoid what she’s doing now and assume the worst…”

“Yeesh,” Sloane sighed.

“Yeah…I’m going to have to figure out some way to handle this before I get accused of something really bad…” He shook his head. “Let’s head to the scene though. I’ll think on it later.” They nodded, heading to the car.

They drove to the scene of a swanky apartment building downtown. Getting to the sixth floor, they could see the crime tape from the elevator and headed down there. Wu waved them in and they quickly headed to him. “Hey! Glad the Three Amigos are back together.”

“Couldn’t we be musketeers?” Hank asked, quirking a brow.

“Nah, you give more of a Steve Martin vibe.”

Hank was debating if that was a compliment. Sloane blinked in confusion and Wu was about to suggest a movie night when Nick cut in. “What do we know so far?”

“Ah, right. Victim is Lydia Graham, 48. She is, or was, a very successful attorney. Usually for big companies and the like so she could afford this place easily.” They walked into the bedroom and winced when they found her on the ground, eyes still open, face pale and purpled. She’d have been pretty in life, with dark blonde hair and angular features. She had a large bruise around her neck that shouted strangulation, but nothing around to do the strangling. “Time of death is two days ago—she didn’t show up to work yesterday, which was unusual according to her coworkers. When she didn’t show up this morning they called to ask us to check on her. There was no answer but when the super tried to let us in he couldn’t get the door open. He let us break it down.” He pointed to the front door. “She had an extra deadbolt installed, against his knowledge, with no way to open it from the outside. Both were secured.”

“The lady was worried about something,” Hank said.

“She’s gotten threats in the past,” Wu said. “We have a few reports of threatening letters, phone calls, appearances and so forth from people angry they lost in court. None recently though.”

“Wait…both were secured?” Sloane asked, confused as she looked the broken door frame over.

“Yeah. Now we get to why this is in your territory,” Wu said quietly. “Front door locked in a way that only could be locked from the inside, on the sixth floor, and our vic has been strangled with no murder weapon immediately visible.”

“…Very Agatha Christie,” Sloane nodded. Nick glanced at her and she shrugged. “I found a collection in the trash and read it out in the woods. I liked it. Like it less when it happens in real life…”

“Yeah, it’s weird. But I don’t see the _weird_ part of it,” Nick said, holding up the three finger “w” sign they made up for wesen.

“Oh ye of little faith…for the rest of the weird, you need to talk to her neighbor, Mrs. Wright. She unfortunately came to see what was going on and saw the body before we could stop her. But she said some interesting things…”

They glanced at one another. “You two go, I’ll see what I can spot around here,” Hank said.

They nodded, heading across the hall. Mrs. Wright’s door was open and she was sitting with a blanket around her shoulders on the couch. Compared to the more modern look of Ms. Graham’s apartment, Mrs. Wright’s was more classic. Brocade couch, crocheted blanket, floral paintings and the like. She looked up when they walked in. “Mrs. Wright? I’m detective Burkhardt, this is my partner Detective Larson. We were told you had some information?”

She huffed, drawing the blanket closer. “You’ll think I’m crazy…or have dementia…”

“We just want to know what you think. You’re her neighbor, did you know her well?” Sloane asked.

“…Yes and no. She’s lived here for about 10 years now…I mean she did…” she sighed. “When she first moved in she was a very nice woman…But she was a lawyer taking tough cases. Had to deal with a lot of angry people. She got much more short-tempered as time went on. I tried to strike up conversation but she wasn’t never interested lately…”

“And what about two days ago?”

“…Lydia came home in the evening after winning a case. It was a bigger one, regarding the old Regal Recreation Center. She took me saying it was a shame to tear it down badly since that’s what her client wanted to do and she fought for. I really just meant it’s a shame that neighborhood would lose a safe place to hang out…It’s not a nice part of town but there’s good people there, I’m sure.”

“Okay, but did anything happen when she came home?”

“No, not exactly. You see, earlier a package was left for her. I saw it when I came back from walking down to the store. I like to walk there day to day, get out and get some fresh air and such. Bigger things I have delivered. Um, but I was saying there was a package. We’ve had several things stolen like that lately so I took it in. For safe keeping,” she added quickly.

“Do you know what it was?” Nick asked.

Mrs. Wright hesitated, looking away. “…Is it…technically tampering with the mail if it didn’t go through the mail?”

The glanced at one another then back at her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it didn’t have an address or a stamp on it! I thought that was very strange. And last year she had someone leaving _awful_ things for her—vile things like dead mice and-and…poop.”

“That’s…gross,” Sloane said, grimacing with Nick.

“Yes! So I was worried. It didn’t’ smell or feel strange—it was only about this big,” she held up her hands about half a foot apart, “but I wanted to be sure so I very carefully opened it.”

“What was it then?” Nick asked, feeling apprehension.

“A scarf.”

“…A scarf?” the asked together.

“Yes. But I mean, it was a _beautiful_ scarf,” she sighed. “All silvery and soft. It must’ve cost a fortune!”

“Did you put it on?” Sloane asked.

“Oh, no! I mean, I was tempted, but then I heard the elevator. I thought it might be her so I quickly tied it back up in the brown paper it came in and went to give it to her.”

“Okay…but this doesn’t seem out of the ordinary,” Nick pointed out.

“That wasn’t…it’s what happened after. I convinced myself I imagined it truthfully…” she said, wringing her hands worriedly.

“What?”

“…It was a few moments after Lydia went inside. I felt bad I upset her so I was puttering around, trying to think what I could do to make her feel better. I thought about bringing her some cake. Then I heard someone out in the hall…whistling.”

“Whistling?”

“Yes. I actually thought it might be the Super. I was going to ask his help to put up a new shelf so I went to ask but when I opened the door…it wasn’t him. It was this very, very strange man. He was dressed in this garish paisley coat—pinks and aquas and greens! Even I found it hideous and I usually love paisley. And a strange little green hat. And he…”

“He what?”

“…He was whistling a little tune. I think it was… _The Hall of the Mountain King_ , strangely. There was something familiar about it. And he was…leaning down in front of Lydia’s door. I was going to ask him what he was doing when I saw…I saw that scarf snake out from under the door. Literally! It moved like a snake into his hands and he held it like people hold them, wrapped around his arm. Then it went limp again. He just rolled it up. I was so shocked—b-but then I quickly ducked back inside before he saw me. When I looked again he was gone. I figured I must’ve…imagined the whole thing and made some tea before bed.”

Nick and Sloane looked at one another, surprised. Nick quirked a brow and Sloane nodded slightly, though not entirely sure.

“I’m not crazy!” Mrs. Wright said vehemently.

“We don’t think you are,” Nick said, holding up his hands. “Was there anything else you saw?”

She sighed and shook her head. “No…I don’t understand why this happened though. She wasn’t an easy person to get along with, but she wasn’t evil…”

“Very few of the victims we encounter are, I’m afraid,” Sloane sighed.

Nick pulled his card out and handed it to her. “If you think of anything else, give me a call. Even if it seems strange or unreal, we’ve dealt with cases like that before.”

“…Thank you,” she sighed, taking it. “I know I’m getting a bit flighty in my older years…I thought no one would believe me.”

“We do,” Nick reiterated. They stood up. “We’ll let you rest though. You’re okay on your own?”

“Yes, thank you…I’m going to visit my daughter for a bit, till that’s all done if that’s okay.” She gestured at the crime scene with a haunted look.

“As long as you leave us information on how to contact you it’s fine,” he nodded. They walked back across the hall where Wu and Hank were looking around.

“Hey, she tell you what she saw?” Wu asked.

“Yeah.” Nick looked around and noticed brown appear and string left on the kitchen counter. He picked it up and bagged it with Wu.

“Wu said something about a living scarf?” Hank said quietly.

“Yep,” Sloane nodded, sighing.

“We believe her?”

“We do,” Sloane said. “But it gives us a new problem…”

“How so?” Nick asked.

“I know what did this…but the book for it was in _your_ collection.”

Nick eyebrows shot up and then he sighed as well. His collection was currently who knows where after Dierdre took off with his aunt’s trailer. “Great…”

“You remember it though?” Hank asked.

She looked around at the other crime techs. “…Later. Let’s go to the Spice Shop, Monroe and Rosalee might know something.”

\---------------------------

Adalind sighed, looking at the jar on the table. The liquid inside was clear like water, but it gave her a bad feeling just looking at it. “I gotta do it…Okay…Ugh…” she sighed. She looked at Diana, who was playing on the floor of the living room with a colorful cartoon on the TV in front of her. Not a care in the world while guilt and worry were warring inside her mother.

There was a knock at the door and walked up and looked out the peephole. She smiled a little and opened the door. “Meisner?”

He smiled. “Hello. Just doing a check in.”

“Right, come on in.” She stepped aside and he came in.

Diana looked up and smiled. “Meisy!”

Meisner blinked and looked at Adalind. “Meisy?”

She blushed, looking chagrinned but also amused. “‘Meisner’ is a little hard…”

“…Alright.” He smiled and knelt down. “And how are you, princess?” Diana grinned, showing off her baby teeth.

“She’s doing well,” Adalind smiled.

“Play with me!”

“She’s talking quite a bit now,” he smiled.

“She is. And walking is getting better too…Can I talk to you about something though?”

“Of course,” he said, standing.

“Play!”

Adalind smiled patiently and knelt down to kiss her forehead. “Give us just a bit sweety and then we’ll see about playing, okay?” Diana pouted and huffed but then nodded.

Meisner followed Adalind to the kitchen and she sighed. “Look…you talked before about me helping with Hadrian’s Wall and getting compensated for that. Nothing’s happened in weeks though and I just need to know if that’s still a thing.”

He sighed a bit and rubbed through his hair. “…I said that before we had…”

“Eve,” she supplied.

“Yes. And honestly, at the moment there’s not a lot to do that doesn’t involve covert operatives. And that I won’t suggest for you.” He looked at Diana and then back at her. “I admit, I hesitate to involve you further too. It’s dangerous, even when you’re in one place.”

She sighed and nodded. “I do appreciate that. But my savings are dwindling down. I need to get a job. So that’s the other thing I need to know how that will work with you and Susannah coming by…”

“Kelly will be here?”

“I’m trying to encourage her to go out and find other things to occupy her time,” she sighed. “I’m worried about her too. She’s healed up from what happened and doing alright as far as her eyesight being limited. But she wasn’t getting out of the house hardly. I finally convinced her to go for a walk today and figure out the neighborhood. She deserves to have a life now. So, I don’t want to always rely on her, she’s not my mother or a nanny…

Meisner sighed but nodded slowly. Then he smiled. “You’ve come a long way in the last year…”

She smiled wryly. “I’ve been through a lot in the last year…”

“That you have. Did you have a job in mind?”

“Well, my old Law Firm is wesen only so no woge, no go…”

“That’s right, you’re a lawyer,” he said thoughtfully.

“Mm hm. I specialized in contract law. Went along with my family’s specialty going back years. Binding spells and…curses,” she sighed.

“…I may have a contact at another law firm actually. It’s wesen friendly, but not wesen only.”

“Really?” she asked, hopeful.

“Yes, they recently set up an office here in Portland to go with others along the coast. They’re called Hoffman, Alfaro and Beske.”

“I’ve actually heard of them! They have a big network…”

“They’ve helped us in the past. I’ll let them know you’re interested if you can get your resume together. And that any gaps are…valid.”

She smiled. “That’d be great…You’re saving me again,” she laughed.

“I just want to help,” he smiled. He then looked to the living room and did a double take. “What…?”

Adalind quickly looked as well and felt her stomach drop when she saw Diana was levitating two of her dolls to do what the characters on the television were doing—some dancing and lots of spinning and twirls. “Diana, no!” she stood and quickly went to grab the toys, surprising her enough the violet glow in her eyes immediately dimmed.

“…I thought you suppressed her powers?” Meisner said, frowning deeply.

“…I…” She sighed and set the dolls down, picking Diana up. “I kept meaning to, I did, but…It’s not an easy thing to go through. It’s…When I did it, I had to have Nick and the others hold me down. And it feels like a part of me is being pulled down and away and shut in some place dark. Even if it’s not permanent, I…The thought of putting her through it,” she said, trying to hold back tears and rocking a very concerned Diana. “I couldn’t! Even thinking I could get someone else to do it, I couldn’t! I know she’s powerful and I know that makes her a target or dangerous but I can’t just do that to her—”

“Adalind, calm down,” he said, holding up his hands.

“You’re not taking her from me again,” she said determinedly. Diana looked at her and then at Meisner, clearing confused and worried.

Meisner took a deep breath. “You’re right, I’m not.”

She paused, swallowing and trying to breathe deeply enough to keep from crying. “You’re not?”

“No,” he said gently. “I’m not happy you lied this whole time though…”

“I know,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. I was just scared…”

He nodded. “I don’t blame you. I promise though, I’m not going to tell anyone. Well…I will tell Susannah,” he amended. “But neither of us will tell the higher ups. They were the ones so concerned about her and her powers. Truthfully, I think the less they know in this case the better,” he added. There was a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“…Thank you,” she sighed, relieved. Diana looked at Meisner with hose unreadable eyes again and he tried to smile. But it was hard to hide he had some reservations.

“You realize it’s not going to be easy. If she does that again in public, or when she goes to school, things could get complicated.”

“What part of my life isn’t complicated,” she said, laughing wryly.

He chuckled. “That’s fair…I’ll do what I can to help. Susannah will too I know, she’s become very fond of both of you.”

“The job will help a lot,” she said. “She’s usually good about things though. When we go to the park I remind her not to use her powers and she understands.”

“No power,” she said.

“That’s right, no power,” she said.

“Sorry…” she said.

Adalind was about to try and comfort her but Meisner stepped up and smiled. “It’s okay. But you need to remember, your magic is a secret. Only a few know about it. So unless your mother says it’s okay, you need to avoid using your magic around other people. Even if you know them. Do you understand?” She was quiet but then nodded. He smiled and patted her head. “I thought you might. You are a very smart girl.”

She smiled, giggling a little, and Adalind relaxed. “Thank you,” she sighed.

He smiled and nodded. “Now…We should play a game, right?”

“Play!”

\-----------------------

“A scarf?” Monroe asked.

“That’s what she said,” Wu nodded. They were sitting around the back table with tea mugs and explaining what they’d found at the scene. As they explained, they were helping to make little packets of spices for Rosalee since she needed a lot of them done. Her online store was getting popular and someone had given her the idea to do a $20 box of various spice packets to check out. She had not anticipated how popular they would be though—she needed almost 200 of them! It was a lesson in putting limits on things early. Sloane was doing bits of lavender, Nick was doing Lemon Balm, etc. “So, what kills people with a scarf?”

“Handwerksburschen (HAND-vairks-BOOR-shuhn)” Sloane said.

Monroe and Rosalee’s eyes widened and Monroe blew out a breath. “Shit, yeah, that could be it…”

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” Hank asked.

“Handwerksburschen. It means “craftsman” basically. But these are more insidious than your standard wood carver or leatherworker,” Sloane said.

“No kidding…” Monroe said.

“They’re famous for being able to make and fix _anything,_ ” Rosalee nodded.

“Like Eisbiebers?” Nick asked.

“Ha, no,” Monroe shook his head, both of them grimacing. “Eisbiebers are talented, but like, these guys can make almost anything that comes into their minds. Like if they wanted to make a scarf but never knitted before, they’d still be able to bang out the best scarf you’ve ever seen super quick.”

“And then curse it,” Rosalee sighed.

“Curse?” Nick asked.

“Yeah. Or enchant too, I mean, not all of them are bad…” Monroe said.

“But when their bad, they’re _bad_ ,” she sighed.

“I remember reading it. One of Nick’s ancestors went after one that made a pair of shoes that made a woman dance.”

“Oh, you would like that one,” Monroe said.

Sloane flicked one of her packets at him with expert aim and strong fingers and got him right between the eyes. He pouted at her as he rubbed the spot. “She danced _to death._ ”

“No way… _The Red Shoes?_ ” Monroe asked, surprised.

“You know the story?” Nick asked.

“Well, I know the Hans Christian Anderson version…and the 1948 movie with Moira Shearer. Classic. But also, the Dancing Plague of 1518…I thought that was the inspiration.”

“It was, I’ve heard of that one from a friend. A bunch of cursed clothing started that plague one and they kept dancing till they died from exhaustion. But the red shoes themselves had a story in Nick’s book.” Sloane sighed. “The shoes weren’t red to start with according to the story. She was an aspiring ballerina who turned down a wealthy suitor because she wanted to keep dancing. He then paid a Handwerksburschen to make a pair of shoes, the best ballet shoes possible, but curse them. When she put them on to start breaking them in, they kept her dancing till her feet started to bleed. He didn’t intend for that, he just wanted her to hate dancing. He tried to save her but when he tried to remove the shoes they tightened hard enough to crush her bones and cut her legs and she bled out…”

“God,” Hank grimaced.

“Yeah. I remember the gist of the story, but the Grimm didn’t manage to catch the culprit. Couldn’t really pin it on the suitor either. It had a picture of the Handwerksburschen. Little Goblin like creature.”

“Like a Fuchsteufelwild?” Nick asked, remembering Trinket Lipslums killing the game developers a couple of years ago before Sloane had even arrived. He’d told her about it before.

“Similar also—I think they’re probably related. But more.…hold on.” She stood, going to the writing desk nearby and grabbing a bit of paper and a pen. Sitting down, she quickly began sketching.

“Wait, you saw this like at least a year ago and you remember I enough to sketch it?” Hank asked.

“Yeah?” she asked, not looking up as she kept scratching quick lines.

“…Grimms are scary,” Monroe muttered.

Sloane rolled her eyes and held up the picture when she was done. The sketch was of creature with a round head, a huge, sharp-toothed smile taking up the majority of his face. His nose was upturned, flat and with a divot down the middle. His ears were almost as large as his face itself and fanned out on either side. “It’s pretty generic as far as a sketch goes, your ancestor probably didn’t get a good look or it was done fast. But it was like this.”

“Yeah…I remember seeing this guy too. You got it almost exact, I think,” Hank said.

“That’s pretty amazing,” Nick smiled, looking at it with a smile.

Sloane blushed a bit and smiled. “Okay, okay, I appreciate all the compliments but back to this. What do you guys know about them?”

“Not a lot more than you to be honest,” Rosalee sighed. “They’re pretty reclusive.”

“Mainly because other wesen don’t trust them either,” Monroe said. “I do know they are super prideful. Like, you insult them, you might find yourself with some literal killer accessories. Has your victim insulted anyone recently?”

“She was a corporate lawyer for a land developer,” Hank said flatly.

“Ah, so that’s gonna be a large pool of possibilities…” he grimaced.

“We’re waiting on a list of them so we can go question them,” Nick nodded. “We have several threatening messages on her answering machine…Most seem to be regarding a recreation center.”

“Recreation Center…Hey, I wonder if it’s the Regal,” Monroe said, closing up his box of packets after finishing.

“The Regal? Yeah…our one sort of witness mentioned that,” Sloane nodded.

“What is it?” Wu asked.

“It’s in Hazelwood,” he said. “Nice place, or it used to be before time and budget cuts. It was bought up in a land development project. To be bulldozed and make way for I think a bunch of condos?”

“Yeah. I heard about it from a friend who lives there,” Rosalee said. “The Regal is one of the few safe places around for kids and the like, so they were pretty up in arms about it. One brother sold the majority, but the other that had a minority in the land was trying to stop it.”

“Sold to who?” Hank asked.

“Oh, one of those development companies that like to take the charm out of old neighborhoods under the guise of “fixing it up”,” Rosalee sneered. She pulled out her phone and quickly searched it up. “Let’s see, they’re called…Crown and Country.”

“Wow, that’s a name,” Sloane said.

“Yeah. They love this ‘buy up old properties under the tenants’ noses, renovate them cheap and then sell them high’ strategy. It’s a real shame honestly how many people lose homes or work to it…”

“Gentrification, man,” Monroe shook his head.

“I’m honestly scared it’ll come this way soon,” she said, looking at the shop with a touch of worry and protectiveness.

“Like we’d let that happen,” Nick said.

“Plus, you own the shop entirely, right?” Sloane asked.

“Yes—it went back to mom when Freddy died and she signed all of it over to me as a wedding present. But they make things hard for people sometimes…”

Sloane remembered when a group of wesen developers went to her hometown of Wildred a few years ago and tried to take over by buying or muscling out the locals—and turning to “mysterious deaths” when that didn’t work. “…I know the type. But this seems a bit different, considering it’s the high-priced lawyer getting killed.”

“According to this, Gerald Wilks was the one filing the suit. He didn’t want to be bought out after his brother sold the recreation center. He…Oh.” She looked up. “He was part owner and teaches a tailoring class at the Regal…”

They looked at one another. “Well…I think we just found our number one suspect,” Hank said.

“I’ll go run his information,” Wu said, copying down the notes.

“I’ll ask around too,” Monroe said. “Maybe someone else knows more.”

They nodded in thanks, finishing up the boxes of spices and handing them off to Rosalee.

\---------------------

Renard walked up to the door of the house and knocked. It’d been a long day but he was looking forward to seeing Diana—he made it a point to try and visit at least three times a week. He hoped when she was a little older and he had a more suitable house she could come stay with him. _Maybe Adalind, too…I know she was hesitant, but it would be the best option._

He was surprised when a man opened the door, but not just any man. “Meisner?”

“Sean. Good to see you,” he said.

“…Nice boa.”

Meisner smiled and threw one end of the bright pink feathered boa around his shoulders. It was amazing how much confidence he could exude. “Brings out my eyes, I’m told.” He stood aside so Renard could step in.

“Sean! Sorry, we lost track of time,” Adalind sighed, putting away the remains of a tea party it looked like. Kelly was sitting at the table as well and waved. It was bizarre to see her wearing a bright red hat a little too small for her, but he didn’t say anything.

“No problem, really.” He looked at Meisner. “I didn’t know you were the tea party type.”

“I am a man of many skills.” He walked over and tickled Diana with one end of the boa, making her giggle and bat at it. Adalind smiled as he did. “Your daughter is very convincing as well.”

“Indeed…” he said, feeling a little twinge of something in him.

Meisner took the boa off and draped over Kelly. “You’re lucky she likes you,” Kelly responded with a sigh.

“I should let you all have family time though. I’ll check in again another day. And I’ll let Susannah know about…”

Adalind nodded, not needing to be reminded about the secret he shared. “Thank you.”

Meisner nodded with a smile. “Goodnight then. And goodnight, princess.”

She pouted as he headed for the door but Renard walked over to pick her up. “Say goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight…” she said.

Meisner smiled and waved before heading out the door.

“Would you mind if we ordered out?” Adalind sighed. “I forgot to set anything out…Diana’s happy with chicken nuggets but I’d like something a bit more substantial.”

“That’s fine…Was Meisner here all day?”

“Uh…pretty much, yeah,” she nodded, putting the toys into the nearby chest.

Kelly stood, putting the hat and he boa inside as well. “I’ll go take Diana to wash up.”

Renard nodded, handing her to her when she came up. “I can feel the tension from you, talk it out,” Kelly muttered. Renard watched her go down the hall and quirked a brow.

He looked at Adalind as she finished putting everything away. “…Why was Meisner here all day? Was there a problem?”

“No, but Diana wanted to play and he was happy to agree. Kelly went out part of the day and she insisted on a tea party with all of us when she got home. And, uh…”

“Uh what?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“…He found out I…hadn’t given Diana the suppressant,” she admitted.

“You what?” he asked, surprised.

“I just couldn’t,” she groaned.

“Adalind, what if they take her away?” he asked urgently, quietly so that Diana wouldn’t get upset.

“Meisner said he’s not going to report it,” she whispered back. “Neither would Susannah.”

“And you trust them that much?”

“Well let’s see—one got me out from under the royals before they took Diana away from me, and helped me give birth, and the other got me away from another psycho royal before he offered me as a sacrifice to another Hexenbiest. So yes, I do trust them!”

“…Omitting a few details there.”

She glared. “I’m well aware of how I got into those situations. You don’t need to rub my nose in them.”

He sighed, pinching between his eyes. “I didn’t—”

“You absolutely did, don’t even try that,” she said.

He bristled a moment but could hear Kelly and Diana down the hall. He didn’t want to start an argument, really. “…I’m sorry,” he amended.

Adalind was a little surprised but eased back. “…I didn’t want to put Diana through the suppressant. It’s too much for someone her age. Meisner understood when I told him and said he’d keep it a secret.”

Renard nodded. “Okay…I trust you too. I’m just worried.”

“So was I,” she smiled a little.

“…How long do you need to be under observation?”

She sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. I’m hoping not forever.”

“Well, Sloane’s back now. If you want…I could find a place we could all move into, together.”

Adalind frowned. “Sloane’s already said we can stay as long as we need. We’re going to work something out. Meisner got me a contact with different legal office here in Portland, so I’m hoping to get a job.”

“What about Diana then?”

“Kelly can watch her during the day, we discussed it when she got home. We’re working on teaching her time and place with her powers so hopefully she can go to daycare in another year or two.” Renard frowned and she quirked a brow back. “What’s wrong?”

“…Do you ever think…we should give things another shot? Be a real family?”

Adalind balked a little. “‘Real’? Sean…neither of us had a ‘real’ family, let’s be real. My dad went MIA, yours…”

“To be fair, it was mostly his wife and sons that tried to have me killed,” he sighed. “But that’s what I mean. I want to be a better father. I want to be in Diana’s life!”

“You are,” she said. “I’m not going to deny you that, so long as it’s safe for you both. But…” She sighed pacing a little. “Sean, I don’t think we’re good for each other. Romantically. I mean, I loved you a lot when I was younger. You were my first crush, and I was really happy when you’d even pay attention to me. I was willing to kill people for you.” She glanced where Kelly was down the hall. She knew she’d tried to kill her sister, but Adalind tried not to remind her just in case. “Almost did, several times…”

“I’m trying to do better,” he said.

“I know. And so am I. Part of having Diana was realizing that I’d been acting like a kid a lot and that I needed to grow up. Part of that was asking myself if I still had a crush on you…and I don’t. Too much happened.”

“You aren’t going to forgive me?” he asked with a pinched brow.

“It’s not about forgiving you; it’s about forgiving myself. But what you put me through is only half of it. Do I need to remind you that you slept with my mother?”

He flinched and looked away. “…I am sorry for that…”

“I know. Don’t get me wrong, I know she had a hand in “Mrs. Robinson”-ing you, but it’s always been a sticking point for me. Taking Diana from me still hurts, even though I know why. I just…we always seem to hurt each other somehow. But I’m usually the one left holding the pain for longer it feels and doing something stupid. I just feel like maybe we should just…be parents. Hopefully friends too. But I think by now we’ve killed the romantic vibe pretty thoroughly…and I don’t want to stay together for Diana. I feel like that’s a bad example for her if things go south _again._ ”

He sighed and finally nodded. “Okay…You make a good point. But if you do need me, ask. I do want to be friends. For our sake as well as Diana’s…”

She smiled and nodded. “Okay…so, what should we get delivered for dinner?”

He smiled back. “How about Thai?”

“Oh, that sounds good,” she nodded, heading for the menus in the kitchen.

Kelly came down the hall then with Diana. She set her down in her highchair. “I’ll take some pad-see-ew with beef. And I’ll get Diana’s dinner started.”

“Thank you,” Adalind called, looking through the menus still.

Kelly paused and looked at Renard. “…You slept with Catharine Schade?” she asked quietly, slightly judging.

Renard grimaced and looked away. “I…was not a good man for a while.”

“Hm. I’m aware. I hope you’re doing better.”

“Trying,” he said honestly. “I’ve learned a lot the last few years.”

“Good boy,” she smiled. “Because even half blind, I think I can take you out if you cause more problems.” She headed to get the chicken nuggets started. Renard had a feeling she was right.

\------------------------------

“I’m not sorry she’s dead, but it’s nothing to do with me,” Mr. Wilks said. They’d tracked him down to the Regal Recreation Center that evening after doing a bit more background work. It was an older building, built first in the forties and renovated and bolstered over the years to keep it going. But its last renovation was at least two decades ago and it was starting to show its age and that the staff wasn’t available to keep it looking it’s best. Cracked concrete, discolored floor tiles, and water-stained fiber glass ceiling tiles. Still it was bustling with activity as people did classes and brought their children and families to use local facilities.

Gerald Wilks was working on a suit on a dressmaker’s dummy. He was an older man, with a flamboyant air about him in how he styled himself in fashionable but homemade clothes in grays and blues and smoothed back silver hair. He was dramatically sewing one of the darts in the suit’s lining as they spoke.

“You did threaten her,” Hank pointed out.

“I spoke in anger! I wasn’t actually going to kill her,” he said. “I’m not proud of how I spoke to her, but she had the ability to get that response out of a lot of people I think you’ll find.”

“But you’re the most recent to leave threatening messages on her machine,” Nick pointed out.

He sighed and snipped the thread dramatically. “Look, this rec center was started by my father. I learned how to sew here when my mother taught the classes. When I retired from being a tailor, in one of the best shops in Portland, I started classes here and I do my best to help make sure the community around here can have the skills to make their clothes go a long way and be extra presentable. I’ve helped a lot of them get jobs and I’m damn proud. And then my brother decides to sell up and Crown and Country tries to force me out and the judge agreed with them because she presented a bunch of photos of “health and safety violations” I was trying to get fixed already but my permits were mysteriously blocked! So I got angry.”

“You think she blocked your permits?” Sloane asked.

“Her or that damn company,” he sighed. “I think they put a squeeze on my brother too…”

“Can we talk to him too?”

“He’s not here. I mean not in Portland, he moved to Seattle to be close to his daughter. I probably will too once my lease is up…The pot’s run dry, so to speak. I don’t have anything left to fight with, money or energy wise.”

“That’s not what your message said,” Sloane pointed out.

“You say a lot of things when angry that may not be possible,” he said wryly. “Ms. Graham was only one bullet in an arsenal on their side and I don’t even have a slingshot.” He looked around wistfully. “It was lovely when it was first built…My parents were very proud and worked here up till they died. I’d hoped it last a hundred years but I guess it’s not meant to be…”

“We are sorry to hear that,” Nick said sympathetically. 

“Thank you…but really, I didn’t even know she was dead till you showed up so I can’t help you.”

“…Do you know how to knit?” Sloane asked.

“Knit? Well, I dabbled a bit years ago, but I didn’t really enjoy it. I prefer sewing more. Why?”

“We believe someone sent her a gift before she died, a scarf according to her neighbor. But it’s missing.”

“Oh believe me, I would not be sending that woman gifts! Besides, I only know her phone number, not her address.”

“How’d you get that anyway?” Hank asked.

Gerald hesitated before sighing. “I peeked at my own lawyer’s contact list, alright! I’m not proud…He was not happy either.”

“No I wasn’t.” They looked up as a younger man with sandy blonde hair walked in. “And I’m not happy you didn’t call me right when the police showed up, Gerald.”

“Oh come now, Darren, no one can believe I would do that, right?” he laughed. The laughter died down when he saw the detectives weren’t even smiling.

“We’re not ready to make any judgements,” Hank said. “And you are…?”

“Darren. Darren Schuler. He was doing this case pro-bono for me as a former student.”

“ _And_ I’m still his lawyer. I’d like to ask if you intend to bring him in for any further questioning and if I need to be present.”

Nick sighed but Sloane held up a hand. “It’s too early to tell yet. We just need to make contact with as many people as we can who had been in contact with Lydia Graham recently.”

“…Are three detectives normal?” he asked.

“We’re a special group,” she smiled. “Is a Real Estate lawyer talking about criminal defense normal?”

He blinked but then smiled. “Okay, you have me there…”

“Darren’s just a bit protective,” Gerald said, smiling.

“Hey, I practically grew up here too. Spent a lot of time in this room. And my request still stands, I’d prefer any more questioning be with me present.”

“Well, we’d like to talk to you too,” Nick said.

“That’s fine.”

“Oh really, Darren is a sweetheart, he wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Gerald said.

“We have to be thorough.”

“…You know, you all have a wonderful physique. My friend teaches the life drawing class here and at another center, would you be interested in modeling some time? It would be in the nude…”

Darren looked at him, his expression souring. “Gerald…”

“Ah…no thank you,” Hank said. Nick and Sloane glanced at one another then away.

“Pity,” he said. “Oh, you might check out Mr. Ulric too.”

“Ulric?

“Jensen Ulric. Crown and Country’s local representative,” Darren said.

“Why would he kill the lawyer that won him a case?” Sloane asked.

“Well…you didn’t hear it from me, but he and her had a big argument that last day in court. Darren and I heard them vaguely, that’s how loud they were.”

“Gerald,” Darren sighed again. “You’re gossiping again.”

“Well I can’t help it! It was strange, wasn’t it?”

“What were they arguing about? The case?” Sloane asked.

He shook his head. “No, not ours at least I think. Something about a contract…That’s all we could hear.”

“But it was a bad row and put Ms. Graham in a very bad mood despite her win,” Gerald added. “She didn’t even gloat and I know she loves to gloat…”

“We’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” Hank said.

“Good. Now it’s getting late and Gerald needs to start packing up. If it’s okay, I’m happy to meet with you tomorrow afternoon—I have to be in court again soon regarding another case,” Darren said.

“Alright. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions,” Nick said.

They walked out and Darren turned to look at Gerald. “Why would you talk to them alone?”

“Because I don’t have anything to hide! I didn’t kill that woman, no matter how tempting.”

“Gerald, murder isn’t the only crime in the books,” he hissed. “Or did you forget what I promised to keep quiet about?”

“…No, I didn’t forget,” he said, looking down.

“Then don’t talk to them alone anymore. Unless you want to lose your reputation along with the rec center.”

“…How did you know they were here?” he asked.

“I didn’t. I came to tell you about Lydia and to keep your head down. So please do that in the future before it gets cut off!” Gerald flinched at the angry tone and sighed.

The detectives didn’t hear this faint conversation as they headed out of the rec center and Hank sighed when he looked at the setting sun. “You guys want to pick this up tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that might be best,” Nick said. “We got more suspects than answers right now.”

“That’s how it usually is. Feels like old times,” Sloane smiled.

He smiled back and they returned to the precinct to get their respective cars and head home.

Once home, Sloane set her boots by the elevator and so did Nick, and they both had a hook on the wall for their jackets. Sloane walked to the fridge and looked in. “I set out salmon for dinner. Figured I do that white wine sauce again but with more red pepper this time. Sound good?”

“Sounds great. I can do the asparagus to go with them—don’t want it going off again,” he said, opening the vegetable crisper after she grabbed the fish.

“Ugh, that was gross,” she grimaced, remembering finding the rotting stocks when she first moved in. She’d hallucinated they were centipedes and Nick had nearly had a heart attack when she screamed. Apparently she was not a fan. Nick had been eating out more after his mother moved out and forgotten about them. He chuckled as she started getting things together, pulling her hair back into a low ponytail to keep it out of the food. “I think we have some garlic bread too,” she said.

“Uh, let’s see…” He opened the freezer and pulled out the box. “Yep, two each. I’ll put them in the oven with the asparagus.”

“Good, I’m hungry,” she sighed. They started working together, having gotten fairly good at cooking together the last few months. Nick smiled to himself at how domestic it felt. How natural it felt.

 _Would it be weird to tell her now? I mean, does it have to be all big and dramatic? Granted she told me in a grand dramatic fashion, kind of…how would I measure up to that?_ He frowned at the thought. Just telling her cooking dinner seemed pretty lack-luster compared to the speech she gave him in the dream. Telling him he made her a better person, that she wanted to share the good and the bad with him…he knew now he wanted the same, but it felt like copying her to say it back. That it wouldn’t seem like it came from himself to do so. But how did he put it into other words?

“Nick?”

He jumped and looked up. “Uh, yeah?”

“I was asking if you wanted to watch a movie…You okay?” she asked, frowning in concern.

He smiled quickly and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine, really, just…thinking. About the case.”

“Any epiphanies?” She asked, turning the salmon over in the pan and putting the lid back on.

“No…But a movie sounds good.”

“Alright, I’ll finish up if you want to go pick one.”

He nodded, since the asparagus was in the oven with the bread, and went to go pull up a movie. He considered something romantic but felt that might be too obvious. So he opted for an action movie and scrolled through them. Sloane plated the food and brought it out to him. “Thanks…Ever seen _Die Hard_?”

“Uh…Not all the way through and only in Japanese.” He quirked a brow and she smiled. “It was on TV in Japan one time. I saw like twenty minutes in the middle before I had to leave on a hunt. But I’m down to give it a try.”

He smiled and hit play. It ended up she enjoyed it a lot and Nick had gotten his arm around her shoulders at one point before either of them noticed when he pulled up the second one for the heck of it.

\----------------------

Gerald sighed as he closed up the rec center later that night, a box under his arms. He put the keys in his pocket and turned to go, but gasped when he turned to see a man behind him. “Rodney! What the hell?”

“Hey Gerry,” his brother said. He was very similar to Gerald, with the same nose and silvering hair, though a little bit younger.

“Well, you chose a good time to show up,” he huffed, stepping down. “Did you finally get sentimental?”

“Oh don’t get dramatic, Gerry,” he sighed. “I did what I had to do. I had bills to pay.”

“Debts you mean. Same as me.”

“Gerry, don’t start. Besides, why would I be sentimental for this place?” He looked at it with a faint air of disgust.

“Rodney,” he warned.

Rodney just sighed. “Look, I didn’t come to argue.”

He sighed back, shifting the box around. “Yes, fine. What do you want?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing. You weren’t home, so I figured you were here.”

“Well, I’ll be here most nights trying to save what I can,” he said.

“Need help?”

“I thought you didn’t want to set foot in there again?”

He looked at it again. “I really don’t…How can you stand it? I mean, after what happened…”

Gerald’s hands tightened on the box. “It was an accident…”

“Not that,” he sighed. “Well, yes that, but just… all of it.”

“What do you mean?” Gerald asked, frowning.

He groaned. “You aren’t stupid, Gerry. You know why I hate it here. You know dad wasn’t a paragon of the community.”

“He was a good man!”

“He locked me in the storage room!”

“He was trying to cure your fear of the dark!”

“He was an abusive bastard who traumatized more kids than he helped,” he hissed. “But then, again, what can you expect from the _favorite._ The one who could do everything. Well…till he found out about that _accident._ Guess he finally saw himself in us, huh?”

He took a deep breath, rolling his neck a little to try and keep from getting tense. “Rodney, I’m already not in a great mood. I had to deal with the police today on top of everything else—”

“The police?” he asked, tensing. “Why were they here?”

“Ah, you probably didn’t hear. Lydia Graham was murdered, that lawyer for Crown and Country.”

His eyes widened. “She what?”

“Yes. They’re looking at any possible enemies, and I guess I ended up on the list. Somehow,” he said evasively.

“…Did they ask about me?”

“You? Why would they ask about you?” he asked, annoyed that he was still thinking of himself.

He frowned back. “God, you sound like dad now too…Especially all this “accident” talk. Held that over our heads till the day he died.”

“I don’t want to talk about that, Rodney,” he said, breathing hard.

“Why not? It’s been twenty years…you still feel responsible?”

“I told them, the police, you’d sold,” he said, dodging that question. “And that you’d moved back to Seattle to be with your daughter—I thought you were at least.”

“Yeah, well…she didn’t want to see me,” he sighed. “I thought maybe we could cry on each other’s shoulders.”

Gerald huffed and rolled his eyes. “I may be a little flamboyant but I’m not some blubbering mess.”

He frowned. “Oh, forgive me. I forgot “Wilks don’t weep”.”

“Shut up,” he growled.

“What, don’t like dad’s motto?” he said snidely. He looked at the box and chuckled. “Oh, that’s a nice belt!” He reached up and took a black leather belt from the box. The buckle was fashioned to look like a gargoyle’s head. Gerald glared, this being a common occurrence. He had something and his brother had to get his hands on it.

“Honestly, can’t you keep your hands to yourself,” he sighed. “One of my students made that, be careful.”

“Oh come on, it’s just a belt,” he said.

Gerald felt something in him, some tightly wound bit of thread, snap. “Right…Just a belt. Just a jacket. Just a car, and a shop, and a job, and our father’s life’s work. Just an _accident_. It’s all “just” with you, because you don’t give a rat’s ass about anyone but yourself!”

Rodney looked honestly hurt and glared as he got in his brother’s face. “Yeah? Well, who’s idea was it, hm? “He’s so sad, let’s help him practice. Darren said he’ll bring him.””

“It was an _accident,_ ” he said vehemently.

“Who unlocked the pool? Forgot to lock the pool back up?”

“You know what you did,” he spat. “Don’t you pin it on me!”

“Yeah. I did the same thing our dad would’ve done. And you’re just as guilty as the rest of us.”

Gerald shoved him away. “Shut up! You know what? I don’t care about you anymore. You’ve taken everything else from me, take the damn belt too! A parting gift, so don’t come looking for me again!” He stormed down the steps and towards the parking lot and to his car.

Rodney looked after him and screwed up his face before huffing. He pulled out his own set of keys then and unlocked the door to the rec center, going inside. “Drama queen…what was I supposed to do, huh? Blames me for everything, as usual,” he muttered. He paused and looked around, sighing. Going to the wall of photos, he looked at the one from the day the rec center was built. Their father, Gerald at about age five, him just a baby in their mother’s arms. Their father wanted a place people could go to, to learn new skills and play and get help. To feel like a community. That’s what he said anyway. But Rodney knew it was just another way to try and control people. Glaring, he put his finger under the frame and popped it off the wall, not caring when it fell and shattered. He did it to a few more—listening to them shatter on the floor like then paused when he got to one of a young, freckled boy with a big smile and red hair. _In Loving Memory of David Keeler_ was engraved on a small plate on the frame. Next to him in the frame was a piece of blue cloth with lighter and darker pieces appliqued onto it, and a wavy stitch going all the way up. It was about the size of a bookmark and had _DK the Ultimate Swimmer_ embroidered on it.

Sighing, he pulled a flask out of his jacket and took a swig, leaving the rest of the photos untouched. He walked around a bit, taking sips as he did, sometimes twirling the belt around. He paused when he heard someone moving further down the hall. He quickly hid the flask after swallowing what was in his mouth. “Hello? Gerry?” No answer. He walked down the hall and stopped in front of the door to the tailoring classroom. Trying the handle, he found it was unlocked and stepped in. He could see all of the things Gerald and his class were working on—dresses, suits, even a tuxedo it looked like. He had photos up too of all the classes he’d done over the years.

“…Stupid jerk. Why’d you have to stay here…Why can’t you just forget?” he sighed. He looked at the suit stand, recognizing Gerald’s work, and smacked it to fall back like a man getting cold-cocked. It was petty he knew but he was feeling petty and bitter. “Could tear this whole place up…see how he feels about that.” He sighed and sat down in a chair, tossing the belt on the table. It really was kind of stupid looking and not Gerald’s style at all. Looking around, he noticed a pair of shoes on the worktable and blink. “You making shoes now, Gerry?” he muttered. He reached over and grabbed them up. They were very expensive looking shoes. Brown shiny leather, suede laces, all that. Definitely Gerald’s sort of shoe, considering how posh he liked to dress. Rodney eyed them then lifted his foot up and measured them against his current shoes. They looked the right size. Shrugging, he undid his sneakers and slipped them on. They were a perfect fit. He smiled a bit, clicking his heals. “Hm…maybe I should take something of yours. Maybe you’d sit and talk properly if I some of your precious wardrobe hostage,” he sneered.

He pulled out the flask to take a sip again, but paused when he heard something. It sounded like whistling—a familiar tune. He couldn’t put a name to the tune, but it was familiar. And a little eerie as it echoed into the room. “Hello?” He called. The whistling stopped. He stood to his feet—then gasped as he was pulled forward. He caught himself on the chair before he went down, shaken. The flask clattered to the floor and he blinked in confusion. “What the hell…? How drunk am I?” He shrieked when one of his legs swinged upwards out of his control. It moved down and forced his body to comply and pull him up right, sending the chair clattering over when he tried to grab on to it and failed. “W-what the—” His legs began moving on their own, stepping out of the door. He grabbed ahold of the door frame, trying to keep from moving, panicking as his feet kept trying to move with a mind of their own. He couldn’t hold on despite digging his fingers in and his legs moved him down the hall with a scream at a full tilt run.

\---------------------------------

“One of the cleaning crew found him this morning,” Wu said, leading them inside to the main hall of the Regal Recreation Center the next morning. In the center, over the crown logo set into the tile floor, was the body of a man who had apparently leapt from the second story. Headfirst by the look of things. “This is Rodney Wilks. Gerald Wilks’ brother who was supposedly in Seattle.”

“What’s he doing back here? I mean in Portland, I see what he’s…doing back here,” Sloane said, grimacing at state of him. He’d broken his neck on impact obviously, given the angle his head was resting at. The man’s last expression was one of terror. A few cuts came from a mess of broken glass around him from several broken photos.

“Not sure. When I was doing research on the center though, I did find out he had to use a lot of his money from Crown and Country to pay off some loans. He didn’t even actually own his house here in Portland, so that might be part of why he moved.”

“Good to know…” He looked at the broken glass. And frowned, leaning down to carefully lift one of his arms. “…This glass was already on the floor when he fell. The photos must’ve already been broken.”

“Why though?” Hank said. He looked at the wall of photos and frowned when he walked up. “A bunch of them were pulled down. But this one was left alone in the middle of them,” he said, pointing at the picture of the young boy. ““ _In Loving Memory of David Keller._ ”” He took a picture with his phone, figuring it might lead somewhere. The blue tab of cloth with stitches all over it was a bit odd, not something he’d ever seen before.

“I wonder who that is,” Sloane said.

“I’ll find out later. Do we have any security?”

“They had to scale back recently,” Wu sighed. He pointed up to an older looking camera. “We’ve got one on the foyer here, and one on the back entrance, but none in the hallways or rooms. I’m already copying what we do have.”

The nodded in thanks. “Where’s Gerald?” Nick asked.

“We’re working to get in contact with him. He’s not answering though,” Wu said, looking suspicious.

“The lawyer that won the case and the brother that sold him out…” Hank nodded.

“But this looks like a suicide,” Wu added. “I mean, there’s no way he could’ve fallen accidently, that railing up there is almost chest high…”

Sloane looked at the wide eyes again and felt doubt about that. “…Where’s his shoes?” Sloane asked, looking at the black socks on his feet.

The others looked as well and then up to the second story. “We didn’t find them up there…” Wu said.

“Someone took his shoes?” Hank said.

“The custodian called us as soon as he saw him through the windows, didn’t even open the doors,” Wu said.

“…I want to see Gerald’s workshop,” Sloane said.

They nodded, heading down to where they’d met him yesterday. The door was wide open they noticed. She moved to go in first but paused and stepped back, looking at the door frame. “…Hey, Wu? Can you have them check for paint and wood under his nails?”

“Paint and wood?”

Sloane reached a gloved hand up and ran a finger under the gauges in the wood. Spaced like fingers trying to hold on.

“Oh, that’s creepy,” Hank said.

“So’s this,” Nick said, pointing at a pair of sneakers near an overturned chair. “Given how the other Mr. Wilk’s likes to dress, I don’t think these are Gerald’s…” Wu took a picture of where they were found with some markers, then put them in a bag out. They looked around while he did, noting the overturned mannequin and chair.

“So, do we think he just decided to take his shoes off and go walking in socks through the building with the heat off in November?” Hank asked. All of them looked doubtful.

“Have forensics look over this room too,” Nick said.

“Will do.” They walked out and Nick slowed as they headed down the hall. He heard something very faintly so he opened up his hearing and further. Footsteps were coming from down the hall, but all of their team should be back at the entrance.

“Nick?” Hank asked. Nick put a finger to his lips and moved towards the sound. Sloane followed and so do the others. As he rounded the corner, he paused and his jaw hanged open. Down the hall was a pair patent leather shoes, walking sedately down with no feet or body moving them.

“Holy crap,” Sloane muttered. The others were peaking around the corner, looking shocked.

“Those…shoes are moving on their own,” Wu said.

“…I think we found a murder weapon,” Nick said.

The shoes stopped and then one turned. When it saw them, they took off at a run. Nick took off after them, Sloane close behind. “Don’t let them get to the entrance!”

“Yeah, that’d be a lot of awkward explanations!” Wu agreed. The shoes turned a corner, trying to get away from them, surprisingly fast without a body to slow them down. Sloane managed to catch up first and made a grab for them, only to yelp when they kicked back and got her in the face with a heel.

“Sloane?” Nick asked, sliding to a halt.

“I’m fine, get them!” she ordered, holding a hand to her eye.

He took off again, Hank right next to him. They tried grabbing a shoe each, but it was like trying to catch a fish with your bare hands. Doable, but not easy if you weren’t perfectly precise in how much pressure to exert. They were just rounding the corner that would lead to the front hall when Wu came down on top of them with a sheet of cloth. He’d gone back to the tailoring room and grabbed the first wide bit of cloth he could find. The shoes struggled, trying to get out, and he wrestled them until he tied them up in the case like a rucksack.

“Good job, Wu!” Hank said, smiling.

“Thanks. What do we do with them though?” He asked, holding up the squirming sack.

“We need to put them some place secure,” Sloane said, walking up.

“You okay?” Wu asked.

“Mostly,” she sighed, tenderly feeling below her right eye. “I think I might get a bruise though. I wasn’t expecting those things kick so hard without feet in them!”

Nick frowned and reached up to lean her face up to him. She blushed a little at the move but he was worried about that bruise. “Let’s take them back to the loft and get you an ice pack…”

“I’m fine, really,” she started.

“No, I think Nick’s right,” Hank said, taking the sack and handing it to him. Wu quirked a brow at the smile on his face. “We need to get those things out of here and people are going to ask why you have a bruise all of a sudden. I’ll work on things here, and then start researching at the precinct. Wu can take me back. I’ll let you know what I find.”

Nick had a distinct feeling Hank was trying to get them alone together and frowned. It wasn’t as though they didn’t spend a lot of time alone together already. The feeling was cemented when Hank gave him a wink as Sloane took the sack from him.

“I’m not sure that’s _necessary_ ,” Nick said.

“I think it is,” he said.

While they were eyeing one another, Wu quickly went over to help Sloane as she was pulling a shoe out to take a picture with her phone, holding the squirming footwear down as best he could without it looking weird. It tried to kick her again and she glared and punched it into the tile floor hard enough the tile cracked, making them all jump. “…Whoops?”

“Eh, it’s not the only cracked one I saw. Plus I think that actually did stun it,” Wu said, holding up a now very limp shoe. It was still squirming a little though.

She quickly snapped another picture and shoved it back in the sack with its very indignant twin. “I think Hank is right about getting these things out of here.”

“…Alright, let’s head back to the loft then,” Nick said. He tried to ignore Hanks smile as they headed for the back entrance, managing to get around to their car without anyone noticing.

Once they were home, Nick got the still kicking sack out of the back and brought it up with them. “Where should we put this?”

“…How about behind Door Number One?” she said, gesturing to the hidden door. Nick smiled and nodded. She got it open and he tossed the sack down there, feeling satisfied at the thump below. She smiled as they closed the door and sighed, then winced and felt over her slightly swollen cheek. “Feel so stupid, getting a black eye from a pair of sentient freaking shoes…”

“Hey, not many can actually say that,” Nick said, trying to cheer her up.

“Not without getting a psych eval you mean,” she smiled. “How’s it look by the way?”

“Red,” he grimaced. “You actually probably will have a black eye.”

“Great. Bruises don’t get treated by any of my remedies,” she sighed. “I’m going to go wash my face and then use the ice pack.”

He nodded, going to grab his laptop. He figured he could start doing a little bit of research on some of their other subjects. Before he could though, one of his alarms for outside beeped. He went over and looked at the station near the elevator, clicking through a couple of cameras. He was surprised to see Audrey Zhao outside, trying to look through some of the windows. _How did she find me?_ He thought about leaving her alone, but then she started trying to open the windows and the side door. Growling, he went down and opened the side door to see her about to try and smash a window. “You do that, I’m arresting you.”

She jumped and quickly dropped the brick. “You’re home?”

“Yes. Why, were you really planning to break in?”

She hesitated. “…I just…wanted to check something.”

“Uh huh. What’s this about, Audrey?”

She bristled a bit and stood up straighter. “You know what it’s about! Juliette!”

“I told you, she left.”

“Left to _where_! I thought it was weird after three months she never called or emailed or DM’d me. After six it was worrying. It’s been almost nine now and she’s not responding so what happened to her?”

“It’s complicated—”

“So complicated she can’t contact anyone? No one else has heard from her either! I’m not the only one who’s worried! And before all this she was acting strange. She quit her job, I heard she got arrested for starting a fight in a bar—what the hell happened, Nick?”

Nick felt his heart clench a little. Audrey was worried about Juliette, he knew her heart was in the right place. But there wasn’t an easy way to explain turning into a hexenbiest, going mad with power, trying to kill your friends, and then apparently being killed only to be resurrected by a shadowy government organization. He really, really wished their was a simpler explanation. “I can’t…tell you.”

“So you do know something,” she accused.

“Yes, but I didn’t do anything to her…” _Not intentionally._

“The fact she’s not here makes that hard for me to believe,” she said. “Why did you move _here_ anyway?”

“A lot of reasons—how did you find me?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t easy. You keeping where you moved a secret was also suspect as hell.”

“Oh my God, I didn’t do anything to Juliette! I moved because she left me and I didn’t want to be in the house we shared anymore!” _True enough, really…_ “I moved here because I was also dealing with some threats and I wanted some place secure.”

“Threats?”

“I’m a police detective, Audrey,” he said impatiently. “And before you throw statistics at me again, I know, okay? I work with plenty of dumb, brutal, stupid officers. I found out one was in a hate group last year that nearly killed one of my friends and I helped make sure he went down for it. I’m not saying I’m the best cop, just…I’m not the kind of man you’re thinking! You know me, for God’s sake!”

She looked conflicted a moment, tightening a hand on her purse. “I…thought I did. I thought you and Juliette had the perfect relationship. But she’s disappeared, and you say you know where but won’t tell me, and you didn’t seem to do anything for months. Do I actually know you?”

“Audrey,” he sighed, moving towards her. She immediately went into her purse and pulled out a stun gun, making him quickly back up again.

“Stay back!”

“Audrey, I’m not here to hurt you!”

“I can’t be sure of that, can I?”

“You can be sure I’ll drop you before you drop him.”

She gasped and whirled around, surprised to see Sloane. When she tried to aim the stun gun, Sloane reached up and grabbed it, pulling it up so it wouldn’t be able to hit her. “I wouldn’t recommend that either.”

“You?”

“Me. Let go of if that.”

“What? No, I—” She gasped when Sloane jerked her grip and got the stun gun away from her.

“You don’t point that at someone for no good reason,” she growled.

“Sloane, it’s okay,” Nick said quickly. He wasn’t sure, but that growl sounded a little low and animal like. _She should be fully cured, right?_

“No it’s not! She threatened you!”

Audrey took a step away, looking between them. “…What…are you doing here?”

“None of your business,” Sloane said.

“There’s another car in there…are you and Nick shacking up?”

Nick blushed on reflex and he could see a little pink in Sloane’s cheeks too. But she looked more annoyed than anything. “No. But regardless, none of your business. Again.”

“I’m making it my business! Is this why Juliette left? Because you cheated on her?”

“No! I never…” _Intentionally,_ a guilty voice added.

“Nick and I aren’t together like that. I’m his partner at work, he’s been nice enough to let me stay in his spare room while I had to deal with some stuff.”

“Uh huh. And he didn’t give you that black eye?” she said dubiously.

Nick’s jaw dropped at the accusation. “I told you, I’m not part of that statistic!”

“Oh, yeah, like I believe you.”

Sloane glared. “Then believe me: No. A suspect’s shoe did. Now, how do you know what my car looks like? Because it’s not there, it’s at the precinct.”

Audrey tensed and Nick looked at her again. “How often have you been coming by?”

“…Often enough. I wanted to see if Juliette was here.”

“She’s not,” Sloane said. “Juliette left to deal with some things. Inner demons, let’s say.”

“You expect me to believe that? Juliette was the nicest person! She didn’t have inner demons,” Audrey scoffed.

“We all have inner demons. Yours is apparently not trusting people and letting your imagination run wild,” Sloane said. Audrey uncurled her lip at the tone. “Also stalking, trespassing, breaking and entering and potentially assault.”

“What—I didn’t—”

“She’s right, Audrey. Even if I wasn’t a police officer, I could call that in,” Nick said. She fidgeted, looking worried now and he sighed. “Look …You want the truth? Juliette went through a lot because she was dating me. We tried to make it work, but scarier situations happened and…it changed her. She ended up hating me. She did a lot to try and hurt me. Including bringing another man to our old house.” _And trying to set a trap with him to kill my mother but we’ll not get into that part._ “We ended up having a big fight. I didn’t hurt her, but she took a lot of swings at me. And Sloane, because she also thought I had something with her.”

Sloane flinched but held up her hands. “Again: Just friends.”

Nick tried not to frown at that and went on quickly. “I didn’t want any of that to happen. I’d had plans to ask her to marry me—hell, we’d have been married by now if my life didn’t mess everything up. But after what she did, she…went to get help and I had to deal with what she left behind. I don’t love her anymore, and I can’t trust her anymore. That’s all I know.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said, voice wavering, shaking her head.

“It’s true,” Sloane said.

“Like I’d believe a slut like you,” she spat.

Nick was in front of her in a blink and she gasped and backed up. “Do not talk to her like that. You don’t get to call that and you don’t get to accuse me of this, friend or no.”

Sloane was surprised by the angry tone but went over and put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. “…Look, I’m giving you a pass because you’re obviously really upset,” she sighed. She took the battery pack out of the stun gun and handed it back to her. “The fact is, Juliette isn’t here anymore and after a lot of what she did, that’s for the best. She’s still out there.”

“We just don’t want to go looking,” Nick added. “I mean, I did at first but then…she made it clear she doesn’t want to come back. So we stopped asking.”

“…That doesn’t mean I won’t,” she said, snatching the stun gun back and then marching away.

“…She’s persistent,” Sloane sighed.

“She’s always been that way,” Nick sighed. “Hot headed and prone to making rash decisions…”

“You’ve known her a long time?”

“She and Juliette met in Vet school,” he said, frowning at the memories. “She was always more her friend than mine, but I didn’t think she’d assume the worse of me that fast…”

“She’ll probably be back…”

“Yeah. I’ll see about getting a few more cameras maybe…”

“Might be good. Juliette didn’t have any family?”

“No one close, no. I’d hoped we’d be able to figure out something at some point but finding out she was alive—well, sort of—distracted me…Should’ve realized some might start thinking foul play happened,” he sighed. He looked at her and smiled. “Thanks for the rescue, by the way.”

She smiled back. “I could hear the yelling from upstairs.”

“Glad we don’t have nosy neighbors then,” he said. “C’mon, lets’ get you an ice pack.”

She shook her head. “No time. Hank called, he found Gerald.”

\---------------

“Why did he do it?” Gerald asked, hanging his head. They’d gotten his home address finally, as he’d recently moved to a small house he was renting near the edge of Hazelwood. Inside was still cluttered with boxes but they could see several with scraps of material and other odds and ends among the bric-a-brac and books and other items. “I y-yelled at him, I said it was his fault…is that why? Is it my fault?”

They looked at one another. “We don’t know for sure, sir. But we’re treating his death as suspicious,” Nick said.

“Suspicious? You mean…he didn’t kill himself?” he asked. It was hard to tell if he was confused or hopeful.

“We’re not sure. A few things make us believe perhaps there’s more to it,” Sloane said.

“We found his shoes in your workshop,” Hank said.

“H…his shoes?”

Sloane brought up a picture on her phone of the sneakers. “These are his, right?”

“I…Yes, I think so. I’m not a fan of tennis shoes so I didn’t really pay attention.”

“What about these?” she asked, bringing up one of the pictures she’d managed to take of the cursed shoes.

“Those are more my style,” he nodded.

“Have you seen them, we mean,” Nick clarified.

He frowned, looking more closely. “No…they don’t look familiar…Lovely stitching though. A very pretty pair of oxfords, but I wouldn’t leave them in the classroom if they were mine.”

“We found them near your brother,” Hank said. “Same size as him, 10.5.”

“Oh, that’s mine too,” he said. “I didn’t realize we wore the same size…” He sniffed slightly and blinked his eyes again and sighed. “I-I’m sorry, I have to call his daughter…this is all so sudden. I told you I left after he got there, he must’ve let himself in with his key. I never took it back. I don’t know anything more…”

“We understand, Mr. Wilks…quick question though, did your brother drink?”

He snorted a little. “Yes, unfortunately. Got him in some trouble a few years ago, drinking and gambling. Part of why he sold his share. I understood…some part of me did at least. The rest was angry and I let that part talk last night…”

“He had alcohol in his blood test.”

“I’m not surprised I’m afraid…You know it’s hard. We were close when we were younger, and then we just sort of drifted apart…I’d hoped we’d drift back someday…when I wasn’t so bitter.”

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Sloane said.

“Just one of many…”

“…What about David Keeler?” Hank asked.

Gerald went very still. “I…what?”

“We saw his picture at the rec center. Seemed…important.”

“I…I mean, it’s tragic but I don’t see why. It happened years ago…”

“What did?” Nick asked.

“…I…I should really call Darren,” he said.

“Why? If it happened years ago?”

Gerald hesitated but sighed and sat back. “…David was a student. Back about…oh, almost twenty years ago. He was learning to swim in the pool.”

“Pool? I didn’t see a pool,” Sloane said.

“Yes, well…We filled it in. Turned it into the soccer field.” He rubbed his hands together. “David…he was afraid of water, you see. Absolutely terrified of it. Didn’t even want to take baths. But his parents thought if he learned to swim he’d work it out. He was only seven, after all…still learning…We offered swim classes during the summer and my father taught them.”

“What happened?” Hank asked, feeling a bit of dread.

“…No one’s sure. He would always try and hide during swim lessons. The other kids laughed at him, I’m afraid. Then one evening as we were locking up we…found him. Face down in the pool.” He pulled at his face, recalling it.

Nick remembered, from when he took an unintentional peek at Sloane’s memories, the time her mother threw her into a lake to learn how to swim. She’d been about the same age. It twisted his gut a little thinking about how it could’ve ended the same.

“That’s awful,” Sloane said.

“Yes…there was an investigation but ultimately we think he tried to face his fears without anyone else there to judge him. But he didn’t actually know how to swim…” He shook his head. “He must’ve snuck back in after his parents picked him up. We had no idea he was there and my father…H-he was very devastated by it. That’s why he decided to take out the pool and make a soccer field. But really, it was an accident that happened 20 years ago. I don’t think it has anything to do with this.”

“I suppose not,” Hank nodded. “I think that’ll be all for now then.” They stood to head towards the door with Gerald guiding them when he paused. “Actually, one more question. What’s that thing in the frame with him?”

“Oh, that,” he said, smiling sadly. “His favorite place to hide was with us in the tailoring room, actually. I only did my classes during the summer then too, when students needed something to occupy them. A lot of my students liked him, thought of him as a little brother. They made him that as a good luck charm—it’s supposed to look like a wave and the “Ultimate Swimmer” was meant to be encouraging. They found it, floating in the pool with him when…he was found. His parents let us put it in there with him.”

“I see…Thanks for your time,” Nick said. He nodded, closing the door and they started down to their car again.

“What do we think?” Hank asked.

“I never saw him woge,” Sloane sighed. “So either he’s human, or he was prepared.”

“Yeah, he seemed pretty genuine though,” Nick said.

“Could be a great actor. He does have a bit of a dramatic streak,” Hank pointed out.

“Just a bit…But he seemed surprised we brought up David Keeler.”

“Yeah. But I gotta agree, would an accident 20 years ago still mean something now? I mean, Lydia Graham didn’t even know him.”

“I guess not,” he sighed.

“Well, we got two more addresses we might want to check out today. One is Wilk’s Lawyer, Darren Schuler, who we said we’d drop in on today. The other is Mr. Ulric, the guy in charge of Crown and Country for Portland,” Sloane said.

“Who first then?” Nick asked.

“Actually, I was thinking divide and conquer,” Hank said. “You guys take Ulric, I’ll go talk to Schuler.”

Nick frowned at him but Sloane was the one to speak up. “That doesn’t make sense, Hank. If he woges, you won’t be able to tell. Wouldn’t it work better to have a Grimm at each location.”

“Ah…Yeah, I…guess it would,” he said, realizing his matchmaking scheme wasn’t going to work.

“I’ll take the lawyer then. You guys go check out Ulric.”

“…Sounds like a plan,” he said. He texted her the address and they went back to the precinct so she could hop in her car.

Once she was gone, Nick looked at Hank. “Why do you keep trying to do that?”

“Do what?” he asked innocently.

“Put me and Sloane together!”

“Because you two need to confess already,” he said.

Nick blushed at the straightforward answer. “I-you-I told you that I don’t even know if she still likes me! It’s been months, she’s probably over that now!”

“You didn’t notice how she looked when you tilted her chin.” He reached over, not taking his eyes off the road, to tickle under his with a smirk. Nick blushed and smacked his hand and he laughed.

“I’m serious, Hank. I just…I’ve already lost a lot this year. I don’t want to lose more,” he admitted.

Hank sobered a bit and pulled over. “Nick, look at me.” He did and Hank put a hand on his shoulder. “What happened with Juliette…was a mess. I don’t disagree. But like you said, it’s been months. You mourned her, then dealt with her when she came back as Eve, and I know you know you don’t want her back.” Nick nodded a bit because that was true, he really didn’t. Even if she was still Juliette he’d have several reservations about even being in the same room as her. “You grieved, you’re in a better place. I’m not going to judge you for going after what will make you happy. And I think Sloane would be happy with you. After figuring out she’s the one that confessed to you, I see the way she looks at you.”

“What?” Nick asked, surprised.

“Oh yeah. She wants to climb you like a tree I’m pretty sure,” he said, nodding sagely.

“Hank!”

“Just saying, get it while you can. Because if she does move on, I know several guys at the station asking if she’s single. I’ve been running interference for you saying no but she’s private about it.”

Nick was surprised but also not. Sloane was an attractive woman, he guessed he should’ve seen that coming. _I don’t want her to be with someone else…as selfish as that sounds…_ Hank took his hand back to put the car back in drive and let him think about that on the drive over.

They got to the sleek, modern house that Mr. Ulric was living in after fighting traffic for a while. It was swanky to say the least, and very minimalist despite some of the more traditional homes around him in the nicer part of town. Being a developer for a big company paid well it seemed. Going to the door, they knocked and waited but there was no answer. Nick tried again. “Mr. Ulric? We’d like to talk to you. We’re detectives for Portland PD.” There was still no answer. Nick frowned and grasped the door handle and was surprised when it turned and opened the door. He looked at Hank who quickly grabbed his gun and nodded while Nick did the same and entered the apartment.

“Mr. Ulric?” Nick called, Hank close behind him. They could hear music coming from one the back rooms, rather loud in the house, but no answer.

“We’ve had death by scarf and death by shoes…what else could kill someone?” Hank muttered.

“Don’t jinx us…”

Hank turned the corner and blanched. “Oh God…”

“Hank?” Nick came around quickly.

“Wait—” Hank said, but it was too late.

Nick gasped when she saw a man dancing with headphones on in the living room, completely stark _naked_. He was fairly trim, with dark hair and square features and what they could see, which was all of him, spoke to someone that took a lot of care in his appearance. He turned around as he was doing a very poor version of the electric slide and froze when he saw them. He quickly hit pause on his remote but made no move to hide his body. “Who are you? What are you doing in my home?!”

Nick raised a hand instinctively to shield his eyes. “We knocked! I’m Detective Burkhardt, this is Detective Griffin!”

“…Oh! Right, my secretary called and said you wanted to see me that lawyer woman. I completely forgot about that,” he said.

“Obviously,” Nick said.

“Yes. Right now I’d like to see you in pants though—why are you naked, man?!” Hank asked, also trying to shield his eyes.

He laughed and set the remote down. “Ah, a couple of prudes. I’m in my own home, I can be naked if I want!”

“Mr. Ulric, we are here on police business!”

“My point stands, it’s my property. I always go around naked when I’m home alone. It’s completely freeing!” He strutted his stuff and Nick grimaced.

“Well, we don’t have to worry about clothes killing him I guess…” Hank muttered. Both of them were glad they’d spared Sloane this sight.

After a bit more arguing, Mr. Ulric finally agreed to put on a robe. Though it was a blue satiny robe that only came to the man’s knees and he refused to wear anything under it. He sat down on his bed with some fresh brewed coffee and sighed dramatically. “Alright, what is it you want?”

“We want to question you regarding the deaths of Lydia Graham and Rodney Wilks,” Hank said. Nick was looking into his closet, which was filled with expensive, high end clothes despite staying nude in his own home. He didn’t see any sign of the “garish pink paisley coat” Mrs. Wright saw. In fact he seemed to favor shades of gray and blue.

“Nothing to do with me,” he said, shrugging and drinking before pausing. “Wait, Rodney?”

“Rodney Wilks was found dead this morning. At the Regal Recreation Center.”

He looked honestly surprised. “Damn…well, still, nothing to do with me,” he said, taking that drink.

“Gonna need a bit more than that,” Nick said patiently. “Where were you on November 14?”

He rolled his eyes. “I was in court most of the day. We won the case. I came home so I could take off that suit and relax.” He recrossed his legs and both men looked away.

“This isn’t _Basic Instinct_ , sir, please keep your legs closed or put on pants,” Hank said.

“Honestly, you two need to grow up,” he sighed.

“We’re here on a murder investigation, we’d prefer your cooperation!”

“It’s got nothing to do with me! I’m not sure how many more times I need to say that. I’m sorry about the deaths of course, but neither one of them were my friends exactly.”

“Someone mentioned you had an argument with Lydia Graham that day.”

“…No, I don’t remember that,” he said.

“We can always subpoena court security footage. See if it saw you arguing with her,” Nick said.

“…Okay, yes, fine. We argued a little,” he sighed.

“Why? You just won, you said. Usually that would be a cause for celebration.”

He sighed, rubbing the side of his head. “It was before the trial. She wanted to argue her contract. Getting tired of being “the bad guy” I think.”

“That must’ve made you angry?”

“Oh, looking for a motive? Well, I’m not going to kill a someone over that. I was upset considering she was very good at her job, but I had her by contract. Until that ran out in two years, she was still ours unless she wanted to pay for breaching it. And even if she did, we have several other lawyers just as good on retainer so it’s not like we’re losing our golden goose.”

Nick wrote down a note then looked at him. “And Rodney?”

“Why would I want to hurt him? After all, we got a good deal with Rodney—he had some debts to pay off and spent most of what we paid him already I think. Not good with money, that one,” he said with a patronizing smile. “Then again, his brother isn’t much better. Actually had to sell his old house to pay for court costs recently. Downsized.” He laughed. “I mean, for real, he could’ve set up shop anywhere for the money we offered him and instead he has to sell up and still lost. Tragic really.” He didn’t sound sorry as he took a sip from his mug.

“You know a lot about them…”

“Information is half the battle. I get the info, I know where to strike,” he said.

Nick frowned, feeling like that sounded rather sketchy. “Where were you last night?”

He smiled. “For that, I have a concrete alibi. I was at a party downtown—a Thanksgiving Fundraiser. Great publicity.”

 _Hope you covered your giblets for that…_ “Witnesses?”

“Several hundred. I even made a speech.” He stood and walked over, grabbing a pamphlet and bringing it over. “You can confirm with he organizers, I have their numbers in there.”

Nick looked at the notes and nodded, taking photos on his phone. “We’ll do that.”

“If you want anything else, I think I should talk to legal first,” he said. “We’d be getting more into company business I’d gather. I don’t want to get caught with my pants down.” He smirked and they groaned inwardly at the joke.

Hank and Nick stood as well. “Alright. We’ll be in touch.”

“Alright, just call first. Unless you like seeing me naked.”

“We did not. No offense,” Hank said.

“It’s really very freeing. You should try it sometime.”

“I try it in the shower everyday, that’s good enough for me,” Nick said, heading to the door with Hank. “…By the way, your front door was unlocked.”

“Was it? …That’s weird. Then again, I did go out to get the morning paper. And yes I was dressed for that before you ask. I probably just forgot to lock it back up. Now, if you don’t mind…” They walked a bit faster when they saw him reach for the robes belt.

\----------------

Sloane arrived at a humbler house in a nice area near Hazelwood much quicker than Nick and Hank arrived at Ulric’s mini mansion. She had no idea what her partners would have to deal with and walked up to the door to knock. Darren Schuler opened the door and smiled. “Hello, you’re one of the detectives from yesterday.”

“I am. Detective Sloane Larson,” she said, flashing her badge on the inside of her leather jacket—which she’d finally found in her box of things—but tried to look harmless. “Is now a good time to talk to you regarding a case?”

“…Since it’s one of mine and my client is still alive, I’m afraid I’ve got attorney-client privilege…”

“It regards that case, but it’s really more to do with Lydia Graham and how well you knew her.”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully but sighed and stepped aside from the door. “Fair enough. C’mon in,” he sighed. She stepped in and looked around. It reminded her a little of Monroe’s house—lots of antiques and such strewn about in decoration. “I don’t know much, I was surprised to hear Lydia was found dead the other day.”

“She was murdered,” Sloane said.

“I’d heard that too, but I wasn’t sure it was just a rumor…” He shook his head. “Lydia was a bit hard to get along with but she didn’t deserve that…”

“Can you think of anyone that would want to kill her?”

He smiled wryly. “I mean…you want a list? When I say hard to get along with, I was trying to be tactful. She was a ballbuster in the court room. And some thought she’d do _anything_ to win. No one can confirm but there’s been some private accusations of forging evidence and coaching witnesses...”

“And that would obviously cause a lot of friction,” she nodded.

“To say the least.” He sat down on his couch and motioned for her to take a seat in the chair across from him. “…While I can’t talk too much about personal information, I know Gerald called her and left some threatening messages.”

Sloane nodded. “We found those messages.”

“Yeah…But I don’t think he’d actually kill her. He’s always been dramatic but can’t even squish spiders,” he laughed.

“You know him well? I got that feeling yesterday too.”

He shrugged. “I grew up in Hazelwood. My mother did her best but we didn’t have a lot growing up. I took Gerald’s class when I was younger to learn how to make my clothes go a bit further. Tailoring, patching, hemming, all that. I was pretty good if I say so myself,” he smiled. “I still do it time to time and I kept in contact with Gerald. He was a big supporter when it came to me getting into law school. When he told me what was happening, I wanted to help so I offered to represent him pro-bono. He refused and wanted to pay me so we worked something out. He’s prideful too, I give him that…I don’t know if we got a leg to stand on anymore to be honest.”

“He seemed intent to keep fighting in those messages.”

“The optimism of thinking you’d lost a battle but could still win the war,” he said wryly. “I think he realized it was over yesterday. He’s already packing things up.”

Sloane nodded a little. “Did you know his brother?”

“Rodney? Not well…he’d come by sometimes when I was younger in the class. Kind of pushed Gerald’s buttons, made fun of us. Never seemed like he did much…I wasn’t surprised he sold his part of the center. Why?”

“He was found dead this morning.”

His eyes widened and he paled. “H…he what?”

“He was found dead at the Regal. We’re investigating, but it was due to a fall from the second story inside.”

He looked shocked, leaning back. Sloane watched him but he didn’t woge. He did look genuinely shaken though. “That…that’s awful…Is Gerald okay?”

“He’s distraught, but he’s not hurt. He says it happened after he left last night.”

He shook his head. “Man…He wasn’t my favorite guy, but that’s awful. Was it an accident?”

“We’re not sure. We’re looking into some strange circumstances regarding the scene.”

He frowned more. “I’m not sure I can help much…I hadn’t really even talked to Rodney for a decade.”

“I mainly wanted to check,” Sloane said, writing that down.

“It’s kind of scary knowing two people I’ve known might’ve been murdered. Strangling and falling…It’s tragic.”

“It is,” she agreed. “Gerald mentioned you two heard Lydia and her client, Mr. Ulric, arguing about something?”

“Ah…yes, but I’m not sure what about,” he said. “I heard “contract”, but that can mean a lot of things in our line of work.”

“I see…Would you mind if I looked in your closet?”

“My closet?” he asked, mystified.

“Yes. I could get a warrant of course…”

He shrugged and stood. “I don’t mind. Follow me.” She stood and did so, heading to the bedrooms. There were only two it seemed, the house not huge. She looked in the master, pawing through the various suits and casual clothes but nothing moved and there was no sign of a pink paisley coat.

“Can I check the other?”

“It’s my office, but sure.” He led her over to the other room that had a desk, bookshelf, some posters of old mystery dramas on the wall as well as his law degree. She opened the closet, which was one of the two foot deep lined against the wall kind, to see it was mostly filing cabinets on one side, and surprisingly craft supplies on the other. Sewing machines, bins of material and the like.

“Like I said, I keep up with what I learned. It’s a nice distraction to fix up some of my clothes and not have to pay hundreds for them.”

“…Do you knit?”

“Knit? I’ve tried,” he chuckled. “That wasn’t one of my successes. What are you looking for?”

“One of Lydia Graham’s neighbors saw someone outside her door around the time of the murder and noted something interesting.”

“Oh?” he asked curiously.

“We have a description of what he was wearing.”

He waited and then chuckled again. “Not going to tell me, huh?”

“The detective posters make me a bit leery of giving you too much information.”

He laughed then. “I have a weakness for mysteries, I admit. Mysterious women too.”

“…That the best you got?” she asked.

He laughed again. “Oh, ouch. How about “What movies do you like”?”

“I’m not here to socialize, Mr. Schuler, I’m trying to find a murderer.”

“You’d probably like these movies then.” He gestured around. “A lot have to do with that. This one is one of my favorites.” He pointed to a poster where a hand painted took up nearly the entire frame, a red letter _M_ in the center. In German it read _Ein Fritz Lang Film der Nero_.

“M?”

“It’s a mystery drama about a man killing children. The Berlin Police are hunting him, and then even the criminals hunt him because what he’s done is so vile. And Fritz Lang is a great director.”

“…Interesting,” she said, quirking a brow.

“I’ve got it if you want to watch it. It’s from the 1930s, it’s not graphic of course.”

“No,” she said again.

“I meant I could loan it to you.”

“Again, no thank you,” she said more firmly. _I’m in the middle of a murder case, why would I want to watch one about child murder?_

“Suit yourself.”

“…Actually, I’m curious. Did you know David Keeler?”

He paused a bit but then nodded slowly, looking a little morose. “I did…He was actually also my neighbor. I used to help watch him when his parents had to go out. He was like a little brother to me…I was seventeen when he died…”

“I’m sorry. We saw his photo at the rec center.”

“Ah…yeah. The minimal memorial…”

She frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, just…never seemed like much to me,” he said, looking chagrinned. “I mean, I figured the least they could do was call that soccer field they made after him or something…But then I’m sure they did what they could. Sorry, it’s my one bit of bitterness. After all, it was an accident.”

“Right…Well, I think that’s all for now,” she said, closing the door. They headed back to the front door. She paused and checked a hall closet just to be sure, only to see cleaning supplies.

“Thorough,” he smiled.

“I have to be.” She pulled out one of her cards and handed it to him at the front door. “If you think of anything else, give me a call.”

“Thank you…” He stood as well, walking her to the door. “…Say, Detective Larson…do you like sushi?”

Sloane looked back at him and arched her brow. “Yes?”

“I got a free meal from Kura, the sushi bar downtown, as a thanks for helping a friend with his case. Would you be interested in going?”

Sloane blinked but then smiled. “I can’t do that, Mr. Schuler—”

“Darren, please,” he smiled.

“ _Mr. Schuler._ You’re a bit too close to the case I’m working, it’d be a bit suspect.”

“Then maybe when you solve it? It doesn’t expire. It’s a revolving sushi bar, lots of variety. The whole meal is free…” he said enticingly.

“…We’ll see,” she said.

Darren smiled. “I’ll remember to check in then.”

Sloane smiled and headed to her car. When she got back to the station, she was surprised to see Hank and Nick there already. “Hey, you guys finish up with Ulric?”

“Yeah,” Hank said, grimacing.

“You chose the right one to interview,” Nick said, looking haunted.

“That bad?”

“Was your guy naked when you met him?”

Her eyebrows went up. “Uh, no…yours was?”

“His door was unlocked and we were worried he was dead. Ended up he was just dancing around naked.”

“He’s a nudist,” Hank explained.

Sloane gaped and then had to sit down as she started laughing so hard. “Oh my God!”

“Oh yeah, laugh it up. I needed to wash my eyes out when we got back,” Hank said.

“D…did you at least get some answers?” she gasped out.

“A few. To be honest, I’m not sure how much I trust him though,” Nick said.

“Yeah, he’s a slimy corporate stooge type…but I’m not thinking a nudist is our handyman.”

“Handwerksburschen,” Sloane and Nick said at the same time. Hank chuckled.

“Here’s the notes I have,” Nick said, handing them to Sloane. “Did you find out anything?”

“Not much. Mr. Schuler is an old student of Gerald Wilks. Offered to do the case pro-bono, but Gerald insisted on paying something. Oh, he did say Lydia Graham had been accused of doing anything to win, including tampering with evidence and witnesses. No evidence though.”

Nick and Hank looked at one another and frowned. “Huh…Mr. Ulric said she was looking to get out of her contract. Not be the “bad guy” anymore.”

“So, was it true? Or would she actually even do that if she was willing to go that far?” Nick supposed.

“Guess we can ask around and see if she told anyone else she was having second thoughts,” Sloane said. “He didn’t know Rodney was dead till I told him, was surprised. Didn’t seem like much else to ask about so I left.” She chuckled. “Oh, and he asked me out.”

Nick and Hank looked up in surprise and Hank glanced at Nick. “He did?”

“Yeah. Said he had a voucher for all you can eat sushi. Won’t lie, that was tempting…”

“…That’s not appropriate,” Nick said.

Sloane quirked her brow at the disapproving tone. “I know, I turned him down. I’m just saying, all you can eat sushi was hard to say no to.”

“The sushi was? Not the guy?” Hank asked.

Sloane blinked. “What, Darren Schuler?” She frowned, glancing at Nick and away. Then shrugged. “Eh.”

“Eh?”

“What? He’s not bad looking but I just met the guy. And he didn’t make as much of an impression on me as say finding him dancing in the buff.” She smiled teasingly at their shudders. “He offered to loan me a movie, then he offered me sushi. Bit too friendly for me. He didn’t woge though and I didn’t find anything that matched Mrs. Reynold’s description of what the man in the hall was wearing. What about Ulric?”

“No coat, and no woging, but he doesn’t seem like the type to get phased by this. Also Gerald never did, so I’m tempted to rule him out.”

“Unless him being dramatic means he’s a great actor,” Hank pointed out.

“Possible…I’m going to go make copies of your notes and mine so we can look them over, be right back,” Sloane said, taking Nick’s notebook towards the copier.

While she was walking away Hank leaned in. “I told you, you need to talk to her soon. Before someone else gets to her.”

Nick frowned and whispered back. “Stop making it seem so simple! Besides, you heard her, she doesn’t like him.”

“Maybe not him, but what about the next guy.” He nodded to where Sloane was, one of the other officers chatting with her. He was definitely leaning in too much and the body language was a bit too friendly. Sloane leaned back, not trying to encourage him. “Heck, if she didn’t feel like a sister to me, I’d throw my hat in the ring and make this a love triangle.”

“Please don’t,” Nick said, grimacing at the thought. “I will…talk to her, I just don’t know how to start the “do you still love me” conversation…”

“Maybe not sounding like your scared she’s having an affair first of all…Also, careful about that green-eyed monster. I don’t think she’ll find jealousy a turn on.”

“I wasn’t jealous!” Hank quirked a brow and Nick blushed. “Shut up…”

They both tensed when Wu leaned down between them. “What are we whispering about?”

“Nothing!” Nick said quickly. Hank rolled his eyes.

“Okay…well, I went through that security footage and found something.” He gestured for Sloane to get back over and she quickly moved up came and leaned over next to Nick, making him a little more tense. Wu pressed play and they watched from the time marker near midnight as Rodney walked in and started tipping over the photographs. They could hear a faint crashing every time—the microphone was not the greatest quality. He did stop right at David Keeler’s photo and seemed to linger before going off down the hall.

“I’m not a psychologist but I feel like smashing up pictures of your family must be a sign of some kind of resentment,” Hank said.

“That’s not the only thing we found though,” Wu said. He switched players and brought up another view of the back entrance of the building. It was only a few minutes past midnight when a man in a garish coat came through the door. A green hat was pulled low on his head and he carried a pair of shoes in his hand. Faintly as he went down the hall, they heard the whistle of _Hall of the Mountain King_ , slow and melodic enough to give them the shivers.

“Things just keep getting creepier…”

\---------------------

Adalind was cooking dinner when there was a knock at the door. She was currently chopping onions and sighed as she blotted her eyes. “Kelly? Could go you get that?”

“Sure.” Kelly stood from sitting with Diana and went to check the door. “What’s the password?”

“Uh…It’s Rosalee?”

“I’ll accept that,” she said, opening the door.

Rosalee smiled, walking in. “Hey, sorry for the late drop off.”

“No problem. Adalind’s in the kitchen.”

She nodded, heading that way. “Adalind? I brought those spices you asked for.”

“Oh, great! I was just about to finish the sauce.”

“Smells great already,” She said, setting a box down. “Spaghetti?”

“Yep. My great-grandmother was Italian, this is her recipe. I haven’t tried to make it in years.”

“Is it magical?”

“Ha, not that kind of magical, no,” she chuckled. “Something my grandmother taught me before she died: Never cook in the same pot you brew.”

“There’s a metaphor there somewhere,” Rosalee said. “Any special occasion?”

“Uh…kind of? Meisner got me an interview with a really good, wesen friendly law-firm.”

“Oh, that is good!” She said, smiling brightly. “Excited to get back to work?”

“Well, I have to get past the interview first,” she said. A little worry was creeping into her voice. “It’s been a couple of years since I even looked at a contract…”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Rosalee said.

“I hope so, I spent a lot to renew my credentials a couple of months ago…I’m still worried about Diana too.”

“Well, I’ll be happy to help watch her if Kelly needs a break,” she smiled.

Adalind quirked a brow and smiled. “Practicing?”

Rosalee blushed and then laughed a little wanly. “Oh, well…I mean someday, yes, but not soon I think. There’s so much going on.”

“Hey, I didn’t intend on becoming a mom when I did. Wouldn’t trade it though.” She picked up a small jar of nutmeg and sprinkled a little over the onions as she started sauteing them, to bring out some extra sweetness and nutty flavor. “…If you do help watching her, well…you should know I didn’t give her the suppressant.”

Rosalee’s eyes widened and she looked over to where Diana and Kelly were playing together. “You didn’t?”

“I couldn’t. You saw what it did to me, I couldn’t do that to a baby. _My_ baby,” she sighed.

“…I understand, I think. But I really didn’t know. She’s been well-behaved when I come over.”

“She’s thrown her share of tantrums, trust me,” she said. “But yeah…she’s so smart. Like superhumanly smart, for a toddler. One minute she seems to understand complex instructions like “Don’t use magic here,” the next she’s amazed she has earlobes…”

Rosalee laughed a bit. “Well, my offer still stands. And I think you’ll do great at your interview. If you need help reviewing…well, I’m not fluent in legalese, but I’m willing to help.” Adalind was stirring the pot of tomato sauce, back to Rosalee, but she heard her sniffle a bit. “Adalind?”

“Sorry, just…onions, you know,” she said.

“…Just the onions?” she asked, unsure and a little worried.

She sniffed again and sighed. “…Okay, so…I know a lot has changed the last few years. But even before then, I didn’t have a lot of _close_ friends. A lot of Hexe are taught not to get too close to people because they’ll end up hurting you and that just leads down a lot of bad roads. And I mean, I went down those roads, obviously,” she said, laughing a little self-deprecatingly. “And like…after what I did to Nick, I really didn’t expect any of you to forgive me or help me. So it’s…a little overwhelming to think…I mean…Are we friends?” she asked uncertainly.

Rosalee smiled and walked over to give Adalind a one-armed hug around the shoulders. “Yes, we are.”

She smiled. “Thank you, then…”

“No problem. You know, you and Sloane should have a heart to heart sometime. I think you’d have a lot in common.”

“Well, she’s a bit less trusting of me. I don’t blame her, considering I slept with and cursed her boyfriend…” she finished under her breath.

“…Boyfriend?” Rosalee asked, unsure. “Nick’s not…I mean, he was with Juliette at the time.”

“Well, at the time yeah, but I figured they were together now,” she said, quirking her brow.

“No…I mean, they’re living together sure, but you’re here, so they’re just kind of making do.”

“…If you say so,” she said. “I’m pretty sure one or both of them want something more.”

Rosalee frowned thoughtfully, thinking that over. _Did I miss something?_

\------------------

When they got home from work, they were greeted by a faint sound of pounding coming from behind the secret door. Sloane looked at Nick and he looked back with an equally dubious expression. Going over, he grabbed the flashlight he kept nearby now and opened the door, looking down. The shoes had managed to get out of the sack, but they were acting strange. Like toys running low on batteries, careening around and hitting the metal door on occasion.

“That’s…weird. They’re acting drunk.”

“Drunk?” Sloane asked, arching her brow.

“Best way I can describe it.” He handed the flashlight to her and she leaned over to watch.

“…You know, that’s accurate.” She leaned back, looking thoughtful. “Maybe they have a range they have to be in for the guy that made them? Or a time limit?”

“Possible…I guess we’ll see if they power down eventually.” He closed the door. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

They ended up making frozen pizzas and watching the news for a bit. They saw another TV spot for Renard supporting Andrew Dixon for mayor. “He’s really pulling for this guy,” Sloane said.

“He seems okay. I think that pretty red head is the one getting him to do a lot.”

“Pretty red head?” Sloane asked, arching her brow.

“Yeah. You didn’t notice her in Renard’s office?”

“…Guess I’m not into redheads,” she muttered, frowning a little. She couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.

“You got a little red in your hair,” he said.

She blinked. “I do?”

“Yeah, when the light hits it.” He blushed, realizing he was talking about how the light would hit her dark hair. _Is that too obvious?_

Sloane blushed a little but smiled too. “Aside from the white streak.”

“I could call it silver if that makes it better?”

“…A little,” she said.

“Maybe you’d prefer steel?” he teased.

She laughed. “Am I that gritty? Let’s stick with silver.” She finished her pizza and sighed. “…So…I’ve been thinking about looking at where to move to.”

Nick froze mid-bite and looked at her. “Move to?”

“Well…I mean, I can’t impose on you forever,” she said.

“You’re not. Imposing, I mean,” he said, setting his plate down.

“Nick, we both nearly died of embarrassment when you found my underwear in with your laundry last week…” she said, trying to smile. It was funny, but still a little embarrassing when he’d been folding the laundry on the couch and he suddenly held up a lacy black triangle of cloth. He’d froze for a moment and she’d looked up and snatched them quickly while they both spluttered.

Nick blushed again. “S-so we get another hamper…”

Sloane frowned. “Nick, I have to move out sometime…”

“…It’s too soon though, right? I mean you only just got the curse lifted two weeks ago.” _I don’t want you to move out. Say that. Or wait, would that weird her out? We’re not even dating and I want her to live with me indefinitely?_

“But I think we’re both going to be wishing for a little…space eventually,” she said. She looked down. “I mean…That Audrey lady thought we were together. You’re…handsome, so you get a lot of attention. You’re not exactly going to be able to bring any dates home with me here—I mean you could, I’m not saying I’d have a problem with it,” she said, though her voice did sound strained to him. “But it’s gonna cause some friction, I’m betting…It’d be easier without me here cramping your style.”

“Who says I’m bringing dates home? Or that you’re cramping my style?” Nick asked, frowning in confusion.

“I mean eventually,” Sloane sighed. “You’re not going to stay single forever and I don’t want to be the one to get in your way.”

“…That’s true, I do want to find someone…” he said. “Um…What about you though?”

“What about me?” she asked, confused.

“Do you…I mean, that guy asked you out. You definitely get attention. Do you want to date?” he asked, trying to keep calm. He was testing the waters to see if this was the right time to finally say it.

Sloane frowned more. “Are you and Hank trying to set me up with Schuler or something?”

“What? No! I just mean in general,” he said quickly.

She shrugged helplessly. “I…wanting to, sure, but I don’t have a lot luck in that department…”

“Well, neither do I…” he said, smiling wryly.

“Yeah…we both have exes that tried to kill is, what does that say about us?” she asked, trying to be funny.

“I think it says we deserve to find someone that makes us happy…” he said honestly.

Sloane looked reflective and unsure. She agreed, but there were a lot of factors. Their lives were so complicated and dangerous… _I want to say I’d be the one to understand best, but I don’t want him thinking I’m getting crazy and attached…can’t ruin this again._ “That would be great…but isn’t that going to be hard when we’re living together?”

Nick frowned and was about to say more when his phone rang. He glared and picked it up. “Burkhardt.”

“D-Detective Burkhardt, please help!” an older voice said over the phone.

“Who is this?” he asked, on alert.

“I-It’s Carol Wright!”

“Mrs. Wright? What is it?”

“The man is back! I saw him!”

Nick felt a chill go down his back. “Where?”

“In the building! I was coming back from playing cards with my friends and he was there at the end of the hall! I saw his coat and he’s whistling that damn song! I just barely got in my apartment and he’s out there now!” She squealed and Nick could faintly hear pounding on the door. The pounding echoed from behind the hidden door and Sloane looked at it and then at him.

“We’ll be there soon, I’ll have any available police over there ASAP!”

“Please hurry!” she sobbed.

Nick hanged up and called in for police to get over to the apartment building while Sloane got her boots and jacket back on. She called Hank while he got his on and they rushed to Nick’s car to drive over.

Meanwhile, Wu and Franco rushed over to the apartments and rushed to the elevators, surprising several tenants. When they got the sixth floor, they moved swiftly down to Mrs. Wright’s. The apartments were so large and widely spaced that if a tenant was home, they didn’t seem to have come out to check what was happening. Wu noted right away that the door was kicked open and drew his gun along with Franco. He moved in, the gun raised. A man in a garish coat was straddling the prone Mrs. Wright—who was struggling and trying to cry out.

“Police, get your hands up!” Franco shouted.

The man paused and then slowly raised his hand—they were gloved but one was mussed with blood and held a bloodied silver needled between his fingers. Franco and Wu both felt a shiver up their back but moved for him—only for him to suddenly grab Mrs. Wright and haul her up as a shield. Their jaws dropped when they saw that the old woman’s lips were half sewn shut.

“Help me…” she managed, sobbing.

“Let her go,” Wu ordered. The man said nothing, hiding behind her. Reaching into a pocket, he drew out a large pair of scissors—tailor’s sheers—and held them to her neck. She squealed and sobbed, still unable to move with the scarf around her wrist. They didn’t notice the belt snake back up to where it was meant to be on his waist. “Let her go, now!”

He moved slowly around the room, never letting them get a clean shot at him. Once he was half-way around he pushed her into them, forcing them to grab her as he rushed for the door.

Frank helped Mrs. Wright to sit as she sobbed and tried to keep her from clawing at her lips and doing more damage. Wu got on his walkie as he rushed out to try and follow him. “All units, be advised suspect is on the run! Secure entrances and exits!” He watched him get to the stair well and duck inside. When Wu went to look however, he was gone as though he’d evaporated into air. He looked up as the Elevator dinged again and saw the EMTs were there. “Apartment 604!” He ordered, and they nodded and rushed in while he turned to look back into the stairwell, cursing when he still couldn’t see any sign of him. He turned to head back to secure the scene, figuring that they’d have the place surrounded anyway.

It was only a few minutes Sloane and Nick had arrived. Rushing past the tenants again, they got to the elevators to go to the sixth floor. Exiting, they saw Wu standing in front of the stair door. “Wu!”

He looked at them and sighed in relief. “Guys…glad you got here.” He rushed up to them as they looked into the apartment. They could see Mrs. Wright was on her couch from the entryway, crying and shaking while an EMT was looking her over. She looked worse for wear but she was alive. “We got here as soon as we could,” Wu said. He spoke more quietly. “She says the scarf came under her door and unlocked it for him. She ran for the bedroom but it tripped her and tied up her legs, and then a belt actually tied up her arms. Then he came over and…”

“And what?” Nick asked, worried.

“…He tried to sew her mouth shut.”

Their eyes widened and the looked over to see a red blotch on the older woman’s face, the EMT carefully removing a thick bit of red thread to treat her. “What the hell?” Sloane muttered, disturbed.

“No idea what he was going to do after that,” Wu sighed. “He used her as a shield then managed to get away. I ran to the stairwell but didn’t see him and the EMTs came up through the only elevator. I put other officers at the exits and on the stairwell at the ground floor but they haven’t seen him.”

“He’s probably hiding somewhere till he can get away,” Nick said.

“Let’s go check,” Sloane said. He nodded and they went to the stairwell. It was an echoing tower of stairs, any sound magnified by the close quarters as it bounced off the rails and walls.

“I don’t hear him,” Nick said after a moment of concentration.

“I’m going to check a floor down, maybe he ducked in there before Wu saw him.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Wait for Hank, he should be here soon!” Sloane said, and he had to marvel at how silently she still managed to move down the stairwell to the next door below. Nick frowned but sighed and opened his door up, waiting for Hank.

Sloane peaked out into the next floor’s hall first before moving through the door. Nothing stood out to her. It seemed pretty quiet; all the apartments closed. She could faintly hear televisions going when she opened up her hearing. A dog moving around in one. A couple getting romantic in another. Nothing to be suspicious of till she moved past one alcove and heard a breath. Just one, but it was too close to be in a room. Her eyes flicked to the darkness there and she frowned, unable to see anything. Reaching out a hand, she inched it into the apparently empty divot in the wall—and touched a living thing that shouldn’t be there.

The moment her hand touched it a pink paisley coat rippled into view—but before she could look up and see the one who wore it’s face he rushed her and pushed her away. She shouted when her back hit the wall across from the alcove but then growled and gave chase as he started running for the stairwell again. She was right behind him, bursting through the door on his heels. He was trying to go down and she vaulted over the railing and jumped across to get ahead of him. Skidding to a stop, he quickly turned and headed up again. “Nick! I found him! He’s coming your way!”

Nick opened the door quickly, drawing his gun. The Paisley Man ran past him though, to the next flight of stairs. The apartments were only six stories high, so the next door was to the roof. Nick and Sloane both followed through the door.

“Freeze! Portland PD!”

The figure paused and turned slightly. The two detectives frowned though—they couldn’t seem to make out their face with the green hat, scarf and coat. It was almost like his features kept shifting—bigger, smaller, rippling like a reflection in a pool of water pelted by rain.

“He can go invisible,” Sloane said.

“…What?” he asked, unsure if he heard her right.

“It’s probably one of his accessories. That coat maybe. I didn’t see him till I heard him breathing.”

“Great…” Louder, he called to the man. “We’re not just Detectives. We’re Grimms!” He straightened more, eyeing both of them even more cautiously. “Turn yourself in and this doesn’t have go any further.” He hesitated a moment before running towards the side of the building. Nick and Sloane were shocked a moment before running after him. “Stop!”

He threw out his hand before getting to the edge, his scarf flying out to give him a step up—and then launching him like a catapult. It gave him enough momentum to land on the roof of the next building. Then it seemed to fly on the wind, flattening itself and riding the air over to his waiting hand.

Nick cursed and slid to a stop, but Sloan kept going. “Sloane!”

She didn’t hear him, focused entirely on Paisley Man. She felt her legs burning, her body tightening like a stretched rubber band. Her eyes were burning too and she recognized it from before when they would go black with her iris burning white. Like when she faced Juliette that last time. Like when she was drugged by Dierdre. But her mind was still with her. And her body felt as strong as when she was a beast. She got her foot on the ledge and jumped and just like before, she made it to the other roof. Though this time she rolled at the end to save her human knees from impact. When she rolled to her feet, Paisley Man was backing away in shock. Sloane took the opportunity to rush him, trying to uppercut him. She didn’t expect the scarf to grab her arm and pull her away. He made a run for the door to the building while Sloane kept the scarf from going for her neck. “Get back here!”

Nick meanwhile was staring in shock. He turned when he heard someone behind him to see Hank running up. “Hey! You found the guy?”

“Yeah, but he got to the next roof! Used that cursed scarf…”

“Shit! Where’s Sloane?”

“Also on the next roof…she jumped.”

Hank rushed over and looked across to see her struggling with the scarf now. “How the—Oh hell, we better get over there!”

Nick cursed and ran for the door since he didn’t think he’d be able to make that jump.

Sloane wished she had her knife again as the scarf kept moving like a snake over her body, constricting and pulling her. She tried to get to the door but it would wrap around her legs and pull her back. When it tried to pull her near the waist high ledge again, she dug her fingers between the fingers and tries to rip them apart. The scarf tried to tighten even further but she put her strength into it and ripped the fibers apart.

She couldn’t see him, but the man in the paisley coat gasped and staggered as it was pulled apart. He moved into the shadows and his form rippled as he disappeared into them despite the bright colors, just as Hank and Nick rushed into the stair well and moved for the roof entrance. Sloane was tearing the scarf to shreds and huffed when she threw the pieces down.

“Sloane! You okay?” Hank asked.

“No! He got away!” she snarled. “And this thing pissed me off more!”

“But are you hurt?”

She panted, catching her breath and shook her head. “No…”

“Even though you jumped from one roof to another?”

Sloane paused and looked at him. “…I did…”

“Seems like you still got some spring powered legs,” Hank said.

“Yeah…I still look human, right?” she asked worriedly.

“You look fine,” Nick said reassuringly. “We’d better get out of here though.”

“Right…” She sighed and moved to grab the scraps of knitted cloth. When she touched them though, they crumbled away into dust. “…Shit,” she muttered.

“Keeps getting weirder,” Hank said.

“I’m more concerned we’re out evidence now,” she said.”

“It’s okay. You’re alive, Mrs. Wright is alive. We’ll get this guy,” Nick said.

“Hopefully sooner rather than later…he’s going nuts. Trying to sew her mouth shut? Why?”

“Maybe he found out she knew what he looks like. Trying to keep her from telling us,” Hank said, walking down with them. They didn’t notice their perp in the shadows watching them leave.

\--------------------

“You jumped across the roofs again?” Monroe asked, jaw dropping.

“Yeah. Without being an animal.”

“That’s cool!”

“You’re not wrong, but I’m still a little worried…”

“It’s pretty normal,” Adalind said. They’d asked her to meet with them at the spice shop to see if she knew anything the day after chasing their perp on the roof. “Curses, especially the extreme ones, can have lasting effects. Wesen abilities too.”

“Like what happened to Nick after the Cracher Mortal, the PTZD,” Rosalee nodded.

“Exactly.”

“…I can still do that,” he said.

“What?” they all asked.

“Not easily or on purpose, but I can slip into that…mode sometimes. It feels like it anyway. Cold and like my heart slows down… But I keep control of my mind now.”

“Oh, good,” Monroe sighed. “I mean if you can control that Hulked out part of you, that could be handy too.”

“Your senses stayed sharp after the Jinnamuru Xunte too,” Rosalee pointed out. “Maybe Grimms are highly adaptive…what if you keep parts that would be the handiest after being “cured” of a curse.” She gestured at Nick. “Heightened senses and reflexes.” She moved her hand to Sloane. “Heightened physical ability.”

“That’d be great, aside from the getting cursed part,” Nick said blandly.

Sloane looked pensive. “…You might be right. Because I think I kept something from when Dierdre fed me that curse too.”

“You what?” Nick asked, alert quickly.

“I did it when Juliette threatened all of you. And then again when she confronted me at the hospital. It’s like I could see her and all of you woged without you woging…”

“Oh, that’d be…terrifying,” Monroe said.

“But handy,” Adalind nodded. “I mean, you could look at your suspects to find your perp. Does it hurt?”

She tried to remember. “My brain feels like someone’s wringing it out like a rag…And my nose bleeds.”

“Okay, then no, don’t do that,” Nick said.

“I can handle pain—”

“If your nose is bleeding, that’s a sign something is wrong,” Nick said firmly. “You could be having an aneurism for all we know.”

“He’s right,” Rosalee said, looking concerned. “If we don’t know what it’s doing to your brain, it’d be better to not use it. Aspirin might not fix that.”

She sighed and held up her hands. “Okay, okay, I get it…”

“You are free to take up parkour though I think,” Monroe said with a smile.

Sloane’s eyebrows ticked up and she smiled. “Oh…that’ll be fun.”

“Oh God,” Nick sighed, feeling like he might need that aspirin.

“Any luck on the Handwerksburschen?” Rosalee asked.

“Not really. We’ve got a couple of suspects but neither of them woged. Considering Gerald’s brother was killed too, we think it’s something to do with the rec center. But if we’re wrong, it could be a lot of others Lydia Graham crossed…”

“We managed to get copies of the legal documents regarding the case sent over, but they wrote them in like…code,” Sloane said.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just legal jargon,” Nick said with an amused smile.

“Legal Jargon? Well…you know, we know a lawyer,” Rosalee said, smiling at Adalind.

Both Grimms looked at her. “That’s right…Adalind, could you help?” Nick asked.

“Uh…well, I mean, I’m reviewing for my interview soon,” she said, pulling a book out of her satchel. “I’m rusty…”

“This would be good practice,” Rosalee said.

“Yeah, you said you were a contract lawyer, right? It’s a lot of contracts.”

“…Alright,” she said, nodding slowly. “I’ll see what I can find if you bring them over to the house.”

“Will do!” Sloane said, saluting. Nick rolled his eyes with a smile and put her hand down. She pouted at him but then smiled when he smiled at her.

Rosalee watched them, her eyebrows ticking up. _Oh…oh, wow…_ She glanced at Adalind who smiled knowingly. She smiled a bit as well. _How did I miss that?_

“Oh, actually…we might also need to contact Meisner,” Sloane realized.

“Why?”

“One of Juliette’s friends is poking around accusing Nick of killing her.”

“What?” They all ask.

Nick sighed. “She’s just worried…”

“Nick, you should be worried too. If she starts spreading that around it could get bad,” Monroe said.

“It’s already bad. We caught her trying to break into the loft yesterday.”

“Break in? That’s definitely bad!” Adalind said.

“Well what do I do? Ask “Eve” to talk to her? That’s going to just get worse,” he said. Sloane rolled her eyes and Nick frowned but then felt his phone buzz. Pulling it out, he looked at it and saw Hank sent him a text from work.

_We have a big problem_

There was a link underneath and she recognized it was to a Facebook page. Clicking it, he went pale. “…Never mind. It already is worse.”

“What do you mean?”

He turned his phone around and showed the Facebook page titled _Detective Nick Burkhardt: Murderer?_

Their jaws all dropped and Sloane leaned in to look. “What the hell?!”

“She started a group to outright accuse me of murder,” he said.

“Oh my God,” Rosalee said, looking at it as well.

“This is going a little far!” Monroe said next to her. Nick was looking through, wincing when he saw photos of him and Juliette together while describing their relationship and her “ _mysterious behavior and disappearance.”_

“What do I do?” he asked, imagining this getting to a news station or elsewhere.

Sloane sighed and took her phone back, dialing a number. “I’ll get someone to take care of that page, but we need to do something to get Audrey off your back.”

“And keep her from going to the press too,” Adalind said. “Screenshot that and show Sean.”

“The Captain?” Nick asked, looking hesitant.

“He’s got friends at most of the newspapers. It’s how he keeps coverage on some of what you do to a minimum when it could be bad,” she explained. Nick hesitated and she sighed. “I get you don’t want to be indebted to him, but it’s your best option to avoid an all-out smear job that has everyone thinking you’ve gotten away with a murder. One you didn’t commit.”

“Thank you for that addendum,” he muttered. She gave him a flat look and he sighed and nodded.

Sloane meanwhile was on the phone waiting for it to be picked up. “This is Jacob Sauer.”

“Jacob? It’s Sloane.”

“Hey! What’s up, not time for our usual catch up. Not turning into a furry again, are you?”

“No, and stop calling it that,” she sighed. “I need a favor. Well, Nick needs a favor. If I send you Facebook address, can you like…make it disappear?”

“Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem,” he said.

“All traces?”

“All traces that aren’t like saved pictures on an unconnected device, yeah. Why?”

“You’ll see when you get it…”

“Sounds bad,” he said. “Hey, uh…Have you heard from Mel?”

Sloane frowned. “No…why?”

“Just, I haven’t heard from her in a while. She’s still a little hesitant about both our lifestyles, but she usually checks in with me now and then…”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Sloane said, though she was worried as well thinking about that. “I mean, we didn’t contact each other for years. I’m sure she’s just busy.”

“Hopefully you’re right…Send me that link and I’ll get on that.”

“Okay. I owe you one, J,” she said.

“You owe me like three, but who’s counting. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

Sloane chuckled and hanged up. She knew she could count on Jacob.

They knew they could count on Renard too, but his unamused face was still a bit worrying. “Why didn’t any of you tell me this sooner?”

“We just found out about the webpage,” Hank said.

“You said she was already harassing you though.”

Nick sighed and rubbed over his temples. “It’s…recent, as far as I know. She’s just been getting more and more worked up. Which isn’t unusual for her, but I thought Audrey would be more reasonable if I just didn’t feed her need to know everything…”

“This is typical for her?”

“She’s what my mom would politely call a “busy body”,” Hank said dryly. “I met her a couple of years ago and she tried to learn everything about me in one night and fix my marriage problems. Didn’t work, as you may have noticed.”

“Usually she gets bored after a while. Apparently her loyalty to Juliette is a lot deeper than that though, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised she’s not backing down.”

“Hm. Well, I put the word out for no news outlets in the city to take her seriously. But I can’t account for everything—she might get to someone eventually. Could we get “Eve” to just…tell her to stop?”

Nick frowned. “I think seeing Eve would make things worse. How do we explain _that_.”

He sighed. “Fair point…We need to figure out something though. I’ll think on it and we can meet later to make a plan before you end up on an episode of one of those true crime shows.”

“…Thank you, sir,” Nick said a little begrudgingly.

Renard nodded and sat down. “Any updates on the case after last night?”

“Not yet, no,” Nick said. “With the scarf just turning to dust we’re out a murder weapon and a lead…”

“I still have a pulse though,” Sloane pointed out.

“That is more important,” he nodded.

“We’re taking all the files we could find at Graham’s apartment over to Adalind and she’s looking through them for us,” Hank said.

He nodded. “Good. Try to make some headway by the end of the day though. Go over your notes, talk to your suspects—whatever you have to do.”

“Do you worry more bodies will pile up?” Sloane asked.

“Yes. But also someone at the DA’s office went to school with Lydia and personally asked about the case. So I’d like to show them we have it handled.”

“We’ll try and get something by the end of the day,” Hank said.

He nodded. “Alright. Get to it then.”

They headed out the door, almost running into a very attractive woman with red hair as she was heading for Renard’s office. “Oh! Excuse me, sorry!” she said.

“Our fault,” Hank said. “Hey…you’re that lady working with Andrew Dixon, right?”

She smiled. “Rachel Wood. Media relations.” She shook their hands. Sloane shook hers but eyed her slightly and had to begrudgingly admit she was very pretty.

“What brings you back by the station?” Nick asked.

“Your captain’s commercial was a big hit. I’m here to try and convince him to do some other spots.” She tilted her head. “Three…are you Larson, Burkhardt and Griffin?” she pointed at them but in the completely wrong order.

“Burkhardt,” Nick said raising his hand.

“Larson.”

“Griffin.”

“Got it,” she smiled. “I heard about you three. You have great success records. Don’t suppose you would like to do a spot for Andrew Dixon?”

“Uh, no thanks,” Sloane said. “I don’t like being filmed.”

“I’d have to know more about the man. Haven’t gotten the time to sit down and look at the issues,” Hank said.

“Same. On both accounts,” Nick nodded. He was also not sure he should be showing his face too much until this mess with Audrey was figured out.

She pouted a bit then smiled. “You sure? You all have faces for television. Especially you, Detective Burkhardt. I’d been curious about you from what your Captain’s told me…”

Nick blushed a bit on reflex as she leaned in and leaned back. “Uh…thank you?”

Sloane frowned a little, as did Hank who nudged his partner slightly. “We’re a bit busy right now.”

Nick blushed more. “Right, yes. Gotta get back to work.”

“Maybe later?”

“Uh, no…sorry,” he added, trying to be polite.

“Pity,” she pouted. She took out her card and rather unsubtly put it in his front pants pocket. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Nick was a bit shocked by the brazen move and watched her head to Renard’s office. Sloane just glowered after her, especially when she saw her getting suspiciously cozy with Renard as well. “She’s _friendly._ ”

Nick noticed the tone and quickly but gently ushered her towards their desks. “I think that’s how people in that business are…”

She snorted. “Another reason not to deal with them.”

Nick didn’t disagree exactly but he was curious why Renard would tell her about them. He didn’t voice his concern though because as they walked up to their desks he was distracted by a small but pretty bouquet of flowers on Sloane’s desk. “…where’d those come from?”

“No idea,” Sloane said, looking just as confused.

“Oh, a courier brought them,” Wu said. “Hanukkah gift?”

“Not the time yet and generally not the kind of thing I expect.” She picked up the small vase to look them over. It was a small blue vase with a silver ribbon, with roses, pink daisies, delphinium, bells of Ireland, and thistles. It was pretty if a little overkill for her tastes. At the front she found a card tied to the ribbon with the bow. “ ‘ _Detective Larson, hope these brighten your day, my offer is still open any time you’re ready. For the dinner and the movie. Sincerely, Darren_.’ …Okay…”

Nick frowned. “Why is he sending you flowers?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, he liked me I guess.”

“Why?”

Sloane blinked and then looked at him with a hint of hurt and annoyance. “Why would he like me?”

He flushed and quickly waved his hand. “I-what-no, that came out wrong. I meant why does _he_ like you this much, no other suspect ever sent you flowers.”

She sighed and set them down. “I don’t know, okay? I mean, you got me flowers. Why did you do that?”

“…to cheer you up,” he said honestly. She smiled a little bit but he was quickly continuing to talk. “But he doesn’t know you that well. And it’s inappropriate considering we’re working a homicide he might be involved in.”

“Or it could be Gerald or anyone else for all we know,” she pointed out. “Also, I don’t think it’s more inappropriate than someone sticking their card directly into your pants.”

“I didn’t ask her to!”

“I didn’t ask him to either!”

“Okay, before you two get to feuding, just calm down,” Hank said, holding up his hands. “Nick’s right though, we don’t know if he is or isn’t our chief suspect still.”

“I didn’t see anything that related to the scarf or shoes at his house, I’m not sure it’s worth continuing to investigate him,” she said, sitting down.

“Is it you or the flowers saying that?” Nick asked.

She glared. “You want to question my professionalism? Mine? Really?”

“Yeah, Nick. _Really?_ ” Hank asked, gritting his teeth.

“I’m not questioning that! I just don’t think we’ve done due diligence when it comes to him. Something’s off here.”

“Because he sent me flowers?”

“Yes-no!”

“Sloane! Nick!” Hank said, putting hands on their shoulders. “Calm down, okay? People are staring.” Sloane flushed a bit and so did Nick when they remembered they were at the precinct. “He’s just concerned.”

Sloane frowned and booted up her computer. “Whatever…”

Hank frowned as well and looked at Nick who just sighed. He didn’t need the stare from Hank to know he’d put his foot in his mouth.

After getting the files checked out, they went to drop them by Adalind’s place. She frowned when she saw the four boxes. “I’m sorry, you want me to get through this _today_?”

“We’re just covering our bases,” Nick sighed. He lifted the box in his arms. “This is the main one, it’s got to do with the rec center. If you can figure anything out from that we can maybe narrow the rest down.”

“Okay…” She took it and then had them set the others down near the couch. “I’ll see what I can find. Oh, and I called Meisner about what’s happening with that old friend of Juliette’s.”

“Did he have an idea what to do?”

“Not immediately…He’s going to “Thanks, we appreciate it,” Hank said.

“Let’s just say you all owe me a night off and a nice dinner.”

“Deal!” Nick said. They headed out as she started going through the files. “Where to next?”

“I’m still liking Gerald for this. He’s the one with the tailoring experience” Hank said.

“Schuler’s his student though,” Sloane said.

“Let’s go ask Gerald some more questions then. Schuler probably won’t be fare behind,” Nick nodded.

\----------------

Audrey Zhao walked up to the old paint factory slowly. She’d been hesitant to go back after her last confrontation, but the fact that the Facebook page she’d made was mysteriously now gone and she couldn’t reupload it had pushed her to come back. She looked in the windows again and saw both cars were gone. Breaking a window was going to be too telling so she was trying to find another way in. Going to the garage door, she pulled at it and grunted to find it was locked. Huffing, she went around again. The side door was metal and even with the small crowbar she brought hard to open. There were bars on most of the windows. It felt like a fortress, and that only made her suspicions grow. “What the hell are you hiding?”

Going to the other side, she saw the fire escape leading up to one window that wasn’t barred. Biting her lip, she hesitated but finally made her way up quickly. No one was inside the loft itself either she could see. Taking a breath, she jammed the flat end of the crowbar between he channel and the window sill. She winced at a little splintered wood but hoped it would take Nick a long time to notice. She wanted to look for evidence and get out without being caught. Jamming it again, she managed to get it into the small opening. Then with a grunt she pushed hard until it jerked up, the lock broken.

Breathing out, she stepped inside quickly. It wasn’t terrible really—he’d fixed it up. What used to be the offices for the paint factory was now a decent little apartment. Looking around, she noted there were actually two bedrooms and both were being slept in. _…Okay, maybe that other woman isn’t sleeping with him. But that doesn’t mean he’s in the clear!_ Looking around though, she could find nothing suspect. There was no evidence he’d done anything nefarious—just standard home goods and the like.

When she found his laptop she was sure there would be something on it. But she didn’t know, because it was password protected. Nothing she tried opened it either—then she gasped when the webcam came on and took her picture after her fourth failed attempt. “Shit!” she quickly closed it and got up to pace. “C’mon, you have to have something here that says what you did with her…” _Unless he really didn’t do anything…I could take the laptop and find someone to get it open. But I’m already breaking and entering, do I add theft to that? It’s for Juliette! But…if I’m wrong…_

She groaned, wondering if she really had let her imagination run away with her. As she was pacing though, she heard a faint knocking sound. She paused, looking around as it happened again. It was rhythmic—the beat from a song she thought. … _The Hall of the Mountain King?_ She looked around. She walked the room, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. She pressed her ear to the wall, following it around till she heard it just behind it. “What the hell…?” She frowned and started pulling at the panel, thinking it might slide. Instead her hand pushed through and she gasped as the panel opened.

“Oh my God…I knew you were hiding something!” She heard the tapping again and stuck her head through to look down. “Juliette?!” There wasn’t an answer, just more echoing taps. She frowned and squinted in the dark. She couldn’t see anything. Grabbing her phone out of her pocket, she turned on the flashlight and tried to look around. “Juliette? It’s me, Audrey! Can you hear me?” It was quiet and she sighed and put her phone back in her pocket. Swinging her leg over, she started descending the ladder down into the echoing tunnel below. “I’m here to help!” She got to the bottom and pulled her phone out again. “Juliette?” She frowned at the empty tunnel. She heard footsteps, but when she shined the light no one was down there. Then she trailed the light down to see a pair of men’s shoes with no feet stumbling towards her. She felt her blood cold and backed up. “W…what…?” They ran towards her and she screamed.

\------------------

“I don’t know anything!” Gerald said.

“He really doesn’t,” Darren said. Gerald had called him in when they arrived and refused to talk until he arrived. Nick was resisting glaring at him.

“The person likely responsible for these murders assaulted Mrs. Wright. Tried to sew her mouth shut,” Hank said.

“Oh good Lord,” Gerald said, shuddering and looking nauseous.

“That is awful,” Darren agreed. “But Gerald was home last night.”

“And you?” Nick asked.

“Me? Uh, I was at home too,” he said.

“Can anyone verify that? For either of you?”

“I was alone.”

“So was I,” Darren nodded. “So yes, we don’t have witnesses.”

“What about Jensen Ulric?” Gerald asked. “He’s still my prime suspect!”

“He has an alibi for Lydia Graham’s murder,” Nick sighed. “Fundraiser with hundreds of guests.”

“And for Rodney?”

“No motive for one thing. He sold his share after all,” Sloane said.

“…Oh God…what if it was me he wanted to kill?” Gerald said.

Hank arched his brow and looked at his partners. They’d considered that, given that Gerald wore the same shoe size. “Why would he try to kill you?”

“Because I wouldn’t sell!”

“But he won the case,” Nick pointed out. “Why would he have to kill you if he won?”

“I…don’t know,” he sighed, seeing their point.

“Is there anything special that would happen if you died? A will or anything?”

“…No,” he said, shaking his head. “I never got married or had children…not of my own, anyway.” He looked at Darren. “Just my students…”

Darren smiled and patted his shoulder. “He’s always done his best by us.”

Gerald smiled but it seemed a little strained to Nick. He frowned, looking between the two of them and wondering what they weren’t saying behind those vaguely curtained words. Before he could ask his phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket. He’d hoped it was Adalind, but to his confusion instead it was an alert from his computer. He frowned and opened it and jumped to his feet when he saw it’d snapped a photo of Audrey, inside his home, trying to get on his computer. “I…have to go.”

“Nick?” Sloane asked, confused. She and Hank held up a waiting hand to their suspects and followed him. “What’s going on?”

He sighed and showed them the picture. “I have my computer set to take and email a photo of anyone trying to log on to my laptop unsuccessfully and text it to me…”

“Oh shit,” Hank muttered. “She broke into your place?!”

“Apparently. I’m going to go see if I can catch her in the act and this time I’m pressing charges.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Sloane nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

“No…No, you two keep working the case,” he sighed. “I feel like we’re close to something. But a Grimm staying here would be best.”

Sloane and Hank glanced at one another but then nodded. “Okay, if you’re sure…You take the car, we can call Wu to come grab us.”

“Okay. Thanks,” he nodded, then quickly left. Hank and Sloane went back to where Gerald and Darren were, and saw them quickly break apart as if arguing.

Sloane quirked her brow. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Gerald said. “Did Detective Burkhardt need to leave?”

“Yeah, on a personal matter. Now, where were we?”

He sighed and threw up his hands in frustration. “Really! I don’t think I can contribute anything to this! And I’m feeling more worried now that maybe I’m going to be killed!”

“Gerry, calm down,” Darren said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s easy for you to say! Maybe it’s you—”

“Gerald,” he warned.

Sloane and Hank frowned. “What does he mean by that?”

Gerald swallowed and shook his head. “I…It’s nothing…sorry, I got worked up a bit there…”

Darren sighed and looked at them. “Do you have anything to formally charge him?”

“Not as of yet…”

“Then why don’t we call it for today. Until you have something more concrete.”

They sighed and stood. “If you insist…”

“I do. I’ll show you to the door.” He walked them there, opening it for them. But he tapped Sloane slightly on the shoulder. “Oh, but, uh…Miss Larson? Did you get my flowers?”

Sloane sighed slightly. “It’s Detective Larson. And yes, but I’m afraid no matter how nice they are, that is not something you should be doing.”

He smiled, not seeming to mind her glare. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Not sure a judge would see it that way, you sending flowers to the detective on a case where your client is a suspect,” Hank said dryly.

“Point taken,” he sighed, holding up his hands. “I’ll stop.”

“Good. We’ll be back later.”

“I’ll be sure Gerald calls me again then.”

Sloane frowned slightly as they were walking away. “I can’t get a read on that guy,” she said as Hank took out his phone to call them a ride.

“He is kind of odd,” Hank nodded.

“Not just that…he’s not stupid, why is he sending me flowers and being like this?”

“Maybe you’re just irresistible,” Hank said teasingly.

She snorted. “Yeah, to everyone I don’t want…”

Hank quirked his brow and sighed a bit. _Why are two top notch detectives so **dumb**_ _sometimes?_ “Do you want to go after Nick?”

“No, I think he can handle Audrey on his own. Let’s go back over what we have, maybe we missed something,” she said, heading for the car.

Hank sighed again. _So, so dumb…_

_\--------------------------_

Nick stopped in his garage on the way up and grabbed the phone from Hadrian’s Wall he had in his car. He dialed the number while leaning against the car.

“Nick?” Meisner questioned.

“Hey. Um…I’ve got a problem and I need your…or maybe Eve’s help.”

“…Is Sloane alright?”

“She’s fine. It’s actually another issue. An old friend of Juliette’s is starting to cause trouble, saying that I killed her.”

“Ah…that is very…Inconvenient?”

“That’s one word for it,” He sighed. “I don’t exactly know how to convince her I didn’t. So if you or Eve have some ideas…”

“Let me talk to her. I would also like you and Sloane to come to our base soon. We have some other things to discuss.”

“Like what?” he asked suspiciously, heading for the elevator.

“I’m afraid Black Claw isn’t done yet,” he sighed. “We’ve been trying to find their other founder, but he is even harder to pin down than the others. Always working from the shadows and what not. But I believe he may be scheming again. We want to be sure we are all prepared.”

He sighed and closed the gate, heading up. “When do you want us?”

“Give us a few days. Trubel is currently in the field. When she returns, I’d like to meet with _all_ of you. Including your other friends.”

“Do we have to bring them in?” He asked hesitantly. “I don’t want to put them in more danger.”

“This may concern them as well, Nick. They have already stood out against Black Claw. I don’t think they will be able to just retreat.”

“…Okay. Let us know when.”

“I will. And I will see what Eve would like to do regarding this…former friend.”

“Thanks. I’m just about to see what damage she’s done—she broke into my home.”

“…Well, is she looking for a job? To get a drop on you is quite impressive,” he said dryly.

“Ha ha…shit,” he said, opening the elevator to see that while most things were fine, the door to the tunnel was open.

“Nick?”

“I gotta call you back!” he hanged up and raced over, looking down. “Audrey? Audrey, are you there?!”

“N-Nick?” she sobbed echoing up to him.

He sighed and quickly grabbed the flashlight he kept in the table drawer nearby, climbing over and starting down. “I’m here, Audrey, I’m coming.”

“Nick, watch out!”

He got to the bottom to hear rushing footsteps and see the shoes coming towards him. He quickly jumped back up, grabbing the rungs of the ladder before they kicked at him. Growling, looked down the tunnel to see her huddled up near the door. “Audrey, are you okay?”

She moved a little and he grimaced when he saw she was bruised and had a bloody lip. “Th-these things kicked me! They tried to get on my feet!” She screamed when they started coming for her again.

Nick jumped back down and took off his jacket rushing over to throw it over them. They struggled, but he got them under him and quickly knotted the jacket up. Audrey sobbed, shaking. “It’s okay,” he said comfortingly. “It’s okay, I’ve got them. Can you climb out of here?”

She nodded and quickly went to the ladder. Nick went with her and when she was halfway up he tossed the shoes out of his jacket. The rolled, but then skittered up and tried to get to him before he quickly climbed up again. They kicked and hopped, angry it seemed at being left down there again. But he closed the door quickly and sighed.

Audrey backed away, looking at him and the door in a near breakdown. “What the hell were those things?!”

“It’s…a long story,” Nick sighed.

“What the hell do you mean a long story?! You have living shoes in a-a secret tunnel?!”

“…Kind of?” he winced.

“Kind of? Kind of?! They kicked the crap out of me!” she gestured, winching at a bruise on her cheek. “What kind of freak are you?”

“Well what were you doing down there?” he shot back.

She flinched, realizing she was caught. “I…I heard banging…I thought it might be Juliette.”

Nick stared at her, trying to keep his temper even as it burned inside him like a furnace. “You thought I locked _Juliette_ , down there?”

“What was I supposed to think?”

“That I was telling the truth and Juliette left me and never came back!”

“Why would I believe that?” she hissed.

“Audrey, I—we were friends! Did I ever seem like the type of man that would do that?”

“You didn’t seem the type to have possessed shoes either! What the hell is that? Did those things hurt her? Did something happen to her?”

“I…Yes, but she’s not dead and it was…complicated,” he sighed.

She stared at him, looking close to bolting, a few tears in her eyes. “You keep saying you didn’t do anything to her but where is she?” she said, her voice wavering.

“She’s gone.”

Audrey jumped and turned to look at the elevator at the same time Nick did. Neither had heard it coming up—maybe it had been while they were down in the tunnels—but in it was Eve. She was dressed in black from head to toe and left the wigs off so that her red hair was swept into a bun with a stick-peg holder.

Audrey’s jaw dropped and she turned to her, hopeful but shell-shocked. “Juliette?”

“No,” Eve said, walking forward. “Juliette is gone. I’m Eve.”

“…What? No, you’re…you’re Juliette,” she said, quickly walking to her and hugging her. “I’d know you anywhere!”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are!” she said adamantly. “You’re my best friend, don’t say I don’t know you!” Eve’s face didn’t register any emotion and Audrey frowned more. “What’s wrong with you? Where have you been, I’ve been so worried, Jules—”

Eve reached up and set a hand on the side of her face. While it might’ve seemed tender, the way Audrey’s face slackened and her eyes grew dim was not. “Listen close…eight months ago, Juliette Silverton ran off with another man and has not contacted anyone since. You occasionally see her living it up on social media, but she won’t contact you back and has blocked you. You’re forgetting her face slowly. Nick Burkhardt has done his best to move on in the months since and you don’t have any ill will towards him. In one hour you are going to wake up after having a nasty fall down the stairs at home and won’t remember anything to do with Nick’s home or anything else you’ve seen here today.”

“…Jul…”

She stared at her a moment then sighed and took her hand away. “Goodbye, Audrey.”

Audrey’s eyes rolled back and she nearly fell but Nick caught her. “I…what did you do?”

“I altered her memory.”

“…You can do that?”

“I can. I did it to a majority of your old friends over the last few months. Did you think all of them just bought the “Juliette ran off and I don’t know where she is” so well?”

“…Why?”

“It’s better for me they forget. I don’t need them recognizing this face, looking for her or making things difficult. That it benefitted you was more of a side effect.”

Nick frowned and hauled Audrey up. “Why didn’t you do it to Audrey before?”

“…Just an oversight,” she said.

He looked at her suspiciously. “Oversight?”

“Yes. Oversight. You should take her to the doctor now. Why is she bruised so much?”

“You don’t think it was me?” he grunted, carrying her to the elevator.

“No…you wouldn’t do that, I’m sure.”

“…We have a case with cursed items. A pair of shoes I have hidden did it.”

“…Still never a dull moment, huh?” she said. There was still no emotion in her voice, not even a dry humor.

“No…what are you doing here anyway?”

“I was nearby, already driving back from downtown where I was trying to pick up intel on Black Claw. I made a detour when Meisner called me. He said you might be in trouble so I came over. Might’ve broken a few traffic laws.”

“…You came to save me?”

“We still need you to stop Black Claw.”

“Right,” he sighed. When they got down to the garage, he put Audrey into his car. “…Thank you. For this.”

“It needed to be done.” She moved to head for the door that led to her car but paused. “Sloane is living with you?”

“Uh…yeah. How did you…?”

“I saw some of her things around.”

“Yeah. She’s still on the case right now.”

She nodded slightly. “I don’t think she’d want to see me around. Perhaps best not to tell her.”

“…I’m not keeping things from her,” he frowned.

“…Do what you want then.” She headed out the door and Nick sighed. It felt a bit like she was testing him, but he had no idea why or if he passed or failed. Audrey groaned slightly and he got into his car to drive Audrey to the doctor’s office.

\----------------

“You let Nick go on his own?” Monroe asked. Hank and Sloane had gone to the shop with their laptops to keep researching in case they had to look up anything weird. They caught Monroe and Rosalee up on what had happened that morning while also pulling up a few previous files.

“I’m not too concerned—Audrey’s not wesen and she hesitated to use a taser. She’s not a hardened killer,” Sloane sighed. “I’m more concerned with the psycho trying to kill people and sew mouths shut.”

“Fair enough…you got pretty close to him though, you sure you didn’t see his face?”

“He’s got a lot of fancy accessories,” Sloane said morosely. “An invisibility coat and a weird hat. I was able to destroy the scarf. But I’m not finding any other possible suspects—most everyone else that hated Lydia Graham have moved on. So it’s gotta be someone close to this rec center. Why else kill Rodney?” Hank hummed in agreement and Sloane arched her brow. Standing, she walked over to see what he was reading. “You’re still looking up David Keeler?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Call it a gut feeling. The fact that his picture was untouched just…strikes me as weird. I mean, we know from CCTV that it was Rodney that tipped them all off. By why not his?”

“I mean…he wasn’t family? He died at the Regal. Maybe he felt bad?” Monroe said.

“Some were just of events at the Regal, no family in them, and he still broke them.” He pulled up another window that had some old pictures of a fair-sized pool with an iron fence around it and a building for changing and showers. “I looked up the old case. Their father said that he was sure he’d locked the fence around the pool—he’d put it up to keep animals out. And it was locked when they went to went to check around 11 before closing and finding Keeler’s body. So he didn’t know how a seven-year-old managed to sneak in.”

“Admittedly, a bit unlikely…” she said, looking over the various photos. She frowned at the one of David’s body. He was so small, wearing blue trunks that looked too big for him.

“He was so young,” Rosalee said sadly.

“Yeah…I think they might’ve said it was an accident too quick though.”

“What do you mean?” Monroe asked, looking at Hank.

“Well, Another weird thing was they found a lot of wet prints around the pool. They couldn’t get a proper shot or reference for them so they assumed David started in the shallows, almost left, and then tried again before being unable to get back to the edge.”

“…You think otherwise?”

He sighed a bit. “…I think someone might’ve been there with him. Look.” He brought up a photo, showing some of the nearby chairs. “There’s four towels on that chair…”

“…Four towels. For one kid?” Sloane asked.

“Yeah…I think someone opened that pool for David. Maybe more than one someone.”

“How’d they miss that?” Monroe asked.

He sighed. “20 years ago…I don’t know. Investigations have changed a lot.”

“But they had eyes,” Sloane said snidely. Hank couldn’t disagree. “Schuler said he was close with David…Like a brother.”

“You don’t believe him?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I mean, he kept flirting, it was…uncomfortable.”

“Flirting?” Rosalee said, looking at her.

“Yeah. He sent her flowers at the precinct,” Hank said.

“Wow, that’s…ballsy,” Monroe said. “I mean, sending the detective on the murder case you and a client are suspects in flowers?”

“He offered me a sushi dinner too,” she said, smiling wryly.

“…Nick probably didn’t like that,” Rosalee said.

Sloane frowned. “No. He called me unprofessional.”

“No he didn’t,” Hank said quickly. “He was talking about Schuler, I’m positive.”

She hummed, sitting down. “Yeah, well. The guy is kind of creepy. Too persistent. Tried to get me to watch an old thriller too—then said he’d just loan it to me. …It was about a child murderer actually,” she said, gears turning.

“That is kind of a weird thing to suggest watching,” Rosalee said. “What was it?”

“Uh, it was called _M_ ,” she said.

“Oh! Actually, that is a really good movie,” Monroe said. “German, 1931, directed by Fritz Lang, starring Peter Lorre, before they emigrated to avoid the Nazis. It actually is more about catching the murderer, played by Peter Lorre. He’s like a compulsive serial killer and the whole city is in an uproar. Then a blind guy realizes it’s him and he writes “M” on his hand in chalk and manages to take him with it, so that the police and the gangsters trying to find him can.”

“…Okay, bit more interesting,” she admitted.

“How does the blind guy know it’s him?” Hank asked curiously.

“Oh, Hans—Peter Lorre’s character—does this really creepy thing—he whistles,” he said, getting into it.

Sloane and Hank’s eyes widened and they turn more towards him. “Whistles?”

“Yeah.”

“Whistles what?” Hank asked.

“Uh…it was _Hall of the Mountain King._ ” Both of them looked at one another before quickly standing to put their jackets on. “Guys?”

“Thank you, Monroe!” Hank said.

“Yes, thank you!” Sloane said, rushing to the door.

He looked at his wife, blinking. “Uh…I guess they figured something out?”

“Yep. I figured something out too,” she smiled. Monroe looked at her curiously but she didn’t elaborate.

They got to Schuler’s house quickly enough and went to knock on the door. They knocked again after a few moments and then looked at one another. “Mr. Schuler?” Sloane called. There was no answer and she sighed and pulled out her phone to call him.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Schuler? It’s Detective Larson. I came over to try and talk to you about something.”

“Oh, sorry, I’m out right now. Some business to take care of.”

“Darren? We’re waiting!” she heard Gerald say.

“I’ve got to go actually—but please call again.” He hanged up and she frowned at it and sighed.

“Not being so eager now?”

“No…I heard Gerald’s voice though,” she said.

“…Shit!” He said, heading for the car. “If he’s killed one brother, what’s stopping him from killing another?”

Sloane quickly followed him, jumping into the car to get to Gerald’s house. It wasn’t far taking a back route, but his car was out of his driveway. “Dammit!”

“I’ll put an APB out,” Hank said, grabbing his phone.

“…Head for the Recreation Center. I feel like that’s where Gerald would be.”

Hank nodded, turning to head out while he called in to the station.

Meanwhile, Nick was just getting Audrey settled at the doctor’s office. She was groggy after getting out of the car and he helped her up to the emergency room. “I found her like this at the bottom of the stairs,” Nick said, helping her into a wheelchair. “She was conscious so I thought I’d just bring her over but she lost it a little on the way.”

“Are you a friend?” a nurse asked, shining a light in her eyes.

“I…we used to be,” he sighed. “I was passing by and saw her at the bottom of the steps near her apartment.”

“Nick?” she said, looking up.

He hesitated, worried a little. “Yeah, it’s me Audrey…”

“I’m sorry…about Juliette,” she said, wincing when the Nurse checked her. “Never told you that. Thanks for getting me here.”

Nick smiled a bit sadly and nodded. “Yeah, no problem…”

His phone went off in his pocket and he pulled it out to see Adalind’s name pop up. “I’m sorry, I’m a police detective and this is for a case…”

“We’ve got it from here,” the nurse nodded. Nick nodded and quickly answered and headed for the door as he answered the phone.

“Adalind?”

“Hey, I finally found something. Luckily my speed reading was still fine. I’ve found a contract in her stuff that’s a bit surprising to say the least.”

“How so?”

“Well, about 10 years ago, Gerald Wilks _and_ Rodney Wilks both signed half their shares to another party. Making them own a quarter each and this other party own half.”

Nick was surprised. “Wait…so…why hadn’t that come up in purchasing the property?”

“Well, Rodney didn’t disclose it I think to get more money out of Crown and Country—half is worth more than a quarter after all.”

“True…but what about Gerald? I mean, it would’ve come out in the inquest?”

“Not with Darren Schuler as his lawyer. Because he’s the one that now owns half of The Regal.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “He…what?”

“Yep. Lydia was looking into it, she knew something was up. She has a bunch of notes on it. She even found some money being sent to Darren even still…She’s got notes saying she thinks it’s blackmail.”

“Blackmail? Wait…Gerald said he heard Lydia and her employer arguing about a contract…”

“Probably this. It would put a serious wrench in Crown and Country’s plans for sure, because they’d have to redo a lot of work and renegotiate, but it was something she could definitely hold over Darren Schuler’s head.”

“But why didn’t Darren say anything earlier? When they propositioned Rodney?”

“Again, probably the blackmail thing. If he came forward it would create a lot of questions. But this file was hidden at the bottom of the box so I’m betting it’s got something to do with this.”

“Okay…that’s great, Adalind, thanks. I’ll let you know what happens.” He hanged up and then quickly dialed another number.

“Crown and Country, Portland office,” a woman answered.

“This is Detective Nick Burkhardt, I need to speak with Jensen Ulric. It’s urgent.”

“I’m sorry, Detective Burkhardt, but Mr. Ulric has gone to meet with someone.”

“Who?”

“Um, I’m not sure, it was rather impromptu. I think it was with the lawyer regarding the recreation center.”

Nick felt his heart lurch. “Where?”

“Um, I’m not sure—I-I think maybe the center itself?”

Nick hanged up and quickly ran to the car while dialing Hank’s number.

Hank got the call waiting while he was calling in the APB. They’d already arrived at the rec center and Sloane got out to look around. “I see Gerald’s car. I think that’s Darren’s too. I don’t know the Lexus…”

“Cancel that, I think we found them,” Hank said. He hanged up and looked at the car. “That’s Ulric’s…” They looked at one another and started up to the door while Hank looked at his phone. “I got a call from Nick, hold on.”

“Not sure waiting is in our best interest,” Sloane said, reaching up to try the door. “Door’s open.”

“Sloane,” Hank sighed as he called Nick back.

“Hank! Where are you?”

“We’re at the Regal Recreation Center. Trying to track down Schuler, found Gerald and Ulric here too—”

“Okay, wait for me! Adalind found something!”

They both jumped when they heard a scream coming from inside.

“We can’t wait!” Sloane rushed in, Hank rushing after her. Nick cursed on the other end and threw his phone onto the seat, driving even faster.

Sloane and Hank ran inside, sprinting to where they heard another scream echo down the hall. It was the tailoring room again. “Freeze!” Hank yelled.

Darren paused, looking up from a prone Ulric on the ground. His eyes were wide. “What? I—n-no, this isn’t what it looks like!”

“Get down on the ground!” Sloane ordered.

“I went to the restroom and ran back when I heard him screaming!”

“We said get down—” Hank said, only to shout when a green hat was thrown onto his head, which moved down over his eyes and tightened.

“Hank!” Sloane moved for him only to have to back away when a leather belt cracked at her like a whip. It moved for her and she fired at it with her gun only for it to dodge and then jumped up to wrap around her wrist and then around a nearby heavy table’s leg. The blow made her drop her gun. She tried to get her fingers into it and hissed as it tightened even more.

Hank was pulled back out of the room by the hat tugging his head and the door was slammed behind him. Then Gerald appeared, as if the air around him spat him out, having closed the door after hiding behind it. “Sorry, Detectives. I’m not quite ready yet.”

“You?” Sloane asked.

“Yes. Oh, don’t feel bad. I worked a little harder to throw suspicion onto Darren here.”

“I…what?” Darren asked, looking confused and freaked out.

“Oh, don’t be surprised, Darren,” he said darkly. “Did you really think I’d just keep laying down quietly and rolling over for you?”

“G-Gerald, c’mon…” he said, holding up his hand. “We’ve known each other for years, y-you’re like a father to me—”

“And you’d blackmail your own father?” he said, looking at him with a manic eye.

“Blackmail?” Sloane said. She looked at the door to see Hank jump up with the hat in his hands—and the hat kept trying to go for him like the mouth of a lamprey undulating towards him. She quickly looked back at Gerald. “Blackmail for what?”

“Gerald—” Darren started.

“No. Might as well say,” Gerald sighed. The affable gentleman persona was dropping more and more and he just looked like an angry animal finally getting out of the cage. “I’m thinking you probably guessed already.”

“…David Keeler?”

“Right in one,” he said, clapping his hands with a fake grin. “David…Poor David…”

“Poor David?” Darren said, standing up. “Is that what this was about? It was an accident!”

“Oh don’t start with that!” Gerald yelled. “It wasn’t an accident. It was _your_ fault. Rodney told me the truth when he was black-out drunk months ago.”

“What?” he said.

Gerald took the coat off, setting it over a chair. “We were all going to help David learn to swim. But I thought I’d give him a bit of help. You see, I can imbue my things with a bit of magic. Make them do what I want.”

“Handwerksburschen,” Sloane said, glaring.

Darren looked at her in confusion but Gerald smiled. Then he woged. The sketch she’d remembered from Nick’s book really didn’t do him justice. His skin became a more sallow and sunken, like a wax figure someone tried to mold by hand. His nose was thin but long—something that hadn’t looked right in the face on shot the sketch had been. She’d almost thought it was a bat’s nose but it was more like a an ac head in the middle of his face. He smiled, his teeth all needle sharp, and his eyes thin and beady. Darren screamed and backed away, tripping over Ulric on the ground and falling back against one of the wardrobes. The moment he did, one of the suits Gerald sewed grabbed him and wrapped around him like a straight-jacket, making him scream more.

“Oh do be quiet, Darren,” He said, speaking fine through his new appearance. He walked over and leaned down to Sloane. “You know, I had never actually seen a Grimm before. You were quite a shock for me the other night.” He jumped back when she swung at him. “Oh! So feisty too!”

“Untie me and I’ll show you feisty…”

“Not yet.” He woged back and looked at Darren. “As I was saying…I gave David a charm. We all made it for him. Something to make him swim well. “The Ultimate Swimmer”—stitching that in made it work. And boy did it work! You saw him! He swam like a fish! You saw! Say it!”

“Yes! Yes, I saw, I didn’t know how he did it! B-but I…that piece of cloth we made did that?”

“Yes. Rodney knew it was real too. I got our mother’s gifts, but not him, or our father. He was a jealous little man as well.” He sighed, and stretched his hands. “I can make anything. But I can’t fix stupid, and you got so very _stupid_! So selfish and jealous! And _Rodney._ Rodney told you about the charm when I went inside. You thought it was funny. You took the charm from David when he showed it to you and threw it in the pool and made him try to get it!”

“I…How was I supposed to know it was magic?!” he said, struggling to get out. “He swam fine before! I thought he’d just been acting for attention and then…”

“Yes…and then. And then he was dead and you ran off. You—both of you—let me believe for 20 years that he died because we were negligent! That my hands were dirty. You said you followed us in and then he went back because he forgot something and he must’ve slipped in! And then, _and then you blackmailed me!_ You said if I didn’t pay your way through law school, you would tell the whole world that he died because I’m the one that unlocked the pool! How bad it would look that I let a seven year old swim after dark. And when that wasn’t good enough, you made Rodney and me sign the rec center over to you! I’m sure Rodney didn’t expect you to turn on him too. But you just went ahead and ruined our lives!”

Darren choked as the suit tightened. “I…I’m…sorry…”

“Gerald, stop it!” Sloane said, pulling at the belt.

“No! He was planning to let me go bankrupt, get the rest of my shares of the center and then sell it at a higher price to this leech!” He kicked Ulric, smiling when he gasped and curled up more. “Damn nudist…”

“Please don’t kill me, Gerry,” Darren said, tearing up. “I j-just wanted a better life…”

“You think you deserve it?”

“And Mrs. Wright? Sloane said. “Did she deserve you did to her? Was that even necessary?”

“She saw me. Darren told me what you said. I thought sewing that busy-body’s mouth shut would send a message.”

“And you whistled that little tune to throw suspicion on Darren…”

He smiled. “One of his favorite movies…Ironic, given what he’s done. Maybe he always felt a little guilty. Then he tried to charm you.”

“It didn’t work,” she said.

“No. At least you have sense,” he said. He pulled out a large pair of tailor’s sheers. “Speaking of that movie though...” He waked over, taking the Darren’s hand. “Here’s a little gift for you.” Darren yelled as he took one sharp tip of the sheers and slowly carved an _M_ into his hand. “I know I’m not following the script exactly, but I hope this reminds you that this is your fault.”

“He didn’t force you to kill anyone!” Sloane said.

“But I wouldn’t be here, this desperate, if it wasn’t for him. Him and his _greed._ And you’ll be an unfortunate casualty…But first, the corporate leech.” He turned and started advancing on Ulric who was groaning and trying to come around with the scissors in a stabbing grip.

Sloane glared and then dug her fingers into the belt and pulled. It was harder than the scarf, and her fingers stung with the effort, but she could feel it giving way. Gerald shuddered and gasped, like his heart was being twisted, and rounded on her. “Stop that!” He raised the scissors, intending to strike her.

Moments earlier Nick had gotten to the center and rushed in to find Hank wrestling with the green hat in the hall. It moved like some sort of brain-sucking alien, flapping and trying to get to his head. Nick rushed over, drawing his gun. “Hank! Point it up!”

Hank saw him and did so and Nick aimed and shot twice, hitting the hat both times. It flopped to the floor.

Inside, Gerald gasped and staggered the moment the hat was shot, breathing hard. Sloane felt the belt loosen for just a moment and pulled her arm free quickly. She then stood and kicked Gerald back, making him topple over.

Nick and Hank kicked down the door then and rushed in. Nick rushed over to Sloane and put his hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“My arm’s a bit sore…” she said, rubbing over where the belt had caused bruises.

They heard a gasp and looked over where Gerald was now lying on the on his back with the sheers in his side. The coat on the chair collapsed into dust, as did the belt on the floor as he shuddered and gasped. Darren was released from his suit shackles and collapsed, looking at Gerald with wide-eyed shock. Gerald stared back, shuddering. “I hope you never…know peace again,” he gasped out.

\---------------

They got the medics and the rest of the police over quickly enough. Darren was in shock, muttering about monsters and the like. He screamed when anyone tried to treat his hand. Gerald died fairly quickly, the scissors nicked his liver and he bled out on the shop floor. Practically everything in the room turned to dust then—whatever he made was tied to his own life it seemed. Hurting them hurt him, and when he died they just ceased to exist.

Ulric was confused when he woke up. He thought for sure he’d been dreaming because the suit on the mannequin in the corner punched him and he’d lost consciousness. He’d nearly started stripping at the ambulance before they managed to get him out of there.

Nick also explained what happened with Audrey when they got to the Spice Shop later that evening “Eve on top of the case summary.

“Eve helped you?” Rosalee asked, looking unsure. She was nursing Sloane’s arm, wrapping it up.

“I’m as surprised as you,” he said. “No matter what she says, I think she hesitated erasing Audrey’s memories because she was one of her best friends…Or Juliette’s.”

“…You think she’s still in there somewhere?” Sloane asked.

“…I don’t know,” he sighed. “The only thing I do know is they said Black Claw was working on something new and they’d come get us soon to discuss it.”

“Great,” Monroe sighed. “Well, we keep beating them. I’m sure we can do it one more time at least.”

Nick nodded, but couldn’t shake a worried feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The next day, Sloane walked in and saw the flowers on her desk. Frowning, she picked them up and dumped them in the trash, setting the vase on the counter for anyone who wants it.

“Sorry your new gentleman caller ended up being a blackmailer,” Hank said.

“Among other things…” Nick added.

“Like I said, I wasn’t even interested,” she sighed. “I get the feeling he probably was hoping to get more information out of me rather than actual romance anyway. Also, what kind of guy recommends a murder thriller for a date to someone he barely knows?”

“Yeah, we get enough murder dates as it is,” Hank said.

“Yeah. I think for now I’m just going to say no to love.”

Nick looked up. “You…are?”

“Yeah. Just kind of messes things up anyway,” she sighed, not looking at him.

Hank looked at Nick who was looking a bit disheartened and groaned inwardly. _So, so dumb._

_\---------------------_

**_Map of the Seven Knights & Key Move_ **

**\---------------**

It was maybe a week later when Rosalee called Sloane early in the morning. She’d been sleeping in her own bed again but grunted at the sound and fumbled to get her phone and answer. “Rosalee…it’s my day off…” she mumbled.

“I’m sorry, Sloane, but Monroe and I need you to come over ASAP. Nick too.”

She sat up a little bit. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, exactly, just—Monroe got a call from his uncle in Leipzig last night. He has some _rare books_ you two might be interested in.”

Sloane’s brow rose. “I…really?”

“Really. He sent pictures, and they look real.”

“…I’ll be there in thirty.”

“Okay.”

Sloane hanged up and jumped out of bed, rushing to get her clothes on.

“Sloane? Everything okay?” Nick said, starting to open the door.

“I’m dressing!”

He quickly shut it again, blushing when he caught a flash of her with her pajamas off. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine. Go get dressed, we’re going to Monroe and Rosalee’s!

“Why?”

“They think they have a contact that can get us some Grimm books!”

Nick’s eyes widened and he nearly opened the door again but stopped himself. “Seriously?”

“Seriously! She’s got pictures and everything. This might be our chance to start building our collections, till we can find your trailer.”

“O-okay, I’ll get dressed.” He ran to do so as well, feeling the excitement.

They were at their friend’s house right at that thirty-minute marker. Rosalee answered the door with a bright smile. “Hey. I'm really glad you came right over. This is some amazing stuff.”

They walked in and Monroe smiled and showed them a photo-album. The pictures were from the eighties it looked like, of a man with curly hair and glasses. Most were of him surrounded by antiques and leatherbound books as he examined them. “This is Uncle Felix, the guy who called.”

“He's Blutbader?” Nick asked.

“Yep. More of a Book-bader. Not really a physical guy.”

“What did he send?” Sloane asked, nearly bouncing on her toes.

“That's on the computer. Follow me.” He set the album down and led them to their dining room where his laptop was on the table. “He said he was doing an appraisal. Uncle Felix is called on a lot to, like, appraise old books or book collections. He works for museums and collectors all over Europe, and I got to tell you, these books look really old. Some of these Wesen, I don't think I've ever even heard of them.”

“Me either,” Rosalee nodded.

“He knew what the books were?” Nick asked. Sloane sat down to look at the photos, clicking threw depictions of various wesen. She did recognize some, but she had to admit a few others had her stumped.

“He did,” Monroe sighed. “Look, he's a smart book dealer. He knows the value of these books is obviously gonna be different for a Grimm than it'd be for someone who thinks they're just, you know, fairy tales.”

“How did he get these?” Sloane asked, looking over one illustration of a mantis-like wesen.

“Did your uncle know a Grimm?”

“Not that I know of, but look, having a relationship with a Grimm is not exactly something you want to talk about in public, especially not in the old country.”

“Could it be one…died?” she said delicately.

“Hey, not by his hands if they did. Again, not the most physical of Blutbader. Most exercise he gets is climbing a library ladder.”

“Do you trust him?” Nick asked.

“You mean do I think this stuff is real? Hell yeah, it's real! Uncle Felix wouldn't touch a forgery.”

“Did he say how much he wants?”

“No, I think he wants to find out if you're interested first. Either of you. Look, I'm not trying to pressure you. I'm just saying this stuff looks amazing.”

“Especially after all you lost when your collection was burned,” she said to Sloane.

“And with the trailer MIA.”

“Exactly,” she nodded.

“So if you're interested...”

“I'm interested,” Sloan nodded. “But why does your uncle know about _us_ if it’s a bit taboo?”

Monroe blushed and looked chagrinned. “My…mother may have mentioned you both. Especially since you let her read about great uncle Olaf.”

\-----------------------

Meisner watched Adalind cook for a few moments while Kelly was cleaning Diana for Dinner. “…Are you alright? You seem…distracted.”

She was quiet a moment before sighing. “Today would’ve been my mother’s birthday…”

“Ah…I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not…I still feel a bit conflicted. On the one hand she was my mother and I do have good memories with her. Like learning my first spells and going shopping for my prom and little moments where we felt normal. On the other, she was a ruthless hexenbiest who tried to raise me to be just as cutthroat, was so vain she seduced the son of one of her best friends that I also happened to be in love with at the time, and who kicked me out when I was at my most vulnerable and lost my powers,” she said, chopping harder and harder as she went over the bad.

“…A complicated relationship indeed,” he said, nodding slowly.

“Yeah. Like…I miss her, but I feel like I don’t miss her enough considering she was my mother…”

“Perhaps you have come to accept her death in some ways as well,” he said. “For the first few years after my parents died, I felt awful on important dates like this. Then…eventually I was sad, but it didn’t consume me. I think that’s good.”

“…I didn’t realize both your parents were dead,” she said softly.

He smiled sadly. “Yes. But not of anything so tragic. My mother was ill and my father was much older than her. They had me later in life and…” he shrugged.

“…I remember you mentioned a girlfriend before too.”

“Ah…yes. That one still does hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, kicking herself.

“No, no, it’s good. Not the hurt, but…I have not talked of her in a long time,” he said.

“…What was her name?”

“…Serena. Serena Wagner.” He looked down into his cup and sighed. “I was special forces in Germany. She was a horse trainer. She got hired on at one of the Royal’s stables and one of them, a prince named Wesley, fell for her. It was not hard, she was very charming. Very kind…”

“…I take it he tried to seduce her?”

“Yes. And when that didn’t work…” He took a sip of his tea again and coughed. “He egged me on one day when I came to visit till I took a swing at him. Then he had me arrested, and beaten. He told Serena he would have me killed unless she ‘persuaded’ him to stop.”

“Oh God,” she whispered, her insides curling away at the thought.

“I begged her not to, but she agreed. But he wasn’t satisfied. He wanted more. She resisted…and ultimately, she killed him.”

She blinked and looked at him. “I…she killed him?”

“Yes. She’d hidden her hook knife—a knife for use in trimming horse’s hooves—on her. When he tried to keep her there, force her to do more, she stabbed him.” He stared at the cup. “The Verrat tore her apart. Dumped her body in my cell with me in the dungeon. I screamed and then I broke out and killed them all…took her with me to have her buried properly. Then I found the Laufer and...”

Adalind set the knife down and quickly went over to him. Meisner was surprised when she hugged him. “I’m so…so sorry…”

He was surprised before realizing he’d started crying. He rubbed at his face, sighing softly. “You do not have to apologize…”

“I feel like someone should,” she said.

He was quiet before reaching up and patting her head gently. “Thank you…”

“Meisy?”

He looked up and smiled as Kelly and Diana came down the hall. “Hello princess…”

“Meisy sad?” she asked, her brow puckered in worry.

“A little, yes. But I’m feeling better. Your mother made me feel better.”

Adalind blushed but smiled and patted his back.

\--------------------

That evening, Monroe called Nick with a surprise: His uncle Felix had come to Portland. He was extremely adamant on meeting Nick then and there and had even brought a book with him.

They headed over right away. Monroe opened the door and let both of them in to meet a man that had rounded softly with age, his gray hair receding over his crown and his eyes behind thick bifocals. He tensed when they walked in. “What is this? Why are there two?” he said, his voice deep and his accent thick but still making his words clear.

“Uncle Felix, these are our friends Nick and Sloane,” Monroe said soothingly. “They’re, uh…both Grimm.”

“Both? Two? Two Grimms?!” He grabbed his glasses off, his eyes turning red and he woged into a Blutbad. He bared his fangs, snarling at both of them.

Nick and Sloane both backed away. “Hey! Calm down!” Nick ordered.

“Monroe, you said he wasn’t this kind of Blutbad!” Sloane barked, looking ready to fight him.

“He’s not! Uncle Felix, stop!” Monroe said, getting between them. He held his arms out, keeping them both away from each other as Felix growled and looked ready to attack. “These are my _friends!_ And he is my _uncle!_ ” he added, looking reproachfully at Sloane.

Felix quieted down and then woged back, panting. “I…apologize…”

“…Me too,” Sloane said, easing back. “I thought Alice told you about us?”

“I think something was lost in translation,” he sighed “I thought there was _one_ of you. Not two.”

“Fair enough,” Nick said. “Well, we’re both the Grimms here. So we’d both like to see this book you have.”

He nodded slowly. “It is over here…” He gestured to the coffee table, where an old leather book was open. Sloane and Nick both went to look at it, Nick reaching for it before Felix stopped him. “Ah, but do not touch it with your fingers! It is too old. _Handschuhe_.”

“Huh?” Nick asked.

“Gloves,” Sloane said, taking one pair from Rosalee. They were white cotton, made to handle the old textiles. Monroe gave Nick his and he slipped them on.

“Careful,” Felix said, as they leaned down to look the book over.

Sloane leaned in, examining the leather and the pages and ink. “This does look real…”

“I would not come all this way to trick you,” Felix said.

“You have more?” Nick asked.

“There are 20.”

They all froze and looked up in shock. “20 Grimm books?” Rosalee gasped.

“Ja,” he nodded.

“Where?” Sloane asked, trying to hide her excitement.

“I brought them with me.”

She looked at Nick who nodded. “This definitely belonged to a Grimm…”

“Ja, I believe it did.”

“How did you get it?”

“Did you kill him?” Sloane asked suspiciously.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he said, shaking his head fervently. “No, I... I am not violent, despite what just happened. That was more a defensive feeling…No, these books belonged to Josef Nebojsa. He lived in Prague. He was very old. Uh, he died of natural causes. I was brought in to assess the books by an antiques dealer friend of mine. They were hidden in the attic of the house.”

“Then Josef must have been a Grimm or a relative of one,” Rosalee said.

“I mean, he could have inherited them, had no idea what they were,” Nick said, nodding.

“That’s likely or he would’ve passed them on to a Library if he had no other relatives,” Sloane said.

“However he got them is not important. The fact that they exist is a miracle. I should have destroyed them, probably, but I can't; they're too rare. It would be like destroying the Magna Carta or the original pages of Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales." I've devoted my whole life to the written word. I cannot be the one to erase any of them from the world. I've spent my entire life defending the imagination, the thoughts, and the passions of a writer who would commit these words to the page...” He paused and looked around as everyone stared at him. Monroe was smiling fondly, as was Rosalee, but Nick and Sloane just blinked at him. “I am sorry. I get carried away.”

“S’okay. Honestly, better than a DNA test to know you’re Monroe’s uncle,” Sloane said. Monroe quirked a brow at her. “How much do you want for the books?”

“Well, handling such material is very dangerous. But in spite of the fact that they are priceless, I will let you have them for $100,000.”

Monroe’s smile faded and everyone’s jaw dropped. “$100,000? Are you serious?” Nick said.

“My antiques dealer friend has already been killed! And whoever did it must know that I have these books. Here, you can keep the book I brought,” he said, picking up a small briefcase and his coat. “I will contact you in 24 hours for your decision.”

“Uncle Felix, that's a lot of money,” Monroe said, following him to the door.

“It is the best I can do,” he whispered back. He opened the door and left and walked out.

“There's no way I can pull together $100,000 in 24 hours…” Nick sighed, pacing in frustration.

“But if all the books look like this one...” Rosalee said.

“And what if they're destroyed? Which is what'll happen if they fall into certain Wesen hands,” Monroe said.

“I can do it.”

They all paused and looked down at Sloane as she was looking over the book.

“…Sorry, you can get $100,000 in 24 hours?” Monroe said.

“Yeah. Granted it’s harder with the Library closed, but I can manage it through the banks. Unless he wants cash, that could be a little harder…But I spent more buying the house from Rosalee.”

“…Sloane, how much money do you have?” Rosalee asked.

She blinked then grabbed a nearby notepad and pen, doing some quick math before holding it up to them. “Not including assets like my houses and the land in Wildred…”

“…Damn…” Monroe said.

“Yeah. I kept putting money away while…well, hunting, but it was harder to access. So it just kind of built up. I had like five different accounts.”

“So you think you can do it?”

“Yeah…”

“…What’s wrong?” Rosalee asked.

“Nothing’s wrong, exactly, just…I feel like I know that name. Nebojsa…I think Dierdre mentioned it once…”

“…Well, that should mean they’re real, right?” Nick said.

“Yeah. But I feel like it was important. His name…” She sighed and leaned back on the couch. “I don’t remember why though!”

“Well, maybe we can find something out, while you get the money together,” Rosalee said.

\------------------

Things took a tragic turn the next day.

While Sloane was working to get the money situation handled and Nick caught Hank up to speed, Rosalee studied up on Nebojsa. She traced his name and lineage back to the crusades and the knights templar themselves, and a town near the Black Forest in Germany. It made the books all the more desirable. The tragedy struck however when they were called to a murder scene at a hotel. Sloane left the banks to do their thing so she could join Nick and Hank. Wu said things were weird in how their victim looked like he used his teeth to defend himself—but that was explained when they saw it was actually Felix. He laid dead by the side of the hotel bed; his throat slit. The room was tossed like a huge fight had raged, papers and furniture thrown everywhere.

Nick was the one to call Monroe and break the news. He asked if he was okay to come down and help them and he did, but he still teared up when he saw him lying dead on the floor.

“I can't believe this,” he sobbed, shaking his head and trying to keep from crying. “I guess 24 hours was more time than he had…I'm gonna have to call my mom and...I'm sorry,” he said, shaking his head.

“It's okay,” Nick said.

“I’m sorry, Monroe,” Sloane said sincerely. “It shouldn’t have turned out this way…”

“Yeah,” he sniffed. “So I guess whoever did this got the books too.”

“I'm not so sure,” Nick said. “We talked to the manager. Your uncle didn't have a rental car. He arrived by cab.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with the books?” he asked, frowning in confusion.

“Each one of those books weighs nearly five pounds,” Hank said. “You just don't cart around 100 pounds of books on your back. Your uncle may never have had the books in this room.”

Monroe looked around, nodding slowly. “Well, whoever killed him, he fought back, right?”

“That's right, yeah. Looks like he put up a hell of a fight,” Wu said.

“Yeah! Uncle Felix got a piece of him...Which means the guy is wounded,” he said with dawning realization. “Right? I mean, he didn't walk out of here like he walked in.”

“Oh, he didn't walk out. He went out the window,” Hank said. Monroe looked at the window where he walked to, nodding to the bloodied curtains and showing how he’d ripped the window open. “We'll get some good prints.”

“We got to find this bastard,” Monroe growled.

“I want to know how they knew about the books in the first place and that he was here,” Sloane said. “This doesn’t feel like some kind of rare book turf war or wesen wanting to destroy Grimm books just because. Someone’s targeting these books. Someone with time, money and resources.” The others nodded, knowing that was right.

They paused when they heard a phone ringing. Nick knelt down and looked under the bed, locating an old flip phone. He looked at Monroe who shrugged slightly, unsure. Nick flipped it open and excepted the call. “Hello?”

“Felix? Heir Herman. Ich bin zu deinem Laden gegangen. Da drin ist alles ganz durcheinander. Hat es bei Dir einen Einbruch gegeben, Oder...”

Nick blinked and looked at Sloane and Monroe. Monroe cleared his throat, looking close to crying but managing to keep it together. “Uh, momentan kann Felix leider nicht ans Telefon komm.”

“Ach so. Danke.”

The man on the other end hanged up and Nick looked at him. “What'd he say?”

“He said he went to Felix's shop, and it was, like, trashed like somebody broke in…”

Nick frowned and handed the phone to Wu into a evidence bag. “Find every phone call made and received from this phone in the last 72 hours.”

“Yep!” he said, heading out.

They headed back to the precinct to start trying to dig up more information. The phone was damaged in the fight, so Wu pulled the SIM card for the tech gurus to check while Sloane was quickly typing away.

“Not getting any hits on the prints. I'm gonna check Interpol,” Hank said.

“There were three different blood types in the hotel room,” Nick confirmed.

Monroe, who was sticking close, looked at him. “So there was more than one attacker?”

“At least two,” Nick nodded. “Sloane? What are you working on?”

“Something Felix said bothered me. He said the antiques dealer he was working with was killed in the house the books were,” she said.

“You think it’s the same guys?” Monroe asked.

“I think it’s more than that, unfortunately,” she sighed. She gestured and they all came over. “I managed to find the news story. This was on the wall.”

They all sucked in a breath when they saw the four lined claw mark across the wall of the house. “Dammit…Black Claw,” Nick sighed.

“So this is what they were planning?” Monroe said.

“No, I doubt this is a grand plan,” Sloane said. “But I also think there must be something in that collection someone high in their ranks wants. They could have easily found out your uncle got the books from the dealer and followed him here.”

“You know, I called my uncle at his bookshop, and it was late, but he always works late. And somebody else answered the phone,” Monroe said, remembering the strange phone call.

“You tell them anything?” Hank asked.

“Just my name…Oh, God, you don't think they could find him because I made that phone call,” he gasped, guilt washing over him.

“Don't go there,” Hank said. “They could've gotten a lot of information about your uncle.”

“If their as well connected as they seem, they probably searched his name on flights out or something,” Sloane nodded. “I think he knew that too…I understand why he wanted the money so fast now. He probably figured he had to go into hiding quick.”

“Well, if these guys are Black Claw, maybe HW's got something on them,” Nick said.

“Well, your uncle bloodied them up, so... one or both of them could be needing a little medical help,” Wu suppled.

“All right. Wu and I will check hospitals,” Hank said.

“We’ll contact Meisner,” Sloane nodded, all of them standing up.

\------------

Going to HW, they didn’t meet up with Eve. That was something Sloane was grateful for because she still wasn’t sure what she would do to her. But happily, Trubel had come back. And she was just as excited for the idea of finding the books as they were. They also did indeed know about Josef Nebojsa’s death and the deaths that followed, and had names of the killers: Krisztian Ajandok and Oscar Vasicek. Monroe growled softly seeing their faces on screen from the information Hadrian’s Wall could gather. They managed to figure out they rented a Ford Expedition that had not been returned yet, and therefore they were likely still in the city.

Unfortunately, Hank and Wu were too late to stop the death of two EMTs when they were called by a man with an accent to treat a “dog bite”.

Wu did find out though that the last call Felix received was from a shipping company. He was expecting a shipment to come in that afternoon or evening but couldn’t say more without a shipping number. It was easy to deduce that this shipment must’ve been the books. However, the company was also closed now. They figured Ajandok and Vasicek must be planning to break in to steal the books. They thanked Meisner and headed out as quick as they could. Trubel wanted to join, but Meisner refused to let her put herself at risk over the books. Sloane and Nick were fine with that.

Getting to the shipping company’s warehouse, they found the Expedition parked around back. They also found the security guard dead just inside, his throat ripped out. When they heard a sound from the back, Nick ducked under the bar flap, Sloane jumped over it, and Monroe simply lifted it to step through and set it back into place. But the moment they were in the warehouse, he took off despite their hisses to wait. He found the two men, who’d pulled out a crate and opened it. Inside was a large chest, sturdy with studded straps all over it. Monroe woged and confronted them and the fight began as they woged into Anubis. They moved with practice precision, leaping and running to confuse before one tackled Monroe just as Nick and Sloane caught up. One tackled Nick but Sloane didn’t even have to get him—Monroe had dispatched his assailant and then pulled the other one off Nick, ripping his throat out. For a moment the sight of a Blutbad with bloody teeth made Sloane want to vomit, cry and fight all at once—she could feel her eyes hurting. But she closed them and looked away while Monroe spat blood. _It’s just Monroe…he avenged his uncle. It’s…fine…_

They got the chest out of there and back to the shop as quick as they could and Sloane dialed a number to come stage the area for them so that it’d be like they were never there. Once at the shop, with Rosalee, Hank, Wu, and Trubel joining them, Monroe showed off his lock-picking skills and got the chest open. Inside were the stacks of twenty books and they all breathed a sigh of relief to see them.

“Lets get them out of there,” Nick said.

“Careful,” Sloane nodded, gently started to take them out and set them on the nearby table in the shop’s basement. AS they did it was obvious they didn’t take up the whole space of the chest. Monroe noticed a notch in the bottom—natural looking but showing something was beneath it. He pulled the board out and they all gasped when they saw crossbow bolts beneath it.

“There’s a lot more stuff in here than just books,” Trubel said, smiling like it was Christmas.

They took the rest of the slats out while Nick and Sloane came back over. She gasped when she saw it all—axes, crossbows, a morning star flail attached to a spike club, and several other odds and ends including rare ingredients. “Oh…wow,” she said. She gently picked up the crossbow looking it over. “This is old…but it’s solid,” she said, weighting it in her hands. “A little oil, some minor mending, this thing will fire beautifully.”

“That’s incredible,” Rosalee said.

“Guess you got to start your collection again,” Nick smiled.

“What about you?” she asked, frowning.

“Mine’s still out there. I mean, I’d appreciate borrowing this of course, but I still want my trailer back. You…need these more than I do.”

She smiled, leaning in to hug him. “Thank you…”

He blushed but smiled and Rosalee and Hank smiled as well.

They started looking through everything, taking stock of their find. Monroe sat examining the chest itself. “Something about this lock...It's bigger than it needs to be.”

Rosalee was looking at everything and shaking her head. “I still don't understand why they would kill people for all this. Its only real value is to a Grimm.”

“Black Claw is trying to destroy everything that has to do with Grimms,” Trubel said darkly.

“Hey, wait... Wait a minute. Look at this one. It's not like the others. It's like some kind of... family tree book of ancestry,” Hank said.”

Everyone but Monroe, who was tinkering with the lock, went over to look. “That's not a... a regular family tree. It's only following a few individuals from generation to generation,” Rosalee said, frowning at the names.

“And some of them just dead end,” Trubel added.

“What's the name of the guy your uncle got the books from?” Nick asked.

“Uh, Josef Nebojsa,” Trubel said, remembering before Monroe.

Nick tapped the top of the page. “It's the same last name…Go to the end.” Hank unfolded the page slowly and then nodded when he found _Josef Nebojsa, 1919_ written at the end. “There he is, Josef Nebojsa,” Nick said.

“Oh, my God,” Wu gasped. “They're all Grimms.”

“That's why this is worth killing for,” Rosalee nodded. “Everyone in this book is a Grimm…”

“If they got this, they could find us and kill us a lot easier,” Sloane frowned. “This is way more dangerous than I thought.”

“See if Burkhardt's in there,” Monroe said, taking a small screwdriver to the inside of the lock.

“No, it would be, uh, my mother's maiden name, Kessler,” Nick said.

“Hey, I think I just... saw a Kessler. Here,” Hank said, turning it to a page. A coat of arms was in the corner, a shield divided into four quarters with a sword, crossed arrows, a key and an axe within the squares. He opened the insert, scanning the names. “Was Walter your grandfather?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. He traced the lines down, laughing a little in surprise. “There's Aunt Marie. There's my mom…and some others I don’t know…And there I am.”

“How does he know?” Sloane frowned.

“I don’t know…”

“Maybe I’m in there,” Trubel said, itching with curiosity.

“…Is Galperin in there?”

Hank flipped through slowly and then came to a stop. “Yeah…Here it is. But it says “Heilbrunn” too…”

Sloane frowned and looked at it. The coat of arms showed a shield decorated by a silver inverted crescent moon, framed in ivy leaves and two spears. “I guess it got retranslated…”

“Yours goes back far,” Nick said. “But…not a lot of names.”

“Yeah, that’s how it goes I’m told. And old name but a long and thin bloodline.” She paused and set a finger on _Rebecca Galperin, 1923._ Then followed it down to _Dierdre_ and there _Larson_ was crossed out in favor of _Galperin, 1960._ Then she froze. “…Wh…what the hell?”

“Sloane?” Nick asked, leaning over with her. He followed her gaze and was surprised to see the line from Dierdre came down from a fork from not one but two names. _Egon Ketterling, 1938,_ and _Vernon Averill_ , _1955_ were both written by Dierdre’s name with the line between them and then extending down to _Sloane Galperin-Larson, 1985_. A little question mark was by both of their names.

“Whoa…you…have two dads?” Wu asked, unsure.

“I…don’t even have one! What the hell is this!?” she said, voice climbing.

“Calm down,” Nick said.

“No, I…no,” she took the book, slamming it shut. “What the hell was that woman up to that this magic family tree book doesn’t even know who she’s slept with?!”

“I mean, might imply she slept with both of them.” Hank elbowed Wu.

“It was hard enough to believe she slept with one man, let alone enough for there to be a question in who did it.”

“I’m more wondering why he bothered to write them down,” Rosalee said. “I mean…wouldn’t that mean they’re both Grimm?”

“Ha, well, of course they are. Dierdre’s a pure blood psycho, I’m sure she dragged another Grimm back to her cave for the survival of the species!”

“Okay, uh, new subject…We got ourselves a secret compartment,” Monroe called. He pulled out a tiny wrapped bundle. “It's probably just an extra trunk key…” He undid the twine and rolled the bundle out slowly. His eyes widened and his head snapped up. “Nick! You got to see this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper yet carrying across the room. He stood and came over slowly, holding out his hand.

Nick looked and his own jaw fell open. “Oh, my God, another key,” he gasped, taking the small hunk of metal. Monroe set the bundle down, revealing wo more inside. Nick stared and looked up, not quite believing his eyes. “Three of them…”

“…Nebojsa!” Sloane gasped. “That was who Dierdre contacted in Germany! After she got the key from the royals! I knew I knew that name!”

Nick looked at Rosalee. “Go get the other two keys from upstairs.”

She nodded, rushing up to get them from their hiding place in her work room. Once they had them they started working to stamp them in ink and lay them out on the paper, figuring out who they could make the ones they had create a map.

“Doesn't all fit together,” Trubel frowned.

“No, we're still missing two keys,” Nick sighed. “But maybe we have enough to figure out where it is.”

“Whatever it is,” Sloane added.

“Wait a minute. Look at this,” Monroe said. He’d pulled out an old map of Germany to compare to the keys, figuring that was the safest bet on where it would lead. “These three hills here with the two rivers on either side connecting to the bigger river here, that is an exact match for what the keys are saying. And it's in the Schwarzwald!”

“The Black Forest?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, that’s sort of a big site for Grimm,” Sloane nodded. “Not really sure why, but Dierdre had us go when we were there. Only place she insisted we see…Actually one of our nicer days together…But it’s kind of huge.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, I know these maps aren't as accurate as, like, modern-day topographical maps, but this terrain... is a pretty good match for this terrain, which is outside of Wolfach, which is right here,” he pointed to a map also on his tablet, zooming in slightly to show the matching rivers.

“So we can figure out where they buried whatever it is they buried,” Trubel said.

“Exactly. Well, not exactly, unless you have the classic "X marks the spot”,” Wu said.

“But, dude, we got it! And it's right here in the Black Forest,” Monroe said.

“…We have to figure out where it is,” Nick said. “My mother said that these keys were forged by the knights who fought for the seven royal families in the Fourth Crusade. Our ancestors.”

“Your ancestors,” Sloane said. “Mine would not have fought in the crusades, I promise you that. In fact I think Dierdre mentioned this…Seven Grimms who fought for royal families. Not that kind of royal though.”

“No?” Nick asked, surprised.

“No. She said these families fought against those royals and that “power” they had over wesen. But that family fled before they could get whatever it was. The Grimms stayed on though—being on royal retainer as knights beat most other gigs I’m sure. But from what I know about Templars, they were weird and secretive and probably hid it in a weird secretive way. No offense.”

“None taken,” Nick chuckled.

They started scouring the maps, trying to find anything that might be a marker of some kind. After three hours, and the night getting long, Monroe sighed. “Whatever is not obvious is really not obvious, because I am not seeing anything remotely unapparent.”

“I wish I knew what I was looking for,” Wu translated and agreed with. “Is it a letter, a number, a word?”

“And why couldn't they have just done "X" marks the spot? That's what I would have done. Would have done a big "X" marks the spot,” Trubel said tiredly, sipping at her mostly-water-now soda from dinner. Wu hummed in agreement.

“Maybe we do need the other keys,” Rosalee sighed, looking at one of them.

“Maybe they didn't leave a mark,” Hank said.

“Then what's the point of making a map?” Nick asked.

“To drive whoever has the map crazy,” Wu said dryly.

“No, that’s what _my_ ancestors would’ve done. Or I would anyway—seven different maps instead of seven keys. And then like you gotta line all of them up in the light to see where the real coordinates are, in code,” Sloane said.

They looked at her with arched brows. “I knew you were an evil genius…” Monroe muttered. Sloane just smiled rather proudly. “But, look, they did this so they could go back and find whatever they took from the sack of Constantinople. I mean, you don't just make a map and imprint it on the side of seven keys for fun. It's the Middle Ages. This type of metallurgy took a lot of work…”

“Could the pictures seem pretty clear so I don’t think they got worn with age,” Sloane sighed.

Nick sighed and stood, pacing with the first key Aunt Marie gave him in his hand. “Seven knights who were Grimms make a map, because they thought whatever they stole from Constantinople was worth hiding, so it could be found again…”

“There's three rivers that all converge near Wolfach. Maybe that's the "X",” Hank guessed, looking at the map on Monroe’s tablet.

“But rivers can change their course over time. That would be a moving "X”,” Monroe sighed. Hank huffed as well.

Rosalee stood, wracking her brain. “All right, there were seven Grimms, all knights, fighting in the Fourth Crusade. Fighting for what?”

“The power and the glory of God,” Monroe guessed with a shrug.

“Meh,” Sloane muttered.

“So maybe they buried it in a church,” Trubel said. They all looked at her and she shrugged back. “I'm just saying, if you're fighting for God…”

“Check the churches,” Nick nodded, latching on to the idea.

“Well, I have been for the last three hours,” Monroe said. Nick deflated a little.

Wu looked closer at the map. “Some of these symbols aren't churches…I think they're castles.”

“All churches have steeples,” Rosalee said.

“Not those gaudy mega churches,” Sloane pointed out.

She smiled. “All _old_ churches have steeples.”

“That I will take your word on.”

“How many churches do we have near Wolfach?” Hank asked.

“It’s Germany. A lot,” she said dryly.

Monroe leaned over to count. “All right, on the key map we have one, two, three, four, five... this part of the map is missing. So here on this map…” He flipped to the colored map from his book and looked closely. “…Two more churches.”

“Which makes seven churches!” Wu said.

“But they wouldn't have split it up over seven churches,” Hank said.

“Ah, depends on what it is,” Sloane said, not relishing the idea of making seven stops.

“Wait a minute,” Nick said, looking at the map. “All the churches have steeples except for this one.” He pointed to one near a blank spot in the map and close to another church. “This one has a cross…”

“Mm. I don't think that's a cross. It's too short,” Monroe said.

“I just thought it was on top of the steeple. Like an important church or something,” Sloane said, looking closer.

Nick turned the map a little. “…Looks kind of like an "X."”

“And it's right in Wolfach,” Rosalee said, smiling.

“That's why we couldn't see it!” Wu said, laughing a little. “They hid it in plain sight.”

“Holy ground!” Monroe cried out, throwing down his magnifier onto the table with a triumphant raise of his arms. “A sacred space! It makes perfect sense they would bury it in a church!”

“Church was a safe place for the knights,” Rosalee said excitedly, pumped up as well. All of them perked up, the drudgery leaving as adrenaline took over.

“And they had every reason to believe it would be around for hundreds of years,” Monroe laughed.

“So we found it! I mean, maybe. Maybe we found it,” Rosalee said, trying to calm down.

“Maybe we found approximately where it is. We still don't know what it is,” Nick said, also trying to rationalize a little.

“Holy Grail?” Sloane said.

“Don’t even joke…” he muttered back.

“Maybe it is though! We got to find out. We've come this far. We can't stop now. Five out of the seven keys?” Monroe said. “I'm going with you,” he pointed at Nick, surprising Sloane. “Ich spreche Deutsch, man. You don't. You're gonna need me.”

Sloane bristled a little and took a step in. “Entschuldigung? Ich spreche auch Deutsch, erinnerst du dich? If anyone’s going with him, it’s me.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Nick said, holding up hands. “No one’s coming with me!”

“Okay, yeah, no, that’s not happening,” she said, looking at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Yeah, are you crazy?”

Nick frowned at both of them but Hank was nodding. “They’re right, Nick. You can't do this alone.”

“Safety in numbers,” Rosalee agreed.

“Can I finish please?” he gritted out. “I don’t even know if I’m going soon, we have time to figure this out.”

“Wait, wait, wait, what if Black Claw knows about the keys and knew they were in the trunk?” Trubel said.

Nick shook his head. “Black Claw doesn't know we have the trunk, and the guys they sent to find it are dead.”

“But the trunk did belong to Josef Nebojsa, whose distant relative was a knighted Crusader. And a Grimm. And since it was seven Grimm knights who buried whatever it is they buried...” Monroe said.

“Black Claw could know about it,” Hank said, scowling at the thought.

“Exactly, so we should go sooner than later.”

“Fine, but I’m going,” Sloane said.

Monroe glared. “Oh c’mon!”

“You c’mon! I’m the Grimm here!”

“You made it clear it wasn’t your ancestors doing this.”

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to go! I have more experience sneaking in and out of places, and going into old crypts.”

“…Do we want to know?” Wu asked.

“Probably not, but my point stands! I—”

“I think Monroe and I should go,” Nick said.

Sloane paused and looked at him. Monroe also looked surprised. “…What?” Sloane asked, shocked.

“It makes sense,” he sighed, knowing she was not going to be happy. “One Grimm goes, one Grimm stays.”

“Trubel’s here!” she said, gesturing at her.

“But we don’t know if she’ll get sent somewhere,” he shot back.

“Nick—”

“Sloane, this is how I want to do it,” he said firmly. “Please. Don’t make this harder.”

They stared one another down, Sloane breathing deeply before crossing her arms and looking away. Everyone looked at one another worriedly.

“Um…you guys can't travel under your real names,” Trubel said. Nick looked at her in confusion. “Black Claw knows about you and Monroe. To be safe, you can't go as you.”

Nick frowned but Rosalee stepped up. “I know somebody who could get you fake passports. By tomorrow morning if I pull some strings.”

Nick looked at Monroe who smiled excitedly.

“So when do we go?” he grinned.

“Tomorrow. First flight we can get,” Nick grinned. They all smiled excitedly as well, except for Sloane. He glanced at her and saw her arms still folded and a deep frown on her face. He sighed, having a feeling things were going to get awkward when they got home.

Splitting up, they went to try and get a little rest before the morning. Sloane and Nick pulled into the loft’s garage around the same time and got out. She was still not looking at him or talking and he sighed.

“Hey…Look, I don’t want you to take me saying Monroe and I should go badly. I just—”

“I should be the one to go.”

Nick halted stared up at Sloane. “What?”

“I should go to Germany. Not Monroe. And maybe not you either.”

“Sloane, we decided—”

“You decided,” she snapped, turning to him now. “You said we should keep one Grimm here, and I agree. But it makes more sense for me to go. I can do it alone—I can speak German fluently, I can get into places more easily, and I can probably get in and out faster than with two people.”

“…I see you point, but having back up on the trip would be better for whoever is going.”

“Then I can go with Monroe! We both speak German. Probably an easier cover too, we could say we’re a couple on vacation or our honeymoon—”

“No,” Nick said, flushing at the sudden burst of jealous panic. He knew there was absolutely no way that would lead to anything, Monroe was devoted to Rosalee heart and soul. But even considering it made him tense.

He realized he might’ve snapped when she flinched and glared at him again. “Nick, there is no reason _you_ have to be the one to go!”

“I…It’s my key. I mean, my key helped make the map, so it’s my map.”

“…Don’t use kindergarten logic on me!” she said.

“Sloane, this is the best way.”

“Or, how about neither of us goes!”

Nick was surprised. “What?”

“No one goes. We throw the keys into the ocean and forget about all of it!”

“We can’t do that?” he said, confused by the sudden turn.

“Why not?” she said. “These keys lead to nothing but death. You and I both know that. Whatever it is, it's not worth it! This is a fantasy someone had 800 years ago and it’s probably long gone anyway!”

“…We don’t know that,” Nick sighed. “This might be a waste of time, but I have to go. My aunt gave me one of these keys. She believed in it. It almost cost her, her life—”

“It pretty much did!” Sloane said.

“I owe it to her,” Nick said more firmly.

“You stubborn—” she said, getting worked up.

“Look, I know you're worried,” he said.

She paused before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I am,” she agreed quietly. There was a fear in her she didn’t want to name. The fear of losing someone again.

“But you're probably right. It's probably nothing.”

“And what if I'm wrong? What if what they buried is something evil, something they never wanted found, and for good reason?”

“Well, then they wouldn't have made a map,” he said. “They would have just destroyed it.”

“What if it couldn't be destroyed? There’s a lot of artifacts that can’t just be put in a compactor and forget about!”

“Then they would have just buried it, and hoped people forgot about it,” he said. “If it’s bad, we can find a place to put it where no one will find it, for real. Drop it in the Marianas Trench or something! But as it is, we found the map and there’s a chance now someone else could find it even without it. So investigating and bringing it back is the safer option.”

“…Fine. You’re right. But then let me do it!” she said again.

“No, you shouldn’t be the one to go.”

“Why?” she demanded.

“Because…”

“Because what?”

“Because you’re still recovering from the curse!” he said.

Sloane blinked and then narrowed her eyes. “No. I’m not. I’m fine.”

“You spent more than half a year living rough in the woods. You’re reflexes are down.”

“I jumped from one building to another, and you think my reflexes are down?!”

“You nearly got strangled by a by a scarf and a belt and got a black eye from some shoes!”

“And you had a contingency plan for homicidal clothing? Thanks for sharing!”

He groaned and pulled down at his face a little. “Why are we arguing like this? One goes, one stays, we agree on that. So why does it matter?”

“If it doesn’t matter, then I’m the one who should go. I’ve still got a fake passport stashed away; I can leave whenever.”

“You’re not going,” he said firmly.

He glared at her and she glared back for almost a minute before she swaggered back. “Okay…how about we spar for it?”

“Huh?”

She was already taking off her jacket, setting it on a worktable Nick had gotten. He’d hoped to eventually get some Grimm weapons back so he figured he’d need a place to tune them up. He guessed now he had them too so it wasn’t a waste. One of the reasons he’d decided on the loft was that it came with the factory below and in front of it. Not cheap, but it allowed for plenty of room for cars, a work area, and the area where he kept his weights, punching bag, and sparring mat. “We spar for it. If I beat you, I go. You beat me, you go.”

“…Alright,” he said, taking off his own jacket and setting it there. “What constitutes as a win? No knockouts.”

“No…pin or hold the other for ten seconds,” she suggested.

“Sounds good.” They toed off their shoes as well, the concrete floor nearly icy under their socks but neither caring. Sloane pulled her hair back into a low stubby ponytail as they walked to the area with training matts and other gym equipment. They’d sparred together several times in the last month, but usually it was just a friendly match. This time they were both set on winning.

Nick took his stance more like a boxer on one side of the large mat, while Sloane opted for one that he recognized from whatever martial art she practiced. There was no ref so they had to wait for whoever would make the first move. That ended up being Sloane, who closed the distance fast. The mat was about 13 feet square and she crossed half that in a few near silently steps before moving to hit him. He blocked, feeling the power behind the hit and grit his teeth as he moved to strike back with a cross right. She took the hit and he felt a flash of guilt before she brought her knee up into his gut. He oofed and back way, taking a quick breath. She was serious! Well, he could be serious too. When she came close again they started trying to grapple one another. She would get a hold and try and flip him, Judo style, but he would managed to disengage and go back to rabbit punches. She’d ripped his shirt at one point and though there was a flash of apology on her face he just took it off and through it to the side. Sloane quired a brow but then did the same, fighting now in just a black sports bra and her jeans. Nick considered telling her that was cheating but bit his tongue. He tried to pin her a couple of times but she was good at slipping form his grip.

It was maybe ten minutes in, both of them panting and realizing they were pretty evenly matched, when he tried to bear hug her. She actually managed to slip down and backwards through his legs, surprising him. Not as much as when she scissor kicked his legs out from under him and he went down. He rolled over to get up but she was on top of him in a second, pouncing like a cat. She slammed his hands down with hers around his wrists, pushing her weight on to him where she sat on his abdomen, panting and looking down at him with a triumphant smile. “One…two…”

In all honesty, Nick had forgotten their wager for a moment. He’d stared up at Sloane, with that glint in her eyes and that smile and a bead of sweat trailing down her neck, and felt a different kind of adrenaline kick in. Before she could get to five, he surged upwards and kissed her.

Sloane froze, shocked, and he got his hands out of her grasp to wrap around her. He deepened the kiss and Sloane’s eyes fluttered a little before she kissed back. He rolled them over so she was the one on the mat and hovered over her as they kept trying to find more contact between their lips. He kept most of his weight off her, supporting himself on his forearms and knees, but the brief moments skin would touch sent shivers through both of them. When he finally pulled back to take a gasp, he looked down and swallowed when he saw her flushed, panting and her eyes a little glazed over. “…Definitely been ten seconds…” he muttered, his mind clearing.

She blinked and then her eyes widened, blushing more. “I…you…That’s cheating!” she shouted, looking ready to throttle him for real. Embarrassment, disappointment, anger all in her expression.

He couldn’t have that. He leaned down, planting their foreheads together and stared into her eyes when they looked at him in confusion. “Is it cheating if I want to do it again?”

A little gasp escaped her and she stared into his eyes. He was serious. Teasing, but also serious about what he was saying. “…You…what?” she asked intelligently.

“I want to kiss you again…and again…and then again,” he said, smiling. The blush was back and now she just looked embarrassed at his sappy words. “I’ve wanted to for a while…sorry I got a little carried away…”

“…I…you…” She was trying hard to find words but they weren’t coming. Her brain was trying to process this quickly and just running in circles of confusion, happiness and disbelief.

It was rare she was lost for words like this and he tried not to get too worried. He pulled back just slightly but she stayed laying down, looking up at him like she’d been caught. “Do you still…I mean, is what you said before, in the dream, does that still apply?”

She blushed even deeper. “You’re asking if-if I still love you…?” He nodded, holding his breath. “…Y…yes…” she said quietly, closing her eyes as if bracing herself.

He breathed out in relief and leaned down. “Good…cause I love you too.” Her eyes snapped open and she looked at him. He smiled reassuringly. “I realized it was possible I did when I lost you…Then I knew I did when I got you back. I’ve been wondering how to tell you. I’ve been scared you didn’t feel that way anymore…”

She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed and he immediately moved back. He was afraid a moment he’d overstepped or frightened her but when they were sitting up she buried her head against his chest. He could feel how hot her face was and even her ears were red. “How…how the hell do I respond to that?” she said in quiet desperation.

He smiled, because she sounded both happy and like she was freaking out. “How do you want to respond?”

“…Part of me wants to run, I’ll be honest. Because I…” she pulled back and looked up at him. He didn’t look concerned because he’d expected that. And he understood it because he’d felt that too. It was another reason he’d hesitated though he didn’t want to admit it, that fear of making something new after losing so much before. “I don’t think I’ve felt so…I don’t even know what this is,” she said, giving up on trying to explain.

Nick understood that too though. It was a little overwhelming. But he wasn’t going to run away. And he didn’t want her to either. “And what does the other part want?”

She hesitated. Because really, did she deserve this? Could she be this happy? Finally though, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him again. He kissed back, wrapping his arms around her. But with the sweat cooling, both of them shivered not just from pleasure. He pulled back and stood, offering his hand down to her. “C’mon…let’s continue this upstairs.”

Sloane blushed but took his hand. “…I was going to win though,” she said.

Nick smiled patiently and pulled her in close after closing the elevator gate. “You want a rematch before tomorrow?”

“…I know I can't keep you from going,” she sighed. “But I also know there's a chance that you won't come back…”

“Sloane…” he said gently, hearing the anxiety in her voice.

She turned and pressed her face into his chest. “That was a scary enough thought an hour ago, now…” she choked out.

The elevator got to the loft but Nick was tilting her face up. “I promise—”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” she warned. “So many have made me promises they never kept, don’t be one of them…”

“ _I promise_ , I will do everything to get back to you. I’m not giving this up either,” he said firmly.

Sloane stared at him a long moment before kissing him again. Pulling back, she lifted the gate and tugged on his hand. “C’mon…”

“Sloane?” he asked.

She looked at him, blushing but determined too as she walked towards his room. “You’re leaving tomorrow…so give me tonight.”

Nick felt his heart clench and smiled as he pulled her in for another kiss before pulling her onto the bed. “I’ll give you every night…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you EVERYONE for your patience. It's been...a month. The holiday season is usually busy but it was especially nuts this year. Especially with family having a lot of health issues... it's been stressful. Things are finally looking up though and I think we all hope 2021 will be a better year...I'm scared to say it could be worse. I hope everyone had a good December and New Years!
> 
> If you haven't guessed, Tailored for Murder has a lot of influences--The Red Shoes is mentioned but also the Elves and the Shoemaker and the Emperor's New Clothes! The Handwerksburschen is a wesen very briefly seen in one of the books and I thought a wesen that can make "living clothing" would be fun! It ended up being challenging too...I almost went a lot darker with what happened at the Rec center but I just didn't like it. I hope it all made sense! I've been watching a lot of British mystery shows to try and relax so that was probably where a lot of it came from.


	32. Keys to the Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 32 of The Casebook of Sloane Larson
> 
> Rewrites of the rest of Key Move, Into the Schwarzwald, and a brief hint of Silence of the Slams!
> 
> Though together at last, life isn't going to give Sloane and Nick time to process their new relationship. Nick and Monroe are off to Germany to find out what was hidden over 800 years ago--and Sloane meanwhile has to figure out how to stop an assassin in Portland. Nothing is ever as it first seems though and new faces both help and hinder them as they try to stop whatever darkness is on the horizon.

**_“History often resembles myth, because they are both ultimately of the same stuff.”_ **

\----------------------

**Keys to the Kingdom**

\-----------------------

Nick woke up to the sun that morning. He sighed stretched slightly, pausing when he felt a weight at his side. Looking over, he saw Sloane sleeping cuddled up to his shoulder. The comforter was pulled up to her chest but he knew she was as bare as him under it. For a moment he was worried he’d feel awkward but realized he didn’t. Maybe things went a little fast but also they felt right.

He smiled and thought about how they first met. How she’d threatened Monroe and Rosalee, him, pretty much everyone. If someone had told them both at that time they’d be there now, how she’d evolve over the last couple of years, both of them would’ve thought they were insane. But this was the first time in a long time Nick felt good when he woke up. Not just rested—to be honest, he probably _wasn’t_ well rested—but at peace. Like he’d finally found a tether in a windstorm.

Sloane hummed and her eyes fluttered open. She looked up at him and he smiled and she smiled back. “Hey…”

“Hey…” They stared at one another before she chuckled and propped her chin on his shoulder. “What?”

“What?” he parroted back.

“You’re staring,” she said, smiling.

He blushed a little but kept smiling. “Just…You always seem so relaxed when you’re here. Even before, when you had those nightmares…”

She sighed and stretched out alongside him and _Oh, that feels nice,_ he thought. “I feel safe with you,” she admitted, relaxing again and he could feel her hand on his chest. “Like…before, I could never relax all the way. Not since I was a kid. I felt like I had to be on alert all the time training with Dierdre…and I with Collin it wasn’t relaxing either because he was just…awful.” Nick hugged her closer, rubbing along her side, and she smiled and stroked over his chest. “Then it was just me…sleep with one eye open and all that. But I don’t have to do that here. Because I know you’d have my back. That I’m safe to just…be. Here or me or both I guess.”

He smiled. “Always.” He leaned down, kissing her softly. Not meant to stoke the fires, just keep them warm.

They were a bit too engrossed in their making out though and didn’t hear the elevator come up. But they did hear the door open and Nick’s first instinct was to put himself between Sloane and the door, covering her up, before he even knew who was there.

“Nick, are you here—Oh my God!” Trubel gasped, quickly closing the door again.

“Trubel, what the hell?!” Nick said. “Knock! How many times did we go over this?!” Sloane was blushing deeply, staying tucked against Nick.

“What is it, what happened?” Nick heard Monroe’s voice.

“Uh…” Trubel said, still flustered.

Both Grimms groaned a bit and he looked down. “So…were we planning on telling them soon?”

“Honestly? Did not even think about it. Lotta other things on my mind…” She looked up at him, both of their faces red, before bursting into a fit of giggles with him.

“Guess it’s all going to come out now even if we didn’t plan it…” he said.

“We didn’t plan shit,” she laughed, trying to keep her voice down.

“Nick?” Monroe called, unsure.

“Just a sec…” he called. It was a few minutes before Nick slid the barn door of his bedroom open in a pair of pajama bottoms. Trubel, Monroe, Hank and Rosalee were all there. “Guys, don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here all of a sudden?”

“We tried to call!” Monroe said. “Both you and Sloane—why were you phones down in the garage? We thought you’d been hurt or something!”

“Sorry, we forgot about those…” Nick said, rubbing over his neck.

“Your jackets were down there too,” Rosalee said, frowning worriedly.

Nick opened his mouth but Sloane spoke first. “There should be some shirts down there too.” Nick blushed and looked at her as she stepped out—dressed in one of his shirts and her jeans. Even with her muscular shoulders, it still hanged off of her in a way that if they didn’t have company he’d let entice him. She was blushing but smiled awkwardly. “Sort of forgot about them…”

Everyone’s jaws dropped, looking between both of them. “I…you…” Monroe started.

“Finally!” Hank said, throwing up his hands in triumph.

“What?” Sloane asked, not expecting that. Nick blushed and palmed his face.

“I have been telling his sorry butt to confess to you for _weeks_.”

Sloane looked at Nick, smiling in a way that said she wanted to laugh at him. “Oh really?”

“Not weeks…” Nick muttered.

“Weeks!” Hank said firmly.

“Weeks?” Monroe asked.

“Oh, this is so great!” Rosalee smiled, looking giddy. “I was trying to think how to get you two going!”

“Wait, you knew too?” Monroe said.

“Well, Adalind told me…” she admitted.

“Adalind knew?” all of them asked together.

“Yeah. She actually thought you two were already together…Just from observing you. And once I looked for it…I kind of thought maybe you hadn’t told us you were together?”

“No, nothing happened till last night,” Sloane blushed.

Nick blushed as well. “Everyone knew but us…”

“I didn’t know!” Monroe said. “I mean…this is good? You guys wanted this?”

They both looked at one another, and Sloane cleared her throat. “Wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t…”

Nick smiled. “Yeah. Not exactly how I saw it happening but…” He put an arm around her shoulders, making her blush more but she left it.

“Wow…I’m happy for you but when—or how—” he floundered and looked at Trubel. “Did you know?”

Trubel blushed but shrugged. “I kind of thought it might happen. Just didn’t expect to walk in on them—”

“You didn’t walk in on anything,” Nick said quickly, blushing.

“You sure?”

“Okay, new subject!” Sloane said, everyone blushing now. “What are you all doing here?”

“Oh, right,” she sighed. “I gotta show you something!” Trubel held up a folder and then set it on the counter. She spread out several photos and a small pile of notes. “We got intel on a guy supposedly coming here to Portland. His name's Marwan Hanano.” She took out a photo of a man with dark hair and a beard, wearing fairly non-descript clothing as a blue sweater and a black coat. “He works for Black Claw. We don't know much about him, but we've connected him to a bombing in London, a riot in Kiev, and a building fire in Osaka, all in the last year. He arrived a few days ago at PDX on a flight that originated from Quito, Ecuador.”

“Okay…Why is he here?” Sloane said, looking at the picture as well. Hank took it when she handed it to him so they could all get a look.

“We don't know,” Trubel said, frowning. “We haven't been able to find him. This guy stays under the radar. Meisner thinks he might be here on assignment. Just wanted to let you know…And that's all we have on him, which, honestly, isn't much.”

Nick frowned at the small bits and looked at the others. Sloane could read the hesitation on his face and walked over. “Nick, either you go or I go. One stays, one gets to go treasure hunting.”

“I’ve got your passport ready though, I just have to pick them up,” Rosalee said. “And Wu got you and Monroe on the 8:55 p.m. flight to Stuttgart with one stop in Frankfurt.”

“And Stuttgart's only, like, a two-hour ride to Wolfach,” Monroe added.

Nick nodded and looked at her and Trubel and then at the others. “You can handle this, I know.”

“Of course we can,” Sloane said. She looked at Hank. “But we could use some extra help.”

“Yeah, I think the captain should know,” Hank said.

“Right…”

“Just…let me actually get dressed,” Sloane said, moving for the room. Nick blushed again and the others smiled.

\--------------------

“Is Marwan Hanano his real name or an alias?” Renard asked, looking at the photo.

“We don't know,” Nick sighed.

“How'd you get this information?” he asked, arching a brow.

“Meisner. He wanted us to be aware of it.”

“We got a Wesen terrorist, working for Black Claw, loose in Portland,” Hank said.

“We don't know where he is, what he wants, or who his contacts are,” Wu added. They’d filled him in on the way to the precinct over the phone.

“And he’s known for some big “demonstrations” we’ll say,” Sloane said.

He nodded. “I'm assuming Meisner wants us to find him so H.W. can deal with him.”

“Basically, yeah,” Nick said.

He sighed, thinking a moment before nodding again. “All right, put out an APB but strictly a find and follow. Do not engage. Report contact only.” He looked at them meaningfully and they all nodded in agreement. “You know how to contact Meisner?”

“We do,” Sloane said.

“Let's find this guy,” he said, tossing the photo with the others on his desk.

“Yes, sir,” Wu said, heading out with Hank back into the bull pen. Sloane stayed at the door, waiting for Nick, but he stalled by Renard’s desk.

“Hey, look, I'm gonna be off the grid for a couple of days,” Nick said. Not asking permission, just informing him.

Renard looked up, curious. “Anything I need to know?”

Nick hesitated. He knew that Renard had wanted the keys. Wanted what they led to, whatever it was. Enough so that he nearly had his aunt killed. He still didn’t feel like he could trust him completely. “It’s a family thing,” he said finally. “Kind of private.”

“…Okay. I guess have a safe trip?”

“…Thanks,” he nodded, heading out with Sloane.

“Still don’t trust him?” she asked quietly when they were far enough away.

“Not entirely,” he sighed. “I want to know what this is before we go telling other people about it. Plus he wanted the keys pretty badly before.”

“Probably a good call,” Sloane nodded.

“So what is the charge on this Marwan guy for the APB?” Wu asked.

“Murder suspect. Keep it local. Don't let the Feds in on this one,” Nick said. He looked at his watch, frowning at it already being nearly 5. “I’m sorry I gotta run out on this and leave you guys with it…”

“We got you,” Hank said.

He smiled and sighed. “I gotta get back to packing…” He glanced at Sloane.

Hank followed his gaze and nodded to her. “Yeah, and Sloane should help I think.”

“Help?” Wu asked.

“Yeah, I’ll…help,” Sloane said, blushing as she followed Nick towards the door.

“Hey, Nick!” They looked back and Hank smiled as reassuringly as he could. “You be careful over there.”

“What he said!” Wu agreed.

Nick smiled. “Will do.”

They headed back to the loft and Nick quickly packed a carry-on duffle bag with some extra clothes and the essentials. Sloane watched mostly since he did have it covered. He noticed her fidgeting a little and sat next to her on the bed after zipping up the duffle. “Hey…you okay?”

“…I…I’m scared,” she admitted softly. She looked at him and he could see it in her eyes. “Nick, I try really hard to protect you and Rosalee and the others because…because nothing good in my life stays. I always lose it somehow. And now you’re going across the ocean, without me, where I can’t protect you and I…”

“Hey, hey,” he pulled her in, kissing her temple and rubbing over her back. “I’m going to be okay. I’m pretty capable, right?”

“Yes, you are, I know that, but I still…” she said, sighing at trying to get the words out.

“I promised you,” he said, still soothing.

“I know…” she sighed, releasing some of her tension.

“…Uh…There’s something I wanted to say before…” She looked up and he took a breath. “I don’t want you to move out. That is…I’d like you to formally move in. As in this is your place too. For the foreseeable future.”

Sloane blinked. “I…Wait, for real?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know it might be a little fast but I don’t…want to miss anything. Plus I like living with you…We do it pretty well. I like having you here to come home to or vice versa.”

She smiled slowly and leaned against him. “Yeah…I like that too. My heart really wasn’t in looking at places to live anyway,” she admitted. Nick breathed out in relief and kissed her gently. He pulled back, eyeing her a little, and she smirked. “Don’t get any ideas if you want to get to that plane on time…”

“Do I have time for a cold shower then?” he asked, drawing his finger down her spine with a slight tease.

Sloane grabbed a pillow and smacked him lightly, both of them laughing. Getting his things, they headed down and she drove him to Monroe and Rosalee’s so he could leave his car at home. She walked up with him and Rosalee answered the door.

“Hey, come on in. He's almost ready,” Rosalee said. They both walked in and she closed the door again behind them. “I did a little more research on those churches near Wolfach in the Black Forest. There are ten all together, but only three of those are Catholic.”

“And it has to be Catholic,” Monroe said, coming down the stairs with his own bag and a travel neck pillow already around his neck. “Because Martin Luther didn't nail his "Ninety-Five Theses" onto the door of the All-Saints Church in Wittenberg until October 31, 1517. So all the other churches are way too young.”

“Well, then those are what we'll start with,” Nick nodded.

“Oh, and I have your passports,” Rosalee said, grabbing them from the side table and handing them to both of the men.

“I'm traveling under my uncle's name, Felix Ackerman,” Monroe sighed.

“…You don’t think that might be dangerous? I mean, with Black Claw having looked for him?” Sloane asked, uncertain.

“They already killed him; I doubt they’d be looking for him again…”

“Fair enough…sorry,” she nodded.

“And you're traveling under my brother's name, Frederick Calvert,” Rosalee said to Nick.

He opened the passport to take a look, noting the quality of it. “This is really good…for something completely illegal,” he added, not wanting to completely drop his cop mentality in the garbage.

“Yeah, your contacts do good work,” Sloane said with a nod of approval.

“Thanks,” Rosalee said.

“So we’re not flying the friendly skies with the Fløyelshorn again?” she asked. The last couple of times any of them had flown round trip had been with Clint, the reindeer-wesen pilot. Once in getting a rare ingredient, and another in the others mounting a rescue mission to Idaho for her and Trubel.

“Ah, no. We’re flying commercial,” Monroe said firmly. “I’m not going up in that flying orange crate ever again.”

“Also, there’s no way his plane would make a trans-Atlantic flight,” Rosalee said.

“Well, guess we should hit it,” Monroe said. He grabbed his coat from the peg behind Rosalee and paused, looking down at her. She looked back up at him with an equally worried expression.

“We’ll just put that stuff in the car for you,” Nick said, reading the atmosphere. He handed Sloane the neck pillow and grabbed the small suitcase as he led her out the door to give them some privacy.

 _…I should’ve guessed I’m not the only one worried,_ Sloane thought.

After they said their goodbyes, Sloane dropped them off at the airport. They’d work out getting home when they hopefully came back triumphant. Nick had Sloane roll down the window just before he headed into the terminal. “What do you want for a souvenir?”

She smiled at his teasing grin. “I want you home in one piece.”

“And you’ll get that. But seriously, I want to get you something.”

Sloane sighed and then paused and grabbed a notepad from her glove compartment and then pulled up a note on her phone. “There is one thing actually…On your way, I saw there’s another town called Freudenstadt on your route.” She handed him the note. “It’s where Leo lives. The guy who works on a lot of Grimm weapons.”

Nick was surprised and took it. “Really?”

“Yeah, he’s stayed there the last few years. This is his address. I’d like a new knife…”

“…You think I can get that through customs?” he joked.

She smiled back. “He’ll take care of that. You might need his help with whatever you find too. Seeing him in person works best if I don’t want to wait another year like we did for the Gelumcaedus blades.”

“Alright…you trust me to pick it out for you?” he asked, knowing that might be a rather personal purchase.

“I do,” she smiled. “I’ll pay you back if it’s too much…”

He smiled back and then leaned in to kiss her. She blushed, glancing around a bit and he chuckled ruefully. “We didn’t discuss PDA…”

“…Give me a bit to get used it?” she asked sheepishly. Nick smiled warmly. He hadn’t expected her to be rather cute about all of this.

“Can you do that later?” Monroe said, looking at his watch.

“Right! I’ll call you later!” Nick said, heading with Monroe to the doors.

Sloane sighed but pulled away and headed back into town. She knew it was going to feel cold sleeping alone tonight… _Would it be weird to sleep in his bed without him? I mean, he asked me to move but we haven’t really gone over how that all is going to work…_

\-------------------

Things got complicated fast.

Hank and Wu had put out the APB for Marwan the day before and later that morning they’d gotten word some bike cops had spotted someone that matched the description. One had called it in while the other followed the man—and had been found later bloodied and talking about a monster attacking him. Though they searched the area, they couldn’t find Marwan or any other sign of something going down.

“Why would he be here?” Sloane asked, looking around at the apartments and other buildings.

“I don’t know… maybe he was on his way somewhere?” Hank said.

“Then why attack a cop? He could’ve just kept going. He’s a pro, he’d be able to lose him. He’d only stick around if he had to I’m sure…”

“Maybe he was meeting someone?” Wu guessed.

“Possibly…” She sighed. “Why don’t you guys go see if you can talk to Officer Fogel?”

“What are you going to do?” Hank asked.

“Walk around a bit, try and figure out what an international terrorist is doing here in Portland. Get into his head maybe. I’m the closest to knowing what he’s like I think I can do it…”

“Well don’t stay there, it’s probably a bad place to be,” Wu said.

They headed back to the car and Sloane started walking the streets, looking around for what could attract a guy who planned bombings and riots. She paused as she passed a nearby park when blue and red banners caught her attention. _Dixon 2016_ was written across them and she walked over. A small crowd was already gathering, with more filtering in. She scanned the faces but didn’t see Marwan among them.

“Sloane?”

She paused and looked up. “Captain?”

He stepped down from the stage at the nearby steps and walked over. “I thought you were looking for that…man.”

“I am. He attacked an officer near here,” she said quietly.

“He what?” Renard asked, tense.

“Yeah. A bike cop. Wu and Hank went to see if he was coherent, but his partner said he was saying a “monster” attacked him.”

Renard sighed and pinched his brow. “Great…He’s alive though?”

“Well, he’d have everyone looking for him if he was dead,” Sloane pointed out.

“True…”

Sloane looked up at the banner. “This is your friend, right? The guy running for Mayor?”

“Yeah,” he smiled.

“How do you know this guy anyway?”

“College friends. We both had a competitive streak, fought over being captain of the debate team.”

“…Oh my God…Captain, were you…a nerd?” she whispered scandalously.

“No comment,” he said, though his lips twitched a little.

“So who won?”

“I won the first year, then he won the second.”

“And you’re still friends?”

“I voted for him that second year too. Andrew’s a good man. He wants to help people, genuinely. I got us to nationals, but he got us the trophy. Be good and a good leader is kind of a rarity nowadays, especially for a politician.”

“Good point…so what are you doing out here?”

“I’m introducing him. His team have been very keen I help with the campaign.”

Sloane quirked a brow and glanced up at the stage. The expression turned to a scowl when she saw the red-head who had flirted with Nick at the precinct—the one that put her card right into his pants pocket. “That… Rachel woman is one of them?”

Renard cleared his throat slightly. “Yes, she is…why, you know her?”

“We met, briefly. She didn’t make a good impression on me,” she said.

“She’s fine, really,” he said.

“Not when she’s brazenly flirting with Nick she’s not…”

Renard blinked. “…Brazenly flirting?”

“You heard me. Maybe it’s old fashioned, but it’s what it was!”

“…I see…”

Sloane looked at him, then back at her, then at him again. “…Oh Captain…”

He tensed and looked at her. “What…?”

“I’ve seen that look before. You’re sleeping with her.”

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, blustering a little.

“Uh huh. Try that line again, but be convincing this time.”

He frowned at her. “This is a bit of insubordination…”

“Oh, right, I’m still on the clock,” she said, clicking her tongue. “…Hey, when’s this thing supposed to start?”

“In a few minutes. Why?”

“…Can you cancel it?”

“What?” he asked, alert now. “Why would we?”

“Because I’m wondering if our friend is going to target someone here…It’s the only thing with a large crowd gathering. And if he’d killed that officer it would’ve definitely been canceled so…”

Renard frowned, looking around. “…Rachael?”

She looked up and walked over, pausing when she saw Sloane. “Uh…Yes?”

“My detectives have been tracking a criminal. A very dangerous one they think might be attracted to this crowd and could hurt someone.”

She looked surprised but then smiled as if she didn’t believe them. “Oh? Well, we haven’t received any threats.”

“Neither did the last couple of places he targeted,” Sloane said. “He’s been known to cause a lot of unrest and kill people. Could this be postponed or something?”

She pursed her lips and then shook her head. “We only have the park for today! This is really important to Andrew; he wants to hold an easy-going little rally. Grassroots and all that. We can’t cancel or it would send the wrong message.”

“Wouldn’t putting people in danger send a _worse_ message?” Sloane said, gritting her teeth.

She looked at Sean. “Sean, please, if we cancel we might not recover. Andrew’s nearly here, I don’t want to tell him it’s off or scare him. Besides, we finally started gaining on Gallagher after the news this morning of his previous drug bust. We need to keep moving on this momentum,” she said, stressing her words.

Renard looked torn a moment before sighing and looking at Sloane. “If we cancel, it might alert him. We’d have trouble locating him again and he might find another opportunity if that’s the case.”

She flattened her gaze at him. “You make a point, but I’m not sure I like _why._ ”

“You don’t think you can find him?” he shot back.

She glared but then sighed and threw up her hands. “Okay…I’m calling Hank and Wu back then. This guy’s had different methods, we’ll look around for him and anything he might’ve set up.”

“Right. Try to be subtle. We don’t want to cause a panic if we can help it, that could make things worse.”

“Yes, please don’t do that,” Rachael said.

She nodded and pulled out her phone to dial Hank as she walked around the side of the stage. “Sloane! I was just about to call, we’re on our way back to you, we think that Marwan might target Dixon’s rally!”

She smiled a bit, going to look under the stage. “We’re on the same wavelength then. I’m here looking for anything suspect. No bomb under the stage…How soon will you be here?”

“Just another few minutes. Can you stop the rally?”

“There’s already a crowd gathered. Renard doesn’t want to cause a panic and they’re about to start.”

“Okay. We’ll try to be subtle I guess. Wish we could get some more people…”

“I’ll text Trubel, see if we can get some HW guys.”

“Do that, yeah. Be there soon.”

Sloane nodded and hanged up, firing off a quick text to Trubel.

“Is something wrong?” She put her phone away and looked up to see the man she saw next to Rachael, shorter with dark hair and glasses, looking down at her.

“Just checking the stage…”

“You know a lot about stages?” he asked dubiously.

She smiled demurely. “I have many skills. But mostly I thought I saw someone crawl under. Call it the detective in me, had to make sure. But I don’t see them.”

“It was probably one of the technicians making sure the wiring was fine,” the man said.

“You’re probably right…”

“Maybe I should call security?”

She eyed him and then held open her jacket to flash her badge. “Go right ahead, Mr….”

He flushed a little but huffed. “Jeremiah Rogers. I’m one of Dixon’s Campaign Advisors.”

“Ah, that’s why you work so close with Ms. Wood,” she said.

“Yes. I’m Rachael’s right hand,” he said, a tad smugly.

“Uh huh…well, I’m sure she’s told you to be ready for any problems then.”

“Problems?”

“Ask her,” she said, pulling her phone out when she felt it buzz and walking back around to the front.

_Trubel: On our way!_

\------------------

“You sure we got time for this?” Monroe asked, looking at the small street signs. Freudenstadt was a beautiful old town full of whitewashed buildings and houses with red and brown beavertail clay tiles. Many were half-timbered, with the parts of the stained wooden frame visible from the outside, that reminded Nick of medieval fairs and movies. Others were bricked construction with smooth even colors aside from the highlights around archways, doors and windows.

“We’re passing through anyway. Plus he might be able to help us. What if what we find is like…a sword or something?”

“What, like thy hid Excalibur in Bavaria?” he chuckled. “…That would be so cool,” he added under his breath.

Nick couldn’t disagree. Monroe turned down one street and drove to the edge of the city. There they found a tiny farm then found a place to park. “You want to come in?”

“You think that’s a good idea? I mean this guy’s a Grimm…Blacksmith, right?”

“Sloane didn’t say you couldn’t.”

Monroe pursed his lips but ultimately unbuckled and quickly followed him up to the small house. Nick knocked on the door and waited. When there was no answer he glanced at Monroe and then knocked again. “Hello? Uh…Leo?”

There was the sound of movement now and Nick thought he heard a cross bow being loaded. “Who is it?” an unsure sing-song voice asked.

“Uh, my name is Nick Burkhardt. I’m a Grimm. And a friend of Sloane Larson.”

“Bit more than that,” Monroe stage whispered. Nick nudged him, blushing faintly.

There was a pause and the door opened. A man with tanned skin and large brown eyes looked them over. He was wearing a long leather apron stained with soot, grease and other signs of hard work. Though wiry, he had some very obvious muscle to him and Nick had no doubt he was strong. “…You’re Kelly Kessler’s son?”

“Yeah, I am.”

He smiled and opened the door wider. “Well! I wasn’t expecting visitors! Come in!” He moved to set the crossbow in his hand on the table by the door, but it fired and stuck in the door jamb near Nick. Nick jumped, almost knocking Monroe. “Oh! Whoops, sorry about that,” he laughed, reaching up and pulling it with some effort from the wood while Nick watched with crossed eyes and Monroe held him as if ready to pick him up and run. “Bianca has a hair trigger.”

“…Bianca?” Monroe asked.

“Long story,” he said. “Come in, come in. Usually people just stop by the library in Frankfurt and contact me there. I got a little antsy, always a bit worried who might come asking questions.”

Nick moved in slowly, with caution at first but then in amazement. The walls were lined with wracks and tables of weapons of all sorts—some he recognized from his own collection and some he’d never seen. It made him a little wistful thinking about what was still lost. “Did you…make all this?”

“Yes! Well, made or repaired. I’ve always loved weapons and gadgets. My father was a Grimm artificer as well. My grandfather actually helped come up with some of the weapons—including that Gelumcaedus blade you sent! I was so happy to see that, the plans had been lost for decades and now I have them redrawn and saved. It’s such a relief.” He was all smiles now and Nick relaxed slightly.

“You’re welcome,” Nick said. “Um, Sloane actually asked me to come and find a new knife for her.”

He paused in straightening a few weapons and looked at him. “A new knife? Something happened to her old one?”

“It was stolen,” Monroe said. “By Dierdre.”

“Oh…oh dear, that’s some…family drama,” he said, grimacing. “I don’t like Dierdre.”

“You got good taste then,” Nick said.

He smiled and shrugged. “Well…it was mostly her mentor I really didn’t like. He used to make snide comments about my father. We’re not Grimms after all.”

“So wait, you do all this just because?” Monroe asked.

“No, not just because! Grimms have always been very keen on innovation. Well, as far as weaponry that is…” he amended. “We got into business together back in my great, great Grandfather’s time. It’s been a kind of family tradition. My brother works as well in America…somewhere, I don’t remember,” he laughed. “But here, I have a lot of knives.” He went over and opened up the top of a table, showing dozens of knives of different designs, makes, and materials. “I’ve got Tantos, Reverse Tantos, Drop Points, Bowies, Clip Points—”

“Um, I think probably a hunting knife similar to her old one…” Nick said.

“Right, that would be best…I only ever saw it so I can’t really judge the weight or balance but as far as size…” He pulled out a few. “These are all a similar design and size.”

“That’s still a lot,” Nick sighed, looking them over.

“Did she give you any specifics?”

“No, she said she trusted me to pick it out.”

Leo looked surprised. “Really…Are you married?”

Nick spluttered and looked at him. “What?!”

“Oh, just usually that’s a very intimate choice. At least in my book.”

“…we are not married.”

“They’re just living together,” Monroe said, looking over some brass knuckles curiously. They looked like a wolf running over his knuckles.

“It’s a recent thing,” Nick said quickly.

“Ah, gotcha, not that stage yet,” he nodded solemnly. “Well, she trusts you with that choice. No pressure, but this will be like her right hand so make it a good one.”

“No pressure, huh?” Nick muttered. He looked at them all, trying to judge them the way Sloane would. He nixed a few on looks—one with a rainbow looking blade, others with similar patterned blades. Too showy. He decided no on some of the handles too, he didn’t think she’d like some of the wooden ones. Taking those out, he had about four to choose from. He picked up the first—bright steel with a deeply stained mahogany handle. It felt nice to him but he didn’t think Sloane’s hands would like it since they were a little smaller. The next had a larger, more curved blade that felt too heavy when he moved it around. Setting it down, he paused and picked up another. This one was interesting. It was all black.

“Ah, I’m proud of that one,” Leo said. “Black stainless steel, woven leather around the hilt with a bit of a tail for a lead. The black is great for hunting at night because it’s less reflective. It’s a tactical knife with a saw blade edge as well,” he pointed to the ridged edge on the other side of the blade. “All my knives are sharpened perfectly so they won’t need maintenance for several years as well. Unless you’re like cutting trees with them, in which case I would personally sharpen them on you.”

Nick had a feeling he wasn’t kidding but looked it over and slashed it a few times. It felt good. The handle didn’t have too much bulk so he was sure Sloane would be able to use it fine. It felt well-made and balanced and nothing was hitting where it shouldn’t. Plus, the stealth aspect was something he thought she’d like. “…Could I ask for a bit of customizing?”

“Like what?” he asked.

Nick pointed to where the _G_ had been engraved on her old blade. “Could you engrave an _S_ here?”

“S? Her old one had a _G_ , didn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I want this one to be all hers,” Nick said.

Leo smiled widely and took it. “Well, how do I say no to that? I’ll get that done real quick. You guys want to stick around?”

“We kind of have something we need to do,” Monroe said, looking at his watch.

“No problem, you can pick it up later. I’ll give you a discount, since I owe you both for letting me see that Gelumcaedus blade.”

“I appreciate it,” Nick smiled. “We’ll be by in a day or two to head back to the US—can you help us through customs?”

“You didn’t coordinate through the library?” he asked, surprised. “They can send packages between each other a lot easier.”

“Uh…Our closest library was closed,” he said. “Our librarian left.”

“Ah, that’s a shame. You know it’s a dying skill. But many now Grimms will learn they need their support system! No offense.”

“None taken,” Nick said. “I agree. Actually…I think they said they found one, they just haven’t arrived…”

“Well, that’s good at least. But just in case, I’ll get you some “nondescript” packaging,” he said.

“We might need that for something else…if possible,” Monroe said.

“Sure. Bring whatever it is with you and I’ll figure out what’ll work.”

“Thanks. You know, I kind of thought with the whole nearly hitting us with an arrow thing you’d be a lot more…like paranoid?”

“Oh, I definitely am,” he said, smiling. “But you’re Grimms so I’m not worried. It’s people and Wesen I don’t like much…”

“…Good to know…wait, people?” Monroe asked.

“Oh yeah. People in general are just as dangerous. I’ve had people try and break in to steal things plenty of times. It’s why I like living further outside of town.”

“Less chance of them breaking in?” Nick asked.

“Less chance of people hearing what happens to them.”

Nick and Monroe froze and smiled a bit more awkwardly. “Oh…good point.”

Leo just smiled.

\----------------

Sloane didn’t find anything scanning the rest of the crowd, and Hank and Wu didn’t find anything either. They stopped a few people with backpacks and large bags they asked to search as a “security precaution”, but nothing suspect was coming through and they all said they packed them themselves.

Renard tried to stall for a little while but got up to the podium to introduce Dixon. He kept an eye on them as they moved but kept a smile on his face and spoke slowly and clearly. Sloane gave it to him; he knew how to keep a cool head under stress. But soon enough Dixon stepped forward and started speaking.

“Got anything?” Hank asked, meeting up with her and Wu at the edge of the crowd.

“Nothing,” Wu sighed. “Maybe we’re wrong?”

“I’m not making that call till this is over,” Sloane sighed. Her phone rang and she answered it quickly.

“Trubel?”

“Hey, yeah, we’re here!”

“Great. But we haven’t found anything…”

“That’s because he changed his look,” she said. “We caught surveillance of him earlier with facial recognition but he shaved and dyed his hair. I’ll send a pic.”

“Facial recognition?”

“Yeah, we got a lot of crazy stuff. But we saw him in the area earlier on a bike.”

“Why would he be on a bike?” she pondered. She looked at her phone when the photo came through and pulled it up. The man was a lot harder to recognize with bleach blonde hair and clean shaven but she was still sure they hadn’t seen him in the crowd.

“So he figured out we knew what he looked like,” Hank said, “But I still haven’t seen him.”

She put the phone on speaker. “Trubel, you said you caught this picture of him in the area?”

“Yeah! Security camera near some apartments. We’re heading your way.”

“…What apartments?”

“Huh? Uh…Donalbain?”

“Donalbain…?” She looked over to the building right at the edge of the park. That was part of those apartments. “…Go to the archway near the platform!” She quickly started for it, Hank and Wu behind her.

“Sloane? What’s going on?” Wu asked.

“This guy changed his look but isn’t in the crowd. In the picture he has a bike, but no one here does.”

“He probably stole it to blend in.”

“Walking is a lot more inconspicuous and he wouldn’t have to deal with walking it around the crowds here. He must’ve gotten it for a reason. But more than that, if he’s not here, he must be nearby and the apartments would give him the best cover.”

“She’s right,” Hank said, jogging faster with her. Under the arch they saw Trubel, Meisner and a man and woman they hadn’t met jog up as well.

“We heard your explanation. You think he’s here in the building?” Meisner asked.

Sloane ended the call and put her phone away. “I think it’s the most logical place. Inside an apartment he’d be a lot more hidden. But we didn’t find any explosives or other devices in the crowd.”

“We searched the stage, trash-cans, people’s bags—started instructing security to look too. But nothing,” Hank said.

Meisner frowned and then stood straighter. “You mentioned the bike…that he wouldn’t keep that without a reason?”

“I mean, that’s what I think. I’ve had to blend into plenty of crowds before and after taking someone out and bringing along something as big as a bike when no one else has one is guarantees more attention rather than less.”

“And I haven’t seen any bikes like that chained up,” Wu added, looking at the picture again on Trubel’s phone. “Kind of looks weird actually when you really look at it…”

“That’s because it’s not a bike,” Meisner said, pacing. “Bikes have been used to smuggle dozens of things before. Including parts to make a gun.”

“A sniper-rifle?” the other woman gasped.

“Whoa, sniper rifle?” Wu said, eyes wide. “We were thinking like that bomb you mentioned or a gas thing like last month!”

“He switches his MO pretty often. Causing chaos is his goal, not the way he causes it,”

“We’ve had similar bikes,” Meisner nodded. “But they aren’t accurate at long distances—the parts can only be made so large and it ends up sacrificing power for stealth. We need to know who he’s targeting!”

“What kind of power are we talking?” Hank asked.

“Mmm…likely less than 600 meters since it won’t have the same firepower as a regular rifle…”

“That’s…a little over 200 feet? That doesn’t narrow it down,” Wu said.

“Yes it does—he’d have to be higher up and there’s apartment buildings on either side of here,” Hank said. “He’d need to be higher up so he’s probably in one of them!”

They stepped out from the archway, looking around. Dixon was giving a rousing speech about his hopes to better distribute wealth in the city and look out for everyone rather than just a select few. But they couldn’t appreciate the positive message as they scanned the area. A few people were out on their balconies to listen but many more looked closed.

“We don’t even know where he’s aiming,” Trubel growled.

“…My bet is the stage,” Sloane said. “The crowd is too densely packed to get a good shot…”

“You think Dixon is the target?” Meisner asked.

“He’s the only one that makes any sense right now, though I have no idea why Black Claw would target him!” she growled.

Meisner frowned and looked at the others. “Susannah, Trubel, Morrison, go floor by floor and start causing a ruckus. See if we can distract and flush him out.”

“Got it!” They said, rushing back to the door inside.

Hank looked at Sloane as she scanned the apartments while walking closer to the stage. “Should we tell them to stop?”

“He might take the shot before we can get them to listen…”

“Well Dixon’s wrapping up his speech,” Wu hissed.

Sloane cursed that the man wasn’t as long winded as other politicians and listened with half an ear as she kept scanning the windows for any kind of sign. She vaguely noted Rachel getting a call and backing away but that didn’t seem important at the moment. “…As your next mayor, I will make Portland a city that shines as an example of what can be accomplished when people are given the opportunity to truly succeed, and that success, real success, will come from the genuine desire to see your neighbors, as well as yourselves, thrive. Portland is a great place. I say we work together to make it even greater.”

The crowd cheered and Dixon stepped back and waved. He was a sitting duck, fully exposed, and she felt a shiver come over her. Sloane gritted her teeth and then cupped her hands over her mouth. “CAPTAIN, DIXON, DUCK AND COVER! SNIPER!”

Everyone looked at her a moment in shock and confusion, but Renard thankfully had quick reflexes. The moment he heard her, he leapt forward and grabbed Dixon by the shoulders. A shot rang out and there were several screams. Including one from Dixon as the bullet entered his hip. If Renard hadn’t grabbed him and pulled him to the side though, it would’ve likely entered his side right into his liver or kidney’s and he’d have bled out in seconds. As it was, Renard was putting pressure on it with his jacket and yelling to call an ambulance.

“Shit!” Hank cursed as the crowd started stampeding away, screaming in panic. He and Wu tried to keep them from trampling each other while Meisner was shouting into the walkie he had on him to cover the exits.

Sloane’s eyes honed in on one window though, where she was certain the bullet came from. Something moved behind the blinds of the balcony six stories balcony window. Glaring, she ran for the building and jumped the first-floor railing and went through the open door. She had to put a hand on it to keep it open as the man was trying to close it after the panic but she made it in. People inside shouted in surprise but ran for the door and got out to the hall, heading for the stairway. She was on the second floor when Hank and Wu came in, several other officers following them. “Sloane?!”

“Sixth floor!” she shouted down, not slowing. They got to the sixth floor and she counted down till she got to the right apartment and kicked in the door with little issue. She cursed when she found the body of a man just to the side of the doorway, his throat torn out. _Too clean for fangs…a beak? Some kind of bird?_ She drew her gun and cleared the area, cursing and going back out to look down the halls. Hank and Wu caught up then. “Shooter fled the scene. We got a body, probably the tenant, and parts of the bike.”

“He’s gone?” Wu said, panting a little. He envied Sloane’s stamina.

“He’s not sticking around. Do we have coverage outside?”

“Yes ma’am!” one officer said. “We left officers at the entrances and exits.”

“But then where is he?” she growled.

They looked up when a door opened and a man and woman looked out. “What’s…going on?”

“Please stay inside your apartment,” Hank said.

“Wait,” Sloane stepped forward. “Besides the elevator and the stairwell that way, is there another way get up the floors?”

“Uh…yeah, there’s another stairwell over there.” She pointed. “They made one at either end.”

“Dammit!” she cursed and took off again.

“Sloane! We have the exits covered!”

“I don’t think he’s going down!” _They always head to the roof for some reason…_ She got to the stairwell and headed upwards.

\------------------------

Nick and Monroe got to Wolfach in the mid-afternoon after leaving Freudenstadt and Leo. The town was just as picturesque, the buildings keeping that old-world charm just as well with only a few new construction areas. They were driving slowly through the town, trying to find the church.

“…So…you and Sloane?” Monroe said. They’d talked about other things on the way but this was the first he brought that up.

Nick glanced at him the streets he was maneuvering through and took a deep breath. “Yeah?”

“Nothing. I mean, I just…was surprised I guess? I mean, I didn’t know you two were…were you trying to keep it secret?”

“No—well…We never really got a chance to discuss it,” Nick sighed. “That was the first time we…”

“Oh! So you guys weren’t secretly dating this whole time?”

“No, no, we weren’t,” he said, blushing.

“So it was spur of the moment?”

“…Not…exactly…”

Monroe frowned. “You lost me.”

Nick sighed and danced is fingers along the wheel. “I…didn’t intent for it to happen how it did, but I wanted it to happen.”

“…Oh…Oh! Well, great! I mean, I thought it was great already, I just was surprised. Felt like I was the only one who was…”

“…Hank heard me tell Eve that I had a crush on Sloane,” Nick said awkwardly. “That’s the only reason he knew…and he was trying really hard to have me confess.”

Monroe smiled. “Hank was playing cupid?”

“Hank was trying. Kept pushing me, kept trying to get us alone together, all that. It was embarrassing and nerve-wracking, though I appreciated the thought.”

“You were nervous?”

“Well…yeah. I mean, I hadn’t put myself out there like that in almost a decade, since Juliette and I got together.”

“No, yeah, that would be intimidating. I was a wreck asking Rosalee to do…anything with me when we first met,” he said wistfully. “Not knowing how they feel, if they’ll say yes, that’s pretty freaky.”

“Yeah…I mean, I guess I shouldn’t have been that hesitant since she said she loved me before…”

“Yeah, if she already said it—Hold on, what?!”

“…It was in the dream world,” Nick blushed.

“The dream world? When you went into her head to wake her up?”

He nodded. “Yeah. She dreamed…well, that we were together. I had never even thought about her like that so it was kind of a shock. She told me how she felt, then feigned not remembering when she woke up. Because I…told her I still loved Juliette.”

“Ouch…”

“It was true at the time,” Nick sighed. “Obviously far from how I feel now. Then I lost her and…God, thinking she might be dead…” he said quietly, looking haunted thinking about it.

Monroe reached up and set a hand on his shoulder. “You realized what you lost before you knew you wanted it, huh?”

“…Yeah. Then I got her back and I was scared she’d stopped having those feelings. Scared I’d lose her again in a whole different way.”

“…You love her? Like, you’re in love with her?” Monroe asked, sounding honestly curious.

“…Yeah. I told her so. And she said it back,” he said, smiling. “I didn’t do that intending to sleep together so quickly though,” he added, blowing out a breath.

“Not getting cold feet?”

“No, never,” he said. “Just…we’re doing things out of order. I asked her to stay moved in, and she agreed, but now I’m not sure what’s going to happen…”

Monroe arched his brow. “Out of order? No such thing.” Nick looked at him. “Look, the order has been different in cultures and time periods and all that. Arranged marriages? You’d be married before you met the other person sometimes. Used to be no living together, no sex or anything before marriage, or so they say. All that talk about chastity and stuff—I mean, some still do but I think you gotta make sure your compatible with someone before you decide to spend your whole life with them. Plenty of people I know have had one-night stands turn into marriage—or kids then marriage for some. I think you just gotta…throw that idea that “you go in this order or it’s not a relationship” out the window. Whatever path it took to get you two to where you’re happy together will work. Just keep doing what feels right.”

“…Thanks, Monroe,” Nick smiled. He honestly felt a lot better hearing that. He glanced up and slowed when he saw a tall white steeple with a bell tower and a clock trimmed in dark wood. “That's the church.”

Monroe leaned down to look better and nodded when he checked the printout he’d made. “Yeah, I think it is…Make a left.” Nick turned quickly, heading to the parking nearest to the church. Monroe compared the information again. “Well, this is the closest Catholic church to what's on the map. Looks kind of newer than I expected.”

Nick shrugged. “Well, they've obviously done a few renovations.”

“Well, if they've done renovations, they might have already found what we're looking for,” Monroe pointed out.

Nick sighed but they grabbed their jackets and climbed out to go inside. The bells were chiming as they did and it was rather pretty, but neither of them were religious enough to feel the spirituality of the moment. They went through the first set of large oak doors—carved with scenes from the bible—to the foyer. No one was there so they continued to the simpler wooden doors into the main cathedral. It was dimly lit with only a few overhead chandeliers along the side converted to electric candle lights, and the multitude of real candles in candelabras and the votive candles burning in red glass holders. Sunlight was shaded and filtered through the beautifully crafted stained-glass windows running along the side. At the far end from the door was the altar, and behind that against the wall was a large pipe organ. Between them was a couple dozen rows of handcrafted pews with an aisle going between them.

“Let's see if there's someone to talk to,” Nick said, keeping his voice low and respectful.

They started up the aisle and Monroe looked around anxiously. “Oh, man, empty churches really give me the creeps. I always feel like I'm being observed by someone who's not really there.” He attempted the sign of the cross, but gave up when he realized he didn’t really know how to do it properly. Nick glanced at him with a quirked brow. “Hey, you never know.” They continued down the long aisle and he kept looking around. “Well, I'll tell you one thing, if this church was originally built in the 13th century, whatever we're looking for has got to be underneath, because this is way too new…”

They paused when they heard a squeaking noise. It sounded like someone rubbing something very shiny, the sort of hollow squeak. Getting to the end, they looked over to see a man cleaning the polished wooden divide between the nave and the altar. Monroe smiled in a friendly way, ready to converse. “Hallo?” The man didn’t turn to look at them, continuing to clean. “Bitte?” he tried again, a little louder.

“I don't think he can hear you,” Nick said.

“Hallo. Hallo?” Monroe gently set a hand on the man’s shoulder, but it was like a spark on a fuse. He jumped with a shriek, dropping the rag he was using and nearly knocking over the bucket of soapy water. He woged then in shock, turning into Ungeziefer Greifer—a sort of weasel wesen Nick vaguely remembered from a book.

They locked eyes for just a second but that was enough. The man scrambled back as though he’d seen death himself and jumped to his feet. “Ein Grimm. Ein Grimm!” he yelled, running for the door at the side of the alter.

Monroe looked at Nick, both of them surprised. “He just totally made you as a Grimm…”

“So much for subtlety…” he sighed.

They looked up when they heard footsteps coming towards them from that same doorway. A priest came out, sighing when he saw them. He was older, with a gentlemanly way of carrying himself. “I am so sorry. Did Gottlob startle you?” he asked, walking towards them. “He is a dedicated sacristan, but he cannot hear anything and he frightens easily.” He looked between the two of them and smiled quizzically. “You are Americans, yeah?”

“Yes, I'm Nick—” Monroe cleared his throat and Nick quickly corrected himself. “Frederick Calvert.”

“Felix Dietrich. Wie ghet es ihnen,” Monroe said, shaking his hand.

“Ahh, sie sprechen Deutsch,” the priest said with a smile.

Monroe smiled but then shrugged a little. “Ein kleines bisschen. But English is easier.”

He nodded, unperturbed, “So English it is. Well, I am Father Eickholt, the head priest of St. Laurentius. The only priest if I am being more honest. How can I help you? Are you here for confession, or just to look?”

“We're just checking out the sights of Wolfach, looking at some of the old architecture in the Black Forest,” Nick said, trying to seem just an affable tourist.

“With a particular interest in some of the older churches,” Monroe added.

He smiled, looking around at the inside with a hint of pride. “Ja, ja. It is a beautiful area with many beautiful churches. Please, enjoy your time in the Schwarzwald.”

“Oh, could you tell us how old this church is?” Nick asked quickly before he walked away.

The priest looked curious but thought a moment. “St. Laurentius was built in 1594.It is the oldest church in Wolfach, and as you can see, it still retains some of the original style.”

Nick and Monroe tried not to look as concerned as they felt when they glanced at one another. “I'm sorry, 1594? We thought this church was older than that,” Monroe said.

“Are there any older churches in the area?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, something more Gothic, you know? With the pointed arches and the ribbed vaults, maybe a flying buttress?”

The priest smiled in amusement. “You are talking about something from the time of the Crusades?”

“Yeah, we love that stuff,” he smiled, trying to seem like an architecture nerd. Which he was, sort of. It was a passing fancy really.

“I am sorry. You will not find anything that old near here,” he said, shaking his head.

They looked at one another again but smiled. “Well, thank you for your time,” Nick said.

“Enjoy our village, and you are welcome any time,” he said with a smile. Nick wasn’t sure it reached his eyes and had a bad feeling.

“Danke schon,” Monroe said, turning to head back to the door with Nick. “Well, we're only off by, like, 300 years,” he sighed once they were out the door. “This church didn't even exist during the Fourth Crusade.”

“But this is the church that's closest to the one on the map,” Nick sighed, climbing back into their car.

“Then we obviously made a mistake. We got to look at the map again.” Monroe reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the copy they brought with them. He looked where they’d circled. “All right, I know this map isn't even, like, close to scale, but it clearly shows a church existed here during the 13th century.”

Nick looked at it as well. “…The map is two dimensional.”

Monroe looked at him. “Uh, yeah, so?”

“So we're imagining the cross to be on top of the church,” Nick said, his mind forming an idea.

“That's usually how they're built.”

He shook his head and pointed “What if the cross, or "X", really does just mark the spot?”

“…Meaning the spot would be further away from Wolfach than the church looks on the map,” Monroe said, picking up on his train of thought.

“Closer to the confluence of these two rivers,” Nick nodded.

“Okay, that means we're in the wrong place. We need to look at the other map.” Monroe used his other hand to dig out his tablet, pulling up the GPS aerial map of the area. “All right, this mountain lines up with that mountain, and the confluence of the Wolf and the Kinzig rivers is right in the middle of town.” He put the map over the tablet, trying to get a better idea.

“And that cross lines up with the top of that hill, that's not too far out of town,” Nick said.”

Monroe nodded. “That makes sense, right? Build a church on the high ground above the village, before there even was a village.”

“But if there was this ancient church, somebody would have known about it,” Nick said, frowning.

“Right, and that priest didn't say anything…” Monroe said, frowning as well.

“…Maybe we're not looking for a church,” Nick proposed.

“Maybe they just... buried it on top of a hill,” Monroe nodded.

Nick grabbed the keys back up from his lap to start the car and put on his seatbelt. “Well, if we're gonna get out there, we better leave soon. It's about to get dark. We're gonna need a shovel and a couple of lanterns.”

Monroe nodded, putting his things away and also buckling up. “Into the woods we go.”

\-------------------------

Sloane got to the roof in record time. She had her gun raised, moving quietly but quickly to try and find Marwan. She wove around water collectors and AC units humming away too loud for her to be able to focus. She didn’t see any sign of someone else and growled. Moving to the side, she looked down to see if he’d made a new escape route. Moving to the far side, her eyes widened when she saw Marwan climbing down the side of the building. Despite the insect like ability to move down the wall, she could see he was a sort of bird. Black feathers, black curved beak like an eagle— _An Uhranuti?_ _Damn, that’s why he was able to shoot so well!_ “Marwan Hanano!”

His head whipped up and she could see his expression shift to one of shock and a bit of panic. He jumped the rest of the way, woging back to his bleach blonde look and trying to make a run for it.

Sloane cursed and rushed back for the stair well. It was ten floors down so she swung over the side and began jumping from floor to floor in the space between the handrails. She surprised Hank and Wu as they were rushing up, pressing against the wall with their guns raised. “Sloane?!”

“Marwan climbed down the side! I’m heading down after him!”

“Wait--!”

She didn’t wait, instead continuing her way down until she got to the ground and rushed out the door.

“…She really did start earning parkour, huh?” Wu said.

“Believe it or not, I think she’s done something like that before…”

Sloane raced to the side of the building, looking for Marwan. Moving down the street a little farther away, she heard the sound of a crash and turned to see a cyclist and slammed into a man with bleached blonde hair. Sloane started for him the same time a woman wearing a purple coat with a black scarf over her hair did. “Call an ambulance, I’ll check on him!” she said.

Sloane moved to take her badge out when she froze. The woman had taken off her sunglasses and her face was one she couldn’t forget. _Juliette…no, Eve, what is she—_

She gasped when she felt hands grab her and pull her aside. She lifted her arm, intent on snapping someone’s neck, but Meisner grabbed her wrist. “Wait!” he hissed.

Sloane looked at him, then at Eve as she was “tending” to Marwan, then back at him. “You son of a bitch, you used me,” she hissed.

“I knew you would find Hanano,” he sighed. “I knew you might kill him too and we need him alive.”

“He just tried to kill someone,” she gritted back.

“And he will face justice. But he is our only contact to Black Claw. Eve is getting his cellphone—he was making a call about being seen by a Grimm. Susannah read his lips.”

“Well that’s nice, but what the hell am I supposed to do? Let him go?”

“For now, yes.” He raised a hand. “I know it seems bad. But my father liked to fish and he would often say you sometimes have to throw a small fish away to get the bigger catch. Hanano can lead us to more Black Claw cells. Possibly the man in charge.”

“…Fine,” she said, holstering her gun. “Fine. I can understand that. But I don’t like being used.”

“I promise we were going to ask but…”

“We knew you wouldn’t want to work with me,” Eve said.

Sloane didn’t turn, leveling her gaze at a rather chagrinned Meisner. “I wonder why. Get your little fish to the hospital. And you tell me if you make any progress or you’ll be the one to explain to Dixon and his family what happened to his shooter. Provided he lives.” She headed back off again and Eve watched her go.

“…I have the phone. I put Hanano to sleep and he won’t wake up till I will it.”

“Let’s clone the sim card quickly then,” he sighed. “The van is down the street.”

She nodded, walking down that way. She eyed Sloane as she headed back to the stage but kept going.

The paramedics had arrived and were loading Dixon onto a stretcher. Renard, soaked in blood, watched worriedly. He looked up when Sloane came up. “Did you catch him?”

“…No. He got away. He had some _surprising skills_.”

Renard frowned deeply. “What kind?”

She leaned in and he leaned down to meet her as she whispered. “Uhranuti. He climbed down the side of the building using his talons. By the time I got down, he was gone…almost.”

“Almost?”

“Meisner came for him. They want to use him—”

“Detective Larson!” Sloane and Renard looked up as Rachael came over. She looked shaken, her make up running just slightly from tears. “I…I am so sorry. I should’ve listened to you…”

“I should’ve been more insistent, Rachael,” Renard said.

“I probably still wouldn’t have listened,” she said, sniffling. “And now Andrew is…”

“He’s still got a chance,” Renard said, more comforting.

“Thanks to you…And you again, detective. For giving that warning. How did you know though?”

“Just…put the pieces together with my partners,” Sloane said. “Sniper seemed the mostly likely choice and Dixon the most likely target.”

“But why?” Renard said, breathing deeply. “Why target him?”

“We’ll start looking into it,” Sloane said.

“I’ll meet you at the station after things are secure here.”

She nodded, heading back towards the apartments. She found Hank and Wu nearby. “Hey! How’s Dixon?”

“Alive, that’s all I know,” she sighed.

“Marwan got away?” Wu asked.

“Not…exactly. I don’t wanna lie to you guys so let’s go somewhere we can talk,” she sighed.

\-----------------------

“I'll call you when the cinchona arrives?” Rosalee said to the customer on the line. “Uh-huh. Okay, you're welcome.” She hanged up and sighed, tapping the phone as she let her thoughts wander.

“You okay?” Adalind asked.

She looked at Adalind and Kelly who were sitting at the worktable. Adalind was going through a few batches of spices while Kelly was teaching herself some of them by touch and smell more than sight. Diana was sitting in a pack and play nearby, playing with her dolls and some blocks. “Yeah…yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’re worried,” Kelly said, setting another jar down. “I don’t need my eyes to tell me that.”

“…Aren’t you?”

“I’m angrier that I didn’t get to go,” she sighed. “Or that I wasn’t invited to the unpacking.”

“We’re sorry about that,” Rosalee said again. “We just…don’t know how much you want to still be a part of this. I mean, we don’t want to just rub your nose in it…”

“I know,” she said more softly. “I get it…doesn’t make it easier though.”

“…Don't you think we should have heard from 'em by now?” Adalind asked.

Rosalee sighed. “Yeah…Maybe. I'm trying not to think about it.”

“Maybe they're out of cell service?” she said, trying to sound comforting.

“Yeah, that's one of the things I keep telling myself…”

“I'll try to come up with a few more for you,” Kelly said.

“I gotta go potty!” Diana said, standing up in the pack and play.

“Oh my gosh, she’s speaking in sentences,” Rosalee gasped.

“Yeah, and that’s her most important one,” Adalind chuckled.

“I’ll take her.” Kelly stood up and went over to lift her out. “Maybe I’ll take her for a walk too, if that’s okay. I…might need to clear my head a little too.”

Adalind nodded with a smile. “Sure, go for it.” Kelly went to take Diana to the shop’s bathroom, taking the stroller with her for afterwards. Adalind sighed and looked at Rosalee. “I feel for Kelly…I mean she’s such a huge help and she keeps getting better and better, but she’s also just kind of…”

“Existing? Rather than living?” Rosalee asked, looking after her worriedly.

“Yeah. I think helping with Diana was something she wanted to do to give her more of a purpose, and she’s been a huge help. And I’ll probably keep needing her when I go back to work. But I really want her to start doing more. I mean, she doesn’t have to travel and be a Grimm all the time anymore, she should get to enjoy some things. But every time I tell her that she changes the subject…And I know she’s worried about Nick a lot.”

“I wonder how you get a woman like that to relax,” Rosalee said. She heard her front bell ring and figured it was them heading out. But then it rang again and she glanced out to see one of her regulars. “Be right there!”

“I’m going to make some tea, you want some?” Adalind asked.

“Please,” she said, heading into the shop proper. Adalind set about making the tea, using the tea strainer and fresh leaves from Rosalee’s stash by the electric kettle. When she was about done she brought them back to the table and could hear Rosalee talking. “I can't believe it. It's horrible.”

“I know…Well, I have to go. You take care,” her customer said.

“You too.”

The bell rang again and Rosalee came in looking a bit paler. “What happened?”

“Somebody shot Andrew Dixon,” she said, still surprised.

Adalind was surprised as well. “The guy running for mayor?”

“Yes. He was shot at a rally just a couple of hours ago. They don’t know if he’ll make it…”

“Oh, my God. Did they get who did it?” she asked. She felt like she knew that name from somewhere else but couldn’t put her finger on it.

Rosalee shrugged helplessly and shook her head. They could hear the door open and the bell ring again as she spoke. “I don't know. A customer just told me. She didn't know anything more than that.” She paused when she heard her table bell being forcefully dinged a couple of times. Taking a deep breath, she put on a smile and went back to the shop floor. “Can I help you?”

Rosalee froze when she saw the man at the counter. He was scruffy, with a patchy five o’clock shadow and literally dirty blonde hair. He was gaunt, tall and thin. His clothes looked like he’d worn them a long time and slept in them too likely, and he carried a large backpack with a sleeping bag rolled on top. But those deep-set eyes were familiar and she felt like she couldn’t breath as panic set in. “Tony?”

Tony smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. It never was unless he wanted something, and even then it was a pale imitation of a friend. That’s what this was, a friendly look painted by a forger. He sat the jar of herbs he’d been curiously sniffing down. “Why didn't you answer my letters? I know you got 'em. I checked the address outside. I sent 'em here.”

Rosalee took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Look, Tony, I have moved on with my life, and I don't think we need...”

“I need your help,” he said, smile fading a little.

“The kind of help you need, I... I can't give you,” she said, coming close enough to grab the jar and secure the lid to put it away.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he asked, huffing a bit indignantly.

“I don't want to get into this,” she said, shaking her head.

“You owe me,” he stated.

She turned, glaring at him. “I don't owe you anything.”

“I went to jail for you!”

“You didn't go to jail for me, Tony,” she said, shaking her head.

“I robbed those people 'cause you were crashing!”

“You robbed those people so you and Carlos could get high!” she snarled.

“Well, Carlos is dead now,” he stated. Rosalee flinched. The letter he sent stated as much. Carlos hadn’t been a great person, but he’d been one of the better men she knew on the streets in Seattle. The kind that tried to look out for others, especially girls in vulnerable positions. Tony looked out for them too but for less pure reasons. “J.J.'s in Boise, and Burt's in jail. I got no one left to turn to.” She faltered a moment till he went on. “I need five grand.” Her head snapped up and she narrowed her eyes, nostrils flaring. “You can come up with five grand! I mean, look at this place.” He gestured around them, moving to come behind the counter. She backed up, glaring at him. “Probably make that in a day…”

“You need to leave now,” she said, trying to be forceful.

He stared at her a moment before grabbing a jar from the counter behind him and throwing, aiming for her head. She managed to dodge it and for a moment she was back to being a filthy squatter, hooked on J and living in a condemned gas station. But she pushed that part of her back again and turned her head back to glare at him. That wasn’t who she was now and she would be damned if he made her feel less than what she was again.

“So you get your little ass straight. Think you're better than everyone.” He got up to her, toe to toe, in her face. “You know me, Rosy, and you should know better than to piss me off.” He marched around her and brought his hands up, tipping jars and boxes along the shelves to the ground. Glass shattered, dried herbs broke and spread apart like sand, and hundreds of dollars was being broken in seconds.

“Get out!” she screamed, grabbing him to push him away. He turned and backhanded her across the face, sending her sprawling with a shout.

“You owe me, bitch!” he yelled.

“Stop it! Leave her alone!”

Rosalee and Tony looked up to see Adalind in the entryway to the side room. She was not intimidating in her jeans and gray sweater. Tony saw no threat as he turned to her. “How much money you got?”

Adalind swallowed “I'm calling the police.”

“The hell you are.” He woged into a beetle-like wesen—smooth face, helmet domed head, dark beady eyes and two feelers on either side of his sharp, finger-like mandibles. Adalind gasped in shock first, then in pain and doubled over, pressing her hands to her stomach. “Still want to call the cops?” he asked, getting right up to her.

“Tony, no!” Rosalee yelled, scrabbling to her feet.

Tony raised his hand, moving to strike Adalind. Just before he did though his hand froze. He looked surprised a moment—then his index finger bent backwards. There was a snapping sound as it broke and he screamed but couldn’t get away. Neither could Adalind as she watched in both fear and determination. Each of his fingers began to bend and break like twigs and he screamed in fear and de-woged. When he could finally move he pulled his hand close and ran for the door, screaming and crying in pain. Rosalee quickly ran and closed and locked the door behind him.

“Oh, God…Oh, my God…” Adalind gasped, covering her mouth and staggering backwards. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God, oh, my God—”

“Adalind,” Rosalee said, moving towards her.

“Oh, my God. It can't be back,” she whispered, shaking. Rosalee gently took her shoulders and guided her back to the side room, sitting on the metal frame bed in the corner. “Oh, my God, it can't be back; it can't be back. I don't want it back.”

“Maybe... maybe it's just... temporary,” Rosalee said, trying to calm both of them down.

“No, no, no, I can't have it back. I never want it back. Don't... please, you... You can't tell Nick.”

“What?”

“Please, please promise me that you won't tell him. If you tell Nick, or Sloane, they might tell Meisner or Renard or someone and then they might take Diana,” she said, shaking and on the verge of tears.

“Adalind, keeping it from them might be worse,” Rosalee said gently. “It would be so much worse if they found out and you hadn't told them. The suppressant wasn’t permanent, they’ll understand.”

“No, no they won’t. Because I am not good when I have my powers. I can't go back to being that.”

“You are so different now! Maybe it would be different even if it came back.”

“You don't understand what it's like being a Hexenbiest...” she said, shaking her head. “What it does to you, the way it makes you think and feel. It's not good. You saw what it did to Juliette.”

“But you are different, than her and than who you were before,” she said. “And what about Henrietta? She fights those urges. You were working to fight those urges even before, remember? You helped Sloane. You learned to heal. You decide what you do with your powers, the same way Juliette did.”

She sniffled, calming slightly. “…I just wanted to be normal…a good example for Diana…I can’t lose her again.”

Rosalee sighed and nodded. “…You didn’t use all of it. You kept some to give her and didn’t, right? Could you take that?”

Adalind sighed, remembering she did still have that small batch, and nodded. “Y-yes…you’re right, I have enough…but what do I do when that runs out?”

“Then we’ll figure something out,” she said.

She sighed and tried to calm down more. They jumped when they heard a knock at the door. “Adalind? Rosalee?”

“It’s Kelly,” Rosalee sighed, walking to the door.

“Wait! She can’t know either!” Adalind whispered.

“She lives with you, Adalind, I think she’s going to figure it out…”

“Please?”

Rosalee sighed but nodded. Adalind quickly wiped at her face, trying to regain a little composure as she opened the door.

“…What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m blind, not stupid,” Kelly said. “I can smell a bunch more herbs than before. Diana, sweety, is it messy in here?”

“Super messy!” the little girl said, looking around in surprise.

Rosalee flushed a bit at being outed by a toddler but sighed. “…We had a bad visitor. But he left.”

“Bad visitor?” Kelly asked.

“Someone from my past. A…very bad man.”

“…Is he still around?”

“No, Ada…we scared him off. I think I’m going to close early today. Why don’t you all go home and relax.”

“You don’t need help cleaning up?” Adalind asked.

“No, I can—” They jumped when the bits of glass and herbs rose up into the air. Rosalee looked at Adalind a moment, but she shook her head. They looked down at Diana, who’s eyes were glowing purple as she waved her little arms in the air. The jars and their contents floated through the air to the trashcan nearby. A few that were salvageable went back together magically. Soon the store was spick and span once again.

“All clean!”

“I…thank you, Diana, I appreciate that,” Rosalee said honestly.

Diana grinned up at her and then looked up at Adalind. “All clean!”

Adalind smiled and leaned down to stroke her hair. “Yes…good job, sweety. I’m proud of you.”

“She’s got a good role model,” Rosalee said gently.

“…I feel like I missed something,” Kelly sighed.

“…I’ll…tell you on the way home.”

“Okay…lead the way.”

\-------------------------

“Argh... That hurt...” Monroe groaned. Dust and small rocks were still falling around them. He and Nick had gone out into the woods beyond the town to search that night and gone to the top of the hill to see if they could find signs of an old, medieval church. Monroe found signs of stones lined up and another flat stone that could’ve been part of a foundation. Prying it up to confirm it had chisel marks, they’d felt the earth move under their feet. Monroe said they might’ve shifted something accidently just as the ground gave way and they plunged into the darkness.

“Are you okay?” Nick coughed, groaning as he tried to get his bearings and move.

“I don't know yet…I don't think anything's broken…” he grunted, stretching his neck carefully.

“I think I'm okay too…” Nick sighed.

“Ugh…this is the third time I’ve fallen into a pit on our adventures, I want to note that…”

“Noted,” Nick grunted as they both got to their feet.

Monroe turned his lantern up to the opening they fell through a good ten feet up in the air. “We in some kind of a cave?”

“I have no idea,” he sighed.

Moving the lantern down and around, he jumped slightly when he was met with an alcove filled carefully with human skills. “Dude...It's a catacomb,” he gasped.

“This must be a church,” Nick said, finding more bone laden walls.

“Not just any church. This is the church from the map!” Monroe said, laughing a little. He went towards an opening and Nick followed. They found a few areas where bodies had been laid out rather than stacked, the skeletons resting peacefully despite the sudden intrusion. “My God. Whatever they hid, they have to have hidden it down here.”

“Well, they must have buried it,” Nick said, looking around. “Start with the floor. Look for some kind of opening.”

“Get the shovels,” Monroe said.

Nick went back to get their gear where they fell with them and they started trying to find a hallow area or other hiding place beneath the large flagstones. After an hour Monroe groaned and dropped his.

“I got nothing!”

“Neither do I,” Nick sighed. Despite being nearly a millennium old, the floor of the church was as sturdy as ever. There was no sign of a secret chamber and was only the two rooms as far as they could see—it was a small church likely.

“Burying something under these stones? I mean, that's kind of overkill, don't you think?” Nick looked up at him and Monroe gestured around them. “I mean, we are in the catacombs of an ancient church in the middle of the Black Forest. You really think the crusaders would have made it that difficult if they ever wanted to come back for this thing someday?”

“Well, we have to check, because they might have, and we're not coming back,” Nick said, impatient as he kept scrapping his shovel along the seams to find a place it would be able to dig or pry.

“But think about it... Archeology, anthropology as we know it didn't exist back then. History wasn't something you studied. It was something you made! …Usually with a lot of blood.” He sighed, looking around again. “I'm just saying, I think...I think we need to think like them.”

Nick nodded slowly and stood. “Okay…So 800 years ago, people were very superstitious. They wouldn't have liked being down here.” _I don’t like being down here_.

“Right? So maybe... putting something behind a bunch of dead people would give it a little more security than just, you know, burying it under any old stones.” Monroe said, moving towards one of the resting places.

Nick followed, the lantern flickering slightly. He looked at the skull of the body and nodded again. “Protected by the spirits of the dead.”

“Exactly! Skull and crossbones! Crossbones make an X!” he said, forming an ex with his arms.

“I'll start with this one,” Nick said, reaching up to take the skull.

Monroe went to another wall and reached to grab a skull. “Nothing personal, guys. Or gals,” he added. They started taking bones off the shelves, trying to find any sign of something important. After taking several piles of remains down and finding nothing, Monroe sighed. “Maybe this is wrong too.”

“No, we're not done yet,” Nick said, determined to find something.

Monroe went to the next one and dropped a femur, which broke on the ground like a dry branch. “Oh, sorry, buddy…Better now than when you were alive, though, right?” He knelt to pick the pieces up but paused when he heard a rumbling. He looked up again in time for a wave of bones to come flooding from behind. They pelted him and he quickly stood to try and get out of the way while they crashed to the ground, many more breaking or cracking. “Whoa…Wow.” Nick came over to look too and Monroe eased forward through the puddle of bones to look up where they’d come from. He moved a few from the shelf to get a better look, less caring now. There was a negative space behind the resting place where the bones had been stuffed up. But it wasn’t terribly far back and it seemed empty now. “I don't think there's anything else up there…reminds me of when I don’t clean my chimney.”

Nick sighed and paced slightly. “There's something we're not seeing…Just like the maps on the keys. The X was right in front of us, but we couldn't see it until we started thinking differently.”

“Well, I'm thinking all these bones look the same to me,” Monroe sighed.

He shook his head. “No, it's got to be down here somewhere.”

“What if we're looking too hard? You know? I mean, I don't see an X, Nick,” he sighed.

Nick racked his brains, tapping his fingers. “We need to go back 800 years…”

“We kind of are back 800 years. I don't think a lot has changed down here in that time,” Monroe said dryly.

“I'm not talking about the place. I'm talking about us. It's like you said. We're not thinking the way they are,” Nick said. Monroe sighed, his frustration starting to boil over. Nick looked around and his eyes landed on his lantern. “…Nobody would come down here without light, right?”

“Not if they wanted to see anything, no,” he said.

“And they would've been too scared by the spirits, right?”

Monroe began to pick up on Nick’s train of thought and nodded slowly. “Yeah…and in a world lit only by fire, they would have had, like, you know, torches.”

“So what if light actually prevents someone from seeing it?” Nick said, picking up the electric lantern.

“Wait a minute,” Monroe said, nodding slowly. “If nobody would ever come down here without torchlight but what they hid can't be seen with torchlight, then, yeah, I mean, fear alone would have kept anybody from doing that.”

“So maybe we should turn off the lights.” Nick clicked his flashlight off, then reached down to turn the lantern off.

Monroe blanched. “Uh...Yeah, I mean, I guess... guess we could do that.” He hesitated but quickly clicked his lantern off. “Okay, dark…” he said, his voice higher as he fought panic. Even his blutbad senses couldn’t see anything in this darkness.

“…Well, it's not an X,” Nick said.

“What's not an X? I can't tell what you're looking at.” He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, my God, that better be your hand.” The hand pushed him and made him about face and he nearly dropped the lantern in surprise.

“Look at those skulls,” Nick said. They walked forward, staring at the back of seven skulls in the wall that were glowing. It was a faint phosphorescent glow in a pale yellowish hue.

“Seven of 'em…Kind of a circle,” Monroe said, shocked.

“Doesn't look like a circle. Looks more like a G,” Nick said.

“Oh, my God. For the seven Grimm crusaders. Holy crap.”

Nick turned his lantern back on. The wall had many more skulls set into it, with femur bones between them to keep them stable. But there was something that made those seven different he realized. “They're all facing in, not out…”

“What do you think those seven are looking at?” Monroe asked, looking at Nick with anticipation.

“Let's find out.” Despite their eagerness, they carefully removed one of the skulls. A few bones came out, but for the most part they stayed where they were as they carefully took another out. When they had a gap about two feet wide Nick heard the scrape like the bones hit something metal. He reached in and quickly moved a few out of the way to see a metal cross behind them. He laughed a bit and so did Monroe. “There's the X.”

They kept pulling the bones away, putting them in piles at the side, till they revealed the cross was the emblem of a large kite shield. The kind that would’ve been used by the templars. Monroe grabbed the shovel and worked to wedge it in behind it. “This is a seriously old shield,” He grunted, trying to get the shovel in deeper.

“I doubt they would have just hidden a shield,” Nick said, supporting it so it didn’t just fall back on them. “It's probably protecting something.”

They both grunted as the shield popped free and quickly grabbed it to take it down and put it to the side. Behind the shield was a deep recessed hole in the wall, covered in cobwebs.

“Holy crap…Check it out,” Monroe gasped.

Nick swiped the cobwebs away to get a better look. Sitting in the recess was a chest about the size and shape of an old metal toolbox. It was old and had a think patina on it that made it look dingy. Nick reached up to grab it.

“Careful, careful, careful. It could fall apart,” Monroe said quietly.

Nick pulled it carefully from the hole with a dull scraping sound and grunted as he carried it over to a fallen stone column. “I think it's bronze,” Nick said, pulling the lantern closer.

“Those look like keyholes,” Monroe said, carefully tracing one hole. “Four on this side...” He craned his neck to see the other side. “Three on the other.”

“Seven locks, seven keys!” Nick said, letting his excitement get to him. “Let's give it a try!” He reached into his jacket and pulled out the leather folding satchel he’d put the keys into. Monroe took one and he took one to unfold. They started trying the keys in the holes but Monroe was having no luck as the key refused to turn in any of them.

“Oh, man. Not boding well.”

Nick was having similar luck till he got to the third hole and with a little force the key turned and he heard a click. He grinned. “I got one.” They both laughed, giddy with success.

Monroe tried the last hole on his side and got the key to turn as well. “Oh, my God, Nick. Dude, this is it. I mean, this is really it. We're touching history! I mean, this thing hasn't been seen for, like, 800 years. I mean... I just... I think we should take a moment and just, you know, recognize the significance of this,” he said, taking a deep meditative breath. “Savor the moment.”

“Well, it's not open yet,” Nick said, still trying keys.

“I know, I know, but this is momentous, even if it's empty. I mean, we came this far, we found it, after all the others have searched throughout the centuries!” Nick looked at him with a touch of impatience as he struggled with one of the keys and Monroe smiled apologetically for getting worked up. “I know. I know. I mean, we should see if it opens, but I'm just saying.”

Nick got the rest of the keys in, but with only five the lid didn’t give. He tried pulling at it, but even with Grim strength it stayed fused to the base. He sighed in frustration. “We're gonna need the other two keys. Or lockpicks,” he added, realizing that might be easier.

Monroe groaned, covering his face in shame. “I forgot my lockpicks! I should have brought my lockpicks…I mean, we can't take it to a locksmith here. How do we explain what it is or how we found it or any of it?”

Nick nodded and grabbed it back up. “We're gonna have to take it to Portland.”

“All right, well, the first thing we got to do is figure out how to get out of here,” Monroe said, standing to go look where they fell through while Nick secured the box in his backpack. “I mean, we certainly can't climb back up the way we fell in.”

“Well, there's got to be an entrance,” he said, covering the box with some of his clothes.

“All right, I'll take this one,” He said, heading for another archway. He pulled some of the cobwebs away, looking around with the lantern. Once Nick got the box secured, he also went searching. He realized there was a lot more to the church catacomb than he first thought. They were lucking in a way to land where they did because it could’ve taken hours or even a couple of days to search the rest.

Monroe was surprised when he found a couple of skeletons decked out in jewels and silk. But even stranger, he saw a banner between them. It was a tapestry of some kind, showing seven men kneeling around a dark figure, each holding something up to him. He frowned and reached up to carefully straighten it. There were words written around the border. “…Sieben zerbrochene Stücke…um ihn einzudämmen…What? I can’t read the rest…” he squinted, bringing the lantern closer and pulling lightly at the material.

Nick managed to find a set of stairs. “Hey, I think I found the way out!” He started up the stairs. Monroe, startled by the yell, pulled on the banner and gasped as it pulled free. He grimaced but then quickly rolled it up and put it in his pack while he went to find Nick. He could see the light from his lantern at the end of one passage and quickly went to it, heading upstairs to find Nick looking at what appeared to be a cave in with barely contained panic.

“This has to be it…”

Monroe put his pack to the side and quickly began to help him try to dig a way out.

\-------------------------

Renard wished he was the sort of man that kept a tumbler of whiskey in his office. He’d come straight from the rally after things were handled as best they could be. He’d pulled open his tie and saw he still had blood on his cuffs and hands. He’d washed his hands but they were still there. Andrew was taken to the hospital and it didn’t look good. He was still alive, but lost a lot of blood. He’d pulled him back enough the bullet missed his heart and main organs, but it hit just above his hip. They thought the bullet may have nicked either the iliac or femoral arteries. Or both. And a lot of nerves as well.

He looked up when there was a knock on the door and nodded to Sloane, Hank and Wu. He waved them in and waited till they closed to the door to grill them. “You said he got away?”

“He did. But I saw Marwan afterward,” Sloane said.

“Then why didn’t you bring him in?” he asked, not his usual calm. He was angry, it was obvious, but more so at whoever did this.

Sloane stayed calm though. “I was going to. He’d apparently been hit by a cyclist. But I realized that someone else was there…”

“Who?”

“…Eve.”

He straightened then sighed. “You mentioned Meisner too…”

“He’s the one that really stopped me. Apparently they came because they want Hanano as well, but more as a…”

“Lure?” Wu supplied.

“Sort of. They want to use him to lead them to the Black Claw cell still in Portland.”

“So you let him?”

She sighed. “I didn’t like it either. But Meisner made a good point; we don’t know what Black Claw is planning right now. They’re going to track him, figure it out and let us know.”

“This could be worse than Halloween,” Hank said worriedly. “We barely kept that from turning into a city full of woging, raging wesen…what they got planned next could be just as bad.”

Renard calmed slightly. “…But this doesn't make any sense. Why would he kill a candidate running for mayor of Portland? If he’s working for Black Claw, his targets are bigger than this.”

“Unless Dixon was Wesen,” Hank said.

“Was he? Er…is he?”

“No, I don't think so…And I don’t know how he’s doing. He’s in surgery last I heard…”

“…I’m sorry,” Sloane said, looking down. “If we’d just been faster…”

“…You did more than I did,” Renard sighed. “You tried to warn us, and you at least gave him a chance…”

“You risked getting shot for him though, Captain,” Hank said.

“…I don’t have a lot of actual friends. Andrew is one of the few I have.” They looked at one another, feeling for their Captain. Renard glanced up and frowned. “Feds are here…”

They turned to see a couple of men in FBI jackets. Apparently firing at a Mayoral candidate got their attention. “They're gonna be all over this,” Hank said.

“What do we tell 'em?” Wu grimaced. “Can't I.D. Marwan, 'cause we can't explain our source.”

Renard sighed, leaning against his desk. “Run them through it. Tell them you saw a shooter in the window. Let them run their own investigation, and stay out of it. We’ll wait till HW tells us something.”

They nodded and headed for the door. Sloane paused and looked back at him. “…You should got home and get cleaned up.”

“I need to help figure this out—”

“We’re going to be busy giving the feds our info, you got time. Being covered in blood isn’t going to help get things done. And it’s going to distract you too.”

“…Fair point. I’ll be back soon then,” he sighed.

She nodded and headed out. She paused and went down a side hall to take her phone out. Looking at it, she sighed when she didn’t see any new texts or missed calls. Worry nibbled at her insides but she pushed it away. She thought about calling but opted for a text instead.

 _“Hey, Nick”—no, that’s not right. “Dear Nick”—am I waiting for my husband to return from war?! “Nicky—” No. Just no, that is what his mother calls him. “Babe”—nah uh. Ugh, it’s a text, you got several others in here, just keep it casual. Just like before. Sleeping together has changed nothing…Oh who am I kidding, it definitely did._ She groaned and pulled at her face in frustration. Staring at the ceiling, she blushed at how she felt so unsure on a _text_ of all things. Looking at her phone again, she took a breath and typed out what she wanted to know.

_Are you okay?_

She nodded and sent that and put her phone away again to go break down what they knew to the FBI.

\------------------------

“You sure you want to put yourself through this again?” Kelly asked.

Adalind sighed, looking at the jar on the table like a dangerous animal. “I don’t have much choice…”

“Nick told me it was pretty rough on you the first time…”

“To put it mildly…Some restraints would be nice. It’s going to look like I’m having a seizure. Or an exorcism. It kind of is I guess…”

“Not really putting me at ease here…”

“I’d rather you be ready than at ease…Diana is down for her nap?”

“Yes, I set her down in her crib and closed the door.”

She nodded. “Okay…Okay, I did this once, I can do it again.” She unscrewed the lid and wrinkled her nose. Despite looking like water it still had the stench of a decaying body.

“Don’t guess you can mix a little wine in there?”

“Honestly might make me sicker,” she sighed. She grasped the jar and moved to pick it up…but couldn’t. “What?” She pulled harder. “Why can’t I pick it up?” She grasped it with both hands, but then gasped when it flew up away from her grasp. It hovered in the air.

“Mommy, no!”

“Diana?!” Adalind gasped, looking to see her daughter at the hall with her hands up and her eyes glowing violet.

“Diana, it’s naptime,” Kelly said, trying to keep her voice calm and even.

She shook her head. “Bad stuff! Mommy shouldn’t drink!”

Adalind felt her heart clench. “Diana, I know you’re trying to help, but mommy has to drink that.”

“No!”

“Diana, give mommy the jar,” she said, trying not to snap.

Diana screwed up her face. “No!” she waved her hands and Adalind gasped as the jar shot past her and smashed against thew wall. It shattered into pieces, the potion dripping down the wall to the puddle of glass shards below.

“Diana!” Adalind gasped.

“Oh, that didn’t sound good,” Kelly said.

“Diana, what have you done?!” Adalind said.

Diana jumped at her raised voice and then began to sob. “I-it’s bad! Smells bad and feels bad! I don’t want mommy drinking it!”

Adalind groaned and covered her face, trying hard to calm down. “…Sweetheart…I am so happy you want to protect me but I knew what I was doing, I promise…”

“…I did bad?”

She looked at her through her fingers, watching tears roll down her face. Adalind sighed and walked over, picking her up. “You tried to do the right thing…But mommy worked very hard on that drink and it was…medicine. Medicine is often yucky but we take it to make things better. Like when you had a fever.”

“…Sorry…” she said, sniffling.

“…We’ll figure things out,” she sighed, kissing her forehead. “Kelly is going to put you down for a nap now—and you need to take it. Mommy is going to clean this up.”

“…Okay,” she said. Kelly stood and Adalind handed Diana to her.

“It’ll be alright, Adalind,” she said. “You have my trust that you’re not going to be a bad witch anymore.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling honestly. She sighed and grabbed the broom from the nearby closet and moved to sweep up the glass. There was no salvaging the potion she knew and she tried not to think about how she’d make more. A dead Hexenbiest was not easy to come by…

\---------------------------

Monroe managed to push his head up through the leaf litter and pine needles, taking a breath of the clear forest air. Fresh and dust free compared to the musty crypts below. “We're out,” he sighed. He pushed his hands clear of the edge, pulling the rest of his body out. It was a bit like that scene in _Shawshank Redemption,_ only it wasn’t raining. Once he was on his feet, he turned to look down. “All right, hand me the stuff.”

Nick handed him one lantern, then his pack, then Nick’s pack, then the other lantern before moving to climb out himself. Monroe reached down to help him up. They looked at one another, filthy but alive and with the treasure in hand, before laughing in triumph.

“Let's go,” Nick said, clapping him on the back.

“Okay,” Monroe nodded, grabbing his pack and a lantern. They hopped down a small incline and saw the stacked stones at the side of it. This must’ve been where the church proper once stood. It was little more than a sloping hill now, maybe about six feet at its highest point. Which was still mostly dirt. Monroe wondered if maybe it had been left to be forgotten on purpose as another layer of protection.

As they made their way down to the edge though they froze when they saw spots of light through the trees. Voices were accompanying them, giving orders of where to go from the sound of it. “That's a lot of lights…” Monroe said.

“They’re coming this way,” Nick said, getting a bad feeling.

“Well, maybe somebody's lost and it's a search party looking for...” They looked at one another.

“We should go,” Nick said. They turned the lanterns off and quietly sprinted the other way, trying to find a way around. When they saw more lights ahead, they ducked down and hid among the underbrush. Several members were speaking German to one another, moving only feet away. Peeking through the leaves, they could see one man turn around and recognized his frock and collar under his coat before even seeing his face. He was looking around and pointing to people, orchestrating much of the search before moving on with his lantern held high.

“Was that the priest?” Monroe hissed.

“Yeah, I think so,” Nick nodded.

“What the hell is the priest doing out here? You think he knows about the keys?”

Nick shook his head slowly, frowning worriedly. “No, I think the guy we scared in the church made me as a Grimm.”

“…Oh, my God, you're right,” he gasped. “He obviously told the priest.”

“They're hunting us,” Nick said. He held his pack close to him as they got up again and tried to find a way around to their rental car.

They got a few feet away when they heard the priest yelling. It didn’t sound distressed, more like an order. “He's calling for them to go to him,” Monroe said. “He must have found the catacombs.”

“Well, that ought to keep 'em busy for a while,” Nick said, nudging him along.

They came to a small clearing just as the man from the church did, the Ungeziefer Greifer. He froze for a moment seeing Monroe and Nick, but then threw off his soft cap and bared his teeth. Woging, he rushed forward. Monroe hadn’t expected the weasel-like wesen to attack and brought his arm up, shouting as teeth dug in through his coat and shirt to the skin beneath. Nick rushed in and grabbed the man, pulling him off of Monroe and throwing him away. He made a high-pitched snarl and ran into the woods while Monroe cradled his arm.

“Little bastard! He bit me!” Monroe growled and moved to go after him but Nick stopped him.

“No, hey, no! We don't have time.” Monroe growled but let him push him to keep going the other way. “Go.”

“Man,” he sighed, heading that way while they heard the little weasel shouting “Der Grimm, der Grimm, der Grimm!” over and over to alert the others.

They ran as fast as they could while dodging bushes and trees in the dark to get to where their car was parked at the base of the hill. They slowed as they got closer. Nick was barely breathing heavier and Monroe quickly caught his breath so they could quietly move in. They saw two men by their car, surrounded by several others, one holding a lantern and another holding a flashlight. They had no weapons but that didn’t mean they couldn’t woge into something much more dangerous. But they couldn’t see them yet.

“Our car is right in the middle…How are we supposed to get down there without them seeing us?” Monroe sighed in frustration.

Nick looked at them, trying to think like a group of wesen hunting a Grimm. He was sure the priest would try to get the bravest and boldest he could to come hunt with him. He doubted any of them liked staying behind to watch the cars. “…Call them. Tell them you're here.”

Monroe looked at Nick like he’d lost his mind. “What?”

“In German,” Nick said, as if that clarified things.

“But they don't know me!” he hissed.

“What if you did it while you were woged?”

Monroe gave him a flat look and spoke with only a slightly mocking air of being insulted. “All Blutbaden do not look alike.”

Nick rolled his eyes and looked at him. “I know, but it's dark, and if they're looking for a Grimm, the last place they'd expect to find one is with a Blutbad in the middle of the Black Forest.”

“That's true,” he nodded, unable to argue.

“You have any better ideas?” Nick pressed.

He sighed and shrugged off his pack. “No, I guess I don't.” He woged, his red eyes almost glowing in the dark forest. He nodded to Nick before going stumbling out and playing up his bloody arm like it was a war wound. “Hallo, hallo!” he yelled. The men gasped and turned towards him, lifting their lights. Monroe put his arms up as if blinded by the light but also to hide his face and make it harder to see him. “ _They need your help!”_ he shouted in German. _“It’s the Grimm! Hurry! Hurry!”_ Both men ran past him, heading up towards the top of the hill. _“So many hurt!”_ he said, trying to sell it. When they were far enough away he woged back and waved at Nick. “Come on! Come on!”

Nick rushed down, handing Monroe’s bag back to him and going to their car. “It's not gonna take 'em long to figure out what happened,” Nick said, unlocking the rental car.

“Well, we can't outrun all of them!”

“They're not gonna know which way we went!”

“Well, then, they're gonna split up. We're gonna have to deal with some of 'em!” Monroe pointed out.

Nick cursed under his breath, looking around before back at him. “One tire, each car.”

Monroe’s face lit up. “The shovels.”

Nick nodded and they grabbed the small shovel from the side of their packs and quickly went around and jammed them hard into the tires. It took a couple of hits on some but the managed to cause deep, wide gashes that let the air come hissing out quickly. As Nick was slicing the last one he paused and focused his hearing. He could hear footsteps and shouts in the distance but they were getting closer. “They're coming.”

Monroe did his last wheel and they dashed to their rental car, jumping in and throwing it into drive and skidding out over the dirt and tree debris just as they saw the men coming down from the trees. They got onto the road and drove fast. “We need to get to Leo’s.”

“Shouldn’t we go straight for the airport?” Monroe said, trying to bandage his arm with the first aid kit from his bag.

“The priest knows what names we’re flying under. He could call in a false tip and make it harder for us to fly back out. He might know what to do, and he’ll have a better way to get whatever we’ve got home too because that’s going to be hard to explain at customs.”

“Fair point…you sure we can trust him?”

“I’m sure we have no better choice right now either.”

He sighed and nodded. It took them a little over an hour to get to Leo’s place. Nick opted to go and knock on the door while Monroe stayed in the car. Leo came to the door in a long old-fashioned nightgown, rubbing his eyes. “Do you know what time it is…Whoa, mate, you look like you’ve been through the wringer,” he said, waking up more.

“More like climbed out of a grave,” Nick sighed. “We managed to do what we came to do though. Now we need your help getting back to America.”

“My help?”

“Our aliases were compromised. I’m worried about getting home without getting pulled aside by the TSA or whatever the equivalent here is.”

“Okay…I mean, the library is better for that…”

“I have something I need to get through security too…” he went on, giving him a hard look.

“Okay, okay, I’ll make some calls,” he sighed, stepping aside to let him in. He glanced at the car but Monroe just waved with his good hand. He quirked his brow but closed the door. “How big is what you need to disguise?”

“Uh…” Nick gestured with his hands and Leo’s eyes widened.

“Are you taking the piss…?”

“…No?”

“Ugh, I don’t do things that size without at least a week’s notice!”

“Well I don’t have a week!” Nick said back. Leo glared at him and Nick sighed. “Look, I’m sorry to put you on the spot, but Sloane put a lot of faith in you. If you can’t do it…”

“…I know you’re trying to manipulate me. I hate that it’s working,” he sighed, moving past him. “Okay…I can manage it and getting you through, I think, but you will owe me.”

“How much?” Nick asked, worriedly.

“Not money. Not for this. You will _owe_ me.”

Nick knew he should be more concerned about that but nodded. “Right. Okay, got it.”

He nodded and went over to a work bench. “I was about to package your knife. You still want that?”

“Yes, of course,” Nick said. He held it out to him and Nick took it. He smiled a bit when he saw he’d put a few more touches to it—the scroll work _S_ was engraved on the blade near the hilt, dry brushed a dark metallic silver that wouldn’t reflect light. The black leather was re-braided to be more comfortable and it had a silver cap at the end that had a mystical sort of woven quality to it. “It’s perfect…”

Leo straightened a bit, pleased obviously. “Well yes, of course it is…But give it here.” He took it back, putting a simple black leather sheath over it. He then set the down onto a piece of cloth and wrapped it up. Then he reached up to a shelf and pulled down a teddy bear. Nick blinked, staring at it till Leo reached into a tiny hole in the neck and pulled down a zipper.

“What is that?” Nick asked, watching as he slipped the knife inside.

“Best sized hidey-hole I have for the knife,” He said, making sure it fit in. “The inside is fluff, then a special lining I treated that will hide the knife from view. It’ll look like empty space behind the fluff they do see. It’s only good for a short time though so it’s not really reusable unfortunately…”

“That’s…still pretty amazing,” Nick said.

“You think? I could tell you all about it—” he said, getting excited.

“I would normally love that—and I’m sure my friend would too—but we need to get going.”

“Oh…right, sorry,” he said, smiling apologetically. He grabbed a pair of rubber gloves and pulled them on. “Um, for that other thing, whatever it is, a teddy bear won’t cut it. The best I can do is give you like a bit of cloth I treated with my process. Wrap it up and put your clothes around it to try and hide it. That’s all I have on short notice…”

“That’ll be fine, thank you,” Nick sighed.

Leo went to a fridge and pulled the out a length of cloth the size of a bath towel. “This one should be ready. …You might want to put on some gloves.”

Nick did so, wondering if the cloth was radioactive. “Uh, thank you…Like you said, I owe you big.”

“Yes you do,” he said. “What did you even get you need to smuggle home like that? It’s not a baby right? Because this should not be near a baby…”

“No, it’s not a baby,” Nick said, worried now what other Grimms were smuggling around. “Just…something we need to take back with us.”

“…Mysterious.”

“Sorry, we don’t know much about it either?” Nick said, trying to smile.

“Hmmm…well, alright. I’ll call the airport. The I’ll ask our contact to meet you at the rental car return, and they’ll get you on a plane to where you need to go. The cloth is good for about 48 hours so it should be fine till you get to…Portland?”

“Yes. Thank you, Leo, you are amazing,” Nick said, meaning it.

Leo smiled brightly. “I do what I can. But next time, go through the library please…I have trouble enough sleeping as it is and I nearly brought Bianca down with me.”

Nick wondered if that meant he slept with the crossbow but didn’t want to ask.

\-------------------

Sloane walked up to the Spice Shop that afternoon feeling like it had been days instead of just hours since the incident at the park. After talking to the FBI and knowing they wouldn’t be getting anywhere for a while she’d opted to leave it for the evening. Spinning her wheels in the mud wasn’t going to get them anywhere. When she got to the door though she was surprised to see it was locked, the shade down, and the sign flipped to close. But she’d seen Rosalee’s car where she normally parked it…She knocked on the door. “Rosalee? Are you there?”

“Sloane?” she heard from inside. There were hurried steps and she came to the door and unlocked it. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t know you were coming…”

“Yeah, it was sort of spur of the moment—” she froze and leaned in more to Rosalee. “…You have a bruise on your cheek?” Rosalee flushed and then sighed and gestured for her to come in. She locked the door once she was inside. Sloane frowned worriedly. “Rosalee, what happened?”

“…Someone…I really didn’t want to see came to visit today,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

She hesitated but then sighed and walked to the side room with her. “You know about my past. How I used to be addicted to J and I lived rough in Seattle and all that…”

“Yeah? I mean, my past still is probably worse unless you have a few literal skeletons in the closet,” she said, trying to smile.

Rosalee smiled a little but sighed. “One of the guys I used to know then…Tony…came here. I knew he’d found out where I was, he’d sent letters here to the shop. I just didn’t expect him to come in person. But he did and he wanted me to give him money. I refused and…”

“…And he hit you?” Rosalee nodded. “…You know where he is now?” she asked, her expression growing darker as they spoke.

“No, and I don’t want to know. And I don’t want you looking for him.”

“…”

“I mean it,” Rosalee said, smiling. “He got what was coming to him, I promise.”

“A swift kick in the balls and a good beating?”

“Eh…five broken fingers,” she said, grimacing at the memory more because of the sound than the fact it happened to Tony.

Sloane’s eyebrows ticked up and she set a hand on Rosalee’s shoulder. “Is it weird if I say I’m proud of you?”

She laughed and put a hand on her shoulder back. “It wasn’t me I’m afraid. It was…um…”

“…Um?”

“…It’s complicated,” Rosalee said, shifting uncomfortably.

“…I mean, I’ve already had a complicated day, lay it on me,” she sighed.

“…Okay. It might be good you know. But don’t tell anyone else, not even Nick.” Sloane frowned at that and Rosalee sighed. “I know that’s putting you on the spot, but she’s already freaking out…”

“Who?”

“…Adalind. She…she’s getting her powers back. The suppressant is wearing off, and she broke Tony’s fingers when he tried to hit her.”

Sloane’s eyes widened. “…Oh…shit…”

“I really think she’s changed though,” Rosalee said quickly. “She honestly was freaking out about it, almost crying. She’s scared she’ll slide backwards. That she might lose Diana. But she was doing well before, helping you and Henrietta. And she did it protect me. She stood up for me when she didn’t even know what was going on.”

“…Well…I can’t exactly fault her for that then,” she sighed. Rosalee smiled and hugged her and she patted her back. “If I find this Tony though, he’s going to be walking funny the rest of his life.”

“And I won’t stop you,” she said breezily. They giggled a little and pulled back. “What about your complicated day?”

“…I tried to stop a political assassination and failed…” Sloane said, looking down.

“Oh! Andrew Dixon?” she gasped.

“Yeah, you heard?”

She nodded. “I heard he was shot…You were there?”

“We were trying to stop the shooter. It was Marwan Hanano, that guy Trubel warned us about. We figured out what he was doing too late though…”

“Is he…I mean, I heard he was shot but…”

Sloane shrugged. “Last I heard he was going into surgery but I don’t think he’s going to be 100% again even if he lives…Seemed like a good guy too.”

“Yeah…” She looked her over and then rubbed over her arms a little in an attempt to comfort her. “It’s not your fault, Sloane.”

“…If I’d just been faster—”

“Then you or someone else might’ve gotten shot,” she said, squeezing her. “The fact you figured it out was pretty amazing. Did you get him?”

“No, I had to let him go,” she sighed.

“Had to?”

“Meisner asked me to. He thinks Hanano could lead them to a larger group of Black Claw. And Eve was there…”

“Eve? Seriously?” she said, growing more concerned.

“Yeah.” She sighed and sat down, rubbing her temples. “I came to tell you but also get something for a headache because I have had one all day. We just finished with the FBI, giving them a different trail to follow so we don’t end up with a bunch of dead agents…”

“I’ll get you my headache tea,” she said. Sloane smiled gratefully.

She got fresh water in the electric kettle to start it up. “…So…you and Nick…”

Sloane looked up, blushing just a little. “Uh…yeah?”

“Just…I’m happy for you two, she said, smiling warmly.

She blushed more and ducked her head. “…Thanks…”

“Aren’t you happy?”

“Yes! I mean, I am, definitely. I just…” she sighed and leaned back in the chair. “I don’t know if I consider Collin a real “relationship”. We were together but there was no dating, and his idea of romance was killing things together.”

“Yeah, that sounds all kinds of bad…”

“I didn’t really get that at the time,” Sloane said. “After that I never really…well, there was one other…”

“Oh?”

“It was while I was in Japan. I was studying martial arts with one of the Grimm families over there, staying with them. Studied for about two years…started something with the oldest of the head’s kids…Her name was Kazumi.”

Rosalee’s eyes widened. “Her?”

“…Yeah?”

“Oh, no, that’s—I just didn’t realize…”

She shrugged. “Gender’s never been a big issue for me. Honestly, I don’t feel attraction very often so when I do it’s…I just go with it.”

“Oh, that’s…cool. I guess I sort of thought it was something like that…So you felt it with Kazumi.”

“Yeah…Like most things it didn’t end well though,” she sighed.

“…Did she try to kill you?”

“Ha, no,” she said, smiling wryly, “…Her fiancé did.” Rosalee’s jaw dropped and Sloane blushed. “It was an arranged marriage; I didn’t know about it till then. I fought back but she ultimately told me that she wasn’t willing to give up her family for me and I left.”

“Oh wow…” she said.

“Yeah. You know, I think you’re actually the first person I’ve ever told about her,” she realized. “I’d already split from the others and I just sort of went through it on my own…”

She smiled and squeezed her hands. “Thank you for telling me then…”

“So…not wierded out?”

“No, of course not! …It does put you flirting with me at the wedding boutique in a new light but I guess that was still joking.”

“Oh no, I was completely serious. We could’ve had something beautiful together, if your taste in men wasn’t such a turn off,” she said, mockingly wistful and sad.

Rosalee laughed and pushed her a little and she smiled back, glad she could get her to relax a little. “But Nick is different?” Rosalee asked.

She smiled warmly and nodded. “Yeah…really different. Honestly, I’m kind of scared…I mean, I never really thought a guy like him would want someone like me given my past…”

Rosalee smiled and squeezed her hand again. “I felt the same about Monroe…”

“Nothing good in my life stays though…” she whispered.

“Hey now, I’m here,” she said. “And this will stay, I’m sure.”

“I hope so,” she said, smiling a little.

“Have you heard from them?” she asked hopefully.

Sloane shook her head. “I texted but didn’t get a reply…I’m sure they’re alright though.”

She nodded and then stood when she heard the kettle click and went to fix their tea. When she brought it over for Sloane, but sighed when the landline on the column nearby rang. She walked over and picked I up. “Spice and Tea...”

“ _Rosalee, it's me._ ”

Rosalee gasped and then clutched the phone in relief. “Monroe?” Sloane straightened and stood slightly from her chair. “Where are you?”

“ _We're at the airport_. _We're due into Portland at 9:50 tomorrow morning._ ”

“Did you find anything?” she asked.

“ _I probably shouldn't talk about it on the phone. Don't say a word to anyone, but let's just say it wasn't for nothing.”_

“ _Is Sloane there?_ ” she heard Nick ask dimly.

“ _Hey, is Sloane there_?”

“She is,” she said, smiling and looking at her. She could tell she wanted to ask if Nick was there.

“ _Nick wants to talk to her,_ ” Monroe said, his voice a little teasing.

Rosalee smiled and offered her friend the phone. “It's Nick.”

Sloane swallowed, looking a nervous, but took the phone with a deep breath. “Nick?”

“ _Hey, I just saw your text, I’m sorry I didn’t reply sooner,_ ” he said, sounding sincerely sorry.

She smiled. “That’s fine, I figured you might be busy. But are you okay?”

“ _I’m fine. We’re coming home, we’ll be in Portland at 9:50 tomorrow morning._ ”

“We’ll pick you up then,” Sloane said, relieved.

“ _Great…I, um…I look forward to seeing you.”_

“Me too,” she said, blushing a bit. Neither of them were sure what to say they realized.

“ _Y-yeah…Anyway, I just wanted you to know that we're okay, and I'll see you soon._ ”

“Right. Have a safe flight.” She smiled and handed the phone back to Rosalee.

“Monroe? Love you.”

“ _I love you._ ”

Sloane felt a little envious how easily they said that to one another and sighed softly.

\------------------------

Adalind paced slightly, feeling nervous. She’d tried making tea earlier and had only realized she hadn’t turned the burner on but still heated up to tea for several minutes. Her powers were still growing after only a few hours. And now she had to confess that to someone else.

“You’re making Diana nervous,” Kelly said. “Heck, you’re making me nervous, I can hear you pacing.

She sighed and stopped. “You sure we have to do this? I told you…”

“And I accept it. I had to get used to Diana’s powers. At least you know what you’re doing, I assume. When you’re not panicking.”

“But do I have to tell him? I mean, I know I have to tell Sean, but…”

There was a knock at the door and she froze like a deer in the headlights. Kelly sighed and stood, going over to open the door. “Hello, Meisner, Susannah. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“Of course,” he said, walking inside. “We were already in the area. We can’t stay for too long though.”

“Hey Diana,” Susannah said with a smile. “I haven’t gotten to see you in a bit, you’ve grown more!”

“Birdy!”

She smiled and whistled like a bird for her in a perfect imitation. Meisner smiled at Diana’s happy squeal but then frowned when he turned to see Adalind wringing her hands nervously. “What is wrong?”

“…Everything?” she asked.

“Adalind?” Susannah asked, worried now.

“…Please, please don’t…don’t take her away,” Adalind said, trying to keep calm.

“Adalind, if this is about not giving Diana the suppressant, we already told you it’s fine,” she said. “Meisner and I aren’t going to let them take her.”

“It’s not just Diana…My powers are coming back too.” 

Both of them froze a moment, glancing at one another then back at her. “They are?” Meisner asked, concerned.

“Yes…I was never sure how long the suppressant would last. And I had a little left but…it ended up breaking and spilling. And making more is likely not going to happen.”

“I broke it,” Diana said, looking chastised. “It was bad…”

Adalind sighed but nodded.

Meisner nodded slowly. Suzannah though was the one to speak up. “So…Is this a bad thing?”

Adalind looked at her. “Well…I mean, now both she and I have our powers. Wont’ your superiors be…upset?”

“Our superiors can stuff it.”

“Suzannah,” Meisner said, though he didn’t sound like he disagreed.

“No. I’m not letting them keep freaking her out like this, trying to lord it over her head. It’s awful! No mother should have to fear losing her child because of this.”

Meisner sighed but nodded. “I know. I agree. In this case, I think again what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“You’re really okay with that?” Adalind asked, shocked. “I mean, lying about Diana and now me?”

“I use their resources to get things done. That does not mean I have to agree with how they want to do things. I have no doubt they hope to use Diana as some kind of pawn one day…if we can prevent that somehow, the better. And part of that is also ensuring you are not under their thumb,” he said.

“…thank you,” she said, nodding and breathing for what felt like the first time all day.

“That being said, you need to be stronger, Adalind.”

“Stronger?” she asked, frowning.

“You are a mother. You can’t be panicking every time something happens, fearing we will take her away. You have to fight!”

“He’s right,” Suzannah said. “I know you have more fire in you, girl.”

“It’s the fire I’m scared of,” she said, grimacing. “When I give into it, I tend to get people hurt…”

“When you don’t focus it properly that happens. But you have no reason to here. We are your friends. If HW or the men in charge tried to hurt you or Diana, we would fight for you. But you must also be ready to fight for yourself and your daughter.”

“Yeah. And if your powers help with that, keep them,” Suzannah said. “We trust you.”

“…Thank you,” she sighed. She walked forward and hugged Suzannah, then turned and hugged Meisner a little tighter. “I appreciate this…really…”

Meisner hesitated but then hugged her back. Suzannah quired a brow but then smiled at him knowingly. He blushed and cleared his throat. “This is the least we could do I think…”

“But it means a lot to me,” Adalind said. “Just…knowing you, and knowing Rosalee and Kelly have my back…I guess I’m still getting used to not having to look out for myself because no one else will.”

Meisner smiled and then pulled out a notebook. Writing something down with the small pen, he handed it to her. “This is my private number. You need us, you call. Or if you wish to talk…that is good too.”

Adalind was surprised but took it then smiled. “Thanks…”

“Oh, here’s mine too,” Suzannah said, taking it to write hers down. “Though I’m sure Mr. Smooth here wasn’t thinking I’d add it.

Meisner blushed and coughed. “Suzannah…”

Adalind blushed as well but smiled. “Thank you. Both of you. I owe you. Oh, and I guess it works out. I to the next round of interviews.”

“That’s great!” Suzannah said with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll get the job. Right, Martin?”

“Yes. I’m sure too.”

“He gave you a super glowing recommendation. Like, two pages long.”

“Suzannah,” he sighed again, blushing.

Adalind smiled, blushing a little too. “Thank you…I know you can’t stay long, but can I at least get you something to drink?”

“I think we can stay for a drink,” Suzannah said before Meisner could answer. He sighed but nodded and sat down, knowing he was going to be outvoted. He really didn’t mind either.

\------------------------

Renard was at the hospital after a call from the doctors. He watched Andrew in the room hooked up to machines that were helping him breathe. “…What’s the prognosis?”

“Still early to tell,” the doctor sighed. “We were able to remove the bullet, however it already caused a lot of damage. His kidney was nicked due to the angle, it perforated his intestines, and it ricocheted into his hip joint. He’ll likely need a lot of recovery time, physical therapy and more and even then he may need a cane.”

Renard sighed and rubbed over his eyes. “But he’ll live?”

“Again, I can’t say for certain. We don’t deal in absolutes. We did our best in surgery but a lot depends on keeping him still and monitoring him for infection. The next 48 hours are the most crucial.”

“Okay. I want to put a guard on his room.”

“I’ll accept it. For now he’s going to be under heavy sedation for pain and to keep him still.”

He nodded and gestured to one of the officers nearby to take the door. Renard started heading for the door, his mind buzzing. Before getting the call Andrew was out of surgery after 8 hours, he’d been looking at the footage of the shooting. Hoping to see something that could help get the man that shot him. No angles hit the fatal window though. What he did see that put him on edge though was Rachel taking a call just a minute before the shot—and looking right in the direction the bullet came from. It was an intentional look as well. That put things in a light that raised a lot of questions and concerns.

Moving to head back out, he paused when his cellphone buzzed and took it out once outside. It was nighttime, getting late, and he was really not in the mood for a phone call. He didn’t recognize the number either. But it was his work phone so whoever was calling would have to have a good reason. “Renard,” he said. _Why would she kill her own candidate? What had Dixon ever done to her or to deserve this?_ Those were the sort of questions plaguing him now.

“Captain Renard. You’re currently at Overton Medical, correct?”

Renard paused then looked around him. “Who is this?”

“Someone trying to help. You’re looking for the man who shot Andrew Dixon, correct? Well…he happens to be coming out that door soon. Funny coincidence, them being in the same hospital.”

Renard looked back at the door then at the phone before holding it back to his ear. “I’ll ask again, who is this.”

“Just be ready.”

They hanged up and Renard glared before looking at the door. He stepped to the side and waited, just curious he told himself. Then a man limped out the door. He had bleach blonde hair and a clean face, but the tan skin and high cheekbones reminded him of the picture Sloane showed him. He watched the man step out and look at his phone. He was waiting to be picked up. He looked around and then froze when their eyes met. He turned away and began walking up the sidewalk.

Renard hesitated, remembering what Sloane said. That Meisner let Hanano go to track more Black Claw members. And then he remembered Andrew lying in that hospital bed. Maybe about to die. Definitely with his life forever changed. His feet were moving before he really knew they were. Hanano headed for a set of stairs leading down to a park nearby and Renard followed him. He paused part way down and looked up at him. “Can I help you?” he asked, testy.

“…Depends. Did you happen to shoot my friend today?”

He smiled and huffed out a laugh. “No? Look, I got hit by a bike, I’m kind of tired and I’m going home.” He turned to keep walking.

“If you’re planning on traveling under “Marwan Hanano”, you better think again. I put out an alert to flag that name at all airports, bus stops, train stations…the works. They have your picture too.” Hanano paused and looked back at him as he stepped down the stairs. “Why don’t you make this easy on both of us?”

“Why would I do that? I haven’t done anything. Nothing you can prove.”

Renard’s jaw ticked and he glared at him. “I my detective saw you. You might’ve seen her too. She’s a Grimm. And she knows you’re and Uhranuti. And don’t keep playing done because we both know I’m going to have you in handcuffs going to the station at the end of this.”

Hanano glared and then woged into a big, black bird. Giving a cry like a bird of prey he lunged, trying to go for Renard’s throat with his sharp beak. Renard jumped back and glared, woging as well. He brought his fist up and punched Hanano in the face, hard enough his beak moved with the blow. He staggered but socked him back and they began tussling on the stairs. Renard hissed when his shoulder was cut but sharp talons. Hanano shouted when another blow cracked his beak. Renard vaulted over the railing between them, then swung back around and kicked him. Hanano hissed and tried to go for his neck again, digging his talons into Renard’s arm. Renard grabbed the other man’s head with a palm to the brow and struggled to keep it away from his jugular. With a kick to the knee and a push Hanano stumbled, his foot catching the edge of the stairway, and he screamed as he fell backwards down the steep concrete steps. Renard gasped but was too late—he laid crumpled with his neck bent at an awkward angle, his head bleeding. He woged back with his eyes still staring vacantly. Renard woged back as well and cursed under his breath.

“Is someone there?” a voice called down.

Renard looked up and sighed, bracing himself. “Get help!”

“What? Who’s there?” The man came closer, revealing he was one of the hospital security guards. His jaw dropped and he moved for his gun but Renard quickly grabbed his wallet and held open his badge.

“I’m Captain Sean Renard! This is the man that shot Andrew Dixon—get help!”

\-----------------------------

Sloane was trying to relax. It was hard because anticipation was coursing through her—both in Nick coming home an finding out what he found. She was cleaning some of the weapons from Josef Nebojsa’s collection—shining, sharpening, oiling and the like. Most were in decent condition and needed only a little TLC to get them ready. She took the opportunity to finally go through what the others had managed to save from the fire in her home as well. It was more than she first thought, which made her happy. _Maybe I should bring the rest of Oma’s collection here…But I’d want a more secure place for everything. If we could get that door open, maybe it would lead somewhere good for that?_ She mused on similar thoughts before pausing when her phone rang. She looked at it and frowned before answering. “Captain?”

“Sloane. I need to talk to you about something important,” he said. He sounded unusually strained. “Can you meet me back at the precinct?”

“Uh…now?” she looked at the clock, noting it was close to 11Pm. She’d been planning to try and sleep before Nick and Monroe’s flight came in.

“Yes. It’s urgent. I’ll be in the parking garage.”

“…Okay, I’ll be there soon.” She hanged up and sighed before getting some clothes not covered in dirt and oil on and going down to her car. When she arrived at the precinct, she was surprised to see Renard was arguing with Meisner.

“…We had his phone; we had every contact, every call, everyone he was working with!”

“You knew what he did,” Renard accused.

“We needed him alive!”

“Then you should have told me!”

Sloane came jogging up, looking between them. “Whoa, hey, guys. I don’t know if this is supposed to be a secret argument but it kind of echoes in here.”

Meisner looked at her in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

She pointed at Renard. “He called me. Something urgent?”

Renard sighed and looked at her. “Yes. There was an incident at the hospital.”

“Is your friend okay?” Sloane asked, concerned.

“He’s still alive…barely. The next 48 hours are the most critical. But that’s not the issue.”

“No, yes, please tell her the issue,” Meisner said. His accent seemed thicker when he was upset.

Renard glared at him then looked back at her. “…Hanano was there.”

Her eyes widened. “At the same hospital?”

“Yes. I confronted him—and intended to take him alive!” he said, glaring at Meisner again.

“You killed him?” she said, surprised again.

“By accident! I was trying to bring him in for questioning, he fought back, he ended up falling down the stairs.”

“Bringing him in would’ve compromised our work as well!”

“You expected me to just let him go?” he growled.

“She did!”

“Whoa, hey, I let him go under the impression we’d still get him later,” Sloane said, holding up her hands. “Also, I don’t blame him for going after the guy that nearly killed a friend. I’ve killed people for less. And so have you I’m betting.”

Meisner narrowed his eyes but sighed. “Months of work has been for nothing now.”

“Frustrating, yes, but there was the chance it would happen anyway.”

“But how did you even know he was at a hospital?” Meisner said, looking at Renard again.

“…I got a tip.”

“From whom? Who could give you that kind of tip?” he barked.

“I don’t know!”

Meisner looked even angrier. “You were set up.”

“By who?” he asked, incredulous.

“The people who brought him here, Black Claw! You destroyed months of work!”

“Then you should have said something! Sloane was the one keeping me more in the loop!”

“Maybe I should not trust either of you then!”

“SHUT IT!”

Both men jumped and looked at Sloane. She messaged her temples slightly, having used a bit of her Grimm aura in her voice, which always gave her a headache. She knew Renard felt it, she wasn’t sure about Meisner since he was human. But her tone probably made up for that. “Okay…let’s calm down and actually _talk_ about this, hm? Instead of trying to measure each other like a couple of hormonal teens in a locker room,” she said, letting her annoyance seep into her voice. The men looked at one another, blushing slightly. “Meisner has a point. Someone knew Hanano was there. They told you probably hoping you would confront him. Maybe even kill him. And if it wasn’t someone in HW, Black Claw makes the most sense.”

Meisner looked at Renard with a touch of smugness and he sneered a bit but looked back at Sloane with more curiosity. “Why?”

“That we don’t know. Maybe they figured you would tie up the loose ends for them without drawing a lot of attention. “Police captain tracks down man who tried to kill friend, kills him trying to take him in after a fight.” Sounds good on paper.” She gently poked at the cut on his shoulder. “And he did fight back obviously.”

“Yeah…” He sighed and looked at Meisner. “I didn’t want to kill him. But I didn’t want him to get away either.”

“…I am not happy, but I understand,” he sighed after a prodding looking from Sloane. “But this makes things complicated. We’re back to square one.”

“You have his phone though, right?” Sloane asked.

“Any contacts on there will likely be changing their numbers so it’s no good,” he sighed.

“…I may…know someone,” Renard said slowly.

“What?” they both asked.

“…I’m not sure. I saw something when I looked at footage of the rally and…” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I want to try and confirm it first if I can before I go accusing people.”

Sloane arched her brow and Meisner glared. “If you know something, tell me now.”

“I don’t _know_ anything,” he ground out. “I was a detective once and a good one. I’m not going to make baseless accusations and ruin someone’s life when I think we’ve established we don’t trust one another. Or maybe I’ll tell Adalind and she can let you know at your next tea party.”

Meisner glared back and then turned and stalked off. Sloane looked at Renard, unsure. “Just had to get another jab in, huh?”

“I don’t take being blamed for mucking up a plan I had no part in because he refuses to communicate,” Renard said.

“And what you just did was…different?” she asked. “Also weird jab about the tea party.”

“You don’t forget when you see a grown man in a feather boa.” Sloane waited for clarification on that but he just sighed and dropped it annoyingly fast. “…I will let you know if anything comes from what I investigate.”

“Me?” she asked, surprised.

“He trusts you. I trust you. I leave it to you what he needs to know.”

“I don’t remember volunteering to be your mediator,” she said, folding her arms.

“I think we’ve established we don’t work well together. But this is important. You know it too.”

“…Fine,” she sighed, throwing her hands up. “Let me know what you find out.”

“…I was going to tell you before actually, but I want to do that investigating first now. I also need you to go identify Hanano in the morgue for the FBI, let them know he’s definitely the one you saw.”

“Yeah, okay, I can do that too,” she sighed. “I’m taking tomorrow off though, Nick’s coming back.”

“…Where was he anyway?” Renard asked, a hint of suspicion.

Sloane looked back at him, her face neutral. “It’s personal.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. Family stuff. I don’t know all the details.” _I mean, his ancestor might be one of those templars who knows? I guess I should look at that book more closely…_

“…Alright then. I’ll see you later.”

She nodded, going inside to head to the morgue. Admittedly she was a lot more tired and ready to sleep now after dealing with two men and their egos.

\-------------------------------

Sloane waited by baggage claim, trying not to be too anxious. Though they didn’t check any bags, it’s where they’d agreed to meet when she texted she would pick them up. Around her she saw several people gleefully welcome loved ones—parents, kid’s, friends and lovers. Lovers were easy to spot with how they would kiss hello. _Do I do that? Can I do that? Would Nick freak out? Am I freaking out? Godammit, I wish we’d had time to talk about this more!_

The anxious feeling lifted when she saw Nick and Monroe coming down the escalator. Sloane caught herself waving at them and Nick smiled and waved back. Monroe moved to do so but winced and put his arm back down. Once at the bottom they ran over to her. Nick hesitated a moment, looking uncertain. “H-hey…”

“Hey,” she said back, smiling happily back but hesitating.

“Oh my God, hug, kiss, whatever you want to do; then let’s get to the car,” Monroe groaned. Nick and Sloane blushed and gave him annoyed looks and he smiled ruefully. “Sorry, just excited…also in pain.”

“Pain?” Sloane asked.

“I got bit…been trying to hide and deal with it the flight over,” Monroe said.

“…Okay, we should get you to Rosalee then,” Sloane said. She looked at Nick and he nodded, following her to the car. Nick started calling the others to meet them at the shop.

Once they were there, Rosalee excitedly hugged Monroe, then fretted over him when she realized he was hurt. Nick took the chest out of its hiding place in the material and set to work lockpicking it—Sloane offered but he wanted to show off he’d been practicing since she showed him last year. Wu and Hank arrived while he worked and quieted when Sloane put a finger to her lips to let Nick concentrate. Rosalee meanwhile helped Monroe take off his coat and then look over the wound—he’d cleaned it as best he could but the skin was puffy and an angry red.

“This does not look good. I think it's infected. How does it feel?” she asked softly, concerned.

“It hurts…” Monroe said, grimacing at it. He looked pale and sweaty as well.

“You could have blood poisoning. I think we should get you to a doctor…”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely…after we get the box open though.”

Rosalee sighed and looked at Nick. He was on the last lock and moving the picks carefully. It was old after all. He’d sprayed both air and oil into them to help make sure the tumblers moved alright but it was still tough. Finally though he heard a click and smiled triumphantly. “Got it. Get your keys.” They grabbed up keys and Nick let Sloane have his since he picked the locks. Before they put them in though he put a hand on the lid and bowed his head solemnly. “I hope whatever's in here is worth it for everyone who died.” Monroe closed his eyes, nodding slightly as he thought about his uncle. Rosalee frowned in sympathy, as did the others. “Ready?” They nodded and “Now.”

They all inserted the keys and gave a turn in unison, the five locks clicking in chorus. Removing them again, Nick took a breath and grabbed the edges of the lid and lifted. Or tried to. He frowned and repositioned his hands, pulling harder. “It's not opening…”

“What do you mean, it's not opening?” Monroe said, looking ready to chuck the box against the wall. “The keys all clicked!”

“It's got to take more than the keys,” Rosalee sighed.

“Why? Why does it have to take more than the keys? They're just locks. If they lock, they should open. That's what locks do!” he snapped.

“Well, technically I think they keep people out…or something in,” Sloane said.

“There's some stuff between the lid and the box,” Hank said, leaning down to look closer. “Looks like some kind of sealant.”

“What kind of sealant holds for 800 years?” Rosalee asked, looking close as well.

“Well, they were all Grimms…” Nick said.

“Look, I'm just spit balling here, but your blood did take away Adalind's powers, right?” Monroe said. “So maybe, I don't know...”

Nick looked to Rosalee. “Will you get me a knife?”

“Whoa, hold on, I’m a Grimm too,” Sloane said. “I can do this.”

Nick frowned and they stared one another down before Rosalee held up two knives. “Why don’t you both do it? Two might be better than one.”

They looked at one another and nodded, each taking a blade. Taking a breath, the each cut their fingers enough to let blood well up. Sloane took two edges and Nick took the other two as they worked the blood around.

“If this doesn't work, I'm busting out the freaking hacksaw,” Monroe said, staring daggers at the box.

“I think we have an angle grinder at the loft…” Sloane muttered. They took their hands away and waited a moment, watching the strange substance absorb their blood. After a second there was a hiss and then with a puff of smoke it disappeared, making them all jump. They looked at one another and broke into a fit of chuckles at the fact that it worked.

“Oh, my God,” Nick said, smiling at Sloane. She smiled back and nodded to him. He grasped the lid again and pulled, almost too hard as it came completely off easily now and he almost stumbled after expecting another fight. They grinned and Hank took the lid to set aside as they all leaned in to see what was inside. Expectations, as high as they were, drifted down a little when all they saw was what looked like a bundle of cloth.

“Okay, there better be something inside that…” Monroe said.

Nick agreed and reached in, carefully grasping the cloth to pull it out. He sighed in relief when he felt something hard inside it. “Oh, okay. There is.”

He set it down and began unfolding it carefully from the aged and worn material—some sort of linen he thought. It was old, rough, stained and had a couple of holes in it. When he got to the end he carefully unfolded the last edge to reveal…

“It's a stick?” Monroe said, incredulous. Indeed, the thing inside was long, slightly curved, and a yellow-brown stick.

“Looks like a stick,” Hank said.

“A really old stick,” Wu added dryly.

“It can't be just a stick!” Rosalee said.

“Well, that's what it looks like. They wouldn't have buried a stick unless they were some kind of dog Wesen!” Sloane looked at him and he glared. “Don’t you start.”

“Maybe it's some kind of important stick that belongs to a bigger... piece of wood that means something to somebody,” Hank said.

“Well, if it was a stick-mata...Sorry, that was a reach,” Wu sighed.

“Maybe it's something like a stick from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil,” Rosalee suggested.

“You're talking about the tree that Eve picked the apple from in the garden of Eden?” Hank asked.

“If that's the case, then we just flew halfway across the world and risked our lives for a stick that has screwed up all of humanity since the beginning of time,” Monroe groused, glaring at it as Sloane picked it up to look it over.

“Maybe that's why they buried it in the first place, 'cause the gates of hell are gonna open up and the world as we know it is gonna end,” Wu said in a dull monotone.

“On that thought, maybe you should put it back,” Rosalee grimaced.

“The last thing we want are the gates of hell opening up in Portland,” Nick said.

“Oh, just wait till we tell you what we’ve been dealing with,” Hank sighed. He looked at Sloane as she was staring over the stick and frowned. “You okay?”

Sloane pursed her lips and then lifted the stick up and pressed her tongue to it. Everyone else stared.

“Whoa, okay! What the heck?!” Monroe asked.

Sloane smacked her lips and then turned to the nearby sink and spat. “Okay, good news and bad news.”

“…What’s the good news? It tastes like chicken?” Wu asked, still looking at her like she’d finally lost it.

“It’s not a stick. Not wood.” She spat again and Nick frowned in concern.

“What is it then?”

“It’s bone.”

They all stared again and Rosalee quickly got her a glass of water while Nick took the bone from her. “So you licked it?!” Hank asked.

“That’s how I could be sure!” Sloane said, she accepted the water and swished it around before spitting again. “Dried bone is porous—it sticks to your tongue. If it was wood, it’d have to be preserved somehow to still be in this kind of shape. But also, it’s not the right texture or color, or shape. It’s probably a rib bone.”

“Is that the bad news?” Wu asked.

“Well…it’s likely human. That’s the bad news,” she said, taking a drink of the water.

“…Okay, not to get back to the Bible, but didn’t God take one of Adam’s ribs?”

“To make Eve,” Hank said, shaking his head. “I don’t think they’d put it in a box.”

“Then why would they?” Monroe said, looking more confused and perturbed. As well as sweatier.

“Okay, we can theorize later,” Rosalee said, going grab his coat from the peg by the stairs. “Now let's get you to a doctor and get your arm looked at before it falls off.”

Monroe sighed but nodded and almost stood till Wu held up a hand. “Oh, whoa, hold, hold, hold, hold, hold…There's... there's some writing on this cloth.” He said, pointing to the linen still on the table. They leaned in to look, just barely able to make out the faint markings of ink in the linen.

“I have no idea what language this is. Do you?”

“It’s too faint…” Sloane said, squinting a little. “That box wasn’t as airtight as they’d hoped maybe…”

Monroe was looking at it too but then began to sway a little, his eyes feeling heavy. Rosalee was coming back with his coat and stalled in concern. “Monroe? What's wrong?”

“Huh?” He blearily looked at her. “I, uh...I don't, uh...” He stood slowly from the stool, only to begin tipping backwards.

“Monroe!” Nick shouted, Hank and him both quickly grabbing him as the others bolted to their feet and came over. Monroe groaned, his head lolling from side to side as the room began to spin and it felt like his body was floating away.

“He's passing out. Come on!” Nick said. “Get him down!”

Rosalee was hovering, looking close to tears as they pulled him to the stairs to set him down. “It must be his arm!”

Monroe groaned, looking at them through hazy eyes.

“Hey, buddy,” Nick said, trying to smile through his worry. “All right?”

Sloane quickly took the bandage off and sucked in a breath at the black edges around the wound. “Oh, my God…this is bad.”

“Oh, I knew it. It's blood poisoning,” Rosalee said, shaking. “Quick, we need a tourniquet, somebody! Put it on his arm before any more infection gets to his heart!”

“We can use my belt,” Hank said, already unbuckling it and pulling it through. Sloane took it and looped it around Monroe’s arm quickly, pulling it hard to try and slow the blood flow.

“Call 911!” Nick said. Wu grabbed his phone to dial quickly. Nick looked back and pried one of his eyes open. It was glassy and seemed to be losing a lot of the light inside. “I think he's going into shock!”

“We need an ambulance. Got a medical emergency,” Wu was saying.

“I’ve got it as tight as it will go. Now what?” Sloane said, securing the belt.

“We can't wait for an ambulance, we have to get him to a hospital,” Rosalee said, her voice sharp despite the rational orders. Wu hanged up and came over to help them.

“Get him up. Let's get him up, come on,” Nick said. The pulled him up, Hank on one side and Nick on the side with his wound. They’d all forgotten about the bone he still held in his hand, focused on trying to get Monroe upright enough they could get him up the stairs and cursing they’d decided to do this in the shop’s basement.

“Come on, we got you,” Sloane said, her heart hammering. No matter how she teased him, no matter how she felt about most Blutbad still, Monroe was not someone she wanted to bury. And she didn’t want Rosalee to go through that either.

Monroe grunted and then seemed to go limp. There was a moment of panic and they were about to army carry him up the stairs when Nick froze. “Wait, wait!”

“Nick, we can't wait!” Rosalee said.

“Look at his arm,” Nick ordered. They all looked as well and the room went eerily quiet as the wound had shrunk. And it continued to shrink before their eyes.

“What's happening?” Rosalee asked, staring with an awed, transfixed gaze.

Nick looked up at Monroe who looked serene now, not feverish or in pain like before. “I don't know…”

“It's getting better...” Hank said. The black edges turned pink again, the muscles filled in, the skin knitted back together. It was weeks, even months of healing in a matter of seconds. Soon enough, the skin looked only slightly reddened. Not even a scar was left.

“Anyone want to take a stab at explaining that?” Wu asked.

“Not me,” Hank said, shaking his head.

“I've never seen anything like that…” Rosalee said, holding the arm in confusion.

“I haven’t either,” Sloane said. She looked at Nick, eyes wide, and they both looked at the bone.

Then their eyes shot to Monroe as he took a deep, gasping breath, as if coming up for air from below water. He blinked, his eyes searching and locking on to Rosalee. She smiled in relief at the brightness in them, the clarity back from the fever hazing over them. “What did you do?” Monroe asked, knowing he’d been in bad shape a second ago. He flexed his arm and felt the tourniquet first, looking at it in confusion, then at his arm which was now whole and healed. His eyes widened and he looked at them all. “What happened?”

“It closed up,” Hank said, staring dumbly at his arm.

“Yeah, the wound just kind of faded away…” Nick nodded.

“But how?” Monroe asked. He took the belt off his arm, flexing it and turning it. Hank took his belt back, holding it.

“Did that really just happen?” Wu asked, still uncertain.

“We all saw it so yeah…” Sloane said.

“I can't believe it…How do you feel?” Rosalee asked, pushing his hair back.

“Fine, I think,” Monroe said.

“However it happened, it's not normal,” Hank said.

“Oh what about any of this is normal?” Sloane said.

“Well, the last thing that happened was, I grabbed you…” Nick said.

“With the bone in your hand,” Rosalee nodded.

“So we're thinking this is some kind of healing stick-magic wand thing? Or bone…thing?” Wu asked.

Sloane frowned then reached and took Nick’s hand. “…Your cut is healed.”

Nick stared at his hand, realizing she was right. He took her hand and then pressed the bone into it. The small cut healed in a matter of seconds and they all watched. “Holy crap…” Monroe said.

Sloane gripped the bone and walked back over. Grabbing the knife, Nick moved to stop her but she slit her palm wide open with a grunt over the sink, letting the blood well up and overflow. She didn’t even seem to acknowledge the pain. Grabbing the bone in her other hand, she waited and then ran it under the tap.

“Sloane?” Nick asked.

She stared at her hand then held it up, showing not even a mark despite the slight tinge of red still around the lines of her palm. “I didn’t even hold it near the wound…”

“This is…cool but kind of scary,” Wu said. “I mean, what kind of bone does that?”

“What about the cloth it was wrapped in?” Hank said quickly. “It had some kind of writing on it.”

“I couldn't tell if it was writing or not,” Nick said.

“Yeah, that just could be marks,” Monroe said, standing. Rosalee hovered by him but he smiled reassuringly as he walked over to the table again.

“If it is writing, maybe it tells us what that thing is,” Rosalee said.

“Well, even so, it might not be the bone. It could be the cloth or even the box,” Nick said.

“Like what, they rapped some random dude’s rib in the cloth, put it in the box for 800 years and it became a magical cure-all? …Okay, now that I say it out loud, not the most outlandish theory,” Sloane said, wiping her hand after setting the bone down. “But I still think it’s more likely they hid this rib for a reason.”

“Yeah, in a crypt full of other bones. I mean they could’ve hid a tree in a forest, but they wanted to be sure they could find it again,” Monroe said.

“Okay, so if it is the rib, what does that mean?” Wu asked.

“It doesn't mean anything until we figure out how it works,” Nick sighed.

“Well, until we know, it's not a good idea to have it fall into the wrong hands,” Hank pointed out.

“Yeah, which would explain why they buried the thing in the first place,” Monroe said, nodding slowly.

“For right now, nobody can know about this,” Nick said.

“So we keep this to ourselves, right? I mean, we don't tell anyone.”

“No one,” Nick nodded.

“Ironically, just like the Crusaders agreed when they buried this thing 800 years ago,” Rosalee sighed.

“Aside from drawing a literal map to it,” Sloane pointed out.

“Well, obviously they had no idea how to deal with it either. Maybe they meant to come back to it when they knew what to do.”

“It’s going back in the box,” Nick said, rolling it up in the linen. Wu handed him the box and he set it back inside carefully. “At least, until we figure out how to figure out what it is were dealing with.” He closed it up and put it back into his bag. “I’ll hide it somewhere.”

“What should we do with the keys?” Wu asked.

“Well, we have the box…I guess we can keep them for now as souvenirs,” Nick said. He picked the one on the chain, the first one he ever received from his aunt. “But keep them secret still for now.”

They nodded, everyone taking one and then packed up to go home and rest. He sighed when he got in and set the bag down by the couch before flopping back on it and putting an arm over his eyes.

“You okay?” Sloane asked. She sounded close and he sighed again.

“Yeah…just tired.”

“…Sit up a second.” Nick looked up at her where she stood by the couch but did so. She stopped him from turning to sit forward though. Instead she sat down and eased him back so that his head was in her lap. He blushed, looking up at her in surprise. She blushed as well but smiled. “This okay?”

“No, yeah…it’s good,” he said. She smiled and started carding through his hair. He sighed again, this time in contentment as his body started to finally unwind. This was definitely nice. Unexpected, but nice. _I didn’t expect her to be so…tactile. That she’d flip a switch like this. Maybe she likes it too?_ “…How’d you know about the whole bone thing?”

“You mean why did I lick it?”

“Yeah,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

She sighed and kept carding through his hair. “When I was young, I…wanted to be an archeologist.”

Nick looked up at her in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. Oma always had old stuff around. I didn’t know what most of it was of course, but she would explain history stuff to me. Then she took me on a trip and we went to this museum where you could see some of them working to restore old things and…I thought it was cool. Then we watched _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ and I thought it was _really_ cool.” Nick grinned and she smiled as well. “I used to imagine Harrison Ford was my dad…So I started reading a lot of books on archeology. And dead things, though I kept that more to myself. I remember thinking that little “bone sticks to your tongue” factoid was gross at the time,” she said, smiling ruefully.

“Well, it came in handy,” he said, chuckling. He looked up at her, sighing as she kept her hand in his hair. “I missed you. I know it was just a couple of days but…”

“I missed you too,” she said quietly. “I was worried…and a bit lost. We didn’t get a chance to talk about…well, that night…”

“Yeah…” He looked up at her. “Not having second thoughts are you?”

“No, yes, I am. I just let anyone use my lap for a pillow,” she said, tugging gently at one lock of hair to get a knot out. He chuckled a bit and she smiled more honestly. “I’m not having second thoughts…are you?”

“Only second thoughts I had was going over everything again and trying not to smile too much.” She blushed and he grinned at being the one to do it. Taking her hand, he brought it down and pressed his lips the top, enjoying the slight uptick in her pulse he could feel. “I want to keep going forward with this.”

“Good…Good,” she said, twining their fingers together. “So then…We’re already living together. Um…do we share the same bed now? I mean…every night.”

“I want to,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”

“Y-yeah. And…well, our group obviously knows now,” she said, blushing again at the memory. “But how…I mean…” She sighed. “PDA and all that?”

“…You never really did that before?” Nick guessed.

“No. I mean, Collin I guess but we were usually trying not to be seen anyway. Only other relationship I ever had wasn’t one we could be open with for other reasons…” She looked at him and smiled hesitantly. “But it’d be nice…to actually go on a date sometime.”

“Hell yeah,” he grinned and leaned up to kiss her and she sighed happily.

\------------------

The night before, Renard had returned home after his confrontation with Meisner and Sloane in the Precinct Garage. Heading to the door, he paused and turned when he heard someone coming up behind him, ready to fight. That turned into surprise when he saw who it was. “Rachael? What are you doing here?”

“I heard…I heard you found the man who shot Andrew,” she said, looking hopeful.

“…Where did you hear that?” he asked, frowning.

“I have a lot of eyes and ears, Sean,” she smiled.

“…Yes. I found him.”

“You arrested him?”

“…No. He died while I was trying to,” he sighed.

“Oh…” she gasped. He thought he saw a flash of pleasure on her face but she smiled more in relief. “I see…I mean, I know I shouldn’t be pleased someone’s died but…”

“…I know what you mean.”

She moved in closer and pinched the end of his jacket as if to hold him there. “I…know it’s last minute, but…can I stay here tonight? I don’t want to be alone.” Renard regarded her a moment before nodding and unlocking his door. She followed him in and he locked the door again before turning and pushing her against the wall, kissing her hard.

She grasped his lapels, deepening the kiss back, but he grasped her wrists and slammed them against the wall before pulling back. “I think it's time we play a little rougher…” She smiled till he woged suddenly and squeezed her wrists harder, making her grunt. But she didn’t scream. “You knew Dixon was gonna get shot.” Rachael stared at him a moment before woging into a Lowen, growling and pushing him enough to get him to let her go. He did, backing away and then woging back to his human form, eyeing her. “Who the hell are you working for?”

She growled a moment before changing back and smiling demurely. “The people who are gonna change your life.” She pulled out her phone. “Let me make a call. It’s a little earlier than planned, but I think he’ll be ready to talk to you now. Why don’t you go make some coffee and wait in your office?”

Renard eyed her as she slinked away. He had a bad feeling, but none the less he went and started his coffee maker. After a cup was ready he went to his office and paced rather than drink. He thought about calling someone—Meisner, Sloane, Nick even. But he wasn’t sure who would listen to him. Plus, this might be an opportunity.

A little while later he heard the door open and then footsteps coming up the hall. Rachael opened the door with a smile and then gestured for another man to come in. He was about Renard’s age, but more rugged than his clean-cut image. Five o’clock shadow, mussed hair, simple and efficient clothing.

“Lucien...Sean Renard,” Rachael said, presenting them to each other.

The man smiled. “Nice place.”

Renard narrowed his eyes. “You want to tell me what's going on?”

Lucien smiled and handed Rachel a paper tube in his hand before walking forward. “Dixon was meant to die, and you were meant to kill the man that killed him.”

Renard stared, gripping the edge of the desk. He recognized that voice. “You were the one that told me Marwan was in the hospital…”

“And you're a Zauberbiest. Which makes you one of us.” He spread his hands, offering something intangible to him. “We could make you the most powerful man in the city. And that's only the beginning.”

“…But Andrew isn’t dead.”

“That’s fixable.”

“And I don’t want him dead,” he ground out.

Lucien frowned but Rachael quickly stepped forward. “That’s fine. I know it seems heartless, and Andrew was a good man. But he wasn’t the man we need. He was human. And currently he’s out of commission, he’s not going to be able to stay in the race. He’s going to be tied up for a while. Recovery. Physical therapy. All that.” She looked at Lucien. “Our plan is still solid even with him alive. Sean is still a hero.” Lucien sighed but nodded, acquiescing to her logic.

“…You're Black Claw.”

They looked at him but smiled rather than seeming surprised. “Show him,” Lucien said.

She smiled and undid the paper tube, pulling out a poster inside. Unfurling it, Renard tensed when he saw a portrait of himself done in blue ink, looking off into the distance with a commanding gaze, and behind him was a radiating circle of red stripes. Blue stars were between the red stripes and below his portrait in white letters was his name, _Renard_.

“You got to be kidding…” he murmured. It was a nice poster, he had to admit. Classic but also contemporary. It did give him an odd sense of pride.

“You're a hero,” Rachael said, smiling. “You can win.”

\---------------------------

“Yes, I should’ve called you sooner…yes, I’m sorry. I wanted to be sure everything was normal before I did. …Yes I realize normal is a bit subjective, Aunt Jean, but you know what I mean!” Sloane sighed.

Nick watched her in sympathy as he made breakfast. They’d woken up a little later this morning after sleeping in—not because they’d done anything that kept them up though. Nick had been too jet lagged for that. Instead they talked more the rest of the day, about anything they wanted, and then he took a shower and they headed to bed. There they talked a bit more before falling asleep together and sleeping right through till mid-morning. Sloane had realized the day before she needed to call Mim and Jean and let them know she was now home and fine. What proceeded was more than an hour of explaining, answering questions and apologizing for worrying them.

“I’m sorry, really. But look, we’re about to have breakfast. …Yes I will come down again soon. …What? No! I’m not moving back to Wildred,” she said. Nick looked up, surprised, and then almost laughed at the look of _Can you believe this?!_ She gave him as she gestured to the phone. “Yes I miss you both, but…yes but…no—stop trying to guilt me! …Yes Adalind is still at the house. …No I’m not worried. …Because…uh…” She looked frustrated a moment before holding the phone in front of her. “Because I’m dating Nick and we’re shacking up together!” She quickly hit the disconnect button, blushing and thunking her head to the top of the kitchen island where she sat.

“…Shacking up?” Nick asked, trying not to laugh.

“They frazzled me, Nick.”

“You? The great Grimm, Sloane Larson?”

“Yes. Me. I have been frazzled by two meddling old women.”

“It’s still on by the way.”

Sloane gasped and looked at her phone before glaring at him when she saw she had disconnected properly. “Not helping!”

He laughed and then finished sliding off the last of the pancakes. “Would pancakes, eggs and bacon help you?”

“…Perhaps.”

Sloane quickly texted that she’d call them again later but she wanted them to all cool down a bit and set her phone aside to eat. Nick sat next to her but paused when he heard his own phone buzz. Picking it up, he realized it was a text from Mim. “Ah. You’re aunts are giving me the “You better treat her right” speech.”

Sloane choked a bit and looked at him. “What?!”

He showed her his screen.

_Mim: Nick. You are a nice boy. We like you. But if you hurt Sloane, we will hunt you down and disembowel you, Grimm or no Grimm. >3_

“The hell is that at the end…?” she said, staring at it with embarrassment and befuddlement.

“I think it’s meant to be some kind of emoji…”

She groaned and then started laughing. “Oh my God…you sure you want to deal with me and them?”

“Never been surer of anything in my life,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“…The syrup’s sweet enough,” she said, blushing. Nick just smiled and kept eating. After learning she’d had no real experience with a nice, stable relationship, he was determined to acclimate her to being cared for and sweet gestures and the like. After breakfast and clearing the dishes, she headed towards the bathroom and paused. “…hey, uh…what do we do with…”

Nick looked at her and followed her gaze down to the bag by the couch. They’d managed to put yesterday out of their minds for the most part, but they couldn’t put it off forever. He sighed and walked over, pulling the bundle out from inside the bag. He’d wrapped it back in the cloth Leo gave him to keep it all together without locking it again. “…We haven’t put a safe in yet.”

“I’m still willing to do that if we can settle on a location,” Sloane said.

“We can, but that’ll still take some time…” He looked around then nodded to the far wall. “I guess the most secure place we have?”

“Technically I guess it is,” she nodded. She went over and opened the wall door for him so he could go down. “We still need to get that door open too…”

“I might only have one miracle lock opening in me a week,” Nick sighed. Sloane took the chest from him so he could climb down, then lowered it to him. “I’ll find a place. You go take your shower.”

“Okay.” She turned to head away and Nick looked around before finding an area where the bricks were weak down near the bottom. Not in a way that worried him, but in a way that made pulling them out with a little strength and finding enough pace behind them to shove the chest.

_Just like old times, huh, freaky bone thing?_

After both of them showered—separately, he could admit temptation but decided that might be too much too soon—they headed over to Monroe and Rosalee’s to check on them after calling. Rosalee opened the door and smiled. “Hey, come on in.”

“Hey. How you two doing?” Nick asked. He looked at Monroe, who was sitting on the couch with his laptop on the table in front of him.

“Feeling good after a nice long sleep,” Monroe said. “Arm’s still healed, no side effects I can tell…”

“We’ve been trying to look things up. I even checked a few wesen only websites,” Rosalee sighed.

“Those exist?” Sloane asked.

“Oh yeah. You need to know what to search and where to look though, we don’t want just anyone finding them,” Monroe said.

“But none of them had anything on “bones” or “templars” or the like…this might be more of a Grimm thing.”

“…We have some online message boards for info, but the older Grimms don’t really use it. And I’d hesitate to put it out there, honestly,” Sloane sighed. “I’m not sure who to trust with all this.” Nick nodded, sighing as well.

“What do you usually use them for?” Rosalee asked curiously.

“Oh, it’s usually to track things down. Info on wesen, old books or weapons, rare ingredients…things like that. But it can turn into a gossip mine real fast.”

“Ah, damn,” Nick cursed. Sloane looked at him in confusion and he blushed. “I need to give you your knew knife…I forgot about it with everything else going on.”

“Oh yeah, it’s nice,” Monroe smiled.

She smiled at Nick. “Leo came through?”

“Yeah. In more ways than one, he gave us a cloth that made getting the chest through customs easier.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty smart,” she nodded.

“Kind of…out there, too,” Monroe said.

“He’s just very dedicated to his craft,” Sloane said, shrugging. She paused when she felt a vibration in her pocket. She pulled out her phone and blinked in surprise. “Cynthia’s calling…”

“Gallin?” Rosalee asked in surprise.

She nodded and answered the call. “Hey, Cynthia. What’s up?”

“Hey! I’m just letting you know Dr. Hier’s ready to meet you.”

“…Who?”

“Dr. Hier! Victoria Hier! Your new Librarian!” she reminded her.

“Oh? Oh! She’s here?” Sloane asked, excited.

“Yeah! She wants to meet you guys first though. Um… _all_ of you.”

She quirked a brow. “All of us? Really?”

“Yeah. Like I said, she’s cool with the whole wesen team thing. She’s already figured you’ll probably want to take them down there at some point. She’s had the place cleaned and fixed up, and reopened the back entrance.”

“There’s a back entrance?” The others glanced at one another, not sure what she was talking about.

“Yes, but it had to be shut down in the 80s because it nearly got found during some developments. She proposed a few months ago move, update, and reopen it—no more going through the librarians. They finished fixing everything just the other day and she says they’re ready to reopen.”

“That…that is actually great. We could really use the Library right now.” She looked at Nick who nodded quickly, also excited. “So when did she want to meet?”

“Whenever you’re ready. She’ll be there all day today and I can text you where to find the entrance.”

She glanced at the others. “Actually, this is pretty good timing because we need to research some things…”

“Great! I’ll let her know you’re dropping by and send you the back entrance instructions.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Catch up more later?”

“Sounds good!” They hanged up and Sloane looked at them. “Well, a bit of good news finally. The library is up and running.”

“Awesome!” Nick said.

“Yeah, that’s going to be a big asset,” Monroe smiled.

“Yeah. You want to see it?”

“Us?” Rosalee gaped, surprised.

“Yeah, Gallin found someone okay with Grimm/Wesen team ups. She wants to meet all of us and is already there.”

They looked at one another before quickly standing. “I’ll get my coat!”

“Where’s my purse?”

Sloane blinked and then chuckled as they ran around to get ready like children going to a theme park. “I guess that’s a yes…” She looked at Nick. “Think Hank and Wu can meet us there?”

“I think they’d be down to see a secret library. I should call my mom too,” he said, grabbing his phone. Sloane called Wu and Nick called Hank and told them where to meet. He then called and worked out grabbing his mom on the way. Rosalee and Monroe followed their car to the modern looking library. Hank and Wu were both there and waved when they walked up.

“Hey! So this is where that Library is?” Wu asked.

“Almost. It’s more in the secret underground part.”

“…This is so cool,” he muttered.

“I should point out this is a big deal,” Kelly said, holding on to Nick’s arm. “For sure very, very few Kehrseite not related to a Grimm have ever been to a Library. Even fewer wesen…willingly.”

“Just had to add that on,” Monroe muttered. She smiled and Sloane headed to the tree line nearby. A little way into the trees they found what looked like an old stack-stone well.

“This is the entrance?” Nick asked uncertainly.

“Anyone else seen _The Ring_ …?” Wu muttered.

“I’ve met the thing it’s based on,” Sloane said. She took out her wallet and held up her Grimm Library card. “You need a pass.” They watched as she held the card against the lock on the outside of the well’s metal top. The lock lit up with a scrollwork _G_ similar to the card, and they all jumped when the metal top spiraled open and away into the sides of the well. One side then retracted into the ground and they were faced with a ramp going down into the ground.

“Whoa…that’s pretty surprising…” Hank said.

She smiled and leaned in to look. “The ramp goes down a short way. Everyone watch your heads.” They all began descending, their footsteps echoing as they got further into the underground. Once the last of them was down, Sloane pressed a button at the edge of the ramp and the entrance sealed back up. They were in total darkness for just a second when lights lit up over head and down a tunnel.

“This is so cool…” Wu said again.

“They have a secret entrance inside pressing secret buttons on a table too,” Nick smiled. Wu looked excited by all the cloak and dagger mystery.

“It is pretty amazing…how did they get all this done?” Monroe asked.

“Grimms have a lot of connections and researchers. It was about time this library was updated I’m guessing,” Kelly said.

“Now it’s not exactly homey inside, it’s a bit more…” Sloane started, trying to find the words.

“Atomic war bunker?” Nick supplied. Sloane frowned but then nodded with a sigh because the stark concrete walls and fluorescent lighting she remembered did speak to that.

“Always knew Grimms were doomsday survival nuts,” Monroe muttered. “I pictured a mad scientist’s lab though.”

“I was thinking like a gothic mansion’s library,” Hank said.

“The one’s in Europe are more like that,” Kelly said, smiling in amusement.

Sloane rolled her eyes but they got to the door at the end of the hall. She held up her card again to the scanner at the side and they heard the locks click. She opened the door but stopped dead when she saw the inside. The stark concrete walls had been replaced by whitewashed brick. The metal shelves were now wooden in warm walnut tones, some open and some with leaded glass fronts. The space seemed larger—it was about 2000 square feet before and now it was maybe double that. A small area with desks, chairs and an electric fireplace was set up as well for passing Grimms to rest. The fluorescent lights were replaced with bright but more homey sconces and overhead lights that gave plenty of light without feeling like a prison. The posters of wesen anatomy were still hung up, the racks of weapons were still there, but the feeling was more like an actual home library than a bunker.

“I…wow, this is a lot of redecorating,” Sloane said, looking around in surprise.

“It’s nice!” Monroe said, smiling at all of it. “I don’t feel like I’m going to get dissected.”

“Is someone there?”

Sloane looked towards the back, behind the same wooden horseshoe desk that was there before but now didn’t feel so out of place. A door back there was open and she could see a shadow. “Um, yes…Dr. Hier?”

“Yes! Just a moment.” They heard her putting something away and the click of heels on the floor (which they noticed was now painted a dark grey over the concrete, with flecks of copper and polished to a high sheen so it looked almost like marble flooring). The woman who stepped out was tall--able to look Hank in the eyes--with fair skin and green eyes. Her hair hanged down to her mid back in elegant waves of red-brown with a few things of silver. The lines on her face were light but spoke of more smiling than frowning. She was dressed in black slacks and a brightly colored top of that had peacock feathers printed over it.

The moment she stepped in she froze and stared. Though he thought at first she was surprised by their group's size, Nick got a feeling it was someone in particular that had her surprised. He couldn’t tell who though. The moment passed and she smiled warmly. “Welcome! I’m Victoria Hier. Please, call me Victoria,” she said, a very faint accent of some kind rounding her words. She held out her hand and Nick shook it first.

“Nick Burkhardt. This is Sloane Larson.”

“The Grimms of the group, Cynthia’s told me a lot about you,” she smiled. Her hand lingered on Sloane’s a moment before looking at the others.

“My mother is too,” Nick said, gesturing beside him.

“Kelly Kessler,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Oh! I’ve certainly heard of you,” Victoria said, shaking her hand. “You haven’t been seen for a while…”

“Yes, well…losing most of my vision has put me in retirement,” she said. “I’m told you’re a Grimm too? I’m afraid I don’t recognize your name…”

Victoria just smiled. “I have training, but I was never really keen on violence. I trained as a doctor instead, did my best to help that way.” Kelly hummed, but looked a bit like she was unsure about the other woman. Victoria moved on and looked at the rest of the group. “I understand some of you are wesen? Don’t be shy, I try not to be prejudice. I’ve worked with several over the years.”

“That’d be us,” Monroe said, he and Rosalee holding up their hands. “I’m Monroe, and this is my wife, Rosalee.”

“We’re Blutbad and Fuchsbau,” Rosalee added. They were mildly surprised she shook their hands with no hesitation.

“It’s nice to meet you. And who are these two handsome gentlemen?”

“Uh, I’m Drew Wu,” he said, shaking her hand.

“And I’m Hank Griffin. We’re both Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen,” he said.

“Ah, you know your vocabulary,” she smiled. “Well, welcome! I hope you like what I’ve done with the place.”

“It’s great!” Monroe said.

“It is really nice,” Nick nodded. “Before it was, um…”

“Depressing,” Victoria said flatly. “Built during the cold war. If I have to spend much of my time down here, I wanted it to be nice. I took inspiration from some of the older libraries in Europe, particularly in Prague and Paris, but made it a bit American too. That uh… “Contemporary Classic” sort of thing Americans like.”

“It’s lovely,” Rosalee smiled. “And you’re sure it’s alright for us to be here?”

“I say it is, ya. But of course, if and when other Grimms come through, we will have to be discreet.” She put a finger to her lips and wagged her eyebrows playfully and they smiled. “Now, Cynthia said you had things to research?”

They hesitated, looking at one another. “Uh…well, it’s more a general interest?” Nick said.

“General interest?” she asked, tilting her head.

“I’m a history buff,” Monroe said honestly. “And I would love to know if you have anything on medieval history. Preferably like…around the Crusades? Earlier the better,” he said, trying to sound casual.

“The Crusades? My, that is quite some history!” She looked around before motioning them to follow. “I brought with me some of my family’s own collection, as well as documents I was able to find in my own research. I was a medical doctor, but I also have a master’s in history and psychology.”

“That’s…impressive,” Wu said.

“I have always enjoyed knowledge and working. When it came time for retirement, I was worried I would be bored. But Cynthia has let me know that things are rarely boring here in Portland.”

“To put it mildly,” Nick said, trying not to look as worn down as thinking about it made him feel.

“…She said you came her a couple of years ago, Ms. Larson. And stayed,” she added, tone curious.

“Uh, yeah…I sort of decided to set up roots here. There is a lot going on and I got attached to…” she gestured at everyone present, who smiled.

“I see. It’s nice I think…Ah, here we are.” She came to a glass case at the back. “I had the library expanded over the last few months to include a few more delicate cases. This one has some of our older pieces. If you’d like to read them I can take them out, but you must wear gloves and be very careful.”

“Oh, we know the drill,” Monroe said. “My uncle was a rare books dealer…before he…” He cleared his throat and smiled.

“I see. I’ll get the gloves then; we have tables over there.” She turned and went to grab the gloves.

“This place is amazing,” Wu said, looking at a rack of swords.

“It’s a lot like that one in Boise now,” Hank said, nodding as he looked around again.

“Oh, they have some rare herbs and plants too!” Rosalee said, looking over a shelf nearby. “Fairywand, Welwitschia, Pennantia Baylisiana—oh my God! Rhizanthella gardneri? Where did they even find that?!”

“Something for everyone,” Nick said, chuckling.

“Unless they have books on tape, not quite,” Kelly sighed.

“…I’m sorry, mom, I thought…”

She smiled and patted his arm. “It’s alright, Nicky…I think I’m just going to go sit down for a bit though.”

Nick frowned, watching her go to sit in one of the comfier chairs near the electric fireplace. She was able to make her way to it fine, but he knew that was just after a lot of practice.

Sloane frowned as well and looked at Nick. “I thought she was doing pretty well…?”

“It still gets to her,” Nick said quietly. “I don’t know how to help…”

She subtly took his hand, rubbing her thumb over the back. “I’m sure being there for her helps…”

“She’s pulling away though. I mean, I know we’ve been busy but after she moved out…I don’t know. I’m worried she’s not…that she…”

She squeezed his hand. “I’m worried too…”

“Alright, I have the gloves,” Victoria said, coming out with them. “I’ll unlock the case and you’re free to peruse—just please put one back before taking another.”

They nodded, taking the gloves. Monroe pulled his on as he walked back toward the books, Rosalee following him just as excitedly. The others were about to pull them on when Wu’s phone went off.

“Ah, I forgot to turn on the jammer…” Victoria said.

“It’s the precinct,” Wu frowned, looking at his phone.

“You better answer it,” Hank said.

Wu nodded, accepting the call. “Wu here…what? I mean, now? Why…oh…okay, yeah, uh…I’ll call them. Be there in a bit.” He hanged up and looked at the others.

“Let me guess. A weird case?” Hank sighed.

“Yep…”

“Now? I mean…could we do it later?” Monroe said, looking like his parade was seeing thunder clouds.

“I mean, you aren’t actually a police officer…”

“…True.”

“What did they say?” Nick asked.

“We got a body down at San Jacinto and Manchaca. Found in an alleyway.”

“Okay, seems fairly tame,” Sloane said.

“His face was skinned off. While he was still alive.”

“Skinned off?” Hank asked.

“…I stand corrected,” Sloane sighed, moving to take the gloves off.

Nick put a hand on hers though. “Why don’t you stay and start going through the books?” She quirked and eye at him and he smiled. “You know more German than I do, that’s why.”

“This is true,” she said.

“I guess that means it’s us three?” Hank asked.

“Damn,” Wu sighed. “Glad I kept a spare uniform in the car I guess.”

They handed their gloves back to Victoria and she smiled. “Duty calls?”

“Yeah…”

“Ah, now?” Monroe asked, looking up from the glass case where he was trying to pick out which book to start with.

“I believe you have a card…shall I have cards made for you two?”

“You can do that?” Wu asked, eyes wide. “I mean, aren’t they like a Grimm only thing?”

“Cynthia has told me of your adventures, as told to her by Ms. Larson. I think you qualify as honorary Grimm.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

“She’s giving you a card, man,” Hank said, smiling at Wu’s excited expression.

She chuckled. “I’ll make them today. Ms. Larson can give them to you, if she stays.”

“I’m staying,” Sloane nodded.

“Okay. Here.” Nick handed her his car key since he’d driven over. “Hank, give me a lift?”

“Sure thing,” he nodded.

“We’ll stay too,” Monroe said. “Help look through the books.”

“Okay…mom?” Nick called.

“I’ll stay here I think. Adalind went to the store with Diana, at least I’m out of the house.”

He frowned again and looked at Sloane. She nodded back, knowing he was asking her to keep her eye on his mother. “I can give you a ride later,” she said to Kelly.

“Sounds good,” she waved, reclining back in the chair.

“I’ll see you at home,” Sloane said. Nick smiled and leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek.

“…Um…What was that?” Wu asked, looking between them.

“Oh right, you didn’t walk in on them,” Hank said.

“Walk in on them _what_?” he asked, looking both scandalized and excited. Nick blushed and pushed him towards the door, giving Sloane an apologetic look. Though she was blushing too she smiled and waved.

They then sat down and began reading carefully through the old books. They’d obviously been well maintained, but were still delicate and required careful turning of the pages to make sure they didn’t start falling apart. It was several hours later and several books later when they all stopped and rubbed their eyes.

“I’m seeing some interesting stuff but not what we’re looking for,” Monroe sighed, closing another book delicately.

“Yeah. This is still mostly descriptions of wesen—albeit a bit outdated,” Rosalee said. She pointed to a much more stylized, more animal-like picture of a fuchsbau. It was essentially a fox in pants. “My muzzle does not look like that when I woge…”

“But it does say your fur is “lustrous and the color of autumn leaves”,” Sloane said.

“Well, they’re right about that,” Monroe said, smiling dreamily at his wife.

She smiled and rolled her eyes. Looking at her watch, she sighed. “It’s getting late…”

“Yeah, and we aren’t having much luck,” Sloane sighed. “Should we call it?”

“Sure. We can come back another day,” Monroe said. They picked up their books and brought them back to the glass case, putting them carefully away.

Taking off their gloves, they headed to the front desk where Victoria sat working at a computer. She looked up and smiled. “Any luck?”

“Not yet,” Sloane said, handing her the gloves.

“What are you looking for precisely? I’ve been working to organize the books, maybe I saw it.”

“Uh…” Monroe said, looking at Sloane. “It’s…complicated.”

“Complicated?”

“…We’re looking into Grimm Templars. Regarding something the might have found,” Sloane said. “That’s about all we know right now too.”

“Hmmm…interesting. I will keep my eyes out for anything like that,” she said. “I have cards for your friends. And you two as well,” she smiled and handed them to Monroe and Rosalee.

“This is…really okay?” Monroe asked, looking at the card with a bit of amazement.

“Ms. Larson and Mr. Burkhardt trust you. So I will trust you too.”

“Thank you,” Rosalee said.

“I will say, do not use them at other libraries though,” she said quickly. “I circumvented the system here for you, but they might get flagged at another library. Then we might both be in trouble. Your Kehrseite friends I could get away with giving broader access—No risk of them woging and having them fight off a bunch of less understanding Grimms.”

“Ah, good point,” Monroe nodded.

Sloane took the other cards, putting them in her wallet for Hank and Wu. “Thank you again…I’m glad Cynthia was able to find someone that was so understanding,” she said honestly.

Victoria smiled and it was surprisingly warm. “I do try…please, come back whenever you wish. I will be here most days now and you will have my number soon if you need access at another time. We do not have a night librarian I’m afraid…can’t have all the luck.” Sloane nodded and turned to go.

Nick broke down what they knew for her when she got home, burgers in a bag after dropping Kelly back off at Adalind’s house. The victim had been found in an alley with his face flayed off, signs showing it was while he was alive. Sloane shuddered a little, willing to admit that was pretty gross even by her standards when he showed her the picture. Even his eyelids were gone. It reminded her of the Wild Hunt a bit, how they had come through scalping law enforcement officers for their coats. But thankfully he was the only recent victim. There had been two similar cases, one seven years ago, the other twelve, and neither had been solved. There had been others reported in other cities as well.

Their victim, Patrick Defonte, was originally from Idaho but they showed he’d gotten his license in 1999 there in Portland. He had a decently long rap sheet with a couple of misdemeanors, drunk and disorderly, and assault charges at different times. Last known whereabouts was the Rainbow Bar just down the street from where his body was found. The M.E. found alcohol in his system, three times the legal limit. But he died from asphyxiation. They found neurotoxic venom in his system, which caused paralysis, inhibiting his diaphragm from contracting. The M.E. had no clue how it got there.

Sloane wasn’t sure which kind, as poison was a favorite feature of many wesen, but she agreed this was likely a wesen killing. She didn’t know one that liked to eat faces. So they agreed to consult Monroe and Rosalee the next day.

\----------------

Sean took a deep breath before opening the door and walking in. The room was filled with flowers, most with some sort of _Get Well Soon_ sentiment written across the banners. In the hospital bed, Andrew was reclined on the bed. He looked up and smiled when Sean walked in. “Well…if it isn’t the conquering hero,” Andrew said. His voice was a bit quiet and tired but sounded genuinely happy to see him.

Renard smiled and walked in. “I was going to bring flowers but I thought you might be sick of them…”

He chuckled. “A bit, yeah…smells like a florist in here.” Sighing he gestured for him to sit nearby and Sean did so. “You saved my life…”

“I tried,” he said. “I…I don’t know what the doctors have told you…”

“That if I’m lucky enough to be able to walk again, I’ll need a can. And I’ll be on a pretty liquidated diet for a while…Part of my liver is gone but I got to keep my kidney, so there’s a plus,” he said, giving a thumbs up.

“…Are you putting on the chipper act?” Renard asked.

“No, I…” He sighed and then laid back a bit more. “…A bit, yeah. I honestly never thought someone would try and kill me…”

“Neither did I. I should’ve though. I should’ve cleared the area better, had more officers—”

“Hey, hey, stop,” Andrew said, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. “None of us saw this coming. I had no enemies I knew of outside of a few rightwing nutjobs and hedge fund managers. You and your officers saved my life so don’t go blaming yourself if I’m not going to be 100% myself again. I don’t blame you. I’m just grateful I made the right friend who would actually try to grab me out of the line of fire!”

Renard smiled and put a hand over his. “I…would say “any time”, but I really hope you don’t make this a habit.”

Andrew laughed and then grunted. “Oh, don’t make me laugh, it hurts…”

“So no turning on _Three Stooges_?”

“Ugh, you know my weaknesses still,” he groaned. “Never be my enemy or I really will be dead meat.”

Sean tried not to wince. He knew Andrew didn’t know the assassin was orchestrated by Black Claw trying to get Sean into power. He didn’t know that either till the other night. But it still hit a nerve to think about being his enemy even unintentionally.

“…Thanks, Sean.” He looked up, blinking in confusion and Andrew smiled. “I needed cheering up…honestly, I am…I am a bit scared about what’s going to happen. If I’ll be able to walk again…even so I probably can’t hike anymore…Just a liability mountain climbing…all that’s gone.” He choked a little, trying to keep a stiff upper lip.

“Hey, no, we don’t know for sure,” Sean said. “You’ll figure this out. You’re way too resourceful not to.”

“No…you were the resourceful one,” he sighed. “Always found points out of left field I never even thought of…You’ll be a good Mayor.”

Renard straightened. “What? Who said…?”

Andrew blinked. “Huh? Oh, Rachael was here earlier…she said you were thinking of running in my place.”

“…That was more her idea,” he said.

“Well I don’t think it’s a bad one. I’m not going to be able to run anymore—I mean as Mayor. They think I’m out of the danger zone but I’m still gonna have a long road to recovery…” He smirked. “It could be like college debate. You take the office now, and then I’ll manage to get it from you in a stellar campaign that makes you look like a pleb.”

“Big words, Dick,” he said, remembering the old banter. “…I’ll think on it. I’m not sure I like these circumstances.”

“Well, you have my blessing,” he said. Renard smiled a little, glad he seemed to be doing well.

After a bit more chatting, he decided to leave and headed down to his car. Pushing the button to start his car, he moved to drive forward out of his parking space only to slam the breaks when he saw a familiar face in front of him. She was dressed in black and her hair was in a short black bob—a wig he thought—but he knew that face well as he watched her walk to the passenger door. The locks popped against his wishes and she opened the door to slide into the passenger seat. “Juliette?”

“Nick would've told you by now,” she stated.

He relaxed slightly and sighed. “Eve,” he amended. “I understand you're working with Meisner now. Did you come to tell me I screwed up too?”

“We didn't see it,” she said.

“See what?” he asked, frowning.

“That he was gonna be a target.”

Renard realized what was she was talking about and sighed. “Yeah, well no one saw that coming…” he said, parroting the words Andrew said to him.

“We should have,” she said. The monotone broke slightly and he was able to detect a hint of frustration in her voice. Renard looked at her and she looked back, her face still as impassive as ever. “You wanted him to be mayor. You supported him. Why?”

“…He’s a good man. A good friend. I wanted to help and I thought he would make a good mayor—”

“Somebody asked you to,” she said, getting to the point she wanted.

He nodded. “His team…” _Should I tell her what they said? What they’re doing?_ Eve nodded and turned to reach for the door handle. “Wait. We're done?” he asked, incredulous. He hadn’t made up his mind yet.

“For now.”

“You know, there's a lot more we could talk about…”

“Right now, that's all I need,” she said, opening the door and stepping out. Renard frowned as he watched her go and sighed. _I’m not sure how much I can work with Meisner and his team on this…none of them seem to trust me. Can’t say I trust them either. I better start figuring out my options._

\----------------

“If they found neurotoxins in the victim, you might be dealing with something else,” Rosalee said, going over her ledger.

“Like what?” Hank asked.

“Koenigschlange?” Monroe suggested.

Rosalee sighed and shrugged. “But there's lots of Wesen with neurotoxic capabilities…”

“Yeah, that’s why narrowing it down isn’t the easy part this time,” Sloane said.

“What do you know about the victim?” Monroe asked.

“Someone took his face,” Hank said matter-of-factly.

They stared for a beat before he leaned in. “Come again?”

“Surgically removed it,” Nick said.

“A face lift. In that they lifted his face and took it with them,” Sloane said. “Have I mentioned how thankful I am you took this one?” Nick rolled his eyes.

“We think the attacker's got to be Wesen,” Hank said. “How would we explain the neurotoxins injected into the victim?”

“I brought you a couple of photos of the victim. Before... and after.” He handed them to them, one of a Caucasian man with shaved head and the other of him with his face gone, the muscle red and still moist beneath and his eyes staring with nothing to shield them.

“Ooh…” Monroe grimaced, taking the latter photo first. He took the other photo from Rosalee and gasped. “Oh, my God.”

“I know. It's awful,” Nick sighed.

“No, I know this guy!” Monroe said, pointing to the fleshed-out picture. “Patrick Somebody, he did construction on the old telegram building during the renovation when I was working on the clock tower. I saw him at the jobsite a bunch of times. He's kind of a jerk…or was.”

“Do you know if he was Wesen?” Sloane asked.

“Oh, yeah. Balam. Got in my face a couple of times until I Blutbaded him. Then he kept his distance.”

“Guess you didn’t mention the whole vegan and Pilates spiel,” Sloane said. He gave her a sardonic look and she just smiled.

“So the attacker is Wesen, and so is the victim…” Hank said.

“Oh…Xipe Totec,” Rosalee gasped.

Monroe’s eyes widened and he nodded slowly. “Maybe.” Rosalee quickly grabbed a book from nearby, going through it quickly. It was one of their own they’d added to the collection till Sloane knew what she wanted to do with her new books, so she knew them better.

“Being left in the dark here,” Nick said.

“Yeah, Sheepy what?” Sloane added.

Rosalee got to the page she was looking for and read out loud. “Xipe Totec, worshiped by Aztec warriors, was known to flay his victims and wear their skin. It was believed that in doing so, he absorbed their power. Warriors imitated Xipe Totec and created skin masks to help them gain strength during battle. This practice has been adapted into present day by Santeria priests, or Santeros, mostly comprised of Vibora Dorada.”

“Well, that would explain the neurotoxins, 'cause they paralyze their victims so the Wesen stay woged,” Monroe said.

“Why?” Sloane asked.

“Uh…not really sure. Honey?”

Rosalee shook her head. “It doesn’t give a reason. But it says the Santeria priest flays the Wesen epidermis and imbues the mask with the ability to transfer Wesen attributes onto its owner through the mask, even Kehrseite,” she finished, shocking all of them. “You know, I did some research on Santeria potions a while ago. Thought it'd be good for business. And I met a couple old-school Santeros here in Portland.”

“Well, do you think you can figure out how it works or who did it?” Nick asked, hopeful.

“If they're still around.”

“Can I copy that passage?” Sloane added. “I’d like to have it on hand and it might be good if we need to buy help from the library.”

“Sure, be my guest,” she said, turning the page towards her.

“Wait, so a Kehrseite can technically become a Wesen?” Hank asked, catching up with what it said.

Monroe shook his head. “In face only.”

“Well, maybe not,” Sloane said, reading the passage again. “It talked about wanting the warrior’s power. Maybe it works like a steroid…”

“Well, if Patrick was a Wesen, then this Vibora Dorada might be trying to make his face into a mask,” Nick said.

“Yeah, we got to find this guy…”

“I was going to go back to the library and keep looking,” Sloane said. “You guys mind?”

“No, see what you can find,” Nick nodded. “If Renard asks, we’ll say you’re researching the case. It’s not entirely a lie.”

She smiled and sat to copy down the passage.

\--------------------

Renard stepped into the restaurant, looking around like he always did. It was a habit he couldn’t break, to try and see any dangers lurking. If he’d done it more thoroughly, maybe his friend would still be alright. Looking to the back, he spotted Rachael’s bright red hair and made his way towards her. “Sorry I'm late,” he said, taking a seat in the booth across from her. The restaurant was the kind that was higher priced but tried to look like a rustic French winery, so they weren’t all that comfortable.

Rachael smiled though and turned her phone towards him. “I got to show you something.” Renard blinked and then tensed when he saw the headline on the Portland Tribune’s website.

_Police Captain Kills Assassin_

“They love you,” she smiled.

“But I didn't save Andrew...” he said, looking down. “He’s alive but…”

“You got his killer. Well, attempted killer.”

“Did I?” Renard asked, eyeing her.

“Of course you did. And the newspapers say so, so it must be true,” she said.

“You don’t have any remorse for what you’ve done?” he asked.

She sighed and leaned in to stare him down. “Look, Dixon served a purpose for a greater good.”

“You tried to kill him to further your own agenda. You nearly succeeded,” he hissed.

“Most agendas include death,” she stated. “There's more than one life at stake here. You're doing the right thing by joining us.”

“No, I haven't joined anybody yet,” he said firmly.

Rachael pursed her lips but continued to talk as if he hadn’t objected. “We’ve managed to spread rumors that Gallagher may have something to do with the assassination.”

“Defamation now?”

“You got me the information on his drug bust,” she reminded him. He narrowed his eyes and she went on. “We’ve managed to convince the governor that the shooting warrants a delay. A special election is going to be held, all newcomers welcome. Former Mayor Whistler will hold the office till then. We’ve got until June to make you the ideal mayor. To win, we think you'll need to have a family.”

Renard snorted. “Are you proposing?...Or are you pregnant?” he added, looking at her with a bit of wariness.

She laughed. “No and no. You don't need me for that. You already have a daughter.”

Renard gave her his full attention now. “How do you know about that?”

She smiled. “And Adalind's the mother.”

“…Again, how do you know about that?”

“We have our ways,” she said, sipping her water.

“…Well, what about them?” he asked.

“We want you to seem like more of a family man.”

“I visit her often.”

“We need more than that.”

“…I don’t think Adalind is open to that,” he said.

“I’m not afraid of a Hexenbiest who suppressed her powers.” Renard nearly dropped his glass, staring at her. No one else should know that. No one but their close group, and they wouldn’t have told. Rachael smiled. “You’re going to convince her to play house, Sean.”

“…And if I refuse?”

She picked up her phone again with a sigh and clicked through till she pulled up a news feed. “You’d have found out eventually anyway…”

He frowned and took it, bringing it close to listen and press play. He realized it was of a news anchor outside Overton Medical and felt his stomach drop before the pretty news woman even started talking. “Mayoral Candidate Andrew Dixon has passed away today. Despite the best efforts of doctors and Dixon’s will to fight, we’re told the damage was too great. Dixon was the victim of an assassination attempt three days ago, shot by a sniper at a local rally where he was talking about his desire to fight for equality and equity in our communities. Though his friend, Captain Sean Renard of the 83rd precinct, tried to save him, the shot caused a mortal wound. Captain Renard later tracked down and tried to apprehend the gunman single handedly, but after a fight the gunman was killed. Though little can help ease the grief for his family and community, there is some solace in that his killer didn’t escape justice. We hope—” Renard pressed pause and nearly threw the phone down.

“Sean,” Rachael said, sounding a bit reprimanding.

“I said I didn’t want him killed…” he choked out.

“What makes you think we killed him? He was badly wounded, Sean,” she said, trying to sound hurt.

“He was doing well earlier. A good prognosis. You wouldn’t show me this when I’m trying to back out unless you lot had a hand in it,” he ground out.

She sighed and sounded honestly remorseful this time. “Okay…yes. Lucien felt having him alive only complicated things. I did honestly try to tell him not to, but our orders from higher up said to go through with it…I am sorry, Sean. He was a good man. But he wasn’t the man we needed for this.” She reached up and took his hand. “I don’t want to keep racking up a body count either. But I know that if you don’t agree…well, they’ve already invested too much. They’re going to threaten whatever else you have. Whoever else they have to,” she said meaningfully.

Renard stared at her before looking down, his mind trying to find traction. He didn’t even notice Eve at the bar, watching them. Not that she was going to intervene.

\--------------------

Sloane sighed and set another book back inside the case.

“Still no luck?” Victoria asked.

“No…I think I might call it a day; I need some rest.”

“Oh, I was going to offer some coffee…”

She smiled. “Thank you, but no…I’ll probably be back again soon, unless I need to get on that case.”

“…You enjoy being a detective?”

“I do,” she smiled, taking the gloves off. “Thank you again. It’s great to have the library open.”

“Of course…Ah, Ms. Larson, wait.” She paused and Victoria quickly came around the side. “You have something in your hair.”

“Huh?” Sloane lifted a hand, feeling through her hair.

“Let me,” she said. Sloane felt fingers come through her hair, tugging slightly. “Ah, there we are.” She held up a couple of strands with white paint on them. “I’m so sorry, I had to touch up some paint earlier and it seems it was not quite dry at one of the back walls…”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Sloane said, fluffing through her hair. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Have a good day,” she smiled, waving.

Sloane headed out the door and up the well back to the woods. When she got to her car she checked her phone and saw she had a missed call and a text message from Nick. The jammer had been turned on so she didn’t have reception down in the library.

_Nick: We got another body, same area. Going to check it out. Eat without me, but I’ll be home soon as a can._

And started for home. She figured she probably had a microwave dinner that would be fine for the night since she didn’t feel like more fast food.

She was almost home when her phone rang, the number unrecognized. She considered not answering in case it was a robo-call, but she knew too many people who switched numbers often and accepted it through her Bluetooth. “Larson.”

“It’s Renard.”

She blinked and looked at the screen on the car again before going on. “Captain? This isn’t your number.”

“I’m using a burner phone. And I’m not calling as the captain. I need to meet you, as a Grimm,” he said.

She was on alert and stood. “Nick’s on a case right now…”

“I know, they said you were working on something else. I don’t care about that; this isn’t to do with it. Just…please, can you meet me?”

“…Yeah. Where?”

“My office.”

“I thought this wasn’t a police matter.”

“It’s not, but I’m being watched I think. I checked it for bugs already so it should be safe.”

She frowned, thinking he sounded paranoid, and stood. “Okay…I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you,” he said, and the relief was palatable over the phone. Sloane hanged up, finished the last couple of bites of her food and got her boots back on. She got to the station quickly and headed right for Renard’s office, noting the blinds were all pulled down. Knocking, Renard’s voice beckoned. “Come in.” She did so, closing the door behind her. “Lock it, please.”

She quirked a brow but did so. “What’s this all about, cap…Renard?”

She realized he looked frazzled and wondered how he’d been sleeping. “…Did you watch the news?”

“Uh, not yet, no…” she said.

“…Andrew is dead.”

Sloane’s eyes widened. “Oh…Oh, I’m sorry…” she said honestly. “I thought he was doing better…”

“He was. He was murdered. They succeeded this time.”

“What?” she asked, coming closer to his desk. “I…Black Claw got to him still?”

“Yes. I’m not sure how. I doubt I’ll be able to prove anything even if I requested and autopsy. They’re saying it was complications from the surgery.”

“And you’re sure it was Black Claw and not that?”

“You think I’m paranoid?” he asked, quirking a brow.

“No, I believe you, I just want to know how you know…”

He sighed, setting his elbows on his desk and then pressing his elbows to his clasped hands. “Because they told me. Rachael has been working for them this whole time.”

“…Well…I knew I didn’t like something about her,” Sloane said. “Wait, why would she tell you?”

“…There's going to be a special election, because of Andrew's assassination. And I will likely be running in it for Mayor. It'll be announced probably announced after the new year.”

Sloane stared. “You what now?”

“It wasn’t my idea,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “This is what Black Claw wanted. A wesen at a higher office, in their pocket. First mayor, then…well, they left it open for me to _dream_ ,” he said, making the word sound distasteful.

“…I mean…don’t you want to climb the ladder and all that?” she asked delicately. “You strike me as being ambitious. Nick told me about the Coins of Zakynthos incident where you kind of went all “charismatic leader” on everyone…”

“…Can’t say it’s not my proudest moment to be honest. I was damn good,” he sighed, pulling out a tumbler of scotch and some glasses. He offered one to her but she shook her head so he just poured a small bit for himself. He talked while he did. “Yes, I want power. Maybe it’s what little bit of a Zauberbiest I am trying to get power where I can. Maybe it’s the royal blood. Who knows?” He set the tumbler back down and picked up the glass, looking at the intricate cuts a moment to get lost in them. “I used to be willing to do _anything_ for that power. Lie, cheat, kill…I sent Adalind to kill Nick’s aunt at the hospital.”

“He mentioned that too…” she said, frowning in disapproval.

He shrugged, downing the small fingerful of scotch in one go. “Like I said, willing to do anything.”

“So why are you telling me this? You know we want to stop Black Claw.”

“Because I want you to stop them too,” he said.

Sloane quirked a brow. “Wait, so…you don’t want to be mayor?”

“It’s not a matter of “don’t’ want”,” he said, pouring another small glass. “I’d rather work my way to superintendent. As a police officer, I have my finger on the pulse of the city much easier. I know the crimes; I know the people. I can pull strings without hardly making an effort or leaving a trail. That’s also a kind of power. The higher up you go, the more scrutiny you’re under, making it harder actually. I know that sounds bad, but I also genuinely care about this city. Wesen and Kehrseite alike. Black Claw only cares about Wesen. And they will kill whoever they have to in order for them to be the ones controlling the city. And not just Portland, they have other members in political races across the nation.”

“…Are they planning some kind of…full wesen take over?” Sloane asked, feeling a shiver go up her spine.

“I don’t know. They haven’t told me much more than that, but I’m sure the more their numbers grow and the more power they get, the bolder they will get.”

Sloane nodded slowly. “And you can’t say no?”

“They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” he sneered. “They know about Adalind and Diana. And they know Adalind’s powers are currently gone.”

Sloane’s eyebrows rose. She knew that wasn’t quite true—her powers were returning. But best maybe to hold that card back for now. “And they threatened them?” she guessed.

“Yes. They also want them to “help”. Think I need to be a family man to get the voters to turn out.”

“Bit sexist.”

He smiled and then sighed. “…What I’m proposing is going to be dangerous. For me especially.”

“…You want to be a double agent,” Sloane realized.

“Right again,” he said.

“…Isn’t Meisner who you should be talking to?”

“Meisner and I still aren’t on speaking terms. Honestly, I’m a bit fed up with _Hadrian’s Wall_. Even came to visit me earlier too.” Sloane tensed and he nodded. “I thought about telling her but she walked away saying that’s all she needed from me.”

“…I can see the frustration,” Sloane admitted. “Then you want Nick and me to—”

“Just you.”

Sloane froze and then shook her head. “Oh, I don’t know about that…”

“Sloane, Nick has never trusted me. Not fully. Not since finding out I tried to have Marie killed. It’s not that I blame him for holding that against me, but I’ve tried to help several times. I got shot trying to bring a cure for Adalind’s curse to him. She trusts her more than he trusts me, and she’s directly hurt him much more often,” he added a little bitterly.

“He’s just not sure where you stand sometimes,” Sloane said. “But he’d want to help take down Black Claw.”

“And he can, but don’t let him know where you get the information. You can share it with Hadrian’s wall as well. But I don’t want anyone knowing it’s me. It would put Adalind and Diana in danger. The less people who know, the better. Nick might just go in, guns a blazing too, let’s be honest.”

“He’s more careful than that…” Sloane said, but she knew there was still a chance. He could be reckless too. Renard looked at her and she squirmed a little before sighing. “Alright…I’ll keep it a secret.”

He sighed, relaxing finally just a little. “Thank you…I know I put you in an awkward position, but I appreciate it. I’ll figure out the best way for us to exchange information without them knowing.”

She nodded, trying not to feel panicky at keeping a secret like this from Nick when they were just finally starting a relationship. She hoped he’d understand if and when he found out…

\-----------------

Sloane came home again to find Nick’s car in the garage. She sighed, still thinking over what Renard said. But she’d promised to keep it a secret. Heading up, Nick was on the couch watching the news. He looked up and smiled when she walked in. “Hey! I was starting to worry…”

She smiled and walked over to sit with him. “Sorry, had to go run a quick errand…”

“Everything okay?” he asked, looking at her with mild concern.

“…No, yeah, great,” she smiled. “Just…um…Dixon died.”

He nodded, frowning as well. “I saw the news…I’m sorry. I know you tried hard to save him.”

“…Yeah. Um, I wonder though. He was doing fine last time we heard. What if Black Claw finished the job?”

Nick nodded slowly. “The thought crossed my mind too…but I’m not sure how to pursue it yet.”

She hummed in agreement. “…What happened with the case tonight?”

“Oh, _a lot_ ,” he sighed. He went on to describe finding the body, which had died from his head being busted open by being thrown against a wall like rotten crate of fruit. They tracked him down to a local wrestling ring where they’d been having Luchadores night. The manager at the ring, where the man was a headliner, told them he was shocked. He’d just had a match against a fighter with a new “tiger” mask who was dominating everyone. When they asked where they get their masks, they found out about the mask maker Benito. Rushing to the shop, they were met with the man in the tiger mask wailing on the old man, who was woged into a Vibora Dorada but unable to bite him in time to stop the blows. They got the luchadores off him, and he fought like he was possessed, throwing them around too. They were finally able to restrain him. The old man woged back and told them they needed to perform the Ceremonia de Desgracias to remove the mask. Luckily he called Monroe and Rosalee and Rosalee remember copying the ceremony down in her research. They came and managed to perform it, pulling the mask off—which then turned back into a human face among the leather disturbingly. Their suspect/fellow victim was a young, aspiring luchadores named Goyo they found out. He’d wanted power and Benito offered it to him. It cost a lot more than either thought it would though. Goyo seemed to have lost his mind in the end, “hearing the masks” talk to him.

“Wow…that is…”

“Yeah,” Nick nodded, sighing. “Not the ideal ending…he didn’t know what he was getting into.”

“Yeah…Hey, um…do you trust the Captain?”

Nick blinked and looked at her in confusion. “Renard?”

“Yeah…Like, be honest and just say what you feel.”

He blew out a breath, thinking. “I…trust him to an extent. I know he’s not evil, but I don’t know if he’s…on our side, if that makes sense. He wants to help the city, I believe that, but I also think he’s ambitious to the point that if you give him an inch he’ll take a mile. I know he wanted the keys badly enough to try and kill my aunt, and have Adalind poison Hank, and honestly a lot of the bad things that have happened can be traced back to him. The only time I trust him is when I know that failure would mean trouble for him too. Otherwise, I’m always wondering when he’s going to try and screw me over again…”

“…I see…”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Oh, I…saw that article someone wrote on him being a hero. Wasn’t sure how to feel about it.”

“Yeah, saw it on here too,” he said. “I feel like you should get some credit for being there and trying to save Dixon…Him getting the credit doesn’t endear him to me either. Like I said, he’ll use anything to get ahead…” he added bitterly.

Sloane sighed, wondering if Renard was right. Maybe Nick wasn’t ready to trust him still. She didn’t blame him, but she was also worried about losing a connection to Black Claw that could be invaluable. “Yeah…I don’t mind really though, not keen on the spotlight still.”

“Hmm…Oh, but I do have this for you,” he said. He reached over the side and pulled up the teddy bear.

“…Thank you?” she said, confused.

“Leo used it for your real souvenir,” Nick said, smiling.

“Oh, good, I had no idea what to do with a teddy bear at my age,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. She took it and looked it over before finding the hidden zipper in the back and pulling it down. Reaching in, she pulled out the wrapped knife. She found the edge and unwrapped it, and gave a soft gasp when she saw the black leather hilt and the Viking-like knot work on the pommel. She looked it over, holding it both her hands, tossing it between them with a growing smile. “It feels good.”

“Look at the blade,” Nick said, trying not get too excited she liked it.

She unclipped the sheath and pulled it off slowly. She paused when she saw the scrollwork _S._ “…This...”

“I wanted it to be your initial. It’s not a Grimm or Galperin or whatever the G was for, it’s S for Sloane,” he explained. “It’s history is what you make it.” Sloane stared a moment and Nick was worried she didn’t like it. But then he saw a droplet fall and from her bent head and realized she was crying. “Sloane?”

“I love it…” she said, looking up and wiping her eyes. “I know it must seem kind of crazy, getting worked up over a knife like this but…”

He smiled and grasped her hand over the hilt. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you like it.”

She smiled and leaned in to kiss him, setting the knife down on the table without breaking contact to kiss him harder and he leaned back with a hum as she followed him.

\--------------------------

Once Sloane was gone, Victoria took a deep breath and walked behind the desk to that back room again. Unlocking it with a key on a retractable lead on her waist, she went inside. It used to be a holding cell, but she’d had it turned into an office and moved the cells to another area to make them less dungeon-like. The office was wallpapered with green and silver brocade, warm wood paneling on the bottom half to give it a classic and calming feeling. It had another old antique writing desk set up on a short wall, meant for private work instead of the horseshoe desk outside.

In contrast, the back wall had a large cork board set up that looked like a conspiracy theorist’s bedroom. Photos, news clippings, even bits of string connecting a few. The oldest were about the Larson family—their businesses, their properties, things like that. Others were about various unsolved crimes—disappearances and murders. A larger article from _The Wildred Review_ was highlighted on one side with other articles radiating out. The headline read “ _Local Grandmother Murdered in her Home—Granddaughter Found Alive by Her Body_ ”. From there a few others were connected by thin blue threads noting unsolved crimes. At the other end of the board was the newest article from several months ago. It was a smaller one, not front-page material. But it had a picture of Sloane and Nick on it from when they won third place at the ballroom dancing competition, hunting the Phantanzerin. Sloane’s name was highlighted.

Victoria looked at the hairs in her hand and took a deep breath she wiped the still wet paint off. It was actually white out she’d put on her fingers beforehand to look like paint. She then picked up a small plastic bag and set the hairs inside. Grabbing her cellphone from the desk, she dialed a number. “Hello? …Yes, it’s me. I have the other sample. I’m going to drop it off to you tomorrow. Please test both of them and let me know the results the moment you find out. …Thank you.” She ended the call and looked at the hairs again before holding them close to her chest. “Please…please be her…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, here's where a lot of things are going to start changing! No disrespect to the original writers, but I felt like it was both a bit rushed and like something was missing. Also, Diana being a "bride/mother" was uh...yeah, no. Even if she grew faster than normal, no, she was still a child and it was still freakin creepy in the not fun way. Since she's not growing faster here that's definitely not going to be the tie in now, there will be another reason there seems to be a connection to them and for what Adalind saw while she was pregnant.
> 
> Also, new librarian! Victoria will be important going forward if you haven't guessed. Leo is more of a cameo to be honest, but you never know, he might come back. And I mainly summarized Silence of the Slams because, while it's an interesting episode, I just didn't really see the need to delve deeper into it or change anything. Dixon almost lived too btw, but I realized ultimately it works better for him to be killed.
> 
> Let me know what y'all think and if you have any theories!


	33. Family History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rewrites of Lycanthropy and Skin Deep!
> 
> NIck and Sloane are trying to figure out exactly how their relationship is going in between murders, werewolves, crazy beauty doctors and political intrigue. But things get more complicated when Nick finds out that his father may have been the expert on Templar history they need--and left him a message from the grave to help them!

**_“It’s a wise child that knows its own father._ ”**

\-------------------

_Family History_

\--------------------

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

Sloane sighed and looked down the hidden hatch to the tunnel below. It was hard to concentrate on reading the paper with that racket. “Nick, you sound like a blacksmith! You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m…” _Bang!_ “Fine!” He grunted and flexed his hand a little. He was trying to get the door at the end of the hatch open. He’d been neglecting trying to do it for a couple of weeks now, since getting back from Germany. It was now the middle now after Christmas, nearly the new year. They hadn’t made any further headway in researching the bone, and things had been quiet. But not in a comforting way. In a way they could feel something was going to happen soon, like pressure inside a soda bottle that was fit to foam and spill the moment the cap was turned. So he wanted to blow off a little steam and try and get one thing done. Since the passageway wasn’t super wide, he’d insisted Sloane stay topside.

He brought the hammer down again on the pipe he had wedged between the spokes of the wheel handle to give him a sort of fulcrum to push with. And that swing, miraculously, turned the handle several inches. He gasped and dropped the hammer, pulling the pipe out and grasping the wheel. The wheel squealed with age and rust, but it turned with just his bare hands and strength. “I got it!” He yelled.

“You what?” He could hear her already coming down the ladder as he turned the hand wheel enough to get the locking pins out of their chambers and pull it open. Sloane came up quickly with her own flashlight, looking at it. “Oh my God…You did it!” she said, laughing.

“Yeah…Let’s see what’s on the other side,” he said, grunting as he pulled it. Sloane helped him and they opened it to see…a stone wall. Well, the wall was about five feet back, and between them and the wall was yet another gaping chasm with inset metal rungs leading down to the darkness below. Nick frowned, lifting his lantern higher to try and see what was down there. But the light didn’t reach. Sloane pointed her flashlight but that didn’t seem to help either.

“What the heck?” she muttered.

Nick looked around and grabbed a chunk of loose brick from the ground to drop it down the shaft. They waited, listening intently. Ten seconds passed and they looked at one another in surprise before finally hearing it hit the ground. “That’s…deep.”

“Yeah…Why don’t you take a break for today. I’ll go exploring with you later, when we can get some stuff together. We don’t know what’s down there.”

He sighed but nodded. “Yeah…Was it bad to hope there was something cooler behind it after all that effort?” he asked.

She smiled. “Well, it’s no magic bone.”

“Heh, yeah,” he said, laughing a little. “Did we get any word on that yet? …Sloane?”

“Hm?” She looked up and then blushed. She’d been distracted watching a bead of sweat roll down Nick’s chest. “Uh…Word on what?”

Nick smirked a little. “Were you ogling me?”

“What? No…I wasn’t _ogling,_ ” she said, scoffing.

“Oh? Not even a little?” he said, flexing slightly.

She blushed. “…Okay, a little…”

He smiled. “You like me shirtless and a little sweaty?”

“…At the risk of inflating your ego, it is a good look on you. But also, you want to flirt with me, let’s not do it in the creepy tunnel please. The _Silence of the Lambs_ vibe is not a turn on.”

“Fair enough,” he laughed. “You actually liked that movie didn’t you.”

“I’m convinced Hannibal was a strig, but it was pretty…gripping.”

“Yeah, you gripped my hand pretty tight.”

“I wasn’t scared,” she said, a familiar argument. She started climbing up the ladder and Nick did a little ogling of his own.

“It puts the lotion on the skin—” he sang up to her.

“I will close this door on you,” she said, trying to sound stern but he knew she was smiling. He laughed and followed her up and out. Once out, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back to him. She laughed and wrinkled her nose. “Nick, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re filthy and smelly right now…”

“Hey, you don’t get to ogle sweaty me without paying the price.”

She sighed in mock frustration but turned around and wrapped her arms around her neck. “Honestly, you are lucky you’re worthy for me to ogle.”

“So you really do only want me for my looks,” he gasped, pretending to be hurt.

“Oh my God, just kiss me already, you dork,” she groaned. He laughed and kissed her, swaying a little bit. This had become much more commonplace over the last few weeks. They’d begun to slip into being lovers at home, though they tried to keep it more professional at the precinct. So they soaked up a lot of moments to flirt and touch at home and Sloane sort of understood why Monroe and Rosalee were the way they were now.

But they realized they hadn’t said _I love you_ since that night. Both of them realized it, but neither was ready to really approach the fact they hadn’t said it since. They figured the words would come when the moment was right.

Nick pulled back a little, smiling at her warmly. Sloane smiled back and opened her mouth…

And then a phone rang.

Sloane sighed, mildly frustrated. “This is why we haven’t been able to actually go on a date…”

“Hey, that’s your phone this time,” he said, but looked resigned as well.

She frowned and looked around before going to grab it from the kitchen counter. “Oh, it’s Dr. Hier.” She clicked accept. “Hello, Dr. Hier.”

“Sloane, Victoria, please,” she said.

“Sorry, Victoria…” she amended.

“Thank you. I’ve got some news, I’ve been curious about your search and did some digging.”

“Oh?” she said, both intrigued and a bit worried that she figured out their search had to do with an ancient relic Nick had managed to uncover in Germany.

“Yes, I started asking around about experts on Templar history, who might have ties to Grimm research as well. And I found a name that piqued my interest…A researcher who was looking into that very topic, among other things. Apparently he was an expert.”

“Oh, great, how do we contact him?” she said, smiling excitedly.

“I’m afraid that is not possible. He died, about over twenty years ago now.”

“Oh…”

“But I think you might be able to get ahold of some of his research rather easily.”

“Easily? Really?”

“Yes. You know his son after all.”

“I do?”

“Yes. The man’s name was Dr. Reed Burkhardt, professor of History at Vassar College.”

Sloane’s eyes widened and she whipped around to look at Nick in the kitchen where he was getting a bottle of water. “I…what?”

“Indeed, I was surprised too. I contacted the college out of curiosity and they couldn’t tell me much, but perhaps his son might have an in…”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll ask him. Thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll see if I can find out anything else. Please, don’t hesitate to call me any time by the way, I’m happy to help. It fills my day a bit more. I hope you have a good day.”

“You too…” She hanged up and looked at Nick.

He looked back from taking a drink and froze. “…What? What’d I do?”

“Not you…Dr. Hier said she found out someone was researching this subject almost 20 years ago…You’re dad’s name was Reed, right?”

Nick’s eyes widen. “I…yeah. You don’t mean…”

She nodded. “She said he’d been doing research and probably still has a lot of notes.”

“…Aunt Marie handled most of their stuff after the…well, now I know it wasn’t an accident.” He set the bottle down, looking pensive. “She took me to look through it all after I graduated high school, I took a few things for sentimentality but…I don’t remember much of his work being there. I wouldn’t have been too interested in it at the time I guess if it was…I was already planning on being in law enforcement, I didn’t think ancient history would help me that much. Don’t remember anything on Templars. Don’t remember anything on Grimms either…”

“Well, Marie probably would’ve taken anything that was on Grimms…Templars I don’t know.”

“So it might be in the trailer,” he sighed.

“Maybe…Victoria said she called Vassar College—he was a teacher there?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, she wasn’t able to get much information but she thought you might be able to. Maybe something is there…” She frowned, seeing how he was starting to retreat into his mind, and walked over to him. “Are you…how are you doing?”

“…I’m okay,” he said, nodding, coming back to himself. “It’s been a long time since I really thought about him…is that bad?”

She shrugged. “I mean, I don’t think it a good or bad thing it just happens…”

He sighed. “I just didn’t expect it to come back to my dad all of a sudden.”

“…Should we ask your mom about it?”

“…Yeah. But let’s see if I can get ahold of his stuff first.”

\------------------

Adalind knocked on the door of the office, taking a deep breath.

“Come in.”

She opened the door and smiled. “Ms. Fernsby? I have the next round of contracts done.”

An older woman looked up and smiled. “Already? My, Ms. Schade, you do work fast.”

“I try,” she smiled, setting them on her desk. “I found a few areas I would recommend rewording for clarity and to avoid any issues—and a few spelling errors too I’m afraid…”

She clicked her tongue and picked the first contract up to look over it. “Dammit, I told Pamela to use her spellcheck before printing…Thank you, Adalind. I must say, for taking time off for a while you get back into the swing of things fast.” She set the contract back down and tilted her reading glasses to the end of her nose to look at her more clearly. “We’ll be having an arbitration next week between our client and the other party—would you be interested in sitting in?”

Adalind smiled. “That would be great, thank you!”

“No, thank you. I prefer having as many extra hands and eyes as I can. I’ll get the summary and relevant documents to you by tomorrow afternoon. Not to make things awkward, but I was a bit worried Martin might’ve been building you up a bit too much. Seems he was right though; you are a quick study and very smart and capable.”

Adalind blushed in surprise. “He said all that…?”

She smiled. “He did. You know, I’ve known him a long time…and I know it’s been a while since he spoke so highly of anyone.”

She blushed more and waved her hands, a little flustered. “Oh, no…I mean, he spoke highly of you after all!”

“Mmmm, I highly doubt in the same tone though,” she said, smiling mischievously. Adalind blushed more and she chuckled. “But that’s something to think about outside the office. I’ve got one more contract in need of review for today.” She picked it up and held it out. “Think you can have it done by end of day?”

“I think so, yes,” she said, quickly taking it and grateful for the change in subject. She scurried off. _What was that? Was she trying to flirt with me for Meisner? Wait, would Meisner even want to flirt with me? What would I do if he was?_

She sat down at her desk and tried to clear her mind. She didn’t have her own office, but neither was it a sad little cubicle. The office the firm was renting out was spacious enough that the desks could be a good size and good quality and spread out enough to not feel your coworkers breathing. She was near a window which was nice, but also in a corner so she could have extra shelves and a pinboard against the wall. Having been there a month, she’d slowly started settling in and decorating. Minor things really: A picture of her and Diana at the park, a pretty art-deco pencil holder she’d found thrift shopping, and a small potted wood sorrel that Rosalee and Sloane had gotten her. The pot was a pretty gray and white ceramic that made the red of the sorrel pop even more and she’d been touched they’d gotten it for her enough that she still had the tag stuffed away.

 _This really is a great job. It’s so rare for a place to want an in-house contract attorney nowadays, it’s usually freelance. One that doesn’t care one way or the other about wesen is nice too…I do owe Martin a lot. I mean Meitin—Marsentin—Meisner_! She sighed and rubbed her brow. _Focus, woman! This is not the time to get that sort of thing into your head. He’s a friend at most, a guy who wants to make sure you don’t go down that dark path again at the least…and he’s good with Diana. Really good, I mean he plays with her, he doesn’t mind when she wants to dress him up a little…Sean’s great with her too of course, but he still gets kind of stiff when it comes to the games. He never really got to play like that…I don’t want to alienate him, of course. But really, Meisner is surprisingly happy to play even though he’s some super-secret soldier…agent…guy. Like James Bond meets Jack Reacher…He’s handsome enough for those roles too. Oh, there’s a thought—okay, no! Focus!_

She quickly began scanning the contract, red pen ready, trying to forget any thoughts of how good Meisner would look in a tuxedo.

Just before she was finished for the day, Adalind’s phone went off. She saw Sean’s name and picked up the phone. “Sean?”

“Adalind…I need to talk to you.”

She paused in making a note and sat back. She didn’t like that tone. It was resigned, unhappy, maybe even anxious. “What about?” she asked slowly.

“It’s important, but not something I can talk about over the phone. Can we have dinner tonight? Not at your house, just…I can get us a back table at La Maison de Papillon. Sooner the better.”

“Fancy,” she said, not brightening. The prospect didn’t fill her with much excitement.

“I figure I should at least give you a nice dinner out of this,” he sighed.

“That’s not worrying,” she sneered slightly.

“Adalind, please,” he sighed.

“…Alright. I’m not dressed for that place though so let me go home, change and let Kelly know I’ll be out. I’ll meet you there at seven.”

“Sounds like a plan. Thank you.”

He hanged up and she frowned slightly. She couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong.

\-------------------

Monroe sighed in satisfaction as he got the movement of the pocket watch to properly turn and begin ticking steadily. Closing the casing up, he wiped it down and set it in the box it’d been brought to him in. That was one commission down and this nearly 200-year-old watch was back up and running. While maybe not as exciting as running through the hills of Germany from wesen with treasure in hand, it still gave him the pleasant feeling of success. Plus, he got paid for it.

“Hey Monroe?”

“Yeah, honey?” he called back. She was taking the afternoon off while another shop was having some plumbing done. With no water to the shop, it seemed like a better idea to just work from home.

“I’m about to start some laundry, do you have anything you need washed?”

“Uhh…No, I don’t think—Oh! Uh…yeah…”

“Yeah?”

Monroe stood and sheepishly grabbed his duffle bag from by the door. “I kept meaning to do this…”

“…You haven’t unpacked?” she guessed, surprised.

“I kept forgetting. You know, the whole “unboxing a mysterious artifact, which saved me from nearly dying of blood poisoning” is distracting…”

“Fair enough,” she said, both amused by him and disturbed by the memory. “It’s been weeks though.”

“Just a couple…” he said. He opened it and then wrinkled his sensitive nose at the musty smell.

She smiled and took the bag. “I’ll be sure to put it on an extra rinse just to be safe.”

“Thank you,” he said honestly, leaning in to give her a grateful peck on the lips.

She smiled and took it with her to the laundry room by the kitchen. She started pulling out the couple of clothes inside, frowning when she found the shirt he’d been bitten in. “I’ll…just toss you,” she said, setting it side. She reached in again and pulled out a large chunk of linen and frowned in confusion. Shaking it out, she spread it up between her hands to see the image of seven people surrounding the dark outline of a man, each holding something up to him. There was a banner woven around them with something written on it. “Hey, Monroe? What’s this?”

“What’s what?” he echoed, walking towards her.

She stepped out and held the tapestry up. “This?”

Monroe’s eyes widened and he walked over more quickly, taking the other end in his hands. “Oh crap, I forgot! I got this from the crypt!”

“The crypt?” She looked at it again, pinching the cloth now rather than fisting it.

“Yeah! It was between these two really decked out dead guys. Nice clothes, jewels, all that. I was trying to read it and I accidently pulled it down so I just took it with me…Here, bring it over this way.” He walked with her, setting the tapestry on the dining table. “See, it has seven knights on it!”

“Like the ones from the crusades?” She got closer, looking over it as well. “It’s pretty dirty…Do you think it could survive a delicate cycle?”

“I don’t want to risk it…this thing is probably just as old as that crypt, the fact that it’s still around a miracle. It might just disintegrate if we aren’t careful…” He smoothed it out gently and frowned as he tried to read it. “Okay, I can see it better…but it still doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“What’s it say?”

“Das Kind desjenigen, von dem sieben ihr Geschenk nahmen…”

“Could you do it in English?” she asked sheepishly.

“Right, sorry,” he smiled. “It seems to say, “The child of the one from whom the seven took their gift...” Something, something… “Seven pieces to contain him…seven blessings for their aid, seven curses for their doom…” Something… “Till the day he rises again,”…That’s about what I can read.”

“…That’s ominous,” Rosalee said, worried.

“Well, I can’t read half of it,” he said, trying to gently wipe some of the dirt away. “It’s like that cloth the bone was wrapped in…You’re trying to contact a museum to look at that, right?”

“Yes, trying be the key word…it’s hard to convince them to use equipment without charge to look over something private…I don’t think we want them keeping it though.”

“Definitely not,” Monroe agreed. “Well, when you do find someone, maybe we can have them look at this too. I’ll take a picture, text Nick and let him know I have it,” he said, quickly grabbing his phone.

“That’s probably a good idea…then you’re folding it up and cleaning the table because I don’t want to eat on it after this thing that was between two dead guys for 800 years was on it.”

“…Understandable,” he nodded, wrinkling his nose.

\-----------------------

Diandra Jolis was scribbling a few notes for her next class when the phone rang. She picked it up quickly, still writing with her other hand about what she wanted to cover in her next class. “This is Dr. Jolis.”

“Uh, hi…this is the head of the History Department at Vassar College, right?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“Right, sorry, it’s been a long time…Um, my name is Nick Burkhardt. My father used to be a professor there.”

She froze. “Burkhardt…Nicholas? You’re Reed’s son?” she asked, sitting back in surprise.

“Yeah?”

She chuckled. “Oh, you probably don’t remember me. I was a teaching assistant under your father back when you were a teen. My last name then was Barret…”

“…Were you the one that wore that Pulp Fiction T-Shirt and tried to convince my dad I was old enough to see it when I was 11?”

She laughed out loud then and covered her eyes at the memory. “Oh God—yeah, that’s me. Woo, I’ve got kids though so now I know how your dad felt…I’m surprised you remember that.”

“I might’ve snuck it from the video store and then got grounded…” he said delicately.

“Oh, ouch…I’m surprised your father still spoke to me. I hope that was the end of your illegal escapades.”

“Well, I’m a homicide detective now so I try.”

“Oh…wow, that’s amazing…I feel so old now,” she said wistfully. “But why’re you calling in?”

“Well, a friend of mine is helping me research some things and she found out my dad was actually researching the same things…”

“Oh yes…I did get a call from someone the other day asking about Reed’s research.”

“Yeah, that’s them. It’s a…hobby, right now, I guess. Looking into all that stuff and I didn’t realize it’d bring me close to him again. And well…My aunt passed away a couple of years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said sympathetically. “…What happened to Reed and Kelly hit us all pretty hard…”

 _Yeah, except it wasn’t my mom and she’s still alive…_ “I know. I guess maybe that’s part of why I’m looking into this. I knew my dad was interested in the crusades but I didn’t realize he was an expert, I thought he was more into the renaissance.”

“Oh, Reed loved anything old and kind of weird, to be honest,” she chuckled. “He always stressed to us we needed to look beyond what we know today, what’s on the surface, and really delve deep. And to try and hang up our biases. He had a whole unit that most of us called “History was a whitewash, here’s the real shit you should know.” Pardon my language.”

Nick chuckled. “No, no, that’s good to hear…I didn’t really appreciate when he talked about work before…” he trailed off, feeling a little guilty.

“He was everyone’s favorite teacher…” She sighed and looked at the ceiling. “You know, he did leave something here. He said it was for safe keeping. It’s a really big, locked trunk …”

Nick’s heart sped up, thinking about the trunk Sloane got that belonged to Josef Nebojsa full of Grimm books and weapons. “Really?”

“Yeah. I didn’t tell the other researcher about it since I don’t know what all is in there and it was Reed’s not the university. But since you’re his son…well, I think he meant for you to have it to be honest, I just didn’t know where you were.”

“Well…I’m in Portland.”

“Maine or Oregon?”

“Oregon.”

She clicked her tongue. “That’s a long way away…”

“Yeah…I don’t know if I can take off to come get it soon…” _I just took off recently to go crypt diving or whatever in Germany…_

“Well, shipping is going to be a bit hefty for it. It’s not small or light…”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that either…” He looked up when he noticed Sloane waving at him and she held up a hastily scrawled pieces of paper that said _LIBRARY WILL SHIP IT FREE_. He’d had it on speaker so he wasn’t surprised she could hear it from the living room this time. He looked at her and mouthed _Really?_ And she nodded with an excited smile. “Actually, I uh…have someone that owes me a favor. They could pick it up and get it to me.”

“Really? Well, that’s great! I’ve been wondering how long I can hide it from the new dean to be honest, he’s been trying to clean up clutter and all that.”

“Yeah, I’ll contact them and try to get them to come over in the next couple of days if that’s alright.”

“Sounds great. And Nick? I’m glad you’re doing well…”

Nick smiled a bit. “Thanks, Dr. Jolis. I’ll let you know if we find anything interesting.” _So long as it’s not Grimm related._

“I’d appreciate that. Oh, I better go though, I have a class to do!”

“Right, bye.”

He hanged up and looked at Sloane. “The Library can do that?”

“Yeah—I’ll call Dr. Hier and she can arrange it to be picked up and then delivered through our back channels,” Sloane said.

“Great…”

“…You don’t sound as excited.”

“No, I am,” he said quickly. “Just…also kind of…”

“…Scared?” she guessed.

“A little,” he sighed, walking over to sit with her. “I mean, mom said he wasn’t a Grimm…so the chest or trunk or whatever is kind of a surprise. And I’m sure since he knew what Grimms were, there’s going to be more surprises…And I’m looking forward to them but I’m also wondering if I’m going to find out something I don’t want to.”

Sloane frowned and took his hand, rubbing over the back of it. “…Did you like your dad?”

He blinked and looked at her before nodding. “Yeah…I loved him. I mean, I was twelve when he…died. I was a dumb pre-teen and I used to give him a hard time about how boring history was,” he laughed ruefully. “…There was plenty of times I wished he was around. When I graduated high school…graduating college…becoming a police officer…becoming a detective…Couple of times on cases…” He counted on his fingers and sighing. “He and Monroe would’ve gotten along really well I think. I miss him when I have whiskey too. When he wanted to unwind he’d sit with whiskey and a book. Made me promise to never smoke because he watched his father die from emphysema…was a bookworm but somehow kept making three pointers when he played basketball with me,” he laughed. “But then he’d make me focus on homework so I’d gripe and complain but I knew not to cross him or mom would get involved…She was definitely more the disciplinarian. And made even more baskets than either of us.”

“…He sounds great.”

“Yeah…”

They were quiet, Sloane leaning against him and trying to comfort through the nostalgic sense of loss that went through him. It was different from her—she didn’t understand her feelings of loss when she’d never even had anything to lose in that department.

While they were sitting, Nick’s phone buzzed again and he looked to see he had a text from Monroe. He opened it.

**_Monroe_ ** _: Hey, Nick! I forgot I brought back something else from the crypt—I found this down there. It looks like it might have something to do with the bone but I’m not sure, it’s hard to make out the words._

He attached a picture of a tapestry. And Nick frowned and made it bigger. “That’s…weird looking.”

“…For some reason, I don’t get a great feeling from it,” Sloane said, leaning on his shoulder. “It reminds me of a picture of a witch burning I saw once; I don’t know why…”

“Because it’s creepy?”

“Maybe…Do you want to go see it in person?”

He sighed. “Maybe later…right now I just want to relax for a little bit at least…”

“Okay…How about I cook dinner? We got those little steaks in there; I could flatten them out and stuff them with cream cheese and spinach? Make some garlic bread and salad?”

“…You are the best,” he said.

“I know,” she smiled, kissing him with a smile.

\-----------------------

Kelly was sitting, listening to the television. She could see vague shapes through her one eye, but the brightly colored cartoons didn’t do much for her. Adalind had left to have dinner with Renard and she and Diana were at the house to have a quiet night in away from the December chill.

She heard her phone go off and managed to find it easily with her hearing and hold it up to her ear. “Kelly.”

“Mom? It’s me.”

“Ah, hello Nicky,” she said with a smile. “How are you doing?”

“Good, good…”

“…You sound a little unsure.”

“Not unsure, just…Okay, so you know what Monroe and I found in Germany.”

“That strange bone you talked about?”

“Yeah. Do you remember anything like that coming up before?”

“…No? Not that I remember. Why?”

“…Dr. Hier was looking into it and she found out dad was doing research into the Grimm Templars.”

He’d said it quickly but clearly but Kelly was still taken aback. “Your father was?”

“Yeah…Dr. Reed Burkhardt of Vassar College.”

“…I…never heard anything about this,” she said, frowning deeply.

“Nothing?”

“No…your father often researched things though. Sometimes several things at once. He often looked for where things might cross with wesen or Grimm history too. Maybe I just didn’t know about it,” she sighed. “I can’t remember all the things he was researching over the years…”

“Well…I called the college and they have a trunk that belonged to him.”

“They what?” she asked sharply.

“Kiki?”

She turned her head towards Diana and smiled to try and show she wasn’t angry or scared. “I’m okay, sweety.”

“Okay…” She went back to watching cartoons and Kelly sighed.

“Mom?”

“I’m…surprised. I didn’t know that he kept anything at the college. Neither did Marie or I’m sure she’d have gotten it just to be safe…”

“They said it was a trunk?”

“Oh! Your father’s old steamer trunk…I didn’t realize it was there. He used to keep old files and notes in it. I don’t know what all is there…”

“Well, Dr. Hier is going to coordinate shipping it to us.”

“…Okay. That’s good…”

“Mom?”

“I…need to get Diana ready for bed.”

“…Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later,” she agreed. She hanged up and sighed. She felt a hand on her knee and could just make out Diana as close as she was.

“Kiki is sad?”

“…A little. I’m just missing someone.” She smiled and lifted her up. “It’s time for your bath though…can you turn off the TV?” She saw a faint violet glow and heard the TV turn off behind her. “Thank you.”

\----------------------

Adalind walked into the French restaurant, dressed accordingly. She’d changed from her simple suit for the office into a semi-formal navy-blue dress. She knew the power dressing for a location could have—future clients could see her here and it could make an impression. The waiter led her to the private room at the side and Sean stood when she entered, ever the gentleman. “Adalind…you look…wow.”

She smiled. “Thanks. I’ll admit, I haven’t gotten to dress up in a while so this is kind of nice. Honestly, something that isn’t chicken nuggets or spaghetti is nice,” she sighed.

“Diana still being picky?” he asked, slightly amused.

“It’s just a phase I’m assured,” she sighed. “Kelly said even Nick went through it. It’s weird, I never really thought of him as a kid…”

“Me neither…but I didn’t ask you here to talk about the Grimms.”

“No, yeah, I figured…” They quieted when the waiter returned and showed Renard a bottle of wine. He nodded and the waiter poured them each a glass before leaving the bottle on a nearby serving cart for later. Adalind took a sip, noting the pensive look on Sean’s face as he swirled his glass a bit. “Why did you call me here? You seem really tense…”

“To say the least,” he sighed. He took a long sip and then a deep breath. “…Let’s eat first. When I tell you, it’s going to probably kill your appetite…”

She frowned more but he insisted with a wave of his hand and she looked the menu over.

They had a nice meal, mostly talking about Diana. Things like school choices and the like and how that was going to work. It wasn’t a warm dinner, but it was nice. At the end Adalind blotted her lips and sighed as she set the napkin on the table. “Okay…so, what’s going on? I know there’s something bothering you.”

He sighed, setting his napkin down as well and steepling his fingers. “…It will be announced tomorrow I’m throwing my hat in the ring for the special Mayoral election.”

Adalind coughed a little on her last bit of wine, swallowing quickly and trying to take a quick breath. “What?”

“Yes. I’m going to be running for Mayor of Portland.”

She could tell he didn’t sound enthused but nodded in encouragement. “I…Wow, I mean, that’s great! Really…I had no idea you were thinking of doing that.”

“It wasn’t my idea.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m being forced into it.”

“…I’ve never known someone to force you to do anything,” Adalind said.

“If they have the right leverage, they can…”

“…What are you talking about?” she asked, getting a bad feeling.

“…The people who killed Andrew, their name is Black Claw.”

Adalind gripped the tablecloth. “Black…Claw?”

“You’ve heard of them?”

“Meisner has mentioned them…that they’re a terrorist organization.”

“Yes. I had no idea of their involvement at the time of course. They infiltrated Andrew’s team and set it all up. If I’d known…” He sighed in frustration.

“…But why? I mean, why kill Andrew, he was such a nice guy…” she said, shaking her head. “And why would you work for them?”

“Because they know about Diana.”

She froze. “…What?”

“They know about Diana. And about you. I don’t know how but they’ve made it very clear that if I don’t play along, they don’t have any qualms about threatening people. And following through with their threats.”

Adalind sat back, feeling a little nauseous. “They threatened her?”

“And you.”

“Well…they’re going to have a tough time with that. Because my powers are back.”

Renard straightened. “They are?”

“Yes. I’m trying to be sparing with them, but if they dare try anything I’ll…” She balled up her fists and their glasses rattled a bit.

“Adalind, look at me,” Renard said, grabbing her hands. “I know you’re powerful. I know Diana is powerful too. But whoever is running this is…”

“You think they’re more powerful?” she said, not believing him.

“Whoever has done this has gotten dozens, maybe hundreds of wesen to follow him. I don’t doubt it. There’s no telling who is in this organization or what they might do, and as much as I want to fight I know I can’t win against them…and neither would you given the sheer numbers.”

Adalind looked at the table, then back at him. “So…you have to run for mayor and win I take it?”

“Yes. But more than that…they think me being a family man will help that.” He reached into his pocket and set a ring box on the table. “They were, again, _very insistent._ ”

Adalind stared and then felt a giddy laugh bubble up. “I mean…are you joking? No offense, really, but this is…too far. You’re saying they want an _arranged marriage_?”

“I know. But if we don’t, we have to deal with them pushing or retaliating.”

“Well they can go ahead and do that, because I’m not marrying you to give you a “loving family”!”

“Adalind,” he sighed.

“Don’t say my name like I’m some child throwing a tantrum, Sean,” she bit out. “I already told you, after _everything_ I’ve been through and that you’ve put me through, I don’t love you like that.”

“I understand that, alright?” he snapped. “I’m not asking this to hurt you or because I want to force you into this, but because it’s the only option I have right now to protect you and our daughter!” He grabbed her hand and roughly put the box into it. “Take this and just…think. If you can come up with a better solution than playing along right now, I’m all ears.”

Adalind glared, her hand tightening on the box, and she stood to stalk out of the restaurant. She was shaking with emotion—a lot of anger, some still spiraling feelings for Sean, bitterness, and fear. She felt tears in her eyes and rushed to her car to get back home quickly, trying to keep her emotions under control and not break anything on the way.

Sean watched her go and sighed, downing the rest of the wine and pinching his brow because he already had a headache.

\---------------------------------

“I’ve coordinated the pick-up and delivery,” Victoria said, handing him a piece of paper. It was the next day and he dropped by the Library to discuss it. “It should be here in about two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Nick asked, slightly disappointed, taking the paper. It was just a confirmation slip in case anything went wrong.

“I put a priority on it but it’s a large object. Getting it through the back channels isn’t as easy as say a book or crossbow.”

“I guess that’s fair,” he sighed.

“It’ll be delivered here to the library if that’s alright, I didn’t have your address and wasn’t sure you wanted it given out.”

“No, yeah, I appreciate that.”

“…Sloane didn’t come with you?” she asked curiously.

“Ah, no, she went to finish up some work at the precinct,” he said, folding the paper up and putting it in his jacket pocket.

“You and she are close?”

“…Yeah, um…we’re dating.”

“Oh! I mean, I thought that might be the case but I wasn’t sure,” she said, smiling a little awkwardly.

“It’s a newer thing, we’re still…figuring a few things out,” he said, also awkwardly.

“The whole working together while dating thing, hm?” she asked, nodding sagely.

“You have experience with that?”

“Oh, on and off,” she sighed. “There’s always the one that got away though, that I kept thinking about…”

“Yeah…It’s harder when that one keeps popping up in a way when you don’t want them anymore,” he muttered.

Victoria gave him a quizzical look. “…Perhaps so.” She tapped the desk, a little agitated it seemed before looking at him. “But you two are doing well?”

Nick was a bit caught off guard. It felt like how she was asking it was a bit personal, but also concerned. “…Yeah. I think we are. Just…finding that balance.”

“Right, yes. Balance is good,” she nodded. “I hope it works out well…and you treat her well.”

“…Yeah, I’m going to,” he nodded back.

“Good. I won’t keep you then, I’ll call you when you it arrives.”

“Thanks…” He nodded and headed out of the library back up to the well. Once he was out he checked his phone and saw he had a voicemail from Sloane from a call he’d just missed.

“ _Hey Nick, we got called out to the woods on a case. Guy found by side of the road looks like he got mauled. Still alive though according to the trucker that found him. I’ll text you the coordinates.”_

His phone buzzed when the coordinates came through and he quickly went to his car to head out there.

He pulled up to a rest area in the woods, where an ambulance was pulled up treated a man in a suit who looked about late twenties, early thirties through all the blood on him. But rather than hurt he looked more impatient and upset at the EMTs treating him.

Wu explained that he was their victim, Doyle Baske. 28 years old, on his way to visit his mother yesterday evening when his tire blew out and he drove his car into a tree. That had been further up the road—he’d tried to walk to find a signal for his phone and ended up attacked and chased by a man and his dog, according to him. He’d ran and fell down a hill onto the highway and been knocked out till a truck driver nearly ran him over in the early morning. Wu said that despite the blood and scratches, the bit wounds looked more human than canine. And aside from the cut to his head, no major wounds were found.

“So where did all that blood come from?” Sloane asked, eyeing the grey suit that was now a deep burgundy along his chest and wrists. It was also pretty shredded, indicative of being attacked, with long slash marks around his shoulders and chest.

“Exactly,” Wu said, turning to lead them towards the ambulance.

They could hear Baske protesting, standing and throwing the shock blanket off of him. “No, I said I'm fine.”

“We can't tell if there's any internal bleeding or head trauma unless we take you into the hospital,” the EMT said.

“I'm not going in,” he replied, his tone not yielding. He turned to walk off only to be met with all of them as they came up.

“Doyle Baske? I'm Detective Burkhardt. This is Detective Griffin and Detective Larson.”

He sighed, looking impatient rather than traumatized. It was obvious he wanted to leave from his body language and his tone. “Look, guys, I-I got attacked by a guy and his dog, okay? I didn't get a good look at them. I got away. I must've hit my head. I don't know. I'd just blown a tire and hit a tree.”

“Can we see some identification, please?” Hank said.

He sighed sharply but nodded and dug his wallet out of his pocket. “Yeah, sure.”

“What kind of work do you do?” Nick asked.

“Commercial real estate. My office is downtown,” he said, handing Hank his driver’s license.

“And you were on your way to visit your mom?” Sloane asked.

“Yeah, last night. Try to get out to see her, like, once a month. She lives alone. Dad died a couple years ago.”

“She lives alone all the way out here?”

He flinched, just slightly, but shrugged. “They always liked the quietness of the woods, so they bought a place out here after they retired. Not convenient but she’s still happy out here.”

“And where are you headed now?” Nick asked.

“I was just going back to where I left my car.”

We can give you a ride, if you don't mind us asking you a few questions on the way,” Hank said, handing his license back.

He looked hesitant for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Wu went to coordinate with the EMTs while Nick climbed into his car and Sloane and Hank got into the unmarked blue sedan they’d driven down with Doyle.

The crash site wasn’t too far, just a few minutes by car up the road. A silver Mustang was grill first into a tree, the front crunched in all the way to the engine from the looks of it and the airbag deployed. “You're lucky you walked away from this…” Hank said, eyeing the damage with a frown.

“Is this where you were attacked?” Nick asked.

“No, it's somewhere down there,” he said, gesturing up further. Sloane quirked a brow. “I was trying to make a call but didn't have any signal. I don't remember where exactly. I just remember this dog coming at me, and everything after that's kind of a blur. I ran into the woods, and...” He sighed, arms flopping down. “Guess I just ended up where I ended up.”

“…Back that way?” Sloane asked, pointing the way they came. The opposite direction of where he said he’d walked.

“Yeah, I…must’ve circled around at one point while I was running,” he said quickly.

“And you ended up bleeding in the middle of the road?”

“Look, it was dark. I don't know where I was going. I just know that I was trying to get the hell out of there,” he snapped. “Not to mention the fact that I had just driven my car into a tree, so please, forgive me if I wasn't exactly thinking straight.”

“Well, you might have a concussion, you know,” Nick said.

“Yes…And I will get myself checked out, I swear, but right now, I just need to get to my mother. She's probably worried sick about me,” he sighed.

“Do you remember what kind of dog it was?” Hank asked.

He gave him an impatient look. “You know what? I don't. I'm not really a big dog guy. It was big, it was hairy, and it was a dog, okay?”

They looked at one another but decided that was enough pressing. After all, he was the victim…supposedly. “We'll drive you to your mom's,” Nick said. “You can call a tow truck from there.”

“Thank you. Let me just get my briefcase,” he said, going to the car.

Sloane hanged back with Nick by his car a moment. “Something feels off about this…especially given the amount of blood on him.”

“Yeah…But he’s the only victim we have. On another note, Victoria’s taken care of getting my dad’s stuff here and it should be about two weeks.”

“That’s good,” she sighed. “I was thinking…I might ask Hadrian’s Wall for a favor.”

“A favor?” he asked, concerned immediately.

“To find Dierdre. And the trailer. It’s been almost a year and we’re no closer. But they have all that surveillance connections, equipment and programs…I figure if I can get them to find her, maybe we’ll be closer to getting the trailer back.”

“We’ve got the library now though,” he pointed out. “And you’ve got the books from Nebojsa.”

“So you’re fine never seeing the trailer again,” she asked dubiously.

“…No…Just…” He sighed. “While I don’t distrust Meisner and obviously trust Trubel…”

“Eve?” she asked.

“Yeah. Plus shadowy government organization doesn’t inspire a lot of good feelings…”

“Tell me about it. But they want to use us, we do have a common goal…I figure we should at least get something out of it.”

Nick sighed but then smiled and nodded. “You make a good point.”

“Don’t I always?” she smirked back.

“Ha. C’mon, we better get Mr. Baske home,” he said, squeezing her arm.

She smiled and headed for the car with Hank and Baske so Nick could follow again. It started to rain softly as they drove through the forest roads again. Following Doyle’s directions, they came to a small but impressive Tudor style manor nestled amongst the trees with a long-curved driveway up to the English garden around the front door. Sloane had to admit she rather liked it.

“Hey, guys, I'd... I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything to my mother about me getting attacked…” Doyle said, leaning forward to look at them between the front seats. “I don't want her to get freaked out.”

“Okay, but we're gonna need your shirt,” Hank asked.

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Some of the blood on it might not be yours,” Sloane explained. “We can use it to help identify whoever attacked you.”

He looked uncomfortable a moment before sighing and nodding. “Yeah, okay…Oh, that's my mom.” They looked up to see a woman at the door, looking out that them. Doyle quickly opened the door and grabbed his briefcase before jogging across the lawn to meet her. “Mom!”

“Oh, my God,” she breathed as he walked up. She was a middle-aged woman with short brown hair, dressed in navy padded vest with leather accents and dark indigo shirt and jeans like she’d planned to go outside. “Oh, I was so worried about you. What happened?”

“I know. I...”

“Your shirt!” she gasped, looking at the blood and rips and tears all over his clothes. “Is that blood? Are you injured?”

“It looks worse than it is, I swear,” he sighed.

“Oh, my God…” she said, shaking a little.

“My car had a flat tire. It went off the road, but I'm fine. These police detectives, they gave me a ride. …I'm sorry. I don't remember your names.”

“No problem. I'm Detective Burkhardt. This is Detective Griffin and Detective Larson.”

She nodded to them but looked back at her son. “You gave me quite a scare…”

“I know, and I'm sorry,” he sighed. “I-I tried to call, but my phone had no service…”

“I want to find out if you called the police last night when he didn't show up,” Hank said. “In case it was reported.”

“No, I didn't; I thought he was late or just stuck at the office,” she said. “I was more worried when he didn’t call this morning to say so or if he was coming today.”

“Yeah,” Doyle nodded. “Well, thank you, guys, for the ride.”

“If we need to get ahold of you…” Nick prompted.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he said, quickly setting his case down and fishing his wallet back out. He grabbed a business card and handed it to him. “This is my card. Number's on it. Just give me a call.” He and his mother turned to go inside but Sloane waved a hand to stop them.

“Your shirt,” she reminded him.

He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I'm just gonna get my mom in the house, and then I'll run it right back out, okay?”

They nodded, letting them go inside and stood back to watch the rain for a bit. “That strike you as a little weird?” Hank asked.

“What?” Nick asked.

“He didn't want his mom to know that he was attacked. If my mom lived out here by herself and I was attacked not far away, I'd want her to know so she could at least lock the doors,” he said as if it were obvious.

“If my mother lived out here, I’d worried for whatever was living in the woods,” Sloane said dryly. Hank nodded, unable to disagree.

“Maybe he'll tell her later, after he gets off his bloody shirt,” Nick also said.

They heard footsteps behind them and turned to see Doyle coming with his shirt in his hands, bare chested. It was a little surprising how well muscled he was for a realtor. “Here you go. Thanks again.” He practically tossed it at them before closing the door.

“…Yeah, he really didn’t have that many scratches on him,” Nick said.

Sloane quirked a brow at him. “Were you ogling him?”

Nick blushed and gaped at her but she just laughed and headed for the car before he could respond. Hank quirked a brow but Nick shook his head. He tried not to laugh as he followed them.

\-------------------

Adalind stared at the ring box on the table. Part of her wanted to throw it in the garbage. Another wanted to use her powers to throw it into the stratosphere. But there was a part of her that knew Sean was serious and that was the part that worried her the most.

She looked up when the doorbell rang and quickly went to answer it. “Meisner…” she sighed.

“Adalind…you said it was an emergency?”

“Yes…Kind of. No, definitely.” She motioned him inside and couldn’t help but glance around worriedly. If they knew about them, that might mean they knew where she lived.

Meisner frowned. “What is it? Where is Diana?” He added, looking around.

“I asked Kelly to take her out for a walk. I know she’ll be safe with her…”

“Safe?”

Adalind looked at him and sighed, walking over to the counter and picking up the ring box. “Sean gave me this yesterday.”

He frowned and took it, popping it open to see the rather impressive ring inside. “…Congratulations,” he said, his voice a little flat.

“I didn’t accept it. I mean I took it, but I didn’t…” she sighed and sat on one of the stools at the island. “He said he’s being pushed to marry me. By that organization you’re looking for, Black Claw.”

Meisner nearly dropped the box but gripped it tighter. “Explain. Please,” he added.

She sighed. “He said they want to have him run for Mayor and he’s announcing it soon. And that having a family would help him with the polls. So they want me and Diana to join him.”

“…So you are…window dressing?” he asked.

“A bit blunt but yeah,” she sighed.

“Then you will refuse.”

“Believe me, I want to,” she laughed. “Sean knows it too. But he said that if I don’t…they’ll try to hurt me and Diana. And he thinks they can.”

“…They could,” he said quietly.

“But your protecting us?” Adalind said, a little desperate.

“We do our best, but…” He sighed as well and went to sit with her. “…We believe the man in charge of Black Claw is dangerous. Beyond that of a normal human. Or a normal wesen.”

“…How so?” she said, feeling a little worry creep into her.

“He goes by the name “Conrad Bonaparte”. But we believe he’s had many other names. Have you heard of “Cruor House”?”

She huffed a laugh. “Yeah, of course. It was a wesen cult back in the 1800s. They wanted to out themselves and be in charge. They took over an English estate, got super debauched, started killing townspeople and then all died suddenly…The council made most public record of that disappear.”

“Most, yes. But we believe that the man in charge of that, the one known as “Midas” is and was Bonaparte.”

She blinked then shook her head. “I…I’m sorry, you think it’s him? But he’d have to be over a hundred and twenty years old!”

“Indeed. But it might be possible for him. Some wesen have long lives, but for him…we believe he is a very powerful Zauberbiest.”

“Oh…” she said, feeling dread settle into her. “If he can live that long…then yeah, he must be powerful. A-are you sure though?”

“Not one hundred percent, but what records we have found seem to confirm our suspicions. Time, places, descriptions. And one photo we were able to find from that time. But we have not been able to find Bonaparte to compare.”

“I see…but if it isn’t, I mean…My powers are back, I-I can defend myself and Diana…”

“…Adalind, we are more sure than unsure. And more than that, if it is him, he is extremely dangerous. Before they killed them, we were able to get some records from the wesen council. It was not the council or a Grimm that took care of the members of Cruor House. Bonaparte did it himself. Nearly one hundred members killed in a matter of minutes.”

“…You’re joking…” she whispered. “Why…why would he? They were his followers?”

“The council said that they did dispatch someone to try and take care of it. They found Midas in the middle of all the chaos, at the dining table with his inner circle’s corpses in the chairs around him. Eating one of their hearts on a platter with a knife and fork. ‘Like roast beef’, it said.”

“Oh God,” she whispered, feeling sick. “He’s a Warlock…”

“Warlock?”

She shook a little, hugging herself. “My mother…told me about them. Hexenbiests who give up all their humanity completely are called Beldams. Zauberbiests who do that are called Warlocks. I’ve heard both consume the life of those around them, those they kill. Honestly, I probably came close to being one to get my powers back…Or maybe I did…” She thought about Frau Pech who died. Admittedly it hadn’t been by her hands, but she’d still made convenient and bloody use of her.

Meisner frowned. “I don’t suppose she ever mentioned what to do if you met one?”

“Run,” she said simply.

He nodded, sighing. “Good advice, I think.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” she said, giving a shuddery, watery gasp. “If he knows about me, knows about Diana, he really could hurt us and I couldn’t stop it.”

“Then we will try to stop him,” Meisner said.

“No!” she gasped and grabbed his hand. “No, you cannot face this man! He will kill you or worse.”

“Adalind, calm down,” he said, putting his own hand on top of hers.

“No. Martin, I know you are strong and you can face down wesen that would make most humans scream and run, but not this one. If he is a warlock, he’s capable of dark magic we can’t understand.”

“…You called me Martin,” he muttered.

“…I…that’s what you’re focusing on?” she asked, blushing but still upset with him.

He smiled. “Sorry. I just rather liked how you said it…”

She blushed and squeezed his hand again. “I’ll use it then, but promise me you won’t go looking for him!”

“I can’t promise that, Adalind,” he sighed. “I have to stop Bonaparte, or Midas, or whatever he calls himself now. To stop Black Claw. And now to protect you and Diana.”

“But he could kill you…”

“So could many others I faced. But that doesn’t mean I stop fighting for what I know is right. And for what is important.”

Adalind felt her heart race for a different reason when he looked her in the eyes. “…Of course you’re noble…” she sighed.

“Less noble, more ready to kill to keep from losing anything else,” he smiled.

“What should I do then?” she asked, looking at him.

“…Do not make any rash decisions. I will see what other options there are.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay…thank you…Martin.”

He smiled, thumb rubbing over her hand. Adalind felt her heart speeding up and wondered, idly if she should say something. Or do something.

Martin’s phone went off and he closed his eyes and sighed resignedly. Grabbing it, he looked and frowned. “…Seems I am popular today. Sloane would also like to talk about something.”

“Well, hopefully it’s not as bad as mine…”

“We will figure something out,” he said, squeezing her hand again before standing. “Call me if anything else happens.” She nodded, waving as he left and sighing to herself.

\-------------------

Kelly walked with Diana in the stroller through the nearby park, under the shade of tall trees and the over the smoothness of a concrete path. “You’ll be three soon. What do you want for your birthday?”

“Ice cream!” she cried, giggling.

Kelly smiled. “You can have that any time?”

“Like now?”

“It’s December!” Kelly smiled. “How about some hot chocolate?”

“Yeah!” she cheered, holding up the stuffed fox in her hands in triumph.

“Oh my, what an adorable little girl.”

Kelly turned her head slightly to the voice and could make out the outline of a woman. She sounded older, midwestern, and was a little on the round side. She was a blur of pastels and bright red hair to Kelly. “Yes, she is…”

“Oh, I could just eat you up…” She said, kneeling in close.

“…Bad lady.”

She looked taken aback but Kelly tensed. “Excuse me?”

“Bad lady, Kiki!” she shouted, close to crying.

Kelly didn’t bother trying to placate the woman, instead backing up slightly with Diana’s stroller. “Who are you?”

“What? I—”

“If you’re wesen, I’m not in the mood to play,” she said, not bothering to be subtle. The woman froze and she couldn’t see what she was when she woged—something with teeth though—then made a grab for Diana’s stroller. Kelly pulled Diana away and stepped around, kicking the woman in the face. She shrieked and there was the sound of several other people yelling, but Kelly readied herself for a fight. The woman ran for her again and Kelly punched her. Even half blind, she wasn’t a pushover!

But then she heard Diana scream and turned to see someone else trying to get her out of her stroller. “No!” She moved to stop him, only for him to be blown backwards by a wave of power. Diana began to cry and the trees seemed were bending inward, one of them moving as if to grab the prone man and lift him up. He screamed as the branches coiled around him like snakes. The ground under the woman, despite being solid, turned to a liquid texture and she screamed as her feet we sank into the hole. There was an even louder commotion as others around them began running away. Kelly grabbed Diana out of the stroller, holding her and stroking her hair. She quickly kicked the stroller away towards someone else coming at them since it was a cheap one anyway and ran for the exit and home.

She got home in record time and quickly got inside.

“Kelly?” Adalind asked, standing from the couch. “What’s wrong?”

Kelly caught her breath and handed Diana too her, Diana sniffling and holding on tight. “Someone tried to kidnap Diana.”

Adalind paled and held her daughter tighter. “W-what?”

“Some kind of wesen…I couldn’t tell what. Diana could tell she was a bad lady though. And she had a partner. Diana’s powers got a little wild but I was able to get us out of there…” She sighed and tossed the stroller aside in frustration. “The fact they still were able to do it…” she growled.

“Kelly, it’s okay. You got her out of there,” Adalind said.

“But they shouldn’t have been able to get the drop on us! I just…I’m useless! So much so my son has to tell me about all his adventures after the fact because I can’t do a damn thing to help!” She leaned over, bracing herself on the table nearby in frustration.

Adalind frowned sympathetically and sighed, rocking a now exhausted Diana. She passed when she felt something and found there was a note stuck into Diana’s jacket. “What’s this…?”

“What’s what?” Kelly asked, still frustrated.

She pulled it out and gasped, dropping it when she saw it had four roughly drawn claw marks over them. “Oh God…they were Black Claw…they really do know who we are…”

“…Your keeping things from me too, aren’t you?” Kelly said, picking up the note to bring it close.

“…I’m sorry, I just…wanted to talk to Meisner first…He came while you were gone. But talking to him, I know this is so much worse than I first thought…”

“…Start from the beginning,” Kelly ordered.

Adalind sighed and sat down, with her, ready to tell her just what they might be dealing with.

\-------------------

Doyle Baske had a clean record from what they could see. His family had owned the land out in the woods since the 1800s, being some of the oldest money in Portland but nothing truly outrageous. Doyle was single, no kids, and worked at the same real-estate firm for the last five years. All fairly normal.

“Something isn’t right here,” Nick sighed. “I know he’s supposedly our victim, but the way he was acting just irks me somehow…”

“No, yeah, it was weird,” Hank nodded.

“It gets weirder, of course,” Wu said, walking up to them with a laptop open in hand. “Got the lab work back on the blood samples taken from your victim's shirt.”

“Any dog?” Nick asked.

“No dog, all human,” Wu said, setting the laptop down. “But you were thinking there were two types...Victim and attacker?”

“Yeah, according to him, he was attacked by an assailant and his dog,” Hank nodded.

“Well, then it's kind of hard to explain the three different blood types when none of them are canine,” he said, showing the screen with three genome results.

“So he was attacked by two humans and no dog…” Nick said.

“Doesn't mean he wasn't attacked by a dog, just that the dog didn't bleed,” Hank said.

“Or the dog was Wesen,” Sloane said a little distractedly as she went over some notes. “Wesen blood shows up human, it woges and unwoges like them. Hair and other features taken when woged would show up differently, like an animal’s fur, unless it was also sampled for DNA.” She glanced up when they were quiet and shrugged. “There were several studies on it through the Library, I looked at them while I was also looking for information on the bone.”

“Can you show them to me next time we’re there?” Nick asked. She smiled and nodded.

“So we got a man and his Wesen loose in the woods?” Hank asked.

“Maybe. Check area hospitals. See if anybody came in with bite wounds, uh, between sundown and this morning,” Nick said to Wu.

“Yep,” he nodded, grabbing his laptop to go search.

“We might want to call Monroe and Rosalee,” Hank pointed out. “I think we better go back out there and see if we can retrace Doyle's steps.”

Nick nodded but paused when Sloane’s phone dinged. She looked at it and sighed. “Do that, I gotta go do something else real quick,” she said.

“Do what?”

She glanced around and leaned into them so they would do the same. “I asked Meisner to meet me in the garage. I’m going to ask him to track down Dierdre so we can find the trailer.”

“Hey, that’s a good idea,” Hank nodded. “Don’t want us there though?”

“Might get suspicious if all of us go at once. Call Monroe and Rosalee and I’ll meet you guys at the car.”

They nodded and she headed to the garage quickly. As she was walking deeper in she heard a rhythmic tapping from nearby and paused. Meisner stepped out then. “You said you wanted to trade information for a favor?”

Sloane nodded and reached into her pocket to hand him a piece of paper. “I need to find this woman. Given name is Dierdre Galperin, but she has dozens of aliases.”

Meisner took the paper and unfolded it to see it was a sketch. “…This is very well done, but photos work better.”

“She’s a Grimm, she doesn’t really do headshots,” Sloane said breezily.

“You’re looking for another Grimm?” he asked, confused.

“I’m looking for my mother.”

“Oh,” he said, surprised, looking at it again. “I see…you are worried about her?”

“Ha! No. Last time we met she poisoned me with a mind control drug and tried to get me to kill my friends. I’m worried about her being on the lose I guess you could say. Finally time to do something about her.”

“…I see…” He eyed her, knowing there was something more.

“…She also stole something important. A trailer that belonged to Nick’s aunt. We want to get it back,” she sighed.

“…Very well. I’ll see what we can do. But you said you had information you could trade for this favor.”

“Yeah…Renard is going to be running for mayor soon, with Black Claw backing him,” she said.

Meisner’s eyebrows went up but he didn’t look as surprised as she expected. “…I’m afraid I was just told this already.”

“What? You already found out?” she said, frowning.

“Yes. Adalind told me. It seems they also want him to…play the family man with her and Diana now. Good for looks. But she doesn’t want to.”

“…Huh…Well, he did say they threatened Adalind and Diana so he wasn’t in a position to say no…”

“Would he normally?”

“He said he doesn’t want power this way. I kind of believe him. He’s ambitious but he’s not ruthless…At least not anymore. I at least trust him more than I would anyone from Black Claw.” Meisner nodded slightly, knowing that part was true. “But Adalind’s powers are back, aren’t they?”

“Ah, you know that too…Yes. But…” He sighed and looking deep in thought a moment before looking at her. “The man in charge may be a very powerful Zauberbiest. Adalind called him a Warlock, a Zauberbiest that apparently gave up most ties to humanity…”

She frowned. “…Sounds bad. But this could give us an in.”

“What do you mean?”

“Renard wants to play double agent.”

Now he did look shocked. “I’m sorry?”

“He’s not stupid, he knows Black Claw is nuts and will do more harm than anything. He told me he wants to relay information to you guys. Through me.”

“…And you believe him?”

“You don’t?”

“The man has a history of double and triple dealing.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Do I need to remind you of _Adalind’s_ history. You trust her.”

“…A faire point,” he sighed. “Then why does he not want to do it directly? Why go through you?”

“1) We work together and I’m his subordinate. Easier to pass me info without Black Claw getting suspicious or seeing…” She gestured at him and he sighed and nodded. “And 2) I think he’s a bit…resentful still about the whole “blaming him for Hanano’s death” thing. He doesn’t think you two can be professional anymore and not get into a fight. Or maybe that’s my take on it.”

“I see…” he said again, flat and less amused. “And does Nick know about this?”

Sloane flushed and sighed. “…They also don’t get along. History and all that.”

“So he doesn’t know?”

Sloane narrowed her eyes. “No. I tried to broach the topic but he said he doesn’t trust Renard well enough either. I’ll talk to him about it later.”

“…You hadn’t agreed to it yet?” he inquired.

“I’d rather hoped that the whole “Black Claw now trying to rig elections” would be enough of a trade to find Dierdre,” she said snidely. “But from what you said…We need to be all in this.”

He nodded slowly and sighed. “Agreed…But you know, I would’ve looked for her without a trade.”

She frowned. “For real?”

“For real. You are Trubel’s mentor, Adalind’s friend…Plus, I know you’d help me if I needed it.”

“Eh…yeah,” she said, nodding. She would, she was sure, but it was still a weird thing to admit.

Meisner’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out. “Adalind again…?”

“Sloane?”

She looked behind her when she heard Nick’s voice echoing through garage. “Looks like we’re ready to head out, did you want to talk to…him?” she finished, looking around at the empty air. “…How the hell is that man not a Grimm?” she muttered.

“Sloane?” Nick called out again.

“Over here!” she sighed, heading towards them.

Nick looked relieved as she walked up. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just finishing up with Meisner…I’ll need to talk to you about something later.”

“…Ominous, but okay,” he said uncertainly. “So, we’re going to pick up Monroe and Rosalee on the way. You ready to go?”

She nodded and followed them back to the car to head out. They picked up their friends and then headed quickly to the woods and the spot where Doyle’s car had crashed. They got out of the car and Nick grabbed the bag with Doyle’s shirt he’d brought with him. He gestured to the tree as they all met near it, showing the indent where car smashed the bark off the tree. The car had been picked up hours ago so there was no one else around and the woods were deceptively quiet. “This is where he ran off the road, hit the tree. Uh, he said he went off in this direction…” Nick said, pointing up the road. “His mother's house is about 3 miles down the road.”

Monroe nodded, and then sighed in resignation. “Okay. Let me have it.”

Nick opened the evidence bag and held it out to him. Monroe flinched at the first initial waft then leaned in and took a deep inhale.

“I don't know how you do that. It would make me gag…” Rosalee said, grimacing.

“All right, I got it… And, yes, it would make you gag,” he agreed. He scented the air and started walking up the road, continuing to sniff as he went.

“I'll follow in the car,” Hank said, climbing back in.

Monroe walked slowly down the tarmac, focusing on the main scent of the shirt that had been underneath the scent of blood. He paused a few minutes in and frowned. “Hold on. I think...” He took another deep breath and turned from the road to the woods. While Nick held a handout to stop Hank’s slow roll behind them. “I think he went off the road.”

“You picking up on anything else, like the guy who attacked him? Or his dog?” Rosalee asked.

He took the half-step down to the leaf-littered floor, sniffing again. He shook his head. “Nah uh. Just Doyle so far.” He turned, continuing to follow the scent.

Rosalee and Sloane looked at each other, neither completely sure where this was going, but quickly followed him. Hank and Nick were close behind after he got out of the car.

It was a few minutes of walking through a very thin, muddy “trail” through the woods before they came to a large fallen tree. They could still step over it, but Monroe paused. “Guys...I got something new. I mean, in addition to Doyle,” he said, looking like he was smelling something particularly foul.

Rosalee’s face screwed up as well and she looked at him with resignation. “Ugh. I smell it too…”

“What is it?” Sloane asked.

“…Death.”

The detectives looked at one another before nodding to him and he wearily headed in the direction the sent was coming from. He stepped over the log but went off the track into the trees. Just a few feet away they could hear the dull buzz of flies and then even they could smell the scent of decaying bodies and old blood. They found the remains of two hikers laid out beneath a tree, their faces shredded nearly beyond recognition. One was a woman in bright pink parka, and a man was next to her in orange. The contents of their backpacks were scattered around them like an animal rifling through garbage, one of their metal walking sticks was bent practically in half, and there was a general sense of chaos in the air despite how neatly they were laid out.

“Doyle definitely wasn't lying about there being an attack…” Hank said.

“Yeah. But who attacked whom?” Nick queried, looking them over.

“Maybe these two were attacked by the guy and his dog too?” Rosalee said.

“No. No dog did this,” Sloane said, kneeling by them. “If it was, it’d have to be the size of a wolf. Or bigger.”

“Like you when you…?” Monroe trailed off when she gave him a look not to bring up her turning into a monster the right size for this. “Well…I do have a scent. It smells somewhat Blutbad-ian but not quite.”

“Doyle said he was attacked by a dog, so either he saw a Wesen, or he's lying,” Nick said, grabbing some gloves from his pocket and handing them to Sloane and Hank.

Monroe took another deep breath and turned slightly. “Scent's in this direction…”

“I’ll go with you,” Sloane said, standing. “You guys look over the bodies.”

Nick nodded and she and Rosalee followed Monroe back through the trees. Monroe paused a few minutes into their tracking though. “Wait a minute…”

“What?” Rosalee asked, alert. Sloane’s hand went up to her knife.

“This is the trail. Right? I mean, they would have been on the trail, if you're walking in the woods at night.”

They looked at one another and Sloane nodded. “Yeah, that stands to reason…They were dressed like hikers so they’d probably follow the trail.”

“Especially when there's a full moon…”

“Well, there was a full moon last night,” Rosalee said.

“That's what I'm saying! This wasn't a Blutbad!” He quickly went past them back up the trail and Sloane looked at Rosalee.

“You understand any of that?”

“Not…really,” she admitted.

“Good, at least it’s not just me.” They quickly followed him back to Nick and Hank.

“…Looks like there's blood on his teeth,” Nick was saying.

“Might explain the human bite marks Doyle had,” Hank nodded.

“Nick! Hank!” They looked up as Monroe jogged up to them. Sloane and Rosalee caught up to stand next to him. “Look, this is just a hunch, but last night was a full moon. Technically, it was the first night of the full moon, 'cause there's three nights of full moon. We could be dealing with...And I don't want anybody to panic...A Lycanthrope.”

Nick and Hank looked at Sloane, who shook her head. But Rosalee immediately looked pale. “Oh, my God.”

“…Is that a Wesen?” Hank asked.

Monroe grimaced, moving his head side to side in thought before finally waving his hand side to side as well. “Yes and no…”

\--------------

“That's a Lycanthrope,” Monroe said, setting the book down on the table. After calling in the scene in the woods for the ME and crime techs to work over and leaving Wu in charge, he’d brought them back to the spice shop to dig out one of his own books he’d brought over to mix with Rosalee’s collection. The book in question was old and leatherbound like their Grimm books, but documented various wesen maladies and conditions more in the vein of how to treat them than counter and kill them. The picture looked very much like a blutbad that woged, but also more animal like. A broader nose and cranial bone, more hair, longer ears…and even longer teeth. The other picture next to it showed the blutbad with its head tilted up to the moon, nearly naked, covered in hair and trying to walk on all fours.

“Is it a disease?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, it's a Wesen disease. Specific to Blutbader,” Monroe added with sigh.

Rosalee leaned in to read the passage out loud. “"Lycanthropia is a genetic mutation which presents itself on rare occasion in Blutbader. It's transmitted as a recessive trait which rarely affects the offspring. When Lycanthropia manifests physically, it's only during the three nights of the full moon."”

“Are we talking werewolves?” Hank asked, his eyes going wide.

“In a way…” Monroe nodded, looking a bit awkward.

“I thought regular Blutbader were the inspiration for them though?” Sloane asked. She wasn’t teasing or malicious, she was honestly curious and Monroe nodded.

“Also true, in a way, except most Blutbader in their right mind don’t just attack everything that moves. We still have our human mind unless we go into a frenzy. But Lycanthropes…It's a condition that makes Blutbader temporarily insane without any other outside effect acting on them except the full moon. Lunatics. They go feral, attacking anything and everything that moves.”

“And if anybody was to encounter one during a full moon, they would've definitely thought they were dealing with a werewolf,” Rosalee nodded.

His voice got quiet, a bit haunted by his next words, but also confused. “I heard stories growing up about Blutbader families that would kill their own children if they developed symptoms. So I thought this disease had been wiped out, like, 100 years ago.”

“And do we think Doyle is the Lycanthrope?” Nick asked.

“I'll tell you one thing... It ain't the two bodies we found, because nobody is taking down two Lycanthropes under a full moon without, like, a bazooka.”

“…I mean do we need one? Victoria might be able to get one for us,” Sloane said, trying to joke.

Monroe looked considering but Nick spoke up again. “Well, is there a cure?”

“I don't think so, but I'll check,” Rosalee said, not looking very hopeful. Monroe shook his head, not believing they would have any luck.

“Well, whoever this Lycanthrope is, if they're affected during the full moon...Then we've got two more nights of this,” Hank pointed out.

“And if it is Doyle, he'll kill again tonight,” Nick nodded.

“Wait, time out,” Sloane said, making a T with her hands before they grabbed their jackets. “You said this condition comes out when they’re kids?”

“I mean…usually, yeah,” Monroe nodded.

“Then his mother must know. Some kind of precaution must’ve been taken before now or we’d have a lot more unexplained deaths,” Sloane pointed out.

“Maybe that’s why he was heading out to see her,” Nick said.

“Could we ask her? Figure it out that way?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t,” Monroe said, sucking in a breath. “If she’s been protecting him this long, who knows what she’ll do when she realizes you know…”

“If we can avoid confronting her that might be best,” Nick sighed. “If she’s a Blutbad she might attack us and then we’d be in a lot of trouble if we had to…”

“Okay, yes, fair enough,” she sighed.

“I’m glad you were thinking of a peaceful way out,” Nick said, putting a hand on her shoulder. She smiled back, happy at the praise at least.

\-----------------

“Doyle said he was attacked by a man and his dog,” Nick said, addressing Renard.

“But we found the body of a man and a woman. No dog,” Hank said.

“How'd you find them?” Renard asked, looking at the photos.

“We followed their scent,” Nick said.

“Did you use dogs?”

“No…”

“We used Monroe,” Sloane said.

He quirked a brow and sighed. “We're not gonna tell that to the DA, are we?”

“Monroe's convinced that we're dealing with a Lycanthrope,” Nick said. “You heard of them?”

He nodded. “Yeah, it's the basis for the werewolf myth…”

“And tonight will be the second of three nights of the full moon,” Hank said.

“So we're thinking, if Doyle is a Lycanthrope, we bring him in and lock him up. See what happens.”

“And what if it's not him?” Renard said. “He's from an old family. They're well-connected. You might open yourselves up to false arrest or worse.”

“Well, what if we're right?” Nick said, trying not to get impatient.

“Then you'll be dealing with a raving Lycanthrope in a jail cell,” he said blandly.

“Better than on the street,” Hank said.

“I’ve got another location we can bring him to,” Sloane said.

“Another location?” Renard asked, quirking a brow.

“Grimms have their own resources. It’s a holding cell in a secure location we have access to now, we can get him there secretly. We can say we’re bringing him because…the blood on his shirt made him our prime suspect.”

“Does it?”

“Waiting on the results,” Nick said.

“…And if he’s not the lycanthrope?” Renard asked.

“…Well…” Sloane said, uncertain.

He sighed. “At the risk of having a dangerous wesen woge here, it might be better to bring him here first and do something about him in the isolation cell than risk him really not being a wesen and…facing kidnapping charges.”

“Damn, thought I had something…” she sighed.

“If he's what you think he is, his mother would know about it.”

“We figured on that too. Could be why he was out there last night,” Hank said.

“We think it’s probably why he didn't stick around to deal with the car,” Nick added.

He nodded slowly before sighing. “All right, go ahead. Just don't charge him. Hold him overnight, forge the documents here and take him to your secure location. I guess you'll know in a few hours.” There was a knock at the door. “Yeah?”

Wu came in with a folder in hand. “Got the lab report back on the Kriminskis. Blood types match those found on Doyle's shirt,” he said, handing the folder to Renard to look over.

“We've got three hours until it gets dark,” Hank said, looking at his watch.

“You better hurry then,” Renard said.

They nodded and headed out of the office. Wu followed, and spoke quietly once they were heading to their desks. “So this is Wesen?”

“Yeah,” Nick nodded.

“What are we dealing with?”

“A Lycanthrope.”

“What is that?” he asked, frowning.

“Like a Blutbad on steroids,” Hank said.

“Oh…fun.”

“Not so much. He’s going to lose control of himself come sundown and be basically a rabid killer without even realizing it,” Sloane said.

“And you want to bring him _here?_ ” he hissed.

“We’re going to put him in the isolation cell.”

“And you think that’s going to cut it?”

“Just in case, let’s call Monroe and Rosalee. It would be awkward if we dosed him wrong…” Nick said. “Plus, maybe there’s a cure?”

\--------------

There was no cure.

At least none they could find that wasn’t a very permanent, bury them in the ground kind. But Rosalee agreed to bring a double dose of Schlaftrunk to be safe. Sloane called Victoria and let her know they needed to use the cells and she agreed to have their entrance ready.

When they went to pick Doyle up, his mother answered the door. They could tell she was hiding something when she didn’t want them to come inside. When they told Doyle he needed to come with them to look over some information regarding the two dead people, he tried to brush them off saying that he had dinner plans that night. His mother tried to push back as well when they said it couldn’t wait. They said they’d hopefully have him back by 7—figuring if he didn’t transform they could get him back by then—but she said that was too late. It surprised them then when Doyle assured her it was alright. He said he needed to get his jacket and went back inside. Mrs. Baske seemed very distraught, threatening to call their lawyer, but they just reminded her she couldn’t close the door. Nick moved back a bit to look around, and when he looked inside he saw Doyle running out the back door.

“He's running!” Nick shouted. Hank and Sloane rushed to try and go around the side while Nick rushed through the door and past Mrs. Baske.

“This is private property!” she yelled, panic in her voice.

Sloane managed to get around first and saw Doyle vault over the back fence that was a little over six feet high. Nick was close behind him but with a push Sloane jumped and cleared the fence with little effort, rolling when she landed because it was steeper on the other side. Her adaptation from being a beast was still coming in handy. She got back into running and tackled him to the ground just as Hank was rushing through from the other side. He helped her wrestle him up and get his arms around while Nick handcuffed him.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” Doyle shouted. “Come on, guys! You cannot take me in!”

“Why?” Nick said, helping Hank haul him up when Sloane got out of the way.

“Because my mother is out here all alone!”

“Why'd you run?” Hank asked.

“Because I got attacked! You had just told me that two people got murdered!”

“Then why are you running? If you’re scared you should tell us,” Sloane said.

“I’m not scared! I just can’t leave her alone w-with a killer out there! Please, I have to be here!”

As he spoke, thunder rumbled overheard and rain started pouring down again. Nick pulled him along back towards the cars.

“Stop it!” Mrs. Baske yelled, coming out to follow them. “He didn't do anything!”

“Ma'am, stay out of this, and don't make it worse than it already is,” Hank said.

“Why are you taking him!?” she said.

“Evidence from your son’s shirt places him at the attack. We need to talk to him about that. Contact your lawyer if you want, have him meet us at the station when he’s ready,” Sloane said, getting into the car. They backed out of the drive, watching a very worried Mrs. Baske in the review mirror.

\--------------------

“Someone tried to kidnap Diana?” Meisner asked darkly.

“Yes. I guess they thought the blind nanny would be easy to get past…” Kelly said bitterly.

“Kelly, you protected her, you did great,” Adalind said.

“They never should’ve even tried it. I’m trying, but…I don’t know. Maybe it’s age too,” she sighed. “I’m not as adaptable as Nick was when he had to deal with that Jinnamuru Xunte…He talked about his hearing getting better and mine did, but I’m still…lacking, it feels. Maybe I’m just too old to learn something new…”

“…I’m sorry, Kelly,” Meisner said honestly.

She sighed and waved a hand. “It’s…what it is. We need to focus on what happened. They’re getting bold and my guess is trying to put pressure on Adalind to go with Renard.”

“Sean doesn’t have anything to do with this attempt though, I’m sure…I’m going to tell him, but I wanted to know what you thought,” Adalind said.

Meisner sighed. “…Susannah and I will start taking shifts to watch you and your house. We’ll get Trubel to help when she is here. We will protect you all.”

“But how long? You can’t just drop all your other missions for us.”

“We will do it enough so that we can stop them and keep you from getting mixed up with whatever they plan for Renard. Renard…has said that he wishes to provide information to us from inside Black Claw. We can hopefully use this to get them to stop soon.”

“Sean’s doing that?”

“That’s what he says. Or what Sloane says he says. I’m not sure I trust him…”

“…Sean…doesn’t like being a pawn. I don’t think he’ll go over to their side completely. That being said, Hexen and Zauberbiests are attracted to power…I can’t deny I would be tempted in his shoes.”

Meisner hummed, agreeing that the temptation might be great. “We’re going to do everything we can to keep you all safe. And I know that you can take care of any threats as well, Kelly, whatever you say.”

Kelly didn’t look convinced but sighed and nodded.

\--------------------------------

It took them an hour and a half to get him to the precinct and into a cell, Doyle arguing the whole time. The sun was starting to dip low and it was going to be night soon. Monroe and Rosalee arrived with the drugs and Nick’s doppelarmbrust crossbow with the hollow arrows filled with sedative.

Before they went to watch Doyle though, Nick’s phone rang with an unknown number. “Hello?”

“Has she told you yet?”

Nick froze. “Eve?”

They all looked up and Sloane tensed at the name.

“Has Sloane told you yet?”

“…Told me what?” he asked, glancing at her.

“About Renard and Black Claw.”

“What?” he asked.

“I just finished searching Rachael Wood’s house. I got the added proof I need, but Sloane offered additional information. You should talk to her.” She hanged up and Nick looked at Sloane before grabbing her hand.

“Wh-hey! Nick?”

“We need to talk. You guys come too.” They looked at one another but Monroe grabbed the suitcase he’d put the crossbow and darts in and followed them to an interrogation room. Once there, Nick looked at Sloane. “What’s this about Renard working with Black Claw?”

“What?” the others all asked.

Except for Sloane, who sighed and looked put out. “She told you that?”

“You knew?” he said, sounding a little accusatory.

“Yes! I was going to tell you, but then all the Lycanthrope stuff happened…”

“What is this exactly?” Rosalee asked.

She sighed. “Renard says that after the shooting, Black Claw made it so he’d find Hanano near the hospital. They were banking on Hanano dying so Renard could look like a hero and then take Dixon’s place in the election. To become mayor. They convinced the governor to have the special election starting after New Year’s.”

“Mayor Renard? For real?” Monroe asked, shocked.

“Yes. But he didn’t know about it till after Hanano was dead.”

“You’re sure about that?” Nick asked, unsure.

“Yes!”

“And when did you find out?”

“…Around then…” she said hesitantly.

“That was weeks ago!”

“I know, okay? But he told me told me that he wanted to be a double agent and go through me to get the info to Hadrian’s Wall.”

“Whoa, okay, start from the beginning,” Hank said before Nick snapped.

She sighed and sat on the table. “Renard found out that Rachael Wood helped facilitate Dixon’s shooting. When he confronted her, she said this was their plan and they wanted Renard to run for Mayor. The hero that killed his friend’s murderer, running to make Dixon’s dream a reality. But they really wanted him to run with Black Claw’s interests in mind.”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Tell me sooner?” Nick asked.

“I tried to, but you admitted yourself you have trouble trusting Renard! I got…worried about opening a can of worms. That you’d go confront him. Because you would. And then that might cause more trouble.” Nick frowned a bit but didn’t argue. “He said so too, that you’d probably resist the idea.” He frowned even deeper that Renard knew him that well but sighed and crossed his arms. She frowned as well and put a hand on his arm. “Yes, I should’ve told you sooner. I wasn’t even sure I was going to go through with it till I talked with Meisner earlier today. He already knew about it too.”

“But why would he play double agent?” Rosalee asked. “Why would he join a group of people that killed his friend?”

“…They know about Adalind and Diana,” Sloane said. They all looked surprised and then anxious. “Renard said they threatened them then, and Meisner said they’re putting more pressure on him to get her onboard with him. They want her to join him and play a family. He’s certain they killed Dixon in the hospital to leave his path open and make a point that they can get to people he cares about. He doesn’t think he can say no so he figured maybe he could put it to good use. But that meeting with Meisner directly could send up red flags so…we figured I could be the go between here at work. Less suspicious if he’s talking to a subordinate about a case, supposedly.”

“…I don’t like it,” Nick said.

She sighed, trying not to get impatient. “I know, I’m not a fan either. But I think at this point I should go through with it. The sooner we take them down the better.” He was quiet and she stood up and put both her hands on his biceps. “Nick, I know it’s not the best situation. But this might be our best channel to get real info on Black Claw. None of us can get on the inside: they know Monroe and Rosalee, we’re Grimms, and everyone else is human. Renard is our only lead.”

“She’s right, Nick, it’s a good opportunity,” Rosalee said.

“…Fine,” he sighed. “I know, but I just…worry. With Renard…”

“I get it,” she smiled. “It’s just information though. Till we get something concrete enough we can make a move. You trust me even if you don’t trust him, right?”

“…I do,” he sighed. “But no more keeping something like that from me, for whatever reason. We’re in this together, right?”

She smiled. “Right…together. I’ll share all the info with you too, I promise. Was going to anyway, regardless of what Renard said, but since I wasn’t sure I’d even do it I just kind of…let it go. I was going to tell you tonight. I’m not trying to keep things from you, I promise.” Nick smiled relaxing a little as they looked at one another.

Hank cleared his throat and they blushed as she pulled away. “Well…Glad we got that out in the open.”

“I was going to tell you all after the case, I swear. But the Lycanthrope thing seemed like a priority,” she said.

“Speaking of which, we should probably get to that cell, the sun’s going to set any minute,” Monroe said, looking at his perfectly timed watch.

“Right,” Nick nodded.

“…Why did Eve call you to tell you that?” Rosalee asked.

“Stirring the pot like a Hexenbiest, it feels like,” Sloane muttered bitterly. For someone supposedly devoid of emotion, it felt rather petty.

They headed to the holding cells, pausing around the corner from the isolated cell. “

“I think we can start with one,” Monroe whispered, opening the case.

“That should be enough,” Rosalee agreed. He took a bolt and locked it into place, nodding to the others. They rounded the corner, ready to fire, only to be met with an empty cell.

“What the hell?” Hank gasped.

Nick’s phone rang while they were staring in confusion and dread at the neatly made cot. “Wu?”

“Hey, where are you? I just found out they bailed out Doyle,” Wu said urgently.

“Yeah, I know. We're at his cell,” Nick said. “How long ago?”

“Just a few minutes ago.”

Nick looked at the others. “He could still be in the building.”

“That's what I'm thinking,” Wu agreed. They hanged up, getting back into action. Monroe put the crossbow back in the suitcase and followed them.

Nick got out to the bullpen and scanned the crowd before zeroing in on the slightly dirty sweater. He was walking towards the exit. “Doyle!”

He looked up and glared as they moved towards him, still walking. “I've been bailed out. I don't know what the hell you're doing.”

“Exit interview,” Hank said, grabbing his arm.

“Hey, get your hands off of me! I said I've been bailed out!”

Sloane quickly got them to another interrogation room. “In here.”

Hank practically threw Doyle in and they all quickly got inside. Doyle tried to push his way out before the door was closed. “You don't understand. I have to leave!”

“We're not too late. He hasn't woged yet,” Rosalee said. Monroe opened the case and pulled out the crossbow, leveling it at him.

Doyle backed up, paling. “Oh, my God! What the hell is that?”

“Take him down,” Nick ordered.

Doyle’s eyes widened and he woged then, finally, into a blutbad, his red eyes almost glowing in the dim light from the single lamp overhead. He bared his teeth and growled, getting ready for a fight.

“Take him down now!” Sloane said.

Monroe was staring with wide eyes before Rosalee quickly pushed his arm holding the crossbow down. “He's not a Lycanthrope!”

Red eyes widened and then he dewoged, looking at them all. “You know? You…you’re Grimms?”

“Yeah, we do…They are…” Monroe said.

“But you are not what we thought you were,” Rosalee said.

“Okay, if he's not the Lycanthrope, then who the hell is?” Wu said.

Nick’s brain was turning and he looked to Sloane, who looked equally grim when she came to the conclusion.

“Are you sure we're looking for a Lycanthrope?” Hank asked as they did.

“I'm sure,” Monroe said, serious.

“Yeah, but he's not it,” Rosalee said, much more panicky.

“You don't understand,” Doyle said, looking pained.

“It's his mother,” Nick and Sloane said together.

They looked at them, and then back at Doyle. “You said it was a dog that attacked you,” Hank accused.

“I said that to protect her!” he said. “What else could I say? I knew exactly what was gonna happen. I ran as fast as I could, and then I heard the screams, but I got there too late. She was attacking those two people, and I tried to stop her, but I couldn't…That is how I got so bloody. But then she came after me. So I ran towards the highway. I-I fell down an embankment. I must've hit my head…I don't remember anything that happened after that.” He looked at them, turning desperate. “But listen, if you guys know what a Lycanthrope is, then you know what I’m talking about. My mother cannot stop herself. She doesn't know what she's doing. And I've got to get back out there, or she will kill again!”

They nodded and quickly put the crossbow away, rushing out to the cars with Doyle. They drove with sirens and lights to the woods, racing along the rain-slick asphalt dangerously fast but expertly handled. Once they got there, they all got out and started arming themselves.

“There's a room downstairs that she will have tried to lock herself in,” Doyle said.

“It didn't work so good last night,” Hank pointed out.

“She didn't know that I wasn't gonna be here last night,” he said testily. “The bar on the outside is what really keeps her contained and she can’t set it in place from inside.”

“Can I have the crossbow?” Nick asked. Monroe nodded and handed it to him.

“H-hey, you can't shoot my mother with that!”

“It's a tranquilizer,” Nick said.

“And they’re small dart-arrows,” Sloane added.

“It'll just knock her out,” Rosalee clarified. “I hope,” she added under her breath, looking at Monroe with a bit of trepidation.

He hesitated but finally sighed. “Fine.”

They nodded and looked to Rosalee, Wu and Monroe. “You three stay out here just in case,” Nick said.

They nodded, trying not to be too nervous.

“This room, it’s been here a while?” Sloane asked.

“Yeah. My great, great, great uncle was also a Lycanthrope…rather than kill him, they tried to keep him locked up during the moon.”

“Did it work?” Hank asked.

“For a while…till he killed his nephew. He was a kid, didn’t understand why his favorite uncle was locked up every month, snuck down here and…well, they caught him, but killed himself after that. I-I don’t want that happening to my mom. Dad…Dad knew how to handle her best. It got worse after he died and I just…I should’ve moved back out here…”

As they went down the basement steps, they came into view of a padded door lying on the ground, the padded room it led to empty. There were claw marks along the walls, ripping white stuffing from them, and chains one wall as well but they hadn’t been secured. It looked instead like someone had tried to use duct tape to secure a person, but it’d been ripped apart by teeth from the looks of the bite marks.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Doyle said, rushing over. “We're too late…Without the door being barred from the outside, there was no way that this room was gonna contain her.”

They froze and looked up when they heard a long, baleful howl in the distance. It wasn’t close, but neither was it far away if they could hear it. “Oh hell!” Sloane cursed, rushing for the stairs with the men close behind.

The others were standing close to one another, looking around as the howling continued. “You heard it too?” Rosalee asked.

“Yeah!” Nick said.

“It came from that direction,” Monroe said, tilted his head towards the hills by the house.

“Are we going out there?” Wu asked uncertainly.

“You guys... look, please, this is my mother. You cannot shoot her,” Doyle begged.

“She's hunting again,” Rosalee said impatiently.

“What do you not understand? She can't help it!”

“Tell that to the two people she killed last night,” Hank grit out.

“He’s right, Doyle. If there’s someone else out in the woods or if she comes at us, we’re defending ourselves,” Sloane said, taking her knife out. “You’re mom’s not going to want to keep killing either...”

He flinched, looking near panic, and Nick put a hand on his shoulder. “I'll try to tranquilize her, I promise but if that doesn't work...” The howling picked up again and they nodded to one another. “Let's go.”

They all headed up towards the hills, Wu bringing his shotgun while Hank kept his standard issue out and ready. Monroe got to the front, scenting the air as they pushed their way through the dense underbrush. At the top of the hill he threw out a hand. “Wait, wait, wait, wait! We just crossed her path.” He woged and breathed deeply, moving around the small clear space they had found and nodding. “This way. Oh, yeah. She is really strong here,” he said, dewoging.

Rosalee turned to scent the air as well then did a double take. “Doyle's not here. He's gone!”

They all looked around, cursing that they’d lost him in the dark woods. “He's gonna warn his mom…” Wu said.

“You don't warn a Lycanthrope,” Monroe said, frustration bubbling up.

Wu looked around and then clicked the safety off his shotgun. “Want me to go back after him?”

“We should probably keep him alive if we can,” Sloane sighed.

“I'll go with you,” Hank nodded, cocking his gun. They started back through the woods while the others continued on. Nick opted to give the crossbow back to Monroe and pull out his gun.

It was only a few minutes later though they heard shouts and gunfire. They turned, heart rates ramping up. “She must have circled back!” Nick shouted. They started running, working to keep their footing in the slick muddy ground as they followed the sounds of guns, then of growls and Wu shouting. Sloane could see him on the ground, his gun across the small clearing after being grabbed and thrown in the attack, and Eliza Baske in her woged, wolf-like form advancing on him. She looked even more wolf-like than most blutbad, with a long buzzle and large, dripping fangs shining past her curled lips. Her clothes were still on, but they’d ripped along the seams as she grew larger. Her long claws were swiping at Wu, who was just barely keeping out of her range by scuttling on his back into the brush. But he was running out of room and she was close to grabbing him.

Doyle was running towards them, but Sloane put on a burst of speed and slammed into her first, knocking her back across the ground. She yelped in surprise, shaking her head as if dazed. Sloane glared, feeling her head splitting apart as her vision got bright enough it seemed like day. She bared her own teeth, her growl almost animal like as she flipped her knife around for a slicing motion. Before she could advance though, someone else got into her line of sight, another blutbad. “Stop!” Doyle shouted.

Sloane staggered, her momentum lost and her brain returning to normal. She felt a little blood run from her nose and Nick rushed over to grab her and keep her steady. “Doyle!” he warned.

“She’s down!” He jumped when he heard a growl, turning to see his mother standing. She growled, focusing on Sloane now, but Doyle got into her line of vision and growled back, trying to keep her occupied. She turned to him, snarling, seeing him as a threat.

“Tranquilize her now!” Hank said.

“No, it doesn't take immediate effect! It'll just provoke her!” Monroe said.

Doyle and Eliza moved around one another, sizing each other up before he held out his hands. “Mom! Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, it's okay.” He woged back. “It's okay. It's okay. It's me. It's Doyle. It's your son. It's okay.” She stopped growling a moment, looking at him in confusion. “I-I need you to listen to me, okay? I've got this,” he said, glancing back at them then quickly back to her. “Mom, you're not gonna hurt me.”

She was quiet a moment before her lips curled back and she snarled, rushing him. He gasped as she tacked him, opening her jaws to rip out his throat.

“No, no, no!”

They open fired, striking Eliza several times. She tried to jump up but whined and then collapsed.

Doyle gasped, shaking. “Oh, God…no…” He got to his hands and knees and crawled over to her. “No, mom…”

She groaned, looking up at him and then dewoging back to her human form. “You’re…okay…?”

“Don’t-don’t talk mom, we’ll get help!”

She sighed, shaking her head minutely. “…I'm…sorry,” she breathed, before closing her eyes.

Doyle stared a moment before woging and howling, a long mournful note echoing up to the sky. Then another, trailing off as he turned back and clutched her close, sobbing. “Mom…”

The others looked at one another, sighing because it didn’t feel like they’d killed a monster. But they knew that one way or another it was going to end in tragedy and at least one member of the family was alive…

\--------------------

In the end, it was Wu who suggested that they say Eliza was attacked by the same man who attacked the two hikers. That they could explain the blood on Doyle’s sweater as that same attacker going after him after killing them and that the blood got transferred over. This way, no wesen were implicated in the crime.

Doyle was angry at first, more so when they apologized and meant it. He didn’t talk to them for hours while crime techs and paramedics came to the scene. But he admitted by the time they took his mother’s body away that they’d saved his life and that’s what she’d have preferred. He at least didn’t hold a grudge enough to state that the attacker had also come for him and had killed his mother in front of him before running off when he heard the police cars coming. The case would remain unsolved since the mystery man with the dog didn’t actually exist, but his mother’s reputation was intact and Doyle vowed that the Baske family would end with him. No more Lycanthrope genes passed down. He’d already had no interest in children anyway he said so it wasn’t a sacrifice to him.

No one knew that Wu had gotten a scratch. Even when he found out, he thought he’d gotten off pretty easy considering how close Eliza came to tearing him apart like a pinata. And he didn’t even remember the fever or strange dreams that plagued him with the moon watching him through the window…

\---------------------------------

It was a few days later when Sloane was at the Spice shop for lunch with Rosalee, tucking into some sub sandwiches and chips she picked up on the way. “We finished copying the Lycanthrope entry—I’ll give that book back before I go.”

“Great…You know, I wonder sometimes if we did all we could,” she sighed, munching on her chips slowly.

“Yeah,” Sloane agreed. “We managed to help that Krampus before, but Mrs. Baske was almost worse in a way…Having to go through that every month. Maybe we just should’ve told Doyle our suspicions out right. If he was human we could’ve just played it off somehow…”

“He probably would’ve gotten defensive. He thought he had to protect his mother after all. We might’ve ended up fighting him and things would’ve been worse…”

“I know you’re right but it sucks not knowing for sure,” she sighed. “But in that case, you can’t blame yourself. With no known cure, there’s no way you’d have figured out one by that evening.”

She smiled sadly and nodded, knowing she was right. “Well…I’m going to look into it on the side I think. It would be nice to have another option if we come across one again.”

“Yeah…You know, Victoria might be able to help. She was a doctor before and seems to have a lot of contacts still.”

“That’s good…maybe you should got to a doctor though. You used that ability again, the one that gives you a headache bad enough your nose bleeds…”

“I’m fine,” Sloane said flatly.

“You almost fainted,” she shot back.

“Ugh, you sound like Nick,” she sighed. “He babied me all night when we got home…”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“…Didn’t say that,” she muttered. “But I just slipped into it wanting to protect Wu…If I could do it without the headache I could’ve confirmed Doyle was a wesen and we could’ve gotten this sorted out,” she added bitterly.

“Sloane, we’re serious…what if you keel over from it one day? Turn into a vegetable or worse?”

“…Nick wants me to see about getting checked out too,” she sighed. “I’ll consider it but I’m not sure any doctor, even one who knows about Grimms, is going to be of much help. I’ve never heard of this sort of thing before. Plus, after we treated him, Nick’s PTZD ended up being a good thing…”

“Yeah, but it did kind of lead to what happened to you too…” She took a sip of her tea and then smiled. “So…how’s it going with Nick?”

Sloane blushed and swallowed the last bite of her sandwich. “Good…”

“Just good?” she asked.

“…Ye..no…” She sighed and leaned into her hands with her elbows on the table. “I don’t know…”

Rosalee frowned worriedly. “Are you guys not getting along?”

“No, we get along great,” Sloane said quickly. “We worked out the Renard thing and all that…we’re staying professional at work. And at home we hug and kiss and…” She cleared her throat, blushing a little. “So on…”

Rosalee smiled at how flustered she looked. “Okay…but?”

“…We haven’t said…the thing, since that night.”

“The thing?”

“The…y’know… _thing_ …” she said awkwardly. “The love thing…”

“Oh! Oh…not even when…?” she made a vague gesture of her hands coming together.

She blushed. “Th-that’s different, isn’t it? I mean, that’s…a lot already happening. Emotions running high. Would that even count?”

“I think it does…but you want to say it when you’re not…in bed?”

 _Not always the bed…_ “Y-yeah…”

“And not saying it worries you?” she asked sympathetically.

“Well…just recently when I realized it. I mean how we got together was kind a of heat of the moment sort of thing and I just…wonder if maybe we rushed things. We still haven’t even been on an actual date…”

“Still?” she asked, surprised.

“Stuff keeps coming up,” she sighed. “Cases, wesen things, Grimm things… In fact a trunk from Nick’s dad should be arriving soon so that’s probably going to be our evenings for a while.”

“Nick’s dad?”

“Yeah, Dr. Hier found out his dad was actually researching the Templars and Grimms. He wasn’t a Grimm but I guess Kelly got him access to the info.”

“Wow…But he died when Nick was young, right?”

“Yeah…that’s part of why I figure it’s going to take a few nights,” she sighed. “I don’t want to push him through it…Going through Oma’s stuff was rough on me in a lot of ways…”

She smiled sadly. “Yeah…but still, you guys need a date night!”

“Well even if we’re free, we’re usually tired from everything else and opt to stay in. Which is fine, I like that, but…”

“But it’d be nice to go do something special together that didn’t involve hunting or research or your job?” she guessed.

“Yeah. And I want to say the thing, but…I haven’t done much of either in my life. To be honest, I’ve said it twice…maybe three times to Nick, and that still might be more than I’ve said to anyone but my grandmother while still meaning it…And Diedre definitely messed it up a bit…but I want to…”

“Oh sweety,” Rosalee said sadly. “So why don’t you?”

“…I’m…it’s embarrassing,” she admitted. “I’m a grown woman getting flustered by this…”

“Oh,” Rosalee said, standing and going over to hug her. Sloane frowned, blushing more. “You’re so cute sometimes…”

“Are you for real?” she asked blandly.

“Yes.” She laughed and pulled back, chuckling at Sloane’s embarrassed pout. “Everyone’s nervous starting a new relationship. I think you and Nick need to talk and agree on a date night. I think you need to do some couple things, really start getting into it. Spend quality time together. Like our lunches but more romantic.”

“…And you want me to bring it up?” she asked dubiously.

“Well someone has to. And he’s probably nervous too.” She looked questionable and Rosalee smiled. “Just ask him. I’m sure he’s been wanting to go do something too. Maybe you need to give each other the opportunity. Besides, you fight blood thirsty wesen on the regular! How hard could this be?”

“Harder than it should be…” she sighed.

“…Okay, yes, it probably is harder considering you trained for years in the fighting…thing, and this is much newer. You just need to figure out your groove,” she said comfortingly.

Sloane smiled a little because it did make her feel better in a way. “Thanks, Rosalee…”

She smiled and hugged her back. “Thanks, Rosalee…” She sighed and pulled back, looking at her phone. “I should probably go though; we’re picking up that trunk tonight and I got some work to finish.”

“Okay, drive safe,” she said, waving as she headed out the door.

When Sloane got to the precinct she paused in heading to her desk and instead headed to Renard’s office. She knocked on the door and he motioned her inside. “Larson…what can I do for you?”

“…I’d like this to stay private between us, sir,” she said meaningfully.

His brow ticked up but he nodded. “It’s safe. I’ve gotten into the habit of checking when I come in to make sure there are no bugs. Technological or otherwise.”

“Otherwise?”

“I can’t use much magic on my own, but I did at least inherit the ability to sense it,” he said.

“Ah, got it…” She sighed a bit and sat down. “…Did you think of a way past what Black Claw wants?”

He sighed and shook his head. “No…not without putting Diana and Adalind at risk...In fact, they already tried something.”

“Are they okay?” Sloane asked, surprised and concerned.

“Yes, Kelly kept them from getting Diana. But it’s shaken them a bit. Meisner is going to watch them, but I’m both angry and resigned that my options are saying no and making things worse or saying yes and dealing with them directly…”

“…Meisner mentioned he thinks the one in charge is a Zauberbiest. A warlock.”

He nodded. “Yes. So, my blood being so weak, I’m not much of a threat to him. So option two is my best bet. In fact, they plan to announce my running in the special election New Year’s Day.”

“That soon?”

“With only a little over six months to prepare they want to do it soon. Plus they were ready weeks ago. I can’t put them off longer.”

“…Okay. I talked it over with Meisner and I’m going to be your go between, like you said.”

He sighed, looking honestly relieved. “Good…we’ll work out the details soon then.”

“I also told Nick and the others.”

He looked less happy at that. “I thought I said I didn’t want him in on this?”

“He’s a detective, he’s going to figure out something’s up. Eve sort of spilled the beans too,” she sighed.

“She figured it out?” he asked, confused.

“Well, I told Meisner, but then she said she saw a poster?” Sloane said uncertainly.

“…That was at my house…” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“…I have a feeling everyone knew one way or another,” she said.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Great…well, that has to stop.”

“I’m keeping Nick in the loop.”

“Sloane—”

“We’re living together, I can’t exactly play cloak and dagger all the time,” she groused.

“…Well, Adalind will likely be moving in with me if you want your house back.”

“No, we’re pretty happy—” Sloane straightened. “…So that’s also true? You need to be a “happy family”?”

“Yes. They even got a ring for me to give her. When she didn’t say yes right away, that’s when they tried to kidnap Diana.”

“…You know, I don’t know if I see the logic in that plan.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a police captain—maybe not the most public office but I still feel like they’re going to ask where the wife and kid came from when you didn’t have them last month?”

“…I brought that up too. I was told “We’ll handle anyone that questions it.””

“…Not liking that.”

“Me neither…”

“What about Kelly? They think she’ll just leave Adalind and Diana alone?””

“I’m afraid they either don’t know about her or didn’t know till the other day—but they haven’t mentioned her. I doubt she’d work with them so she’d probably be put in danger if she tried anything…I would like to convince her to move somewhere else. Maybe back with Nick?”

“…Maybe…But I won’t be moving out. It’s better to stay with Nick at the moment. I’m only intending to make sure we have enough info to subvert Black Claw together with Hadrian’s Wall. And even if I did want to move, it might draw attention if I moved into her old house.”

“…Fair enough I suppose. But I doubt he trusts me.”

“Oh no, he definitely is suspicious. So’s Meisner. But I’m not in the mood to play peace maker so we’re leaving it at that.”

“You’re not suspicious?”

Sloane stared at him with a look that made him sweat a little and think he needed her to conduct more interrogations, but then she shrugged. “To be honest, while I know you did bad things in the past, and you can be a tad bit…calculating, you’ve never given me a reason not to trust you. Only time was when you were possessed and I don’t consider that your fault.”

“…Thank you. I do appreciate that,” he said honestly.

She nodded and stood. “I’ll leave you to figure out how this is going to work then.”

“Right. Speaking of which, I believe you have another case.”

“For real?” she said.

“Yes. Likely Wu and the others are waiting for you now.”

They were indeed, having watched her go into Renard’s office. Nick had frowned and Hank patted him on the back while they waited for them to finish up. “Careful Nick or people might think you don’t like our Captain.”

“I have a healthy amount of skepticism,” Nick said dryly.

“Just saying, she might get the feeling you don’t trust her.”

“I trust her,” he defended. “I just don’t trust him…not completely, even if he has done a lot for us…” He sighed and sat back. “I don’t know, maybe I am a little on edge when I see her with him…”

“Why?”

“…It reminds me of what went on between him and Juliette…” he said quietly.

“Oh, it’s that kind of trust?” Hank said.

“No, I—I don’t distrust her. I just…we’re still figuring a few things out,” he sighed.

“Is it not going well?” Hank asked worriedly.

“No, it’s going well. We’re going well,” he said, smiling a little. “Just…”

“Just?”

“…When we got together, we both said…you know…I love you.” One of the officers paused, looking at the two of them with raised brows and Nick blushed.

Hank just waved at him. “No one’s talking to you, Wilson, keep moving.” He frowned and rolled his eyes as he passed by and Hank leveled his gaze back at him. “So, you guys have said that since?”

“Not really…I mean, I know she feels that way and I try to show her I feel that way too, but it’s…I get this panic saying it, I don’t know why…and she hasn’t said it either…”

“Hey man, you went through a rough…break up less than a year ago,” Hank said sympathetically. “I know after my divorce, I was also pretty anxious about starting something new too. And Sloane’s probably feeling the same way. Just…ease into it. There’s no set rules to this, remember?”

“I guess so,” he sighed. “I do want to go on an actual date though…”

“You haven’t gone on a date?” he said, disbelieving.

“Things keep coming up,” he sighed. “Plus everything was crowded because of Christmas…We have nice nights at home and did some holiday stuff. She taught me some Hanukkah traditions. Oh, we did a gift exchange last night—I got her a book press she was eyeing and all the stuff she needs with it because she wants to fix up some of her old books, so I also got like the best book on bookbinding I could find. And she framed an autographed picture of Elvis for me.”

“Autographed Elvis?” Hank said, surprised.

“Yeah, she found it in her grandmother’s stuff, showed me the part in her journal about her meeting him. She has a bunch of autographs, apparently her grandmother got to meet a lot of famous people at one time or another.” He smiled and took out his phone to show off the beautifully framed photo, with a white bit of material circling it. “She knew I was an Elvis fan so she got it specially framed along with…his scarf.”

“No way,” he gasped, looking at the picture. “Her grandmother had a scarf from him too?”

“Yeah!” He smiled at it. “He signed that too. Not gonna lie, I fanboyed a little. There’s a picture of her grandmother with him and the scarf on the back. Apparently she saved him from a crazed wesen fan and he was all too happy to give her the mementos.”

“Man, lucky…”

Nick leaned in whispered. “Act surprised, but she found ones for all of us. You’re getting a very famous sports hero for your birthday.”

“Oh, that narrows it down,” he said with a smile.

Nick smiled back and looked up when Sloane walked over. She smiled back, and he was glad Hank put him at ease before they ended up arguing about Renard again. “Hey. Was just showing off your gift to me.”

She smiled more. “I guess I don’t have to worry if you actually liked it then.”

“Love it…” Hank eyed him and Nick cleared his throat. “So, um, we have a case.”

“Right, Renard said so. Ready to go?”

He nodded, trying to push any awkward thoughts out of his head. “Wu says it’s a weird one.”

“When isn’t it with us?” she sighed.

\----------------------

Weird was a bit of an understatement.

Aimee Diaz had called to report the body of an old woman in her apartment, and the subsequent disappearance of her 24-year-old roommate Summer Blake. The woman found dead was at least into her 80s, with long white hair and deep-set wrinkles and spots of aging. But she was wearing the same clothes and accessories Summer had been wearing last time Aimee saw her. It was a bit dressier and Aimee said that she’d gone to a photoshoot with a photographer. She’d been scouted at the mall and the photographer took her picture yesterday afternoon. She showed them copies of the photos Summer had been sent on her tablet. They were of a beautiful, young woman with long brown hair in the same style as the old woman on the floor. Aimee had gone to spend the night with her boyfriend after that and found the woman on the floor when she came home.

Then Wu came back after fingerprinting the body, confirming it was Summer Blake from her prints from a DUI a year ago.

Somehow she had aged over 60 years in one night. The ME, when they visited him, said it was like an advanced case of Progeria, a disorder where people age much more rapidly. But that syndrome typically started to affect young children around age 2 and he’d never heard of a case striking down someone in their 20s after years of living normally. The oldest person he knew of who lived with the condition only lived to be 29.

“You sure it wasn't a Spinnetod?” Rosalee asked. They’d come by the loft that evening to let them in on the case and go over some of the books. They put the books in the extra bedroom for now, though Sloane wanted a more secure area for them. “Maybe it couldn't find a victim. They have to consume their victims' insides in order to stay young.”

“I don't think so. Even when a Spinnetod can't find a victim, it doesn't age this fast,” Sloane said. The elevator came up as she spoke and she looked up to see Nick and Monroe walk in with several pizza boxes.

“Pizza's here,” he called. “Any luck?”

“Not yet,” Hank said.

Monroe held up a large stack of paper napkins. “Napkins. Just please try to avoid the greasy fingers on the pages.”

Sloane glanced at Nick and rolled her eyes but he smiled and set the boxes down on the folding table they’d brought in.

“Now here's something,” Rosalee said, catching their attention. “Looks like a journal from an Egyptian Grimm.”

“What have you got?” Nick asked. Sloane moved in next to her to look as well.

“Well, I do see sketches of old people,” Sloane agreed, looking at the page. “And a…Huh…” She picked it up and turned it towards Nick and Hank. It showed a rather terrifying humanoid creature, with finger like frills coming from its mouth that were webbed and spread in what was definitely a threatening manner. “It looks like that thing, from that movie we watched last year…the one where they’re on the spaceship and this thing goes on the guys face. And then Sigourney Weaver was really cool and really sexy.”

“ _Alien_ ,” they both said together.

“That’s the one!”

“I was thinking _Predator,_ but yeah, it does look like he has a face hugger facing towards us,” Nick nodded.

“ _Predator_?”

“You’ll like it, we’ll watch it later,” Hank said. “What does the passage say though?”

“It's in Arabic,” Rosalee said.

“Any translation?” Nick asked hopefully.

“Uh, …yeah. Actually yes,” she said finding the extra page stuck into the book. “It's called a Musasat Alsh-Shabab.”

“Sounds like something you want to eat,” Monroe said.

“"I tracked the Musasat Alsh-Shabab through the streets of Cairo for seven straight nights, always too late to catch it. But never too late to discover the victims it left behind. All of them aged beyond their years. One of them, a young man who was, I think, no more than 16 years old because I had seen him before, had been transformed into a wrinkled, old man within a few hours. I knew I had to catch it in the act to understand how it was able to steal the youth of its victims. On the eighth night, I tracked the Musasat Alsh-Shabab to a small back alley. I watched with utter fascination as it woged, And it's..." what?”

“"Mandibles,”” Monroe supplied, squinting at the word.

“Mandibles? Is that what those are called?” Sloane asked.

“Apparently. “It’s mandibles pierced a woman's face as she lay limp in its arms. It appeared to suck something from its victim as the cheeks grew ever larger. When it finished with the young woman, it disgorged the Yanbue into a wineskin,”” she finished, frowning.

“The what?” Hank asked.

“Not sure…it must be something it can extract from its victims,” Rosalee shrugged.

“Does it eat it?”

“Or is it like the spinnetod and needs it to like live?” Sloane theorized.

“Uh, let’s see…okay, there’s more. “"And when it melts into the skin, age disappears, but it becomes highly addictive, shattering lives, and making monsters of those who use it until their death when overindulged.."

“Oh…”

“Well, there's a happy ending,” Monroe said dryly as he took a bite of pizza.

Rosalee held up a finger. “Not done.”

“Sorry.”

“"Knowing how difficult it would be to kill, I lay in wait for him in his room. After I cut off its head, I discovered a small fortune hidden in the walls, but I realized, only too late, that he was only the supplier of the Yanbue. But now that he was dead, I would never know who he was selling it to."”

“Rich assholes.” They looked at Sloane and she shrugged. “Just saying, that’s usually who buys this stuff. Either to use or to sell to others.”

They nodded, knowing she was right. “At least we know we're dealing with a big, ugly bug-like dude,” Hank said.

“Well the Grimm in the book said he was following the Musasat Alsh-Shabab for eight nights. That means there were a lot of victims,” Nick said.

“Then there's probably a lot more victims than the one we know about,” Hank sighed.

Sloane sighed and then felt her phone go off, answering it. “Larson.”

“Sloane, it’s Victoria. I got word that Mr. Burkhardt’s trunk is on its way and may even be early.”

“Oh! That’s good, thanks for letting us know…Say, do you know anything about a Musasat-Alsh-Shabab?”

It was quiet a moment before Victoria spoke again, sounding grave. “There’s one of those here in Portland?”

“We’re pretty sure, yeah…We had a victim reported yesterday that aged like 60 or 70 years in one day.”

“I see. I know a little, but enough to warn you to be careful. When woged, their exoskeleton is incredibly hard, but there are places it’s weak. The best place to strike is going to be in the neck—there area between the carapace and the skin underneath is more prominent there and you can get a strike in on their veins easily. Big enough blade and you can take the head off.”

“I…wow, that’s good to know, thanks,” Sloane said.

“I had to fight one once,” she sighed. “It was posing as a nurse and putting the bodies in the morgue. Nearly got me a couple of times and I broke my first scalpel trying to stab it before I figured the red bits were fleshier,” she said, chuckling. “If you need help, let me know.”

“We will, thank you,” Sloane nodded. She hanged up and went over, making a note on the page. “Victoria fought one of these before, says the redder bits between its exoskeleton are the weak points.”

“…Maybe we should bring her in then. She might know how to handle this,” Nick said. Sloane quirked a brow but didn’t argue.

\------------------

Another victim was found the next day.

Nick had been looking up cases of “sudden aging” around Portland and found at least a half-a-dozen reported over the last six years. Wu came in then and stated that they had an old man who looked at least 90 drove off the road—but his license said he was 19. Looking the scene over, the old man that was once Brian Grady was slumped over the wheel after driving off the tree. He braked hard enough in his last moments he likely would’ve survived, but the sudden addition of 70 years added so much stress that his body couldn’t keep up. As they were looking through his car, Nick found a card for _Malcolm Caulfield: Studio Photographer_. It was a little bent, but still looked relatively new. They remembered that Summer’s roommate mentioned that she went to see a photographer. Neither Brian nor Summer were professional models but Aimee had said Summer was “scouted” by him. It would be a good way to get young people to come to a secondary location they realized so they decided to go questions this Malcolm in person.

They went to the address specified on the card and website, which was a nice-looking office building. According to the card he’d be on the top floor, which they could tell was more of a free-formed sort of space where he could have a large open area for setting up photos. “Looks legit…” Nick said.

“What if he's Musasat Alsh-Shabab?” Hank asked.

“Well, if he is, he knows nobody can tie him to what happened to the victims,” Nick sighed.

“He’s also probably likely prepared somehow and not going to woge in front of us unless we make him. So confirming it is going to be a challenge…” Sloane added.

“All right, well how do you want to handle this?” Hank asked.

“First we have to figure out if he's working alone or with somebody else,” Nick said.

“You leaving the Grimm in the car?”

“For now,” Nick said, Sloane nodding when he looked to her.

They headed in and up to the top floor, hitting the buzzer outside the door. The intercom buzzed back and a voice came through. “Come in. I'll be right there!” They walked in, looking around. The room was spacious, set up with a couple of areas for photographs using both simple white backdrops, and another with a green screen. Several gray boards were set up with canvas prints of beautiful people hanged up, watching them. Sloane eyed them, wondering if any of them were now old and gray and six feet under. They glanced to the side and saw a small glass encased office where a man was talking on the phone. He nodded to them and hanged up before coming out. “Can I help you?”

“Malcolm Caulfield?” Hank asked.

“Yes?’

“Detective Burkhardt. This is Detective Griffin and Detective Larson,” Nick said, all of them flashing their badges.

“What'd I do?” he asked with a joking smile, raising his hands in mock surrender. “'Cause I don't remember doing anything bad.” He had a slight Australian accent and Sloane wondered when he emigrated over.

“You shoot these photos?” Hank asked, showing a picture of Summer he got from her tablet in black and white with an artsy pose.

“Ah, Summer Blake. Yeah, I did. She's a beautiful girl…Well, is she in some kind of trouble?” he asked, looking confused.

“What about Brian Grady? You take pictures of him?”

“Yeah, last night…What's going on?”

“They're both dead,” Nick said.

His eyes widened and the joking expression faded. “What? How? Did they know each other?”

“Not that we know of. Two different places, two different times,” Sloane said.

“Oh, my God…This is why you're here. Look, I just took pictures of them,” he said, shaking his head.

“Why?” Nick asked.

“Well they're both very attractive young people. It's what I do for a living. I discover talent.”

“I didn't know beauty qualified as talent,” Hank said a little blandly.

He chuckled. “Talent is in the eye of the beholder.” He swept past them gesturing at the canvased photos on the wall. “A lot of my clients have gone on to very successful careers. I mean, look at these faces! They're naturally beautiful. And in the right light, that is about as close to perfect as you're ever going to get. I mean, that is who we all want to be.” Hank frowned and Malcolm calmed himself. “How did they die?”

“Cause of death is still undetermined, but they died in similar manners,” Sloane said.

“Where did you meet them?” Nick asked.

“At Union Way Mall. I meet my clients in a lot of places. Malls, parks, streets. I'm always looking. You know, you never know when you're gonna meet that next Heidi Klum,” he said with a smile. It dimmed again though when they didn’t smile back. “Look, do you think I had something to do with this?”

“Just have to backtrack everywhere they've been,” Nick said.

Hank pulled out a card and handed it to him. “If you think of anything else, give us a call.”

“Right…Hey, just a moment,” he stepped in front of Sloane and they all paused. “You’re all a very good-looking bunch, if you’ll pardon me, but…you’ve got quite a look about you. Especially your hair, it’s a signature look…Have you ever thought of modeling?”

Nick frowned but Sloane arched her brow. “I’m not interested.”

“Oh, but you could be big. Desired by everyone, rich and famous…”

Sloane held up a hand and he wisely shut up at her look. “I’m a police detective. I’m not interested in having my face on your wall. And you’re not the first person to try that line, so I’m going to politely ask you to stop and get out of my way.”

Malcolm gave a nervous laugh and quickly side stepped. “Sorry…had to try.”

Sloane didn’t say anything and walked past him with her partners outside.

“Guys got some nerve,” Nick said.

“Why, because he thought I was pretty?” she asked dryly.

“I-that is not what I meant and you know it,” he said, and she smiled.

“I know. But he does seem pretty taken with “beauty”. All those pictures on his walls…”

“Like trophies,” Hank said. “After what happened a couple of years ago with Margo Bennet and that beauty potion, I’m not very keen on his whole “what everyone wants” spiel.”

“Yeah…Think we can tie any of them to the ones we found in the medical report?” Nic asked.

“Well, it's worth a look.”

“Let's run his phone records, see if he’s called our victims or anyone that could distribute a youth serum,” Sloane said.

“And put some surveillance on him,” Hank added.

When they got back to the station they pulled Caulfield’s phone records. Hank figured likely he’d have to call soon after Summer or Brian left his studio, so they narrowed down the times. The only outgoing calls he had then were to a photo supply store, a dry cleaner’s, and the last to a “Forbes Clinic”.

“What kind of clinic?” Nick asked.

Hank typed in the name and then quirked a brow when the slick, modern website loaded in. “Beauty treatment. And he's got his own commercial.”

“Play it,” Sloane nodded.

He pressed the video and a man in a white coat walked towards the camera as spoke, set in a sterile looking clinic that was mostly whites and grays and hints of aqua, with shelves of products tastefully displayed. He was tall, older, with yellow-blonde hair and bright blue eyes that gave him a very artificial feeling. He spoke with a wide smile but tried to sound soothing over the upbeat music. “It's time to make a change. Time to restore your true, youthful self.” He came to a large photograph on an easel of a woman with wrinkles and age spots that looked a bit overkill in their opinion. It didn’t look real either. “Do you ever wish you could turn back the clock, shed your old, tired skin, and restore your true, youthful self?” The detectives glanced at one another but kept watching. “Hi, I'm Dr. Eugene Forbes. And with my revolutionary new Fountain of Youth treatment, FOY Cream, you can literally...”

Hank paused it and looked at his partners. “FOY Cream? We talking Fountain of Youth?”

“We may have just found our buyer,” Nick said. “We're gonna need somebody to check him out.”

“…You know…I think I know who,” Sloane said.

\---------------------

Rosalee opened the door and smiled. “Hello, Dr. Hier.”

“Please, Victoria is fine, Ms. Calvert,” she said with a smile. She was wearing black jeans and a copper-colored blouse and Rosalee was struck how fashionable she always looked.

“Only if you call me Rosalee,” she said back.

Victoria smiled and looked around at the shop as she walked in. “My, your shop is lovely…This is how I wanted the library to look, but I had to make do with what I could get my hands on.”

“Well you did a great job,” Monroe said.

“This way, please,” Rosalee said, leading her to the side room.

Sloane looked up and smiled. “Thanks for meeting us here.”

“No, thank you. Being somewhere with windows is much nicer,” she said, sitting down. She smiled when she was offered tea and took a cup. “I take it this is about the Musasat Alsh-Shabab though? Do you not need more information?”

“My books had enough…we’re actually here to ask for your help.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I don’t want you to take it the wrong way though…” she added hesitantly.

“Take what the wrong way?” she asked, pausing in taking a sip of her tea.

Sloane sat next to her and turned her laptop towards her. “We think we found where the Yanbue is being sold.”

Victoria leaned in, reading over Dr. Forbes’ website, and frowned. “Ah…one of these “Doctors”,” she said snidely. “I have nothing against plastic surgery, but I know his type well at a glance. Glorified snake-oil salesman. Convinces his patients they need many unnecessary treatments.”

“You’re not wrong we think,” Hank agreed. “But we think his FOY cream might be the yanbue.”

“‘FOY’?”

“Fountain of youth,” Nick explained.

Victoria sat up straighter then glared at the Dr. Forbes picture. “This…melting Ken-doll is selling the yanbue as a facial cream?”

Sloane nearly snorted her tea at the comparison because damn that was spot on, but quickly covered it up. “We believe so, yes.”

“…Ah. And I am older than you all so I make the most sense to go in and check,” she said, nodding in realization.

“Not that you need it,” Monroe said quickly. “You look great!”

“It’s alright, I am aware of my own age,” she said with an amused smile. “I prefer to age gracefully, but I am more than happy to go in for an appointment to take him down.”

“We don’t think he’s the Musasat Alsh-Shabab though,” Nick said quickly. “We think it’s a photographer. That he scouts his victims to come take pictures for a modeling opportunity and then somehow gets them to let him suck the youth out of them.”

“We don’t know what Dr. Forbes is,” Hank added. “We were hoping to get a sample of the FOY cream and see if it has a human substance base. Then we can get a warrant and put the pressure on the good doctor.”

“Ah, I see…not a bad plan. You are watching this photographer so he doesn’t run?”

“Got our most trusted officers on it,” Sloane nodded.

“Good. Then I’ll make an appointment and go see this Dr. Forbes. If he’s human or wesen, I will be happy to bring him down for his hand in this.”

“We looked into making an appointment too but they’re full…” Hank sighed.

Victoria shrugged. “Not a problem then. It will be my first time getting to be the demanding patient,” she said with a malicious smile. “Do you want to do it today? If so, I think I should change.”

They were surprised how ready she was to do this but agreed. Victoria met them again on the street to the clinic an hour later and was now dressed in a teal designer dress, classy gold heals, a black and white designer coat over her shoulders, black clutch and a pair of large sunglasses. Her make-up was tasteful but more than she usually wore.

“Whoa…where’d this come from?” Hank asked.

Victoria smiled and tilted her sunglasses up. “This isn’t my first time being someone I’m not. I’ve learned to play many parts in my life and “Rich aging heiress wanting to recapture her youth” is fairly straightforward. If I’m going to make them squeeze me in, I have to sell it, yes?” she said, letting her accent get a little thicker.

“I’m seeing some of that Grimm training,” Sloane said with a wry smile.

Victoria winked and grinned. Nick smiled as well but held up a small microphone. “Got a place we can hide this?”

“Of course.” She took it and helped to fix it to the inside of her dress with the small battery pack hidden away. Once that was secure they tested it through Nick’s phone and she was ready. Taking a deep breath, she sauntered up to the clinic doors while the others waited in Nick’s car. Another woman coming out held the door for Victoria and she gave a tightlipped smile of thanks but kept moving. Going to the front counter, she took off her glasses again and smiled demurely. “Hello, I’m Maria Heister, I have an appointment at 5:00.”

The girl behind the counter smiled and typed into her computer. “Alright…um, I don’t have any appointment listed.”

“What? That can’t be right, my assistant booked it three weeks ago,” she said.

“I’m sorry, but you’re not listed…”

“This is unbelievable!” she said, raising her voice. “I had this appointment made specifically because I would be in the US, and to do it before I return to Germany, and you say that it is not there? I turned down a trip to Napa to fly in from L.A. because several of my associates here got this treatment and now I’ve done all that for nothing? I swear, this is the last straw, that assistant is fired!”

“Isn’t she laying it on a little thick?” Monroe whispered.

“Nah, sounds like some of the women from my retail days as a teen,” Hank muttered.

“P-please, calm down,” the receptionist was saying. “Are you sure you have the right clinic?”

“Of course! Patricia kept raving about your FOY cream and Dr. Forbes!” She breathed as if calming down. “I do not wish to make a scene, but I am going back to Germany in a matter of days and I’ve got a lot to do when I return. I have several galas and openings to attend and I wanted to _look my best._ I will not be able to return for a couple of months and I do not know if it will even be worth it.”

“I see. I’ll try my best to squeeze you in, but you’ll still have to wait.”

She sighed again but finally nodded. “Yes, fine, that is acceptable.”

“And I just have to check that you know this is usually just an initial consultation, the process itself is $5,000.”

“5,000?!” Monroe and Rosalee hissed in unison. The others shushed them.

“If this gives me the results I’ve heard claimed, I’ll spend that and more for regular touch ups,” Victoria said haughtily.

“Well, you’ll need to fill this out then,” she said, offering her a clip board. She sighed but took it and clicked her heels a little louder as she walked to a chair and sat down. An older woman nearby looked at her and then scooted a little closer.

“Hi…”

Victoria looked up from filling out her fake information and smiled politely. “Hello.”

“I overheard…you really came from Germany for this treatment?”

“Oh, not just for this, no. I was here for a meeting regarding bringing our chain of beauty stores over to the US. If I’m going to have to deal with American Journalists, I think I should look as good as possible. A friend who lives here recommended it to me.”

“Oh? Who?”

“If I say her name she will kill me before I get a chance to enjoy it,” she said quietly.

“Ha! Well, it’s hard not to notice the difference.”

“You’ve done it before?”

“Oh, no, this is my first time. But all my friends have had it done and they look amazing! And they’re older than me! I know it’s expensive but I figured it’s worth it.”

“Ms. Morgans? The doctor will see you now.”

She smiled again and waved. “Wish me luck!”

Victoria wave and sighed, speaking quietly. “Might be a small wait…”

They settled in, Monroe and Rosalee grabbing coffee for them while they listened in. Two hours later, and a text that Caulfield was on the move, the sun had set and the others had come and gone. Then they heard the woman’s voice come back. But Victoria was more surprised by her appearance—she’d been maybe in her sixties when she left and now looked half her age in her face. Her hands were still a bit of a giveaway with wrinkles and spots but she kept smiling happily.

“What do you think?”

“You look amazing,” Victoria said, honestly shocked.

“I do, don't I? Oh, I'm so glad I came. My husband's gonna think he's having an affair.” She chuckled and winked. “And I might have one myself.”

Victoria watched her go and could do little more than shake her head and feel sorry for the both of them.

“Ms. Heister? Dr. Forbes will see you now.” She stood, trying for an air of “about damn time” in her posture. “May I take your coat?”

“Please,” she nodded, handing it off.

“Thank you. This way.” She passed the coat to her colleague and led Victoria down the hall to one of the treatment rooms. It felt more spa-like than a doctor’s office, which she wasn’t sure made her comfortable. After decades in hospitals preferred the sterile white to the soothing ocean tones that felt a little too placating. The nurse opened the door at the end of the hall and Victoria stepped in. The man from the commercial was at the sink with his back to them, obsessively washing his hands. “Doctor, this is the last patient. Do you need me to stay?”

“No, I'll lock up,” he said brusquely, not turning around.

Victoria didn’t miss the flash of worry on the nurse’s face but she nodded. “Okay…” She stepped out the door and closed it behind her.

“Please have a seat. I will be with you in just a second.” Victoria set her clutch bag on a table and sat in the plus exam chair next to it. She nearly broke character when the man turned around—his once decently handsome if a little plastic looking face was now pulled taught like a cat pushing its head through hole in a screen. One side of his mouth seemed permanently turned up—or was it the other side was permanently drooping even when he spoke? His nose, nasal bridge and brow line were swollen, sinking his eyes back into their sockets so they were shadowed. It made him look almost like a skull. And his skin looked like a latex Halloween mask. “Hi. I'm Dr. Forbes,” he said as if nothing were wrong.

“Maria Heister…” she said, managing to keep her composure.

“Nice to meet you, Maria. Let's see what we have here.” She watched him as he pulled around the magnifying glass on a mechanical arm and turned on the ring light around it. “I hear you came from Germany?”

“Yes. My friends recommended your treatment. I run a line of beauty stores that might be coming here. If this works I’d be interested in a possible partnership…”

“Really?”

“Yes. Though we’d have to work to mass produce your cream.”

“Oh, I’m not sure about that. It’s a secret recipe. But I can see why you want to use it.”

“Are you always this charming to your clients?” she asked breezily.

“Ah, don’t take it that way. But surely you’ve seen these imperfections?” He reached up and she flinched when he touched her face. “Wrinkles, bumps, lumps, spots—all of those will just melt away!”

“Lumps and bumps,” she said, frowning. She felt his hands moving across her face and he actually pinched the skin of her neck which made her jump and smack his hand.

“This will tighten up as well, like when you were young! You’ll be just like you were twenty-no, thirty years ago!”

“I’m not terribly interested in going back that far—”

“But why not? You know what? We shouldn't wait. We should start right away!”

“I thought this was just a consultation,” she said, bracing herself as he picked up a jar and opened it. “Put that down.”

“We cannot let her put that stuff on her face,” Sloane said, all of them quickly scrambling out of the car. He kept his phone open, listening.

“Oh, this will take years off your face!”

“I think I need to really think about this…”

They paused at the street as convertible pulled up and a familiar face stepped out.

“And there's our photographer…” Hank said.

“Let him go in and we’ll follow,” Nick said.

They nodded, watching him go inside while the conversation was still going.

“Don't you want to be younger and more beautiful?” Dr. Forbes asked, wringing the cream between his hands.

“You know, I think perhaps I am happy as I am,” she said, standing up and backing away.

“Seriously?” He laughed, looking at his cream covered hands. “Okay, fine. I'm certainly not going to waste this. Hey, let me show you what it does.” He smeared it across his face and then pulled another lamp over with a UV light inside. He turned it on and she could hear the cream sizzling on his skin like bacon in a pan.

“What…is wrong with you?” she said, dropping her character.

“Wrong? Nothing is wrong!” He pushed the lamp away and moved towards her. “You have to see. Now go ahead, guess how old I am.” He reached for her but she ducked away. He kept moving towards her, undeterred. He was trying to smile, his lips tearing a little and, and sounded almost desperate. “How old do I look?”

The door opened and another man stepped in. She recognized him from the photos Nick and Sloane showed her as the photographer, Malcolm Caulfield. He froze a moment then looked at Dr. Forbes with barely contained anger and disgust. “What the hell are you doing?”

Dr. Forbes spun around and smiled as if seeing his best friend. “Oh, good, you're here. Did you bring more? I'm all out.”

“I told you not to use that stuff!”

“I need more!”

“Who is she?” He said, gesturing to Victoria.

“Did you bring it?” Dr. Forbes practically screamed.

“Yeah, I did,” he sighed, pulling a jar out of his bag.

“Give it to me.”

“What is she doing here?” he said again, gesturing to Victoria.

“I’m here to find the Musasat Alsh-Shabab,” Victoria said, kicking off her heels.

Caulfield’s eyes widened and he woged. “ _Grimm!_ ” He threw the jar at her but she dodged, letting it smash to the ground.

“No! No! My cream!” Dr. Forbes cried, rushing over. He started trying to scoop what he could out of the broken bits of glass, painting his face in it again.

Victoria meanwhile spun around the chair, grabbing the UV lamp as she did and wrenching it off its anchor on the table. She then swung it back around, smashing it into Caulfield’s head. It broke with the impact and he moved with it, but the hard carapace shell kept him from really getting hurt. He roared and grabbed her up off her feet, throwing her across the room. Dr. Forbes was moving on his hands and knees, muttering about a new jar.

“Hey!”

He looked up when Nick and the others entered the room. “More Grimms,” he hissed.

Rosalee rushed over to Victoria, helping her to sit up as she grunted. “Ah, I am out of practice…” she sighed.

“They got it from here,” she said. As she did, Caulfield charged and body slammed Nick into the wall. Monroe woged, snarling and rushing to get Caulfield away from him, only for his teeth to clack against the black, armor-like shell on his arm. Caulfield grabbed his shoulders and spread his mandibles wide, moving as if to fit them over Monroe’s face. Monroe pushed at him and Rosalee gasped but stayed when Victoria grabbed her. She’d seen Hank moving towards them and he pulled Caulfield off of Monroe. Only to then be thrown towards the shelves of products nearby with a shout.

“They are also very strong. I forgot about that,” Victoria said. “Aim for the red areas!” she shouted louder.

Caulfield turned, hissing and flicking his mandibles in anger as he moved towards her and Rosalee. Sloane slipped in under and brought her knife up to slash at the red area near his elbow. He screamed, moving away and holding his arm. She flipped the knife around and spun into him, aiming for an area near his chest. But he kicked out and sent her skidding back. Nick jumped up in front of her with his gun raised and ready this time.

“Don't move!”

He froze, growling in a way that sounded like a hissing, chittering insect. Then suddenly a white arm plunged a scalpel into the red area where his sternocleidomastoid muscle was on his neck—right into the carotid artery Victoria knew. It was the same place she’d killed the Musasat Alsh-Shabab many years ago. They watched as Caulfield unwoged and then collapsed, gasping and weakly trying to reach the scalpel before dying.

Dr. Forbes was standing over him, panting in rage, not caring at the blood staining his hand and once pristine white coat. “What am I gonna do now? It's broken! And it's your fault!” He looked up at Victoria as she walked over with Rosalee to the others and smiled through the thick coat of cream on his face. “You never answered my question.”

“What?” she asked, confused.

“How old do I look?” As he spoke the cream absorbed into his skin and began to tighten it—and tighten it more. His skin was shrink wrapping itself to his bones but he was grinning and laughing giddily. “I'm 69 years young!” He laughed as it kept tightening until his eyes rolled back and he collapsed, dying with the manic grin on his face before rigor mortis even set in.

\-------------------

“You sure you’re okay?” Sloane asked, walking Victoria to her car. They’d staged the scene a little to look like basically what happened: Dr. Forbes killing Malcolm Caulfield, who had providing black market serums to the doctor derived from humans, and then dying due to side-effects from that serum. They worked to erase any trace Victoria, Rosalee or Monroe had been there so that awkward questions wouldn’t be asked.

“I’m fine. But I think I have been avoiding training for too long,” she sighed. “My reflexes were too slow.”

“Did you keep up with it when you were a doctor?”

“On and off. But I’ve neglected it the last few years. I have lump and bumps it would seem.”

“That doctor was full of it,” Sloane said.

“He was full of something, yes,” she said. “I despise doctors like that.”

“Plastic surgeons?”

“No, parasitic surgeons who prey on people’s insecurities. I do not mind plastic surgery. I’ve had some myself.”

“You have?”

“A few things. Facial reconstruction and the like, after a very…difficult fight.”

“Oh…wow, I had no idea…”

“I had a very good doctor,” she smiled. She pulled her keys out of her coat and clicked and Sloane was surprised to see she drove a very nice Range Rover light up when she clicked the fob. Those were not cheap she knew even if they did look sporty. “The trunk should be arriving at the library soon.”

“Great…”

“…you do not sound entirely enthused,” she noted.

“No, I…I mean, Nick’s probably more excited than me but I’m looking forward to it.”

“…But you had something else in mind?”

She sighed and shrugged. “I just want to go on a proper date…for once in my life…” she added under her breath.

“Date? With Nick?”

“Yeah. But it keeps getting put on hold…”

“…Here.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, writing something down. “I have a reservation at the lovely French restaurant downtown. I will make a call and you can have it; it is Sunday night at seven.”

“What? No, I can’t take that,” Sloane said, shaking her head in surprise.

“You can and you will. It’s New Year’s Eve and nothing else will have any open reservations. I was going to eat alone, it is better you get to have a nice night together. All expenses paid.”

“What? But—”

“The reservation was a gift from an old colleague, and he is footing the bill. But I do not like to dine alone. You will be doing me a great favor taking it off my hands. In exchange…let’s have lunch together sometime, something simple, yes?”

“…I…okay, sure.”

“Great! Then I will let you know when the trunk comes and in the meantime, I hope you have a lovely evening.” She smiled and climbed into the car and Sloane shook her head slightly in confusion before walking back to the others. Nick was helping coordinate some of the officers that just arrived and looked up when she walked over.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah…” She looked at him and then smiled in determination. “We’re going on a date this Sunday.”

Nick’s eyebrows rose. “Sunday? New Year’s Eve?”

“Yep. A fancy-ass date on New Year’s Eve.”

Nick’s lips twitched and he tried to resist laughing. “Well…How can I say no to a fancy-ass date?”

She blushed and smacked his arm before they walked back to the crime scene to finish up, Nick smiling all the while.

\-------------------

“You know, when you said fancy, I didn’t know I’d have to put on a tie,” Nick said. He finished tying the blue and green tie, smoothing it down.

“Just be glad I looked that place up before we went or we’d probably have to deal with snooty waiters judging you for not wearing one.”

He chuckled, agreeing that was likely. “It was nice of Victoria to give us a comped reservation though.”

“Yeah…it’s not too much?”

“No? I mean, I figured we’d go somewhere fancy at some point…was planning on it for your birthday for sure. But I don’t want to wait another three months to before we go on a date…”

“No, yeah, me neither. Just been a while since I dressed up. Hard to believe a couple of months ago I turned into a giant fur-covered monster around now…” She stepped out of the room and Nick froze. She was wearing a cocktail dress that hugged her curves beautifully but still with a classy flair. The top was most portion was a mauve-purple and looked like several dozen diamond shapes overlayed on top of one another with three diamond cut outs across her neckline that gave just a hint of skin, with the biggest in the middle. The color faded to black as it went down her body and she had a pair of sheer black hose over her legs to the black heels on her feet. Her dark hair was pulled back into a very small bun but she’d actually left that streak of white lose. Her make-up was simple but the darker lip drew his eye. She looked up and smiled a little nervously. “How’s it look?”

“…Ah…well…wow? Yes, definitely wow,” he nodded, walking over, tucking her white lock back. “You always look good, but you look…wow.”

Sloane snorted and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Same to you, handsome.”

He smiled back took her black coat from the peg nearby and held it up. She shrugged it on with his help and then he put on his own before they headed down to the car. Checking in at the restaurant was easy enough and they were led to a secluded table that was nice and private. Wine was poured and they took a look at the menu.

“Somehow I’m glad this is someone else’s treat because they don’t even list the prices…” Nick said.

“No kidding. Does kind of feel like they don’t want you to know till it’s too late,” she said with a wry smile.

“Good wine though.” He held up his glass and she smiled and held up hers. “To finally having our first date…hopefully the first of many more.”

Sloane blushed but smiled. “Cheese with the wine I see…but I hope that too.”

Nick grinned. He ended up ordering a steak with grilled asparagus and some fancy mashed potatoes, and Sloane opted for cock au vin. They’d both been worried if things would be awkward, finally dating, but they slipped into conversation easily. Childhood memories, training, past cases and more all made their way around the table between bites of rich, delicious food. Everything was going perfectly.

Well, almost.

“…So there was my principal, sitting across from Aunt Marie, cowed and looking like he was the one who was there for a lecture!”

“Good, he deserved it,” Sloane smiled.

“Well, I mean, I did punch a guy…”

“For snapping a girl’s bra so hard it broke! He deserved it. If it was me it’d have been much worse.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Nick said with a wry smile and a last bite of his chocolate crepe. “Did you ever get called to the principal’s office?”

“Ah, yeah…Mainly when wesen kids realized what I was and tried to kill me or run from me. And one time I beat up the popular girls.”

“Really? Why?”

“They’d been trying to bully me for months and when they tried to confront me in the locker room…well, I was a very angry fourteen-year-old.”

“…You know, I can see that,” he said mock seriously. Sloane smiled as she finished her strawberry crepe but paused chewing when she glanced to her side and frowned. Nick noticed and got a bit of worry in his stomach. “Sloane?”

“…I swear there’s a guy that keeps looking at our table. Even though he has his own date.”

Nick looked where he was looking and almost missed a man quickly turning around. He didn’t see his face but he had a feeling Sloane was right. “…No more old boyfriends, right?”

“Not unless he’s yours, no,” she said with a wry smile.

Nick blushed but smiled back. Finishing his food, he sighed. “Well…ready to head out?”

“I think we both might be a little buzzed from the wine…want to take a walk?”

“That sounds nice. Then we can get home before midnight,” he nodded. They stood and headed for the front. Sloane glanced towards the table of the man she thought was watching them and was surprised to see it was empty. But she shrugged and followed Nick back to the coat check. “Hey, um, we’re here on Dr. Hier’s reservation, do we need to do anything?”

“No, sir, it’s already been taken care of,” the Maitre D said with a smile. He picked up Sloane’s coat and held it up for her so she could put it on and then did the same for Nick.

They headed out the door but Nick paused. “You know, I’m not sure that included the tip…I should at least leave that…”

Sloane smiled and pulled out a $20. “Add that to it from me.”

“I can get it…”

“It’s from me,” she said again. “That was probably worth a $40 tip at least.”

Nick smiled and took it. “I’ll be right back.”

She nodded and watched him go back up the steps. Sighing, she pulled her coat a little tighter and smiled as she looked up at the stars.

“Excuse me, miss…?”

Sloane looked up and tried not to tense too hard when she saw the grey suit. That was the man that kept looking at them she was sure. He had dark hair, a robust roman nose and square jawline. “Yes…?”

“I just want to say you are…the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Sloane arched her brow. “Um…thank you?”

“No, really…” He stepped closer and Sloane gripped her purse tighter. She was ready to shove it down his throat if he tried anything. “You are beautiful. I forgot all about my date when I saw you.”

“That’s…sad. I hope you apologized to her,” Sloane said.

He twitched but leaned in more. “She’ll be fine, I already put her in a cab for home.”

“Wow…what a gentleman,” she said dryly.

He looked a little frustrated but then smiled again. “Miss, I am trying to tell you something important. That I think you should ditch the man in the suit and come have some real fun. With me. I need a new New Year’s Eve kiss after all.”

She glared and was about to tell him that was his problem when she took a deep breath and frowned a cloying, sweet scent that she smelled. Then she narrowed her gaze at him more in consideration than straight anger. “…Ziegvolk?”

He froze. “I…What?”

“You’re a Ziegvolk and your trying to use that pheromone shit on me,” she said, crossing her arms.

He woged then, his face growing goat-like with more fur around the edges down to a small beard on his chin, and two horns curving back from the crown of his head. His eyes, which were now bright yellow and had the side-ways pupil a goat did, widened. “You’re a Grimm too?!”

She frowned, not even concerned really and more confused. “Too?”

“Sloane?” She looked up as Nick exited and stepped back down to her. He was watching the Ziegvolk and then glared. “What the hell?” He woged back and Nick’s eyes widened. “Billy Capra?!” The man turned and began running—with a noticeable limp— and Nick rushed down to stand Next to Sloane. “That son of a bitch—he’s supposed to still be in prison!”

“Prison? Wait…is he the one from that case you told me about? The bed and breakfast where he kept women in his basement?”

“Yeah!”

“…” She stepped down, taking her phone and wallet out before spinning her handbag fast and letting it fly. Nick watched and his jaw dropped as it went right to Capra’s legs and he yelled as he fell. “I’m the one in heels, go while I call for back up.”

Nick didn’t need any further prodding and quickly ran, sliding just slightly on the snowy ground before grabbing him up. “Y-you can’t do this! I’m out on parole!”

“Yeah, no. I never got informed you were even up for parole because I made it well known I want to testify if you were,” Nick said. He bucked and tried to head butt him like the goat he was but Nick managed to secure him with the strap of Sloane’s purse and sat him down. Sloane was walking up while talking to dispatch and in a matter of minutes blue and red lights lit up the street. Nick had remembered to put his badge in his pocket just in case and they cuffed Capra and handed the purse back to Sloane.

“Thank you, Detectives. We didn’t know he was missing till two days ago—one of the guards actually helped him escape,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. Capra glared as they pushed him into the squad car and closed it up. “I’m surprised you knew to look out for him.”

Nick smiled deciding not to let on that he had absolutely no idea. “Just right place right time…” He sighed as he watched them take him away. He turned to Sloane, who was frowning at the broken strap of her purse. “Sorry…”

“It’s okay, it’s just a purse.”

“No, I mean…not a great ending to our date.”

“No…but it’s very us,” she said, smiling wryly. Nick smiled back, relieved. “I guess I owe Dierdre something too…”

“Dierdre?” Nick asked, confused now.

“Yeah. She made sure I would be immune to Ziegevolk pheromones from a young age. I smelled them and it just kind of gave me a headache because to me it smells really sweet. Like that candle store at the mall.”

“…Well, guess I owe her a bit too,” Nick sighed. “It does make me wish I’d punched him at least once…I don’t’ know what he was planning, don’t want to know, but he definitely targeted you because you’re my girlfriend.” Sloane blinked and looked at him in surprise since that was the first time he’d said that. Nick didn’t even seem to notice though, sighing at the dusting of snow in the air. “But I’m definitely sober now. Still want to go for that walk?”

She smiled and reached up to tug him down using his tie and kiss him. Nick was surprised but kissed back. Pulling away just slightly, she looked into his eyes and with that darker eyeshadow he was struck by how green they were. It was mesmerizing. She felt the same, with how blue his looked up close. “Not really…How about we go ring in the new year at home?”

Nick smiled and kissed her again, swaying a little bit under the streetlight. It reminded him of the spotlight they’d danced under on the case where they played at being ballroom dancers, where she’d taught him and he’d learned how much she loved to dance. He pulled back a little and she laughed as he started straight up dancing with her, slow and careful since it was still a little icy out. His anger at Capra was completely forgotten when he saw her smile as he carefully turned with her towards the parking lot. He remembered the moves fairly well and hummed a song under his breath— _Love Me Tender._ It was the first song that came to mind and it felt right. Sloane recognized it and blushed but smiled and leaned her head against him as the swayed slowly. “…I love you,” he said.

She looked up and smiled, hugging him. “I love you too…” He smiled and leaned down to kiss her before opening the car door for her when a chilly wind swept through them. They headed home and warmth and forgot about the new year getting lost in each other, till fireworks started going off and Sloane laughed saying she thought it was just her. Nick took it as a compliment.

\-------------------

“Billy Capra is out?” Hank asked. It was Monday, New Year’s Day, and they were catching up at Hank’s place while Sloane went to visit Rosalee. They’d invited Wu, but he’d confessed he wasn’t feeling very good and needed to stay in. He complained it wasn’t fair considering he hadn’t even had a drink last night but they were skeptical.

“That skeezy Ziegevolk? I mean, all Ziegevolk are kind of skeezy. Not to generalize but hey…” Monroe said.

“He was out, but he is now back in and faces escape charges on top of his previous charges. We might see about making that neutralizing potion and getting it him, just so this doesn’t happen again.”

“Good thinking, though we gotta get sweat from him or another ziegevolk to do it…”

Hank hummed, remembering that whole debacle with Barry Kellog, the ziegevolk lawyer. Who was indeed skeezy, trying to get his client off a murder charge using his charming pheromones to sway the jury and witnesses. He looked at Nick expectantly. “But you two did have a good night otherwise, right?”

Nick blushed a little but smiled. “Yeah. Really good… And to be honest, it was kind of hot seeing her use her purse like a bolo to catch him.”

Monroe and Hank shared knowing smiles, figuring it was probably a very good night indeed. They didn’t get a chance to ask any more questions though when Nick noticed something on the news. “Oh, it’s the Captain…”

Nick turned and saw that Renard was having a small press conference in the otherwise empty precinct. He picked up Hank’s remote and turned it up, though he already figured what he was saying.

“….Andrew believed that Portland deserved a mayor that was willing to fight for its people. Now, I've been asked to take Andrew's place in the race. And after long consideration, though I know I can never truly replace him, I've realized that the only way to support Andrew's vision of the city is to take his place. And, so, today, I'm formally announcing my candidacy for Mayor of Portland.”

The small audience gathered clapped and cheered and Nick frowned a little. “…I’m still not sure about this.”

“Me neither…but hopefully he’ll be able to give us an edge over Black Claw,” Hank said.

Nick hummed and finished his beer before getting a glass of water. They talked a bit more before his phone buzzed and he picked it up. “Burkhardt.”

“Nick, it’s Victoria. I have good news; they were able to deliver the trunk early. It’s here now.”

“Really? Great! I can come pick it up?”

“I can stick around for a while if you want to, yes. Just come to the back of the library building.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you soon.” Nick clicked off and stood. “I gotta go, my dad’s trunk came in.”

“Great, need some help?” Monroe asked.

Nick was almost going to say sure, but hesitated. “…No, that’s…okay. We can handle it.”

“Okay…” Nick waved as he headed out and Monroe looked at Hank. “You think he’s okay?”

“I…think he might want to handle this without us. It might be a bit emotional for him…”

“Oh…right, yeah, I guess it might,” He said, wincing “I don’t think he even told Kelly about the trunk…”

“Yeah…”

Nick meanwhile got to the library pretty quickly. Victoria was waiting for him, and next to her was a large black steamer trunk. It was about three and a half feet wide by about two feet high and two feet deep and covered in stickers. Nick felt a sense of familiarity seeing it on the ground and slowed to a stop in front of her. Climbing out, he knelt down and his eyes immediately went to the tag in a metal holder at the top that had slightly faded but still legible handwriting on it. _Reed Burkhardt._ He then smiled at the stickers over it. Some were bands—Led Zepplin being the most obvious one. His dad had a hard side to him and was a fan of rock music. A few others were things like NPR stickers, some very dated bumper stickers (though luckily nothing profane) and a few more liberal political stickers. It definitely had a college vibe to it, though he’d been a professor and not a student.

“Looks like it came in fine.”

“Yeah…looks good.”

“It’s heavy, let me help you load it.”

Nick and Victoria got the trunk into his car and he sighed as he closed it up. “Thanks again…”

“No trouble. Let me know if you find anything interesting. Also, I hope you and Sloane had a nice time last night.”

“Yeah, it was great,” He smiled. “Thanks again for giving us the reservation. It must’ve been hard to come by.”

“As I said, it was a gift from a colleague, but I felt dining along on New Year’s would be a bit…sad. I managed to track down a more fun party to go to with a few friends I’ve made.”

“I’m glad your settling in alright,” Nick said.

She smiled. “Thank you. And say hello to Sloane for me, I hope she and I can have lunch soon.”

“Right. I’ll see you later.” Nick climbed back into the car and headed for the loft. He was surprised to find Sloane already there, down in the garage using her new book press.

She looked up when he drove in and smiled. “Hey, you’re home.”

“Yeah, so are you…”

“Rosalee got a call from her sister and she can talk for a while, so we cut things short,” Sloane said. “I was just seeing about fixing this guy’s spine.” She gestured to one of the older books they salvaged from her home in the press.

“Glad you like the book press then,” Nick smiled. “Um…Actually, I could use your help. My dad’s trunk came in.”

Sloane was surprised but nodded and took off her gloves. “Well, that’s good, right?”

“Yeah…yeah, it’s good.” Sloane frowned, a little worried. He seemed a bit nervous for some reason. She helped him unload the trunk, quirking a brow at some of the stickers, and get it over to the elevator. The brought it up and set it in front of the coffee table in the living room. He paused then and sighed. “I don’t have a key…”

“You have lockpicks though,” she pointed out. “As do I.”

Nick nodded, retrieving the lockpicks from the drawer he kept them in in the spare room. Sitting down, he went to work picking the trunk’s lock. It was fairly simple and clicked in a matter of minutes. “Okay…” Taking a deep breath, he pushed the trunk open and surveyed the contents. “…I forgot dad was not always the most organized.”

Sloane leaned in to see several books tossed in, loose papers, and various other things all inside. “You sure it wasn’t just jostled on the way?”

“No, this is pretty much what his desk at home looked like. He could still always find what he was looking for though…” Nick said, smiling a little. He started pulling things out and Sloane helped, looking at a few papers curiously. It was mostly notes for classes but she set them aside in case they might come in handy. Nick pulled out a picture of him, his dad and his mom at Niagara Falls when he was nine and smiled. Sloane leaned over and looked and smiled as well. “That’s your dad?”

“Yeah…”

“He was pretty handsome. And you were very cute.” Indeed, he reminded Sloane a lot of Nick: Well sculpted jawline with a slightly cleft chin, a handsome nose, and wide blue eyes with chocolate brown hair. Kelly was next to him, and she’d never seen her smile like that she was sure. Nick was pretty damn cute with his wide grin and ran poncho on the edge of the boat.

Nick blushed but smiled, setting the picture on the coffee table, looking wistful. They kept going, stopping to read occasionally to be sure that wasn’t the key document they were looking for. It was a lot of paper though. As they were going through, Sloane paused and picked up a wooden box that was about six inches long, four inches wide but only maybe two inches deep. It was hand carved she was fairly sure, with a picture on the front of a hunter, surprisingly, a wolf. The front also had a rolling dial lock with seven letters in place. “Uh…Nick? What’s this?”

Nick looked at it and frowned. “I…never saw that before. Let me see.” She handed it over to him and he frowned at the top, and then at the letters. “What is this…I mean, my dad always liked puzzles but this is different…” He pushed and moved the lock, looking at the letters curiously. “Seven letters…too short for our last name, to long for his name…” He shook the box gently and heard something moving around inside. As he did, Sloane noticed something stuck to the bottom.

“It’s got a note.”

Nick flipped it over and plucked the note off the back where the faded, yellowed tape had kept it. He opened it up and saw his father’s handwriting again for the first time in years—neat despite his messy habits.

“ _Nick, if your reading this, I left a message for you and your mother in this box. If you’re old enough, the key isn’t a cipher or a riddle—you just need to know the kind of wolf from your mother’s books.”_

Nick’s eyes widened when he read the last few words and Sloane was surprised as well. “He…he must mean the Grimm books, right…?”

“Yeah…so…” He looked at the letters again and spelled out the first word he thought of when he thought wolf.

_B-L-U-T-B-A-D_

The letters all were in there places and he heard a click inside. “…My dad…I know mom said he knew, but I didn’t know how much…”

“…You going to open it?” Sloane asked.

He sighed and nodded, opening it up slowly. And he stared inside with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…”

“Is that…VHS tapes?” Sloane asked, surprised as well.

Nick nodded, pulling out the top one with his name on it. The bottom one was labeled _Kelly_. “Yep…my dad died in 1994 after all…”

“…Do we have a VHS player?” she asked hesitantly.

“Nope. Sold mine in a garage sale a long, long time ago,” he sighed.

“…Okay, wait here.” Sloane stood up.

“Sloane?”

“I know someone that likes old stuff enough he probably has a VHS player.”

“…Monroe?”

“Monroe,” she nodded, slipping her boots on. “I’ll go get it; you keep going through that stuff.”

“You sure?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be back soon with the player one way or another.” Nick smiled and stood, catching her before she got to the elevator.

“Thanks.” He kissed her gently and she smiled and kissed him back before pulling the grate open and waving as she went down. Nick sighed as she left and walked over to sit and down in front of the chest again. He wasn’t sure exactly how to even start going through everything.

\--------------------

“A VHS player?” Monroe asked, making sure he heard right.

“Yeah. I figured you might have one?”

“Uhhh…yeah, I do,” he nodded, heading for his office. He opened the closet at the side. “I was a bit more resistant to the whole DVD switch for a while, but I ended up caving. I still have a few old tapes though so I kept this around.” He brought the player down, blowing a little dust off and coughing. He cursed when the remote started sliding, but Rosalee caught it and handed it to Sloane who put it in her jacket. “What do you need it for?”

“Nick’s dad included some secret tapes in the trunk so we need something to watch them on,” Sloane said, taking it from him with a smile.

“Secret tapes?” Monroe asked, curiosity piqued.

“Yep. In buzzle box and everything. You were actually the answer to it.”

“Me?”

“Well, not you specifically. It was the world “blutbad”.”

“Oh! So Nick’s dad definitely knew then…”

“Yeah…You know, Kelly tried to tell me once how she met her husband, but I was kind of young and dumb and didn’t want to listen…” she said, thinking back sadly.

“Oh, we’re all like that when we’re teens really,” Rosalee said comfortingly.

“Yeah. I mean, my parents love to tell the story about how they met. Dad running through the woods, seeing mom in the moonlight…half a rabbit in her mouth…”

“…Romantic,” Sloane said, grimacing.

“Hey, if he can fall in love with a woman covered in blood, it’s a match made in heaven.”

Rosalee chuckled. “You fell in love with me when I bricked a man ready to attack you.”

“Yeah, cause it was super cool! But too be fair, I thought you were beautiful the first moment I laid eyes on you. And you didn’t even need to kill a rabbit.”

“Aww…” she said, looking honestly touched.

“Okay, not that I wouldn’t love to stay and hear these weird wesen pickup lines, but I want to get back to Nick.”

Rosalee chuckled. “Alright. Oh! Monroe finally got a call from someone at the local museum.”

“Right! Dr. Ian Krieger. I did some work for him in the past and I told him we found some old cloth with writing on it. He said he could take a look at the cloth around the stick and the tapestry, see what he can see. He can use Iso…metric…uh, infrared…I didn’t understand it, but it sounded cool.”

“That’s great!” Sloane said, smiling. “I’ll let Nick know and we can get the cloth to you soon.”

“Sounds good.”

“I hope things go well with the videos…” Rosalee said. “If I found a video from my dad…I don’t know, I’d probably be a mess.” Monroe put a comforting arm around her because she sounded sad just thinking about it.

Sloane frowned worriedly but headed down to her car. Driving back, she carried the vhs player to the elevator and back up to where Nick was waiting. She stopped short when she saw dozens of piles of papers and books around him. “Whoa…”

Nick looked up and smiled wanly. “Hey…”

“Hey…I was only gone an hour…”

“Yeah, I’ve just been skimming and putting things into piles. Work notes, research notes, notes from colleagues, letters…” he said, pointing to different piles. “I’m not finding anything Grimm looking though.”

“Well, I got this,” she said, lifting the VHS player.

“Ah…good.”

“…You don’t sound enthused.”

Nick hesitated but shook his head. “No, I…I need to see this.” He stood and took the player from her, hooking it up to their TV. He then picked up the tape marked _Nick_ , looking at the swooping tail his father always put on his N’s with a clenched heart. Taking a deep breath, he put the tape into the player, while Sloane checked the batteries in the remote and changed them out just to be safe.

Sitting down, Nick accepted it from her as they sat down and he tried to get comfortable despite the anxious knot in his back. With another breath, he hit play.

“Is it on…?” he heard a familiar voice ask. The camera was out of focus as his father adjusted it before he stepped back. “…Yeah, good, it’s on…Okay…” He stepped back and sat down and Nick recognized the office back at their house in Rochester. Wooden bookshelves overflowing with books and papers, a record player in the corner, and his dad’s well-worn leather wingback chair that he was sitting in all made his heart clench. His father smiled at the camera, an unsure uncomfortable smile, with eyes that Nick still sometimes recognized in the mirror. “Hey, Nick…um, if you’re watching this, well…I’m probably dead.”

Nick paused the video and Sloane looked at him worriedly. He took a deep breath and then pressed play again.

“…Otherwise I’d have hoped I’d tell you about all of this in person, with your mother, when you’re old enough…Also, if you’re watching this, you probably at least know about the Grimms and Wesen. You probably are a Grimm…” He sighed and rubbed over his face, then laughed a little. “I wrote this down, I swear I did, but it’s not an easy thing to just go over, looking at a camera…”

“Not easy to watch either,” Nick muttered. Sloane wrapped her arm around his and he squeezed her hand.

Reed took a deep breath and leveled his gaze as if to look right at him. “I’m not a Grimm. Your mother, she is and when I met her…it opened up a whole new world for me. A sometimes-terrifying world, but also _fascinating_. My understanding of history, and of the present was flipped upside down. And while it wasn’t always easy, and it had its painful moments, I wouldn’t trade any of it. I wouldn’t trade her or you for anything. But there’s stuff out there that even she doesn’t quite know about…” Nick frowned but resisted pausing.

“When I met your mother, she was looking into something she found. A scroll—it should hopefully still be in our things. And it opened my eyes to that world. But also…Well, to be honest, it was love at first sight for your me when I met your mother,” he said, smiling a warmly. “I wanted to impress her, so I told her I was the professor but I was just a TA. The information made no sense to either of us at the time on that scroll…But someone wanted it badly enough to attack me when I wanted to keep the scroll to study more. I figured Kelly would have to return for it and I could get her number then in case I found anything…or maybe if she wanted to have dinner.”

“Your dad is surprisingly cunning,” Sloane muttered. Nick smiled, agreeing. He’d never heard this version of how they met, he always said it was when his mom was touring the campus and they’d hit it off.

“Your mother saved me but…my roommate was caught in the crossfire and died. He was a good man and we’d been friends for years so…I wanted to get the guys who did it. But I also wanted to know more about this strange new world in our world. I managed to convince her to let me keep helping her…We had a lot of adventures. I got into journaling because of her, they should hopefully be with my trunk too. I’d love to tell you all of them on here, but there’s honestly so many from before and after we got married. You’re about twelve now so…yeah.” He looked at his hands a moment before sighing. “Your mom tried really hard to protect you from the Grimm life. There was a chance you wouldn’t be a Grimm. She’s proud of it, but…it’s not something she wanted for you. I didn’t either to be honest, what parent would be alright with their kids having to fight for their life all the time? But there’s things out there…wesen and other things, that are truly dangerous. If you are a Grimm and you’re out there fighting, I’m worried but…proud too. We did our best to raise you to do the right thing after all, even if it scares us…”

Sloane squeezed Nick’s hand when he closed his eyes.

“But there’s something worse coming.” He opened them and they both looked at the recording worriedly. “Ever since she brought it to me, I’ve been looking into the scroll she found. I’ve got a copy here, but it should be in the trunk too along with my notes.” He held up printout of an old scroll. Nick realized with shock it looked a lot like the tapestry Monroe had taken from the crypt in Germany—seven people fanning out from a black figure “It details that the Grimms were created by something—it began with seven and they were sent out into the world to hunt, but to also have children to pass their gifts on to. This was a long, long time ago, even before this scroll. Well before some empires—I think at least six thousand years ago. But something happened almost a thousand years ago. The Grimm’s gift was dying out and they needed a way to renew it. Without knowing exactly how it was done before, they performed some sort of ritual…I’m not sure of all the details because honestly, any information I’ve found has called it “Der Unsäglich”. The Unspeakable.”

Nick paused it again. “The Unspeakable? That…that doesn’t sound good…”

“No, that sounds pretty bad actually…” Sloane nodded. “I mean, historically we’ve heard of our ancestors doing a lot of objectively awful things…what makes this “Unspeakable”?”

Nick nodded, thinking the same thing. Sighing, he pressed play again.

“The thing about this ritual is something went wrong. They had to seal whatever they did away by killing it, but then also taking part of its body.”

Sloane now grabbed the remote and paused it, looking at Nick with wide eyes. “Did he just say what I think he said?”

Nick nodded numbly and looked towards where the tunnel was, thinking about the bone down in the chest he hid there. “…Keep going, maybe he knows something more.”

Sloane nodded and hit play.

“—These parts of whoever or whatever the focus of the ritual was contain abilities— powers difficult to fathom. I believe that the Royal family—I hope you’ve met them but if not, I wrote about them. Awful people, truly. But I believe they’ve gotten ahold of one of the artifacts. That give them their power.”

“I think Meisner got that…” Sloane muttered.

“The others are scattered around, with strange clues left. I thought these coins Kelly found recently might be some, but they’re something else entirely. But I’ve found and deciphered what I could, it’s all in my journals—specifically the black one. I’ll talk a bit about all of them in this video too, but I need to get this all out first. I got some unwanted attention for my research. I’m being watched I’m sure. That’s why I’m making this and sealing this all away while I can, because I don’t know if they’re going to come after me. This way, I can leave you what I have and hope that you’ll be able to pick up where I left off. Some of these items are already out in the world and they seem beneficial, but they are _dangerous._ They need to be contained. I hope that your mother is there to help you…if she is, I have a video for her too. But more than anything, Nick, I want you to know I love you.” He smiled, tearing up a bit. “You are such an amazing kid, I am so proud of you and I hope that you’re living a great life, whatever that is for you. Grimm or no. I hope you knew that but I want to be sure you did.”

Nick paused the video again but this time the remote fell from his hands and he hunched over, his face in his hands.

“Nick?” Sloane asked gently.

“I knew…I knew, I just…didn’t’ think I’d hear it again…” he said, trying hard not to cry.

Sloane gently put her arms around him, rubbing over his back and not saying anything as he shook gave shuddering breaths. Inside though, she felt a prickling of envy that he’d heard those words in person once…

\-----------------------

“Nick, what is this about?” Kelly asked.

“Just…I want to show you something.” Nick had gone to get his mother after calming down from watching the tape earlier. They opted not to keep watching Reed talk about the artifacts for now, because Nick knew he wanted to get his mother so she could be part of it. But there was another tape for her to watch first.

“That’s going to be a bit hard, son,” she said dryly.

“I…have a solution for that,” he said, guiding her out of the elevator and over to the couch. “Just wait here.” She didn’t say anything, sitting down. Nick quickly opened the chest nearby and took out the rib. He looked at it a moment, feeling it’s weight, before walking over. “This is going to be strange but…just hold still.”

“Okay…” she said, uncertain. He then pressed the rib lightly to the side of her face, holding it there with his hand. “Nick, what is this?”

“Just wait a moment…” he said, hoping this would work again.

Kelly frowned, a little impatient, but then froze. Nick could see her eye focusing, the pupil contracting and expanding, before she gasped. She lifted her own hand and pressed it to his cheek. “Nick, I…my eye…”

He smiled, relieved. “You can see me?”

“Yes! I…I can see you perfectly out of this eye…”

“L-let’s try the other. Can you take your prosthetic out?”

She hesitated but took off her eyepatch and then carefully pulled her lower lid down and guided the white prosthetic out. Nick held the rib to that side of her head and they waited…but he saw nothing changing. He frowned in frustration. “It’s not working…”

“What isn’t, exactly?” she asked.

“The…bone we found.” He brought it down to show her.

“The one from the crypt? Nick, you said you weren’t sure about it.”

“I’m still not, I just…wanted to help you see again,” he said.

She smiled. “And you did.”

“But your other eye…”

She sighed but then shrugged. “Even this might have its limits. That eye is gone, has been for almost a year, it might not be able to regrow it…Same goes for other limbs maybe. This is enough for me, being able to see perfectly out this eye again. See you, see what’s around me…that’s already a kind of miracle. Besides, I’m told the eyepatch suits me.”

He smiled a bit. “I have another surprise for you then.”

“More?”

“Yeah…”

“Okay…Let me go put this back in first. Maybe wash my face too…” She said, holding up the prosthetic eye. She stood and went to go wash it and her hands down before putting it back in and Nick quickly put the bone back in the chest and put it by the secret door. Sloane had already taken the cloth to bring to Monroe and Rosalee. He grabbed the remote and waited for his mom to return. She did, patting her face dry. “Is it weird I almost forgot what I looked like? Also, that did take care of some scarring I think. It could’ve done some of the wrinkles.”

“You always looked good, Mom.”

She smiled and walked over. “What’s this other surprise.”

“Sit down first,” he said, gesturing to the couch. She did, looking at him—really looking—rather quizzically. He smiled and pressed play and waited for the tape to start.

“Hey, Kelly…”

Her head whipped to the TV and she stared in shock when she saw her husband on the screen. “Reed…?” Nick slowly backed away into his room, giving her privacy to watch the video.

“I’m sorry if you’re watching this…it means I probably died…But I want you to know whatever it was, it wasn’t your fault. I was fully onboard with your life and your abilities—even when we fought about it, it was only because I knew you deserved at least a little time as just Kelly. Not Kelly Kessler, the big bad Grimm, just…Kelly. But whatever we got ourselves into, it’s not your fault I’m gone. You have been…the best girlfriend, wife, mother of our child I could ask for. You have been an adventure and breathed life into me. I don’t regret anything.”

“You’re wrong…it is my fault,” she said quietly.

“And here’s where you’re probably saying I’m wrong and blaming yourself,” he said, smiling. Kelly blinked and Reed smiled and for a moment it felt like he was there with her. “I know you, Kelly…And I know that we both took risks. I was also taking a few you didn’t know about…That scroll you brought me that first time we met may be the key to something greater. I have it all written down in my journals in my trunk. I left a video for Nick too with more information. If he does awaken, I think it’ll be later in life…Mid-twenties maybe. Like you said, girls inherit sooner, but it’s something else. Something to do with how Grimms in some bloodlines are declining and weakening. And it all goes back to that ritual on the scroll. I’d go over it all here like I usually do but…I don’t want this to be a lecture. You can read about it in the black journal and watch Nick’s tape, but I want this one to be for you. I just want to say whether it’s a past adventure or the coins you found or what I’ve been looking into here, whatever killed me is not your fault. We made enemies the both of us and if they caught up, then it’s all them. I wouldn’t trade a second of our life together, a second of Nick in our lives, for anything. I love you, Kelly. Love at first sight, like I always told you.”

She laughed a bit, eyes misting over, and she put her hand on the TV. She hadn’t even realized she’d gotten so close. But it was still so far away…she paused it before he got up to turn off the camera and stared at him.

“Mom?”

She looked up, wiping quickly at her face. “Nick, where did you…?” He stopped the video and motioned for her to follow. She went to his room and gasped when she saw the trunk, going over and running a hand over the Led Zepplin sticker. “You found it…?”

“He’d left it at Vassar,” Nick said. “Dr. Hier told us he was on a list of people studying the Grimm Templars and I called to see if they had anything…She coordinated getting it to us. I was going to tell you when it got here but we started going through things and…yeah.”

“Remind me to thank her,” she said, opening the trunk. She smiled, tracing over some of the books. Then she picked up the picture frame like Nick had and chuckled. “Niagara Falls…Your father looked like a wet cat just before this I think.”

Nick smiled. “He was upset I’d gone running around on the boat and almost slipped…”

“Ah, that’s right…”

“I can’t find the scroll he talked about though, or journals,” he said worriedly.

Kelly sighed and looked the chest over before smiling and reaching up. “Your father is tricky enough he could be a Grimm…” She grabbed a small tab and pulled and the roof of the chest popped open and came down. Inside, strapped to the lid, were several books and a small tube.

Nick snorted and sat down. “Guess I should’ve realized he wouldn’t leave them out in the open…”

Kelly hummed and unstrapped the books that had been secured closed but flat against the lid. There were four brown leather ones, and one black. “I’m surprised they’re still here though…”

“I think only a couple of people knew he left the trunk at the college,” Nick said. “…You don’t regret being with dad, do you?”

Kelly looked at him and then sighed. “…It’s hard not to think he’d be here if it wasn’t for me…but no. I have you because I did. I have our memories. It might be easier for you since you’re with a Grimm though.”

Nick nodded slowly. “I feel that way about Juliette…or Eve…” He sighed and shook his head. “You were right back then.”

“I was speaking from experience,” she said with a sad smile. “…You’re happy with Sloane though?”

He smiled. “Yeah…really happy.”

Kelly smiled as well. “Good…you both deserve it.”

Nick smiled. He then reached up and took the tube down from the lid, opening it up. “This is that scroll?”

“Yes. I found it among some of my great grandfather’s things. It gave me an odd feeling so I wanted to research it.”

Nick pulled it out of the tube and very carefully spread it out. “…It’s almost just like that tapestry Monroe found,” he said. He pulled out his phone, bringing up a photo he’d taken when they’d seen it in person last week. “See? This was down in the crypt, he said it was between two very wealthy looking skeletons.”

Kelly took it, looking it over. “I’m glad I can see it now—If I could see it clearly before I might’ve been able to put things together faster…Mine didn’t have these words though.”

“No…but yours does have faces,” Nick said, looking at it again. “I couldn’t tell on the tapestry, but these seven figures…they’re moving away from whatever that is.” Kelly looked between the two and nodded, realizing he was right. Rather than offering the items to the shadowy figure in the middle, the scroll showed the seven moving away from the black central figure. As though they were taking something from it… “Dad mentioned that this…ritual, whatever it was, was to seal something away. And that they had to take parts of its body.”

“…The rib…”

“Yeah. He said he had more info on the tape for me.” He looked at her. “Feel like having a movie night with everyone?”

She smiled a little. “Popcorn or pizza?”

\--------------------------

Around Portland, several people received an invite: Monroe, Rosalee, Hank, Wu, and Adalind. Most said they’d be right over.

Adalind however declined since she didn’t think Diana wouldn’t likely want to sit still for it. Kelly said she’d update her later and Adalind texted back she’d be fine. She knew there was an HW member outside watching the house after all.

So she was she was surprised when there was a knock at the door. She wondered if Kelly forgot something and got up to open it. “Kelly?”

She froze when she saw a man in a suit there and felt a chill run up her back. He was tall, thin and older but she couldn’t place his age. He had tan skin and salt and pepper hair, high cheek bones, and a reedy nose. And he smiled when he saw her, the sort of smile then sent alarm bells through her even though it seemed calm and gentle. It was like a doll’s smile. Carved. Intentional. Calculated. _Fake_.

“Ms. Schade?”

“Y…yes?”

He removed his hat and set it over his chest in a slight bow that spoke of another era. “It’s lovely to finally meet you. I believe we need to have a talk.”

“…I’m sorry, I…don’t know you.”

“Ah, pardon me. Where are my manners?” he said, smiling wider. “My name is Conrad Bonaparte.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd been planning this for a bit! I always wanted to know more about Nick's dad and was disappointed the show never talked about him. So here we are! I made dad a kind of book nerd. Think Evie to Kelly's Rick O'Connel :3 ...Now there's an AU...but anyway, I've been neglecting Kelly as well and part of it was I freely admit I wasn't sure what to do with her despite wanting her to be alive. I'm going to try and do more with her from now on, or at least give her more agency to go out and do shit. But first, ANGST! and she gets one eye back, as a treat.
> 
> I also wanted to have Billy Capra come back and try something...but I just didn't see making a full story about it. Especially with the demon cupid somewhere on the horizon. So I decided to get it out of my system and have Sloane have a resistance to the musk. I'm also still figuring a few things out as far as where the Black Claw story is going to be going with the changes I've made, so any feedback or suggestion is welcome.
> 
> ALSO, side note, but I'm skipping the next episode, The Believer. The Jesus allegory episode. It's not because I'm religious or anything, I just honestly felt it was a bit heavy handed and I'm just not into it enough to rewrite it. Considered doing Hibernaculum because I still haven't, but considering i have it in january it feels a bit late. So it's going to be an original story!

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the start of something I've been planning long before the show ended. While I LOVE Grimm, I don't agree with some of the directions it went. And I was never satisfied with Juliette or Adalind as Nick's LI, for reasons I might discuss as we go. So, as with everything, I ended up making a an original character. I wanted to try to make a woman with the "asshole with the heart of gold" trope, and I love Sloane a lot, so I'm excited to start putting this up and letting her loose. She's going to evolve the most over all this.
> 
> HOw this will work: I'm making some original chapters like this, with new storylines, charactes, and wesen as often as possible. It's going to be diverse too. And I'm also doing mostly quick run downs on given story lines and how they'd be different with Sloane there. So for example, next chapter will be Volcanlis, Endangered, and Kiss of the Muse all summed up, but focusing on Sloane and how she'd have changed things. I'm debating whether to do this in separate chapters, considering most I have are 20,000 words more or less, or if I should do them all together. Leaning towards the former so as not to overwhelm a single fic, and they'll be in a series on here. Thoughts?
> 
> Few notes on this chapter-The quote and a lot of the inspiration is from the Grimm tale "The Valiant Tailor". It's all about pride and hubris, so it suits Sloane quite a bit. The Wolkenkratzer is from my desire to make more of a fairy tale giant character because a Siegbarste seems more like an Ogre. Plus a wesen that sudden grows like that seemed creepy. The name is from google translate I'm afraid, German for what should bye "Cloud/skyscraper". If this sounds awful, let me know. I took French and Japanese I'm afraid. But I do know that he plural of Blutbad should be Blutbader, not Blutbaden, from fan comments so I ran with that and fixed it.
> 
> This all takes place between One Angry Fuchsbau and Volcanalis. Volcanalis and other episodes will be next.
> 
> If you have questions or suggestions, please let me know, and every comment makes me happy! Kudos are appreciated too of course, but I love to know what you all think.


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